Irony

I left Crossfit feeling defeated and sorry for myself. I've had persistent pain in my right shoulder that has recently gotten worse.  I originally thought it was residual from the bicep tendon I ruptured in January.  However, it hasn't gone away and lately I've started thinking it’s a Rotator Cuff issue.  As I drove to Manor Care to see Gram, I was thinking about the impending MRI that I’m having Friday and wondering what the results will be.  A Rotator Cuff injury – even without surgery – is a long recovery.  If surgery is needed, it’s much longer.  In either case, I would likely need to consider giving up Crossfit.  That angers me.  And that, along with the work-related drama that’s occurred over the last few weeks has exacerbated my anger. Poor me.

As I walked my cranky ass into the facility, Sandy directed me to Gram who was down the hallway near her room.  As I approached, I noticed something odd; she was wheeling her wheelchair down the hallway with her eyes closed!  As I snapped a photo of her, I couldn't help but to smile.  This woman always cheers me up!

We sat in the hallway in front of the nurse’s station and Gram toyed with the bottle of Gatorade that she stole from me.  She drank some, but mostly just kept taking the lid off and putting it back on. 

While we sat there, I heard Harry, who was down the hall, singing, of all things, “The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow.”  (I had previously referred to Harry as the “Gay One,” since I didn't know his name and he struck me as such.  Then, for a while, I wasn't so sure.  It could have just been that I interpreted his over-the-top friendliness as gayness.  Tonight’s rendition of that show tune, however, may prove my original notion to be correct). 

Sandy brought some ice cream for Gram.  It’s funny how something as simple as watching Gram eat ice cream can lift my spirits.  She’s so much fun to just watch.  She was so focused on getting the hard ice cream out of the container with the plastic spoon that she was deep in her own world, stopping only occasionally to offer some to me.  (I would graciously say, “No, thank you.”)  As she devoured the ice cream, I was catching a glimpse of red on her fingers out of the corner of my eye.   At first I thought it was blood.  Then I remembered that Monica had painted her nails last week and what I was seeing was remnants of the polish.  Again, I smiled.

As I prepared to leave, Chris, one of my favorite aides, stepped behind the nurse’s station and I overheard him saying that his blood pressure was very high – something like 160/120.  That’s crazy.  He's 31!  Stefanie told him to sit for a while.  He said he didn’t feel well. Eventually, the whole gang gathered around the station – Gary, Carol, Sandy, Stefanie and some others.  They were all concerned about Chris and urging him to talk to his doctor about it.  I was concerned too.

But amidst all the commotion at the nurse’s station, Gram was still quietly going about digging the ice cream out of the cup and eating it.  Then, once again, in the background, Harry began blurting out “The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow.”  I kissed Gram on the forehead and said what I usually say, “I have to go to work; I’ll see you when I get home.”  “I guess,” she retorted, still intensely focused on the ice cream.

As I walked down the hall and toward the exit, my mood was better.  I thought, “Yes, this too, shall pass.  The sun WILL come out tomorrow.”  I opened the door to go outside.  SNOW!!

Restrooms Are For Customers Only

Putting an ad on Craigslist to give away the blocks that comprise my retaining wall was, for the most part a really good idea.  Not only do I get rid of the old block, but I get the wall torn down for me. 

The word "free" attracts a lot of folks. One was of particular interest.  The guy called me and at first, wanted to come in the morning.  "I've got two other guys coming in the morning," I said, "so it will be first-come, first-serve."  "What if I come tonight?" he replied.  "You'd have your best shot at getting the blocks," I said.

He was a heavier, early 30's guy, maybe 5'10" 250 pounds with a big gut.  He brought his son along.  The boy was maybe 8 years old.  It was endearing to watch the two of them interact.  It was like they were enjoying father-son quality time together.  It actually reminded me of how me and my uncle Chubbs used to work together on projects.  The boy was talkative and full of questions.  Dad, instead of getting annoyed, was very patient and answered his questions.  The boy couldn't lift the stones, so Dad suggested he stay in the truck and move the stones to the back while Dad hoisted them onto the bed.  They loaded only about 8 or 10 of the large stones- hardly a dent in the space he had in the bed of his large pickup truck- before things took a strange twist.

I was in the house with the dogs and doing some things.  At one point, I stepped outside the garage door to see how things were going.  Dad says, "I hate to ask you this, but can I use your bathroom?"  "No problem, meet me at the front door," I said and quickly ran upstairs to meet him.  Knowing how often I sometimes have to pee, I didn't give it a second thought. Plus, the guy was very gracious and took his shoes off before coming in the house.  He kept apologizing and I couldn't understand why.  I soon did.

I awkwardly waited in the living room while he did his business, which, as it turned out, was some BIG business.  He was in my bathroom for what seemed an eternity and it became clear he was taking a big dump.  Damn how I was wishing I would have replaced that toilet in the basement like I had planned!

After about 15 minutes, he emerged from my bathroom and found me waiting in the living room. I was awkwardly looking at my phone as if to not be JUST waiting for him to finish.  I mean, what else does one do when a complete stranger is taking a dump in his bathroom?

Upon his emergence, he says, "Wow, thank you.  I thought I was going to have an accident.  That usually doesn't happen to me.  I had lasagna today and something must not have agreed with me."  Really? I thought, isn't it awkward enough without you having to share the details of your diet and digestive system?  "No problem," I said, despite what I was thinking.  "This usually only happens to me at family reunions," he continued even though I was trying to move him back out the door.  "You know, with all the different foods and stuff," he persisted.  "Yeah.  I get it," I said anxiously as I opened the door for him.  "I probably used all of your toilet paper," he apologized.  STOP! I said inside my head.  "There's more in the cupboard," however, is what politely came out of my mouth as I was imagining myself having to plunge my stuffed commode once he was gone and how gross that was going to be.

As he proceeded down the steps toward the driveway, his boy then says, "Dad, I have to use the bathroom."  You are fucking kidding me, I thought. What, am I a convenience store?  So the boy comes up to use the bathroom as Dad, now back in my living room, waits for him.  "I hate to do this to you," he said, "But I'm going to have to leave and I won't be able to take any more blocks.  I don't want it to happen again and end up having an accident."  "Sure, I understand, I said.  "No problem."  Good God PLEASE just go I don't need any accidents!

Fortunately, the boy only had to pee so he didn't leave me stuck with Dad too long for more awkward conversation about bowel movements.  Once the boy came out, Dad said, as if he no longer had any interest in taking the blocks, "If you don't get rid of the block, there's a place on Route 8 that will take concrete.  You can load it in your truck and take it there."  "Thanks," I replied. What the fuck?  If I wanted to load them in my truck and haul them around, I wouldn't have gone through the whole process of posting the ad on Craigslist!  How odd it was that he, who was so hell bent on coming right away to get the blocks, only took a few AND was now suggesting I take it elsewhere!

In the end, I'm left wondering if the guy was interested in the block at all.  Was he, perhaps, living out some bizarre bathroom fetish?  One will never know for sure.