Bobby was the one who found him in the garage. He said that daddy had a contented look on his face just hanging there. When he told me of the experience, I remember him saying, "I know it's just a garage, but it felt like it was a mile long before reaching him."
Of all the things Bobby had to endure, that's the one that pops into my mind most often. Once again he was on my mind as I took the wet dish rag from the sink's ledge and proceeded to wipe off the signs of food and grease that had dried on the stove's surface. The phone ringing is what startled me back to reality.
"Hello," I said, answering on the second ring. I recognized mom's voice on the other end.
"Cheri, are you still coming up this weekend?" she asked.
"Yes, Mom," I answered. "I told you last weekend I'd be up again this weekend. How's Bobby doing anyway? I was just thinking of him."
"Well, that's why I'm calling," Mom replied. "He's supposed to go into the hospital again on Friday for more tests, and he's probably going to be there for a couple of days."
"So what's the problem?" I asked. "I'll just have to go in and see him with you then."
She continued on. "I'm just glad they finally found the cause of his pain and hope they can do something about it," she said with worry in her voice.
"Don't worry, Mom. I'm sure everything will be okay. Bobby's always been a survivor," I said, trying to reassure her. I could not think of it being any other way. I would not.
********
His family doctor had simply been giving him painkillers for a year, not even checking the source. Bobby said the doctor didn't like touching him.
"That guy makes me wait out in the waiting room forever," he said, "and when I finally get to see him, he's in and out in five minutes." With exasperation in his voice, he continued, "That's just enough time for him to hand me a new prescription and collect his office fee. That's all he cares about!"
I knew as well as he did why the doctor didn't like touching him. He was the one who diagnosed Bobby with the rare genetic disease Neurofibromotosis when he was only 13 years old, and who had admitted back then about not knowing much about the disease--only that it was untreatable. Bobby was entering puberty when he first started growing the fatty tumors which would eventually cover much of his body.
Bobby said, "Having one removed just causes two to grow in its place." So, over the next thirty years of his life he just learned to adjust to them growing everywhere. His silly grin gave everyone the impression that it didn't bother him. Bobby, however, did let it slip every now and then, like the time he said, "I may as well stay a painter cuz who's gonna hire me for an office or sales job? I'd get stuck at a desk in the backroom somewhere so no one would have to look at me."
Then there was the time Mom rubbed his aching back and he told her, "You don't know how good that feels to me since you know no one else will ever want to touch me."
For a long time he thought the ache in his back was related to painting. Finally, after a year, when the painkillers stopped working anymore, he decided to go to a pain specialist for a second opinion. The x-rays showed a tumor resting on top of his pancreas. The family doctor had never taken any x-rays to know that fact. So, Bobby thought he'd finally found a doctor who was actually going to be able to do something for him.
********
Mom and I walked into his hospital room, and his eyes lit up. He saw the bag of cinnamon candy with the ribbon tied on top that Mom was carrying, and he grinned.
"Thanks," he said, eagerly taking it into his hands.
I had a hard time getting use to his new high-pitched voice, caused by the tumor's effect on his pituitary glands. But, for his sake, I didn't mention it and acted like everything was normal. Cheerfully he unwrapped the red hard candy from its clear plastic wrapper and popped it into his mouth. When he was through with it, he looked mischievously over at me and said, "You know candy and a cigarette go hand in hand."
"Bob!" I exclaimed in disbelief, "You can't smoke in the hospital!"
He ignored me as he slid out of the bed and headed straight towards his bathroom, pinching his white hospital gown closed behind him. "Y'can when the bathroom has a fan," he said. He just snickered, and before shutting the door behind him, said, "Shhh...I won't tell, if you don't."
I knew that if Mom would have still been in the room, I don't think he would've attempted it. Immediately after he went into the bathroom, she came back. She had left to speak to a nurse in the hallway. Her face looked quite ashen upon her return.
"Cheri," she whispered, "it's worse than we thought."
"Why? What?" I asked.
