Flea Market Report... Technically a No Flea Market Report

Today I didn't open the booth. Had to take my grandmother to doctor.

You see, Thursday about 11 AM I discovered my grandmother throwing up into a wastebasket. Now, my grandmother has had 2/3 of her stomach removed due to ulcers; she's supposed to be physically incapable of regurgitation. She reported that she could swallow nothing- she'd tried to have lunch (fried sausage, corn macaroni casserole), the food would get about halfway down her esophagus, stop, and reverse gears.

After several hours of waiting for a callback from the doctor, we got an appointment for 9:15 AM today. Her doctor ordered her to see her gastro specialist ASAP and to discontinue the ibuprofen her cardiologist had prescribed for lower chest pain. (The ibuprofen- Advil- whatever- had caused a massive acid overproduction at the exact sime time my grandmother ran out of Prevacid. Result- massive acid reflux leading to esophogeal spasms.)

This brings it home; I don't think I'll be able to do the flea marketing and take care of my grandmother both. What if the spasms had come today, while I was forty-five miles away, instead of Thursday? An occasional weekend for a convention is bad enough, but I can get Aunt Diana to cover for those. Every weekend? I don't think it'll work.

Another reason for doubt: tomorrow (Saturday) I'll only be open from 9 to 1. I have to give a campaign speech to a local subdivision's POA meeting at 2 PM. That's half the weekend lost.

This all but solidifies my resolve to pack up next weekend and liquidate at a few auctions.

It also means a day job isn't an option even should I find one.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Flea Market Report... Technically a No Flea Market Report

Today I didn't open the booth. Had to take my grandmother to doctor.

You see, Thursday about 11 AM I discovered my grandmother throwing up into a wastebasket. Now, my grandmother has had 2/3 of her stomach removed due to ulcers; she's supposed to be physically incapable of regurgitation. She reported that she could swallow nothing- she'd tried to have lunch (fried sausage, corn macaroni casserole), the food would get about halfway down her esophagus, stop, and reverse gears.

After several hours of waiting for a callback from the doctor, we got an appointment for 9:15 AM today. Her doctor ordered her to see her gastro specialist ASAP and to discontinue the ibuprofen her cardiologist had prescribed for lower chest pain. (The ibuprofen- Advil- whatever- had caused a massive acid overproduction at the exact sime time my grandmother ran out of Prevacid. Result- massive acid reflux leading to esophogeal spasms.)

This brings it home; I don't think I'll be able to do the flea marketing and take care of my grandmother both. What if the spasms had come today, while I was forty-five miles away, instead of Thursday? An occasional weekend for a convention is bad enough, but I can get Aunt Diana to cover for those. Every weekend? I don't think it'll work.

Another reason for doubt: tomorrow (Saturday) I'll only be open from 9 to 1. I have to give a campaign speech to a local subdivision's POA meeting at 2 PM. That's half the weekend lost.

This all but solidifies my resolve to pack up next weekend and liquidate at a few auctions.

It also means a day job isn't an option even should I find one.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.