When it rains it pours
What’s that expression, “When it rains it pours?” Come to our house if you want to see it in motion; I really thought we had enough problems when one more came along to add to the fun. My son, Doug, twisted his back getting Christmas decorations down from the shelves in the garage.
He came in complaining of pain. Taking aspirin and resting did nothing, and the next day — the day before Thanksgiving — I had to drive him to the hospital. You’d have to understand just how terrible he felt that I had to drive. Of course all the way to the emergency entrance he told me how to drive. You know the routine, you’re going too fast, you’re going too slowly, you’re in the wrong lane, etc.
Gritting my teeth, I reminded myself that he was really hurting. It was hard to imagine just how many people there were inside that facility. It was crowded, but they took care of Doug right away, took a test, gave him a couple of prescriptions and sent us on our way. Then there was the hour-long wait at the pharmacy before we headed home.
Now it’s Thanksgiving morning at 6 a.m. and across the house I hear my son yelling for help; he couldn’t move. Please understand that Doug is not one to complain. But the pain was so severe he literally couldn’t move. I had to call 911. Not five minutes later a nice, young sheriff’s deputy came to the door. A few minutes later the ambulance arrived.
Our dogs Molly and Riley were running around like crazy, and Doug was yelling for me to settle them down. There was no settling these two, but the sheriff helped me while three ambulance personnel lifted a screaming Doug onto a gurney. They took Doug out to the ambulance for the ride to the hospital. I waited until a decent hour and called my friend, Brandie to tell her we wouldn’t be going to her house for Thanksgiving dinner.
Knowing that I couldn’t help him, I stayed at home. Later I called and told them that if he were to stay I would come in and bring his glasses, or if he were coming home to call and I would get him. The latter happened a few hours later. More time at the pharmacy where only one young lady was in attendance. We got home just before noon.
We hadn’t eaten yet, so I made some scrambled eggs, toast, coffee, juice. After we ate I helped Doug get into bed. While he tried to rest I set up some yeast rolls and defrosted some homemade chicken soup, we weren’t going to have Thanksgiving turkey that was certain. Now it’s Saturday and Doug isn’t a heck of a lot better and I’m not certain what we are going to do, he is in considerable pain.
For now all I can do is help with ice packs and cooking a little. Time will tell.
Something else I had planned to do. I wanted to spend at least one Saturday in December with Patricia at Rising Sun Gallery, meeting friends and signing my crewel designs. For years I’ve donated some of my works to assorted local charities, using the monies I make from my work.
I doubt I’ll get down to Maine Street, but I’m going to try, remembering that the LVN has had a number of articles about all of the great local businesses. We need to support our locals during the holiday season, and I wanted to add a couple here in my column that needs mentioning. If you haven’t been down to check out the work of our local artists, take some time to do so.
The talent of our local artists is amazing. It’d be a shame if you didn’t take the time to go and see just what I’m talking about. The assortment of types of art is amazing.
And then surprise, surprise, go next door to Jeff’s Digitex to see the whimsical work that Suzie does, her work is equally surprising and fun. You’ll understand when you check out her work.
Now I’m suggesting that you don’t get the usual tie for Uncle Joe or a scarf for Aunt Betty. I’m talking about something unusual and exceptional that you’ll see at both businesses. I believe Jeff’s is open 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. and Rising Sun Gallery is open 10 a.m. to 7 p.m.
Edna Van Leuven is a Churchill County writer and columnist. She may be reached at email@example.com