I stood on P.C.H. and ___ and hoped the number one bus would be there at eight. Off of Magnolia across the street, the flags blew in a northerly direction -- rather than the usual southerly direction. At least the winds flew on shore, good for my allergies.
All of a sudden, a fog rolled in and covered the coast -- and guess that the winds had something to do with it. In luck, the bus came and I took a seat. The same cast of riders sat, some fast asleep covered with blankets -- at least the heat is free and they do not have to succumb to cold weather.
It felt good to leave my matchbox at on Magnolia. I was meant to ride buses and not those expensive SUV's that need a car wash and oil and lubes every month. At the Magnolia new water works was being installed with huge cranes and long haul trucks. I pulled the cord and waited for my stop next to the new Waterfront Beach Resort Hotel, a division of Hilton.
I waited on Huntington for the #25 bus. Sure felt real cold...too cold to wait for a bus... body did not like the waves of fog that rolled in. But where or where was the bus? I called the bus company and was told that the bus broke down.
"Sir the next bus is scheduled to arrive at nine twenty. Sorry for the inconvenience."
Even though I have cut back on coffee, I ordered a Starbucks drink to warm my toes and picked up a paper. I still was mad that Access did not pick us up for a Norm's breakfast, but at least Mel today would have his right ear diagnosed. I knew he had cancer and had had it for over one and a half years.I also found out that his doctor Nasser had a Dr. Jennings fill in for him. Jennings was the one who gave him ear drops for his itchy ear over two years ago at the Pacific Spartan Assistant Living Center.
A bit rejuvenated now, I waited for my number 25 bus. It was a bit late as the driver needed to pick up the strays that the earlier bus should have picked up. At the Senior Center off of Talbert, I entered the center and after signing in for a lunch, lumbered over to the grand piano.
The folks in the piano area enjoyed my music. Now I might not be a Mozart but I do make a great George on the piano. In the middle of a piece of music, I heard a noise
"Today is Bingo Day. There is no piano playing today!"
"Hey Peggy, the sign states no piano playing during, yes I said during bingo only." Peggy, another who can't stand Jewish musicians never returned. It had probably been Magpie who asked her to stop my piano playing.
Of course to see my brother inside the Wax Museum has made me mad, yes madder than hell that his left eye and ear had not been treated. The Sea Cliff Health Center looks good from afar but for the last year and a half, I now know it is a graveyard of living dead. But lets have a peek inside, to better acquaint you of this sham.
The facility resembles two motels linked together. You walk into a lobby and the candy man comes out and introduces you to this twilight zone motel. He is in charge of admittance. The tall thin man has you sign papers and every once in a while checks his cell phone. He has a more than plutonic relationship with Dolly, the dyslexic social worker.
To the left is Melody, always happy and directs you to the room of your love one. Mel is given a room closest to the front door. It appears that nobody knows what Mel is there for. Mel screams with excruciating pain in his back and neck. In bed two is a Vietnamese. His kids are mad since his headache was not diagnosed as the beginning of a stroke. His kids are feeding him.
Mel still as back and neck pain. A Dr. Craig calls me to advise me that the ear infection must, and be attacked or else. Mel begins to walk and does some rehab in the basement. The social worker wishes to return him to Assistant Living.
I check on Mel's nursing home, a block down from my apartment. It is ten o'clock and Mel is screaming with pain. I ask the nurse in charge to get an ambulance. (More to come.)
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