"They've got him on a salt-free diet," she answered, "because his kidneys are showing signs of breaking down. The tests show that the cancer has metastasized throughout his whole body already. The doctor said that removing it at this point will do no good."
What was worse is that Bobby hadn't received the bad news yet. He came out of the bathroom looking sheepish about having the cigarette and quickly sat back down on the bed. I'm not sure, but I think that may have been the last cigarette he ever smoked.
"I'm hungry," he said, sniffing into the air and smelling the aroma from the food carts in the hallway. When the nurse uncovered the tray, he saw a cup of broth, a small plain piece of chicken and some over-cooked carrots staring up at him. He was looking around for salt on his tray, but there wasn't any.
"Hey, what is this shit?!" he blurted out. "They keep giving me this bland diet crap and no salt on anything!" He was starting to sound like a cranky old man, but yet he was only 43.
He pushed the cart back and jumped out of bet, holding the back of his gown again as he raced barefoot into the hallway. His hair was messed up like Seinfeld's Kramer, and for the first time, seeing him standing there, I saw the shocking revelation of how pale and thin he had actually gotten.
"Nurse, nurse!" he called out in that unfamiliar voice once again. "Can I get some salt in here please? I can't eat this crap without salt in it!" He was a man with a cause, but he looked so pathetic.
She just looked at him blankly and said, "You aren't suppose to. Your salt level is too high already and is affecting your blood pressure. It shows your diet restrictions right there on your chart. Doctor's orders." She then just turned and walked away without waiting for a response.
"What's up with that shit?" he asked, as he looked at me, bewildered. He really didn't know. I fought off the tears welling up in my eyes and knew it wasn't my place to tell him either.
**********
Bobby was given the option of chemotherapy but was told that in all honesty he was already in the advanced stages of cancer. It would probably only make him sick but wouldn't cure him, so Bobby said he just wanted to go home instead. He never cried about the diagnosis--at least not in front of anyone. However, many times Bobby said, "I had so many plans." He had just bought a new hunter-green Toyota pickup truck, and he was so proud of it. Yet, next thing you know, he was telling Mom to sell it for him because he wouldn't be working to make the payments anymore anyway. I drove up every weekend to visit him, and with each time, I could see he had given up hope. Then one weekend, about two months after his diagnosis, I went to visit him and his bed had been moved out of his room and into the middle of the living room. Two mattresses were lying smack-dab in the middle of the floor. I guess it was just easier for Mom to keep an eye on him and tend to his needs. I asked him to look out of the living room window and see the new yellow VW Beetle I had just bought, but he said he didn't have the strength to get out of bed anymore. Mom had informed me that a couple of days before, he had come out of his bedroom to use the bathroom and just collapsed. That's why she moved his bed. He couldn't walk anymore.
That weekend I was getting ready for my long drive back home. It was Sunday afternoon, and as I sat on the couch, I watched as Bobby breathed such tedious breaths in and out. I was waiting for him to wake up so I could tell him goodbye. I looked down on the coffee table in front of me and there sat the Sunday paper. I gasped at the headlines staring up at me. The words stood out boldly, shouting up at me, "Cancer Cure Found at Cleveland University Hospital." I grabbed the newspaper and read of cases of people with various kinds of cancer who had volunteered to be guinea pigs for an experimental drug, and who, within six months, had their cancer either reversed or gone completely. I felt like it was a sign. It was hope. It was a chance. It was Bobby's last chance, so I made sure I took the newspaper with me. The first thing Monday morning I was on the phone at work, calling the Cleveland Hospital, telling them of the article I'd read, and volunteering my brother for their experimental drug. I never told Bobby I was doing it either because I didn't want to hear any protests. I was faxed a form that needed to be filled out and sent back to them as soon as possible. One of the criteria included was that the person could be in advanced stages of cancer, but would still have to be able to walk in on their own free will. I thought that I could somehow get Bobby pumped up enough to do it. The hospital also needed to have medical information from his doctor as to the type of cancer and stage he was in. When I called his doctor to tell him, he informed me that Bobby's cancer had spread to his brain and that there was a possibility they wouldn't accept him. I thought to myself, what does he know? He didn't work at Cleveland University Hospital. Why did he have to shoot down my plan anyway? He faxed the information to the hospital anyway at my request, and sure enough, he was right. I received a fax that told me it was "regrettable to inform" me, but they did not accept patients if the cancer had entered the brain. I couldn't hold back any longer. I cried. I felt the blood drain from my face and the tears could not be stopped. The realization had finally hit. Bobby was going to die. My brother, who was only fifteen months older than me, who was always so close to me, who was always there, was going to leave me...and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
***********
It was a Friday evening, October 9th, my daughter's special 18th birthday. She was having a birthday party with her friends at a local pizza place, and I was invited to go there, too. Just as I was ready to go out the door, the phone rang. It was Mom.
