We got to the V.A. all right, although there wasn't much the doctor could offer--there hasn't been for several years now. When we got home, I started dinner, but then Pat told me he didn't seem to be getting oxygen. I thought there could be something wrong with the hydra tor, so took it off the concentrator, but then I couldn't get the hose in. I was tired, hungry, and frazzled and I really lost it at that point. Finally called Frank next door, who got it on--but it still wasn't delivering the oxygen. Pat told me to check the gauge, I did, and found it was down to zero. I immediately turned it up (Pat's on 3 1/2 liters) and it was fine.
However, the fried eggplant I was cooking, one of Pat's favorites, wasn't. It was burnt to a crisp, so I served him only ham, scalloped potatoes, and applesauce. However, he enjoyed it and the crises was over.
Hope Marge can make our lunch date today. That does necessitate getting Pat up by 11:30 or so, so he's safely back in bed while I'm gone, but I'm anxious to see her.
Wider: Friend Gerri B. directed me to this link with a remarkable montage of the presidents (and pres-elect):
http://www.flixxy.com/presidents-morphing.htm
It's fascinating to view, isn't it? But the way one morphs into the other is a little eerie. As if, indeed, there's no real difference between Washington and Adams, Eisenhower and Kennedy, Bush II and... Oh, but wait, that can't be right. Surely, Obama will lead our country into more virtuous and less bloodthirsty ways than Dubya.
Won't he? Won't he?