Phone Home

 One of the questions The Patient asked yesterday was about his cell phone. He wanted to know if I had found it. I had not looked since getting the truck up the drive was foremost in my mind. I did go look after I had calmed my mind with the help of my dog and cat therapy.

I grabbed the garden rake with the extra-long handle and headed up my driveway and down the adjacent drive to the scene of the crime. I called his phone and I could hear it, but I could not see it. The phone case is black, making my task near impossible. 

The underbrush was thorny, but I had put on a pair of jeans knowing that. I tried raking where I thought the ring tone sounded. I found lots of paper debris that people toss from their vehicles, a dogfood bowl that I had been looking for and dirt and leaves. No phone magically appeared. I decided to use the rake as a walking stick and attempt to go down into the ditch that was maybe 6' deep. I saw a foot hold and tried it. It was muddy from all the rain of late and my foot slipped out from under me.

I landed on my butt in the moss next to the pavement. I sat there contemplating my next move. First, I had to get back on my feet. Not an easy task on flat surface, much less a sloping one. I looked around and listened carefully for anyone nearby, then got on my hands and knees and finally to my feet. I walked on down the road to the neighbor's place. It looked like I might be able to get through the brambles and walk up to where the mower sat crushed against the tree. I had convinced myself that this was the best course of action as I walked down, down, down, then back up into their yard.

I found somewhat of an opening into the underbrush with trees that I could use as hand holds and started in. My first step onto the leaves sank into the leaves and more mud. I pulled my foot back and decided that a new phone was imminent. If I fell and got hurt, who would take care of The Patient?

More to the point, if I did get hurt, who would I call. I was happy that I had a more than valid excuse to abandon the mission and started towards home. Remember that walk down, down, down? I had to walk up, up, up. The edge of the storms that we are getting has the humidity quite high. The air is hot and thick. I cursed the long legs of my pants as I struggled up that drive. I kept reminding myself that I would be going down as soon as I hit my drive.

Finally arriving back home I peeled all my wet clothes off and hit the shower. Then I gave The Patient the bad news about his phone. I offered (half-heartedly) to attempt again later, but he agreed it would be pretty awful if I broke a bone, too.

Later while I tended to The Patient's every need, the dogs let me know that a visitor was at my door. Fred had found the phone! I was ever thankful, then he told me that he had a buddy helping him and would be happy to pull the mower out and bring it home. He did and also found his glasses. I was happy, the patient was happy and all the animals in our kingdom were cheering and celebrating the return of the phone and glasses.

I made that last part up. The animals were not impressed. I continued my tasks and the ones that are usually done by The Patient. This feels like a replay from taking care of him a couple of years ago. He is such a horrible patient. As a nurse I have cared for many a patient, so when I say he is the absolute worst one I have had to deal with, my statement has validity! I know whereof I speak.

The next morning, I received a call back from the ortho office. I was told that the doctor would take a look at the x-rays and determine when he wanted to see The Patient and she would call me back and make the arrangements. She called back in 10 minutes and asked me to get him there in an hour. I found it to be a matter of concern. If all he was to do is keep the arm immobilized, then why the urgency?

It took some doing to rouse the man from his narcotic slumber. He said he was not going, that he wanted to go back to sleep and I could just reschedule the appointment. Using my stern nurse voice, I told him he would be doing my bidding whether he felt like it or not. Again, he did not approve of the clothes I was trying help him put on. Shorts and a t-shirt. All I cared about was the ease of getting that oversized t-shirt on him. When he told me to put his injured arm into the sleeve hole, I just ignored him and pulled it down over his sling leaving the sleeve empty.

I have always heard (and found it to be true) that you cannot reason with a drunk. He wasn't drunk, but he was under the influence of Percocet. He kept trying to use his left hand, which made his arm move, which is exactly what I did not want him to do. After reminding him the third time I wanted to smack him, but I couldn't decide on a spot that was not bruised.

I made The Patient walk up the drive to the truck. Yes, I could have driven it down to collect my passenger, but I was never going to back it up with the complaining man sitting next to me criticizing my attempts. He wanted this and that as I was trying to get him out the door for that walk and as a result, I forgot my glasses. I had to hike all the way down and back up while he waited in the truck with cold air blowing on him. Remember, I am no spring chicken.

I had to push myself physically, as I was hurried and for the first time since I started the new drug regimen that calmed my skipping heart, I felt my heart flutter and skip.

All my anxiety was for not. They put a new sling on him and the ortho spoke to The Patient, explaining things and telling him how important it was to stay immobilized. I was paying close attention, The Patient? Not so much. I drove home and drove down the driveway to get the man inside. He will go back in 6 weeks. As far as I am concerned, that truck won't be moving before that visit.

I had texted my kids and my nephew's wife while at the ER. Kids were concerned and sympathetic, but Whitney called and demanded that I call a realtor "right now" and find a piece of flat land near her to live on. 

The next day made me consider her request ....