"Cheri," she said in a serious tone, "I hate to tell you this, but if you want to see your brother again, you'd probably better not wait til tomorrow to come up."
I never thought the time would arrive so fast when I would have to hear those words. I tried to prepare myself, but all the preparation in the world couldn't have helped me at that moment. I thought the news of my father's suicide was hard, but this was far worse.
I went out the door without hesitation and jumped into the car. I didn't even take my suitcase. I didn't want to take the time. Time was too precious. I did, however, stop in to tell my daughter that I had to go out of town that night instead of to her party. Her eyes lit up when I entered the restaurant, but quickly faded when I gave her the news. She offered to go with me, but I told her that she should just stay there with her friends since there was nothing she could do anyway.
The drive seemed longer than ever to get there, and as I pulled into the driveway, I suddenly didn't know what to do, or how to react. When I walked into the living room I saw Bobby lying there so helpless. I was immediately approached and pushed back into the hallway by the hospice nurse my mother had called in.
"I just wanted to talk to you a little bit before you go in," she explained. "There is a morphine drip that your brother is hooked up to so that he doesn't have to feel as much pain. I just want you to know that when he opens his eyes, we don't know whether he knows you're there or not," she continued. "He is unable to move or speak and his system is starting to shut down. I just wondered if you have any questions for me before you go in?"
Just then Mom appeared and said, "Oh Cheri, I'm so glad you made it. I told Bobby you were on your way and asked him if he could wait. He just made a sound, and I didn't know if it meant yes or no." Mom was acting weird. I wondered how someone could ask a dying person to wait.
I walked into the room and could hear the harsh rattling sound of Bobby's breathing as his chest rose and fell in a struggling motion, like someone trying to bench press beyond their maximum weight limit. The room smelled like a mausoleum.
My younger brother, Sonny, and his wife were there, even though at first I didn't know it. I just saw Bobby and practically flung myself on top of him, to hug him.
"Bobby I'm here!" I had to let him know. "I love you Bobby. Please don't die. I need you." The words just came out without thinking about what I was doing and the scene I was making. Once I calmed down, I sat at on the floor at the edge of his mattress and caressed his hair and his hand. I suddenly wondered if he knew I was there because there was no reaction except for his eyebrows rising once in a while, I just began to talk to him normally as if nothing was wrong. Then I remembered what Bobby had said before his voice had gone. Grinning, he said, "My last request is that when the time comes, I want someone to play my Led Zeppelin video for me before I go."
I thought that time would never come, but there it was, bigger than life. I could only hope his hearing hadn't gone, too. In case he couldn't see the video, I put in my own CD and sang his and my favorite Led Zeppelin song, "Stairway to Heaven" to him. I hope he heard it.
At about one o'clock the next morning, I got up from his side and went to the refrigerator for a much-needed beer. I asked the nurse if I could spoon-feed some to him since he, too, always liked his beer. She agreed that I should have one last drink with him. I hope he could taste it.
At two o'clock in the morning, the hospice nurse told us she was going home and would be back later in the morning. She left me in charge of the morphine drip. It was on a timer, but if he acted like he was in too much pain, I was to push the button to give him more.Several times I noticed his eyes wince with pain, or his eyebrows move up and down as he slept, so I pushed the button. I hope it helped.
