Sippy pippy
It’s amazing how clutter adds up. It hides right there in front of you. We guys get dogged about being slobs, especially if you’re single. Which, I am.
I’ve lived a very active life. But because I am physically impaired at the moment, I have to keep reminding myself that it’s okay to ask for help sometimes. But in my current situation, this was forced upon me by my doctors after a lengthy hospital stay. A nurse, physical therapist and two housekeepers. My god, I protest, my house is not that unkept.
But you have to watch what you say to these people. They take everything you say very literally. I remember when I first returned home, I was very sore, mainly my right leg. I was taking Morphine in the hospital for the pain, so you can imagine how I was feeling now that I was off it.
The nurse was taking my vitals and I was trying to get up from a chair using the wooden arms and my stroller. I was shaking terribly and slowly advancing upward, making gurgling noises all the way. I was trying desperately to stifle any choice words I learned in the service. The lady hurriedly put down her clipboard and grabbed my arm.
“Are you hurting?” I almost laughed, if it were not for the risk of pushing myself into a coma from the added pain. And she should talk. She was wearing so much cheap makeup, I almost wanted to ask her if she was in pain from having to hold her head erect with all that stuff. Put her in the middle of a herd of circus clowns, and you’d never find her.
“Yes, I’m hurting. But I’ve got to try and walk every day.”
“No, no, you sit back down. What do you need?”
I was going to go get some water so I could take my pills. But, she insisted I remain put, and she whisked off to get my drink. While I sat there hurting even more from the push back down, I was suddenly reminded that I needed to order a fire pit. And I knew exactly….
Okay, she was coming back. “Here you go.” I reached out with both my hands, and I almost had an accident from the shock of which glass she brought back the water in.
A Tasmanian Devil sippy cup. And then she starts talking to me in baby tones. “Take it slow. You can do it all by yourself.”
Of course, it was also frightening to think how she found that cup in my cabinets. It was reserved for one of my grandbabies. Taz was his favorite. “All better?” she asks. She should have been grateful my machete display was in the next room.
I said I needed to go to the bathroom. And, I got up by myself despite her dislike. I told her that I was done with her for the day and to please close the door behind her.
It took an act of god to lower myself onto that toilet seat. I had let out a huge scream and several four letter words. But I didn’t care. I was by myself now. Who was going to care?
“You alright in there?” Talk about shell shock. I assured her I was, and she assured me that she would stay outside the door until I was done. I mean, I wasn’t in potty training. I remained there on the throne for a good while, flushing frequently, hoping to flush her out of the house.
Sure wish I had brought my sippy cup.