Squirrel Droppings #2 or “BUT WHERE DO I PUT…?”

–by Fred Prout

Sometimes life gets in the way of living. Sometimes stuff gets in the way of other stuff and pushes some of that other stuff aside. For a while, anyway. Sometimes it ain’t all about you, Bucko, so, “Ride that painted pony “ etc.

For the past too long, my me has kinda been elsewhere. Most of it still is, but, recent events have given me the impetus to chronicle these events and share them with you. You have forgiven me many things over the years. Perhaps too, this delay.

Wake up call. Monday noonish, I felt a slight flicker in my head. Fortunately, my sweet Willie saw it and, chop chop, called 911. Now, despite my waving, thumbs down and other ways of saying no, I couldn’t actually say no. So I have to forgive her. EMTs all over the place. I’m trying to talk to them, but, like the last one, this TIA affected speech and memory. So, I’m trying to explain the situation to a bunch of exceptionally qualified guys whose only fault is that they do not speak a combination of early Saxon, sardu, pidgin, galli verdo and gibberish.

Aside: Rita once gave cpr to a lizard drowning in the swimming pool.
Scampered off afterwards. The lizard.

After six and a half weeks in the ER ( just a guess) a doctor came in and got three intelligible words out of me. Maybe spinach, dog and my name, Blurf.

Did I mention that my memory was affected. I forget, but, as my sweetie was sitting in the cubicle, my (fortunately) unasked question was “Whoodie Effer Yew?” I mean I knew she was my sweetie, but I lost her name. And all of yours. Sorry.

I’m finally in my room for observation. My nurse comes in and gives me her name. I introduce myself, “Blurffed”. I’m improving. “Can I get you anything to drink?” “Furbrikkle glaspewyex”. Okay, I’ll be right back. And away she goes. Never to be seen again. Ever.

Aside: You can never go wrong with “Are you two sisters?”

I lay there alone for at least the entire lifetime of the lost continent Atlantis. Sometimes I think that the loss of that continent is the primary reason for incontinence. Maybe not. Depends. Enter new nurse. Shift change? At this point a few words are coming back. “I think I bluffer squartz, no way blufflerging.” “Of course you are. Take these cloppers.” It’s nice that they sent a bi-lingual nurse.

Enter daughter and her friend. All the way from Ratcheds By The Sea. Now, my daughter has seen me in my fifty shades of normal, so she cut right through the language barrier. “Flarzzeled singto talk.” Since she’s been through this before, she answered to every name I called her.

Aside: Names are like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Put back one piece at a time or in bunches. High school photo classes create “The Student Prints”.

The room suddenly gets mega wattage brighter. My sweetie is pushed in by a volunteer. Note: She’s in a wheelchair. Now I have the pleasure of three close females extolling my many virtues. And giving inst —suggestions. All too soon, alone again with tv commercials for Miracle something and hemmorhoids treatment.

A long,sleepless overnight, followed by a morning of returning names and spinach. I mean speech. I need to get out of here. I have important stuff to do.

I try to explain to the new nurse that I am curbed and have to walk my sweeties dog. Or maybe my sweetie. In my befuddled state, you can forgive my confusion. Long story short, I threatened to go AWOL, so they bend over backwards to get me gone.

Aside: In the middle of this writing, I had to go to Costco with my sweetie. Sitting eating ice cream, I saw a man pushing a pallet filled with frozen broccoli and toilet paper. The circle of life.

The whole purpose of keeping you entranced thus far is to let you see the very large sign posted right over the bathroom facility. When I finished laughing I showed it to my nurse. “But where do I put my poop?” I asked with a straight face. I think she’s still laughing.