Saturday, September 11, 2010

Going to Hospital

Hello Dear Reader,
In the spring I was released from my mission and returned to Scotland to work on correspondence courses in hopes of graduating from High School. I had only been home a short time, however, when Grandpa (Wesley) Carter, while getting ready to go to London, got a severe pain in his stomach. Grandma tried to call a doctor with the results of an ambulance being sent and Grandpa being taken to hospital (in Great Britain they didn't say, "the hospital," but just "hospital.").

He began to feel better in a couple of days but was not allowed to go home. I was enlisted to do office duty and made phone calls, typed up letters and reports, and did Grandpa's filing. He was very unhappy about being confined in a room of twenty beds full of sick men. He wrote, "The beds were so close together there was walking room only on one side. I had to smell tobacco smoke, listen to coughing, moaning, and snoring for over a week before I was released." Our experience with socialized medicine seemed to always be very negative.

As soon as Grandpa got out of hospital he immediately left to make his round of visits to the chapels he was over. I continued to serve as his personal assistant, answering phone calls, finding files for him, making phone calls, and helping him get up to speed in his work. It was very hectic because of the time he had lost.
Aunt Genni

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