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I'm Sorry, I Can't Let You In
I knew when I arrived that it wasn’t going to be easy to find a parking place. It was almost 11:00 AM and the large lot usually fills up by 8:30 AM and stays that way throughout the afternoon. I usually don’t mind the walk. I’m healthy and enjoy not only the exercise but also the feel of the winter sun on my face as I inhale the cool air before encountering all the antiseptic smells of the hospital. I had my driver’s license out, ready to present it to the guard as I pulled up to the gate. “Good morning,” I greeted the woman on duty, fully expecting her to wave me through as she usually does. “Ma'am, do you realize that the sticker on your license plate is expired?” “Pardon me?” I didn’t think I heard her right. “Your registration is expired. I can’t let you in.” For what seemed like ages I stared at her in disbelief. How could this have happened? We are usually meticulous with things like that. My mind was raced as I struggled to figure out how I was going to get to a meeting with Dad’s doctors and the patient advocate that I had called. The day before someone had given him a razor and allowed him to shave on his own. A man with Parkinson’s disease should never be given a standard razor let alone someone who was also taking four blood thinners. Put the two together and you end up with a face covered with tiny nicks and cuts that ooze for hours. Mike and I had walked into Dad’s room to find him looking as if he had been doing battle with Edward Scissorhands. “What am I going to do?” I said out loud without realizing it. “You can park at the 7/11 next door and walk in,” the guard answered, taking pity on me. And so I found myself walking across the wide grounds to the VA Hospital in Martinsburg, W.V. in the rain. Fortunately it wasn’t too cold. Unfortunately I was very tired from weeks of worry about Dad and long days spent at this bedside during his most recent crises. Still, I tried to convince myself that walk would be good for me. What I hadn’t figured on was that a rather short drive along the circuitous roadway becomes a baffling maze to one who has never tried it on foot. As car after car passed me I contemplated cutting across the lawns to shorten the trip but after one look at the soft ground and muddy patches between me and the hospital and I decided it would be best to stay on the sidewalks. It took me a while but eventually I figured out how to get from point A to point B in time for the meeting without becoming completely soaked through. Everyone commiserated with my sad, “expired tags,” story before engaging in a very successful meeting that resulted in large signs being posted in Dad’s room, “NO RAZORS,” read one in bright red letters. “THICKENED LIQUIDS ONLY, PLEASE” read another. After the meeting I visited with Dad for a couple of hours before starting on the return trek across the lots to the 7/11 to get my car. “I hope I can find my back,” I muttered as I raised my umbrella. Of course I did and the next day I arrived at the hospital with updated stickers on my license plates and a renewed registration in my glove box. “Good morning,” I greeted the guard. “Good morning to you,” she answered without even glancing at my license plate and waving me in. All was well again and I within minutes I found a rare parking spot only steps from the entrance. I’m pleased to tell you that Dad is home again and recovering well from his latest setback. He spent two weeks in the hospital this time after developing blood clots in his left arm which blocked the circulation causing it to swell and turn blue. We were fortunate that none of the clots broke free to cause a stroke or another heart attack. We count our blessings again as we monitor him closely for signs of excessive bruising or internal bleeding. I’m really tired and at times I lose my sense of humor. It’s because of that I went looking for a joke to bring a smile to my face. I found this one on the website www.humormatters.com under the subheading “aging” but I think it could apply to all of us young and old, at one time or another, as cope with our very busy lives. “A police car pulls up in front of Grandma Bessie's house, and Grandpa Morris gets out. The polite policeman explained that this elderly gentleman said that he was lost in the park and couldn't find his way home."Oh Morris", said grandma, "You've been going to that park for over 30 years! How could you get lost?"
Leaning close to grandma, so that the policeman couldn't hear, Morris whispered, "I wasn't lost. I was just too tired to walk home." I’ll try to remember to be as creative if anything like this happens to me again. (grin) If you have a funny story or an example of creative problem solving to share, please contact me at bcarducci@comcast.net I’d love to hear from you.
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