Monday, March 30, 2015

Can you get me some Pop Tarts?

Just call me Florence!  As in Nightingale!  Flying to Buffalo in the middle of a late March blizzard to help my sweet sister-in-law in her valiant fight against lung cancer.

Better yet, call me Maria!  As in The Sound of Music!  I would sing to Evie as I helped: "Doe a deer, a female deer.."

I was full of enthusiasm and up for the task. Twenty degrees at the end of March?  Who cares?  I was like Alice in The Brady Bunch!  I could handle anything.

I awoke bright and early at 8 AM, ready, willing and able to help. I was a well oiled machine: get dressed, brush teeth, take Synthroid pill, comb hair, take dogs out.  Check! Check! Check! Check!

And Check!

The phone rang.  My brother Jim had locked himself out of his truck.  No problem!  That's what I'm here for.  Check!

It was only 8:45 and I had already saved the day!

Next on my list was to drive Evie to her 9:00 Radiation treatment.  Jim wanted to drive but I told him no.  I would drive my rental car.  It would be easier for Evie to get in and out of, compared to his truck.


I know what you're thinking.  How every thoughtful.  Thank you.

The clinic was about 10 minutes away and I have to say that Jim was a way worse back-seat driver than I remembered him to be.  


Here is a sampling of what I had to endure: "You're in the wrong lane", "Watch our for that bush!" and "You just drove over the curb."


I was beginning to feel unappreciated.

The three of us walked into the clinic, but in all honesty I don't remember much about it.

Apparently, I had begun to stagger.  Like a drunk. Jim, who up until this point had been focusing all of his attention on Evie, began to suspect something was wrong with me.

"Lou, are you okay?"
he asked.

"I just need a Diet Coke," I told him.  Jim told me to "stay put" while he looked for a soda machine.

He must have been gone a long time because I had to go looking for him. I stumbled around the clinic through a maze of hundreds of hallways and secret doorways  in quest of my Diet Coke,

When Jim returned with my Diet Coke he found the waiting room empty.  "Where'd she go?" he asked the woman behind the desk.  She pointed in the direction he had come from.

So Jim went in search of me, found me wandering in confusion, and escorted me to the waiting room, where my Diet Coke was also waiting.

I took a swig and said, "Can you get me some Pop Tarts?"

Jim said, "Are you okay, Lou?"

"Or Toaster Schhhttttrudels."

At this point Jim asked a nurse to look me over.  He assured her that I was normally quite normal despite my abnormal behavior.  The nurse took my blood pressure, which was, of course, normal.

Still, Jim suspected that something was seriously wrong with me.  Possibly a stroke.

Evie returned from her treatment and Jim took us each by the hand and walked to the car.

He insisted on driving my rental car, even though he wasn't on the rental agreement.  "You better be careful," I told him as he pushed me into the passenger seat.




Jim asked Evie if he thought they should take me to the Emergency Room.

The poor guy was at a breaking point.  Not only did he have to worry about Evie, now it seemed his sister was in the midst of a stroke.

He said, "Lou, did you take any pills this morning?"

"Just my Synthroid."

"Are you sure it was your Synthroid and not something else?"
he asked.

I tried to think.  Yes.  I pulled the pill from my suitcase in the dark.  But the only pills I had in my suitcase were Synthroid and...



Oh no.

My emergency Ambien.  In case I have really bad insomnia.

Florence Nightingale?

Nah.

Just call me Lindsey.



As in Lohan.

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