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It was a drenchy morning. Up the front walk, she lugged four bags of groceries for her eighty-four-year old customer, homebound with erratic blood pressure. The door opened slowly, then her friend dropped from view. Something was wrong, so unlike the cheerful greetings she had offered her for two years.

“Doris? Are you all right?” She pushed open the door the rest of the way and found her in her housecoat and slippers, gasping, then gripping the sofa as she flopped upon it. Her hollowed eyes seemed to careen wildly like a wheat field torn by a twister. She needed help—fast. “I’ve got to call 911, Doris. Do let me do that. You know we’re friends.” Because Doris’s relatives were too busy to tend to her needs, she depended upon Gateway Delivered Goods for her groceries.

The familiar voice roused her sufficiently to respond: “No—Don’t do that—I don’t wanna to go—Not there.” She moaned, turned on her side, hugging her spindly arms.

“But I must. This is no good.” She had been aware that her customer’s doctor was playing peck-and-find with her medications, and that probably she could receive better care from a cardiologist.

Within minutes, paramedics informed the nearly unconscious Doris that her blood pressure was 74/45, that she needed IV fluids. She nodded, a smile flickering the corners of her narrow mouth, as hefty arms lifted her upon the gurney for the ride to the hospital.

Doris’s friend, Ashley, stayed with her until she was established in a room, then located a granddaughter to take it from there.

Should you wish to contact Ashley for her services with Gateway Delivered Goods in St. Louis, Missouri, call 855-331-8880. She cares, deeply … I know …

 

 

 

 

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