At close to seven in the morning, Bobby's eyes opened. They opened wider and more brightly than before. He appeared to try to look over to where my mother had been most of the night until she needed to go and lie down. I asked if he wanted Mom. He made a noise, "Mmmm, mmmm," which I took to mean "Mom" It was only later that I realized he could have been trying to say, "Misty...Melaine." Sonny went and got Mom. She explained that his daughters, who had been there earlier the evening before, had to go home and get the kids to bed. She bent down next to him and gently said, "It's all right, Bob. I'm here."
His eyes opened wider, searching and scared.
"It's okay if you have to go now, " Mom soothingly spoke to him. "You won't have to suffer anymore. We will all be together someday and will see each other again." She stroked his hair and said, "We all love you and don't want to see you suffer anymore. So, it's okay if you have to go now."
The words seemed well rehearsed. The hospice nurse had told her that we had to let him go or he would just keep fighting and prolong his pain. I hated her for for that.
Sonny followed suit. He bent over him and told him he loved him and he'd see him again someday, too. All I could say was, "I love you Bobby." I couldn't say goodbye.
A tear trickled from the corner of his eye and a sudden calm came over his face. His breathing suddenly ceased; his chest no longer rose. I looked into his eyes, and his pupils dilated. We knew he was gone. Sonny closed his eyes. I sat with him for a while and talked to him because I knew the brain doesn't die right away just because the rest of the body fails. When the ambulance came and the hospice nurse showed up again, I had to give him one last hug. I knew he couldn't feel it. It was for me.
I went into Bobby's old room and laid down on a daybed that was still in there. I cried until I could cry no more. I felt physically and mentally exhausted. I felt someone's hand on mine and someone stroking my hair. I thought it was Mom, but when I turned to talk to her, no one was there.
That's when I knew... Bobby said goodbye.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Monday, March 28, 2011
Weakness
"Time and unforeseen occurrence befall us all," but there are some things within our grasp that we can control. Why then do we consistently avoid making the necessary changes to our lives which could alleviate future pains? It is not as if we want to endure pain on any level, and yet, we play our cards in such a haphazard way that we end up making it so. In hindsight we wonder why we did the things we did when, whether consciously or subconsiously, events could have been avoided. Weakness. That's what it is. Our own human condition of imperfection contributes to our demise at every turn. In the solitude of a moment it all makes so much sense, but then weakness takes over, and all forethought is washed away and quickly forgotten. Weakness and imperfection obliterates our hopes and dreams once again. If only that sensational moment of solitude could last. If only we had the strength to make it last, but alas, we are all weak...and imperfect. There can be no better explanation than that. If only...
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
The Trip
I know. I know. I said I would be sharing poetry and songs, but can't I also write stories (some of which just may be true)? Why do I feel the need to ask, since no one is listening anyway, right? Right. So, here goes....
The Trip
I tried to reassure myself that it would only take four hours there and back. I was still irritated. Why couldn't her roommate bring her home as originally planned?
Lennon looked sadly up at me as I quickly grabbed my coat and gloves from the hall closet.
"Come on Lennon," I said. "You can come, too." His bushy tail wagged with delight when he saw me pull out his blue leash from the closet.
He hopped his stubby body right into the yellow Beetle and immediately took his place in the passenger's seat. He shook himself off, and tiny blonde and white hairs flew everywhere. I sighed, knowing that the black cloth upholstery would look like the lint trap in my dryer by the the time I got back. But he was company.
I didn't look forward to the trip. Driving through Pittsburgh always made me nervous with its rat mazes of one-way streets. With my cell phone charged and ready to go and a tank full of gas, we hit the interstate, headed east.
The sun set early in the middle of December, which was not unusual. What was unusual was the continuous rain. Andrea had wanted a white Christmas during her break from college, but I was beginning to wonder if that was ever going to happen.
