Hey, anybody remember what
we did last Saturday? That was so much fun let’s play Saturday, San Juan, VA
Emergency Room again. This time Kirt rode in an ambulance.
The morning began with
Castor Oil just like last weekend. This week there wasn’t the pain of butt
ripping turds, yippie ki. What we had here was failure to defecate followed by
reverse flow. You wouldn’t believe what came out of his mouth and nose. “Pat,”
he bellowed like a dying bull elephant. I recognized my name or I wouldn’t have
known it was Kirt calling me.
Getting an ambulance to not stop in the nearest town, but to go
directly to VA San Juan took a little doing. In a sincere desire to ensure the
best care for my guy I spoke probably every
word I know in Spanish today. I knew I was in trouble when the EMT guy who was
speaking some English to me relayed to his partner his opinion of the course of
events. The EMT partner assertively told my neighbor Gerardo, to tell me
something. Gerardo, who speaks no English, looks me compassionately in
the eyes and ever so slowly, enunciating carefully tells me what all the guys
think in (what else?) Spanish!
With Kirt headed toward
help I sat on the bed stunned. When I first saw my love, my best buddy in the
whole world slumped in the wheelchair spewing like something out of a horror
movie, I wanted to throw up, and cry
and scream. My head had thoughts of blowing up. I locked the dogs and cat in
the house and headed to San Juan.
The ER Doc had been told
that Kirt fell on the bathroom floor, couldn’t get up and his belly hurt. No
mention of vomiting, constipatation, Castor Oil, being incoherent, or that I
had given him aspirin because I thought he may have had a stroke. Armed with this
new information the doctor continued with what he was doing.
Short story treated and
released; we were home before Sunday. On the ride he complained of pain in the
long leg. The stump hurt less than the good leg. His belly hurt less than the
whole leg. God, please let it be his back.
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