Room 3016A

     There are many ‘treats’ on highway 505 and “The 5.”  Treats like gross, 

bare-bellied men 

driving semi-trucks who stare down at female drivers as they pass on their left.  

A particular one I passed had a painted message on the back of his rig: 

“Ladies It’s a long road and I get lonely.  Give me a look.”

I know he was compensating for his small cock with that big-ass truck, 

but I did in fact

give him a look anyway… Just as I passed him, and as his tongue was wagging, 

I gave him the most ‘deliberate bird’ that’s flied off these hands in years.

     Other ‘treats’ include miles and miles and more extended miles of dead rolling hillsides the color of wheat, too many cattle crammed into not enough tiny stalls, and litter. The cars that speed by have bumper stickers that make my eyelashes curl but I don’t give a damn I just turn up the volume and keep on driving.  The song on the radio is one of my favs: “It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine…”

     I headed to Redding CA last week, which is a lot like Prunedale CA, 

only bigger. 

The folks that reside in “Reddin” are most likely 'kin' to the folks that reside at the trailer park…

every damn one of them.  The hospital lobby is proof. It’s reminiscent of the park ‘club house’ where there are a bunch of donated books and magazines; 

like Gun World and the Jehovah’s Witness Watchtowers.  

(Do you all remember when our part-time worker at the park was cleaning the laundry room/club house and found the toilet clogged with pages from a paperback novel because the facility out of toilet paper?)

Once inside Shasta Regional Medical Center lobby, I head straight for the elevator.

Edweirdo before the Hospital Escapades

     My third-removed-twice-baked-step-father-in-law, who we lovingly call “Edweirdo” has been in and out of the hospital 3 times in the past 14 days and as of the time of this writing, he's home.

But while there, we were easily able to detect his recovering when he finally returned to his old self: bossing us around, directing us on hundred things including, but not limited to, how to fold a sheet, fluff a pillow, clear a table, pour him water and turn on a television.  He ‘directs’ in a voice that needs to be brought down a volume or two, and he somehow misplaced words like ”please” 

and “thank you.”

We do love Ed, though. We just prayed regularly that, in times like these, he could have more Vicodin.

     When he was in the 1st time, he gave us all quite a scare.  He was out of it, so he was pretty unaware of the person having a fit in the bed next to him…

Softly the man began,

“Help… help… Somebody help me…Bathroom…bathroom…I have to go to the

bathroom…help…”

Then the crescendo,

“BATHROOM!...BATHROOM!...HELP!... SOMEBODY HELP ME!...HELP!...

PEE!... PEE!...

I HAVE TO GO TO THE FUCKING BATHROOM!”

Then, he put his right thumb and middle finger in his mouth and whistled a SCREECH that would make a bird stop and take notice…

3 nurses came running. 

“BITCH… BITCH… BITCH.” He said pointing at each one individually.

     Then there was the 2^nd time Edweirdo went in.  His roommate that time was just as special.  His name was Benjamin Wolff…W O L F F and he spelled it for us in the same sentence that he told us he had just had his toes cut off.  He was extremely disgruntled by the service he was receiving and gave a blow by blow detailed account of the letter to the editor that he was going to write the minute he got home.  He wanted out, there was no denying, but they couldn’t release him until Medicare approved the vibrator machine for his feet.  After he finished abusing all the nurses, he started in on his wife, who of course, like in a fairy tale, was as sweet as molasses.

Screaming at all of them, “YOU’RE NOT LISTENING TO ME!”

Finally my aunt-in-law couldn’t stand it any more and basically lost it.  She whipped back the curtain divide and told him to “KNOCK IT OFF!” then without a breath, “If I was your wife I'd divorce your ass.” Then she whipped back the curtain and stormed out of the room.

     Ed ended up in the same room the 3^rd time as the 2^nd:  Room 3016A.  Seems one of the things he’d acquired is Gout and they sent in the dietician to talk nutrition with him.

“You need to stay away from organ meats.” She began.  My mother-in-law interjected, “He doesn’t really like them; never has eaten any liver, heart, kidney.” 

Ed’s face seemed perplexed. 

The dietician continued...“Good.  He can’t have any organ meats; also bacon, shellfish, cod, gravies…”

Ed still looked perplexed and finally, “Now, why can’t I eat meats from Oregon?” 

he asked.

True story.  And really it kind of sums up his whole personality in a nutshell.

     Lots of activity in Room 3016A…felt like Barnum Bailey without the animals; conversations that led to nowhere, nervous laughter, screaming dudes with untied hospital gowns.  Even my partner’s mom, out of the blue, in kind of an understandable delirium recited, “Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Peppers…” 

which gave us all reason for pause, including Ed.

The day Ed was released to go home, my aunt-in-law came in wearing a tee-shirt that had a logo of an over-sized Martini glass and the motto for 

Dick’s Bar and Grill:

       Dick’s

So Few Richards

So Many Dicks

I knew at that point it was going to be a long week.

But the good news is he’s home and on the mend!  Ed’s sole motivation to recover is so that he can return to Win River Casino located 5 minutes from his house. 

Praise the Lord and praise the home health care nurse that calls him “Eddy” and tells him “What a good boy he is.”

You can see why cocktail hour began at noon last week.

Well, as they say, “It’s 5:00 o’clock somewhere.”

~tpg