Perhaps my favorite story that perfectly epitomizes the dynamics of Gram and Pap’s marriage is one that took place when Pap was bedridden after having lost his second leg from Diabetes.
I was staying at Gram’s house at the time. I vividly remember sitting at the dining room table while Pap was in his hospital bed in the makeshift bedroom/hospital room that had once been Gram’s living room. Gram’s house was small and she enjoyed open concept living long before it became desirable and trendy. Pap’s bed was along the wall in the living room and therefore could be seen from anywhere in the kitchen and dining room. Gram resented having lost her living room to that damn hospital bed. So much so that, the night that Pap died, Gram said to me, “I want you to call first thing tomorrow morning and get that Goddamn bed out of my living room. I want my house back!” I did. She got her house back.
That day, I was sitting at the table facing toward Pap’s bed and reading the paper. Gram was getting him up into his wheelchair as she did religiously every single day. “He’ll get bedsores,” she would say in her disgusted voice, “Like he had when he was in that damn hospital.” (Gram used to get so angry about the care that Pap got during his many, many stays at St. Francis hospital. Non one could care for him the way she did.) She used a Hoyer lift to get Pap up out of his bed and into his wheelchair. Although he was perfectly capable of helping out by rolling and lifting some of his own weight, he usually would not. He’d lie there like a dead body and let her do all the work. This, of course, angered Gram. She would swear profusely and talk under her breath, as if he could not hear her, the whole time she was doing it. The Hoyer had a gray, square canvas material sling that was about four feet square. It had grommets on each corner where the chains would attach. Gram would roll Pap to one side, slide the sling under him, then roll him to the other side and pull it through while rolling back to center. The sling had to be centered under his body in such a way that he would be balanced while he was being lifted. Once the sling was under his body, Gram would wheel the lift so it was centered over the bed. The lift was designed so that the base could be slid under the bed so that the top was extended over the bed. She would connect the four chains to the sling and then to the hooks on the top of the lift. Once connected, she would lock the brakes on the lift, then grab the handle and pump him up. Once he was high enough to clear the bed and the wheelchair, she would unlock, push and turn the lift in such a way that she could lower him over the wheelchair seat.
That particular day, Gram had gotten Pap into the lift and pumped up. Since he had no legs, he looked really funny dangling and spinning back and forth as he hung there. Suddenly, I glanced up and Gram was gone. “Where the hell did you go, you Goddamn bastard?” Pap squawked at that very same moment I looked up. Then, from behind the closed door of the bathroom comes, “I had to take a Goddamn leak, you son-of-a-bitch! You’ll just have to wait!” I looked down at the paper I was reading and pretended to not be paying attention, while I held back my laughing. I made sure not to catch Pap’s eye so he would not see me laughing while he dangled there helplessly.
Gram eventually came back and they continued the bickering and name calling until she got Pap into his wheelchair and over to the table where she would then make his breakfast.
To this day, I still laugh when I remember that day. I love to tell this story.
