Wednesday, March 28, 2018

The Waterfront Hilton booted me out!

"Mel!...quit shaking your legs."
Dr. Steel  continued to stick pins into Mel's left ear. I held Mel's feet down as the doctor removed the cancer from his left ear.

     The above story took place two weeks ago. The doctor's name is changed, at this time. In what looks like a long folding dentist chair, Mel is finally, having the lump inside his right ear tended to at long last. A week earlier, Dr. Dills examined Mel's ear and told us the blockage may go as far as the inner canal. If so, it would require another surgery.
     In earlier blogs I revealed that the ear problem he has had for almost three years stemmed from a doctor Ditz treating Mel's ear itch with ear drops. It appeared he had been referred to a Dr. Prickly while he resided at the Pacific Spartan Assistant Living Center located in Midway City a small hamlet between Westminster and also Huntington Beach on Balsa Avenue.
      "Mel, you have three choices. You can take a pill, radiate it or simply cut it out."
       "Cut it out!"
      Two years ago, Mel could walk without a walker, sing and partake in activities.  Today, he remains in bed until a wheel chair moves him somewhere As he tell it, "It has been the worst two years in my life." He no longer sings Johnny Mathis songs.
       A week ago, Mel suffered the worst pain in his life while his dermatologist inserted a graft inside is right ear. At least the cancer had been removed and he needed one last followup to make sure the ear surgery turned out fine.
       Too bad that his Primary Doctor and four other doctors did not take care the earlier infection. It also appeared the Doctor Joseph Nassir had been billing Medicare for thousands of dollars even though Mel had never seen him.
        The shuttle to return Mel to the warehouse came on time. Later, I found out that my brother needed to pay cash for round trip. Mel does have a trust account, but needed to somehow enter the business office down the hall to find out his balance. There is no invoice for Mel each month, although it appears that the warehouse should provide one.

That Saturday, I brought two New York steaks for Mel. I took a bus and walked two miles to his Sea Cliff nursing home. This time, I had a cook sign that she received the meat and I told her when to cook it. I am certain that Mel still had not received it.
   Depleted of energy, I needed to go to the Waterfront Hilton to relax and get my bearings. I felt my brothers suffering. The swaying Palms, while surfers peddle lock their bikes before removing their paddle boards for rides of their life. A day so bright that now the pool too had waves of many tourists enjoying the ambiance
    In their lobby I began to read my book about Thomas Becket and became re...All of a sudden I heard a loud  and felt, like the Archbishop Becket, that a swordsman was about to unhinge my head. 
A large bear looked down on little old me. He was dressed in suit and the way, he examined me i knew my jig was up.
    "You probably want me to leave, right."
     "Yes."
    Now with all the killing going on, all I needed was a bullet up my nostrils. The large bear did not smile or blink, but waited for my depressed body to exit. I have heard that many security men or quck to act without surveying the situation.
    "Here is a cutie tangerine...and are you the manager of the hotel?"
     "Yes."
     "Can I see your card?" He presented it to me.
    "I am going to get you fired!
I allowed this jerk to ruin my day. I called the management who called me back. Think her name was Pauline. Next door I bought a breakfast burrito that seemed to calm my nerves and the return call said that they apologized. Yet the euphoria had been destroyed by this mean Hilton bastard. The manager called me again and told me the security director was sorry "and would buy me a coffee next time."

The next day, three buses and two trains took me to Los Angeles. The sky was blue, ever so blue aa Los Angles for me is again the City of Angles

   


     

No comments:

Post a Comment