Yesterday, when I dropped off a batch of candy at my neighbor’s house across the street, we stopped and chatted for a while, as we always do. She’s the caregiver for her mother-in-law, and has been having a really hard time of it. Her MIL had been in the hospital, but had recently come home and the care was much harder than it had been. Maria’s such a sweet lady, but the family doesn’t give her quite as much support as they should and she gets exhausted, physically and mentally. Sometimes we sit on the porch and have a beer and give her a breather.

A couple of hours after we’d talked, the doorbell rang. Maria was looking pretty upset and wanted me to come check on her MIL. Now, I have no medical training; I’ve worked with animals all my life, not people. But Maria’s daughter, who’s a nurse, was on-duty and unavailable. As soon she asked me if I’d had CPR training, I realized that it was serious, so I went over too.

The gramma wasn’t looking too good, but at least it didn’t look like she was having a heart attack. Still, she seemed to have both a fever and a cold sweat, and she said that she was in pain and wanted to go back to the hospital. If she was asking for that, it was pretty serious indeed, as she hates the hospital.

So Maria packed her up and away they went, to the hospital that she’d been to before, so they would have all of her information.

I checked with her this morning, and it was a good thing she’d gone. Gramma had blood clots in her lungs, and the doctors said that if we hadn’t brought her in, she could have died. She’ll be there for at least four more days, and I hope they get their ducks in a row before they send her home this time.

But Maria just knocked at the door again.

Had I seen the cop cars at the house right around the corner yesterday?

Well, yes, I had, but I didn’t know why they were there.

Turns out, there was a home-invasion robbery there. They shoved their way into the house when she opened the door to their knock, held them at gunpoint, and cleaned them out, stealing their own truck to get away with.

Crap. I really should move. But for now, I’ve got the front door locked and the pistol loaded and sitting right next to it, and I think I’ll get back in the habit of wearing my cell phone when I’m in the house, instead of leaving it laying around out of reach. I’m mean and strong enough to defend myself, but I’d rather not have to, you know?