About halfway there, Lennon started to become restless. His big brown eyes gave me the cue that he needed to be walked. Luckily, the rain had subsided to a drizzle, so I pulled off at the next exit. I felt like I was the one being walked as he tugged me along, marking every bush in sight with his personal Lennon-was-here signature. After circling the service station twice, I finally said, "All right Lennon, you've done enough. Time to get back on the road." He leapt back into the car without hesitation as soon as I opened the door.
"Only another hour to go Lennon," I said, as I turned the radio on and made my way back onto the crowded highway.
The rain started up again. My night vision wasn't all that great anyway, but the rain just made it worse, adding to the tension I was already feeling. The droplets falling on the glass magnified the streaming glare of headlights from the other side of the highway, along with the cars that were following way too closely.
Occasionally there would be a sign informing me of how much farther I had to go. "Pittsburgh--20 miles" was reassuring to see. "Not much longer Lennon," I said. His ears perked up, and he looked at me as if to nod, and then laid his head back down onto the security of his paws.
As I started to get into three lanes of traffic, I noticed the sign, "Bridgeport--One mile." That was only ten minutes away from Pittsburgh. All of a sudden there was a tremendous downpour. I usually never put my winshield wipers on high speed, but this time I had to. Even then it was hard to see the lines on the road ahead of me. It seemed as if no one wanted to slow down either. There were cars ahead of me, behind me, and on both sides of me anxious to get to their destinations. Then, suddenly it happened. The windshield wipers of my "new" Volkswagen stopped. They just stopped! The radio that had been turned up to hear over the wipers, was now blaring with Mick Jagger singing, "I CAN'T GET NO SA-TIS-FAC-TION..." I panicked! Instinctively, I pressed the lever for the windshield wipers to make them work, but that only made matters worse. I had hit the windshield washer button instead. Blue-green spray, mixed with the pounding splats of rain, blanketed my windshield and left me feeling blind.
"Oh God, Oh God, Oh God," I chanted as Mick chimed in with, "HEY, HEY, HEY, LISTEN T' WHAT I SAY..."
I could see the blur of the red taillights ahead of me. I just needed to stay straight and follow them. My rearview mirror was clear to see the blotchy headlights of the car behind me. I could see the dark shapes of cars beside me with my side mirrors. There was only one other problem. I needed to get off at the fast approaching exit, but I was in the MIDDLE lane. I immediately put on my right turn signal in the hopes that someone would be kind enough to let me over, or else I was screwed. A couple of stubborn people just drove on by, and then, at the very last second , I saw there was a chance for me to make my move. Just as I did, there was the exit sign, and I kept merging right onto the ramp. I pushed my emergency flashers on to let the drivers behind me know there was a problem. I had a partial sense of relief that I had made it off the highway safely. "Thank you God," I thought to myself as if he had heard my earlier pleas. Surely there would be at least one gas station at this exit. I was wrong. There was a sign pointing to the right for Bridgeport on Rt.50 East, and one pointing to the left for Rt. 50 West. Other than the street light and all of the angry drivers passing me, there was only surrounding blackness. And rain.
I decided to turn right towards the town of Bridgeport and quickly pulled off to the side of the road. I was shaking. I had to get my bearings. I switched off the discomforting static that was now eminating from the radio and lit up a cigarette.
Lennon sympathetically looked up at me as if he knew there was something wrong. "It's gonna be okay Lennon," I responded. I spoke to him as if reassuring a child, which remided me.....Andrea would need to know what was holding me up. Still jittery, I pulled out my cell phone from the side pocket of my purse and pressed her stored number on the keyboard.
"Hey," she nochalantly answered, seeing it was me on her caller ID. "Andrea, it's me!" I exclaimed. "You'll never believe what just happened!" I proceeded to tell her of my ordeal, and that I would need to call AAA when I got off of the phone with her.
She just laughed and said, "I figured you were lost again, Mom."
I angrily replied, "I'm not lost! I was on my way. I can't help what happened, but I'm not lost!" I wished my words could have convinced myself. I could just picture her rolling her eyes as she spoke. "Okay, Mom," she replied, "give me a call after you get help so I know when yer finally gonna get here."
I agreed, and as soon as I hung up the phone, I jumped out of the car and into the rain. Before I called AAA I wanted to make one last ditch effort to see if I could get the stupid wipers to work. Mechanical skills have never been my forte. They continued to be stubborn and wouldn't budge, so I got back into the car, pushing nosey Lennon out of my seat. I was drenched from head to toe from the chilling rain, which made the heat inside the car feel extraordinarily good. I could only hope that the heater wouldn't stop working, too.
I anxiously began to rummage through my purse in pursuit of my AAA card. Their emergency number would be on the back. I knew that they would ask me for an address of my location, and yet I wasn't at all sure what town I was actually in. That's when I decided to continue farther on down the road before calling them. I wanted some sort of address or landmark to give them, I thought. A well-lit parking lot would be nice, too.
"Okay Lennon, we'll go on down the road and see what we can find," I answered, as if approving HIS idea. His ears perked up at hearing his name, but he stayed put in his seat this time.
As I drove back onto the road, I got the notion to roll down my window in order to see the white dividing line. The car inched slowly down the dark and winding road, with my head out of the window in order to see. Hell, I figured I was wet anyway, what did it matter? But I couldn't see much better with the blowing rain stinging my eyes. As soon as headlights appeared from either direction, I pulled off to the side of the road again until they passed. Still no place in sight. I passed houses scattered here and there for about five miles until there were bright lights ahead on my right. It was a small country fire station with what looked like the name OLIEN inscribed in large letters above the two front garage doors. In between the two garage doors was a regular entrance. There were lights on inside which was a good sign.
"Just stay here Lennon," I said, as if he had a choice.
Without hesitation, I jumped out with optimism that someone must be inside. When I looked through the window though, my hopes rapidly began to dwindle. I knocked loudly in case someone was just out of my view, but no one came. As quickly as I had gotten out of the car, I found myself back in it.
Looking over at lennon, all I could say was, "Shit! What now?" I still couldn't call AAA for help because I still didn't know exactly where I was. Just as I was driving away, I saw someone pull up in front of the station. I backed up in front of the building once again and watched a man run up and unlock the door. I was so happy to find there was still life on the planet after all. I was beginning to feel as if I was in the twilight zone. He then ran back to his car. Afraid that he was going to leave again, I jumped out and yelled over to him, "Sir! Sir, wait!" He looked over in my direction with a puzzled look on his face. I proceedeed to tell him of my dilemma and asked, "Can you please tell me where I am so I can get AAA out here to help me?"
"Yer on the outskirts of Bridgeport in Olien Township ma'am," he answered with a grin. He then hurriedly walked back to the door with a box in his hands, trying to escape from the rain. As he reached for the doorknob, he asked, "Ya wanna come in and use the phone? Yer welcome to."
"No, that's okay," I told him, "I have a cell phone. Thanks anyway." I smiled at him and reached for my car door.
Lennon was acting restless. He must've been wondering what the heck was going on. Then I realized he just needed walked again. "Just wait a minute, Lennon. I've gotta make a call first." He wouldn't lie back down. Instead, he eagerly looked outside while jumping back and forth between the front and back seats. I didn't care at that moment. I was finally going to make that call.
The card was still lying on the dash. I grabbed it and immediately started pounding the numbers into the phone. After two rings, I heard, "Thank you for calling AAA. Your call is very important to us. Please wait on the line and the next available representative..." I wanted to throw up. And what did they mean by have my account number ready? It's on the membership card, too. Did they think I just had their phone number memorized?!
There must have been a lot of people needing assistance because I waited five more minutes before receiving the same message again. Finally, a real live person came on the line and started right in with the questioning. I told the operator the township and the firehall I was at, but he couldn't seem to find it on the map. I started to feel like I was in the twilight zone once again. He reassured me that a tow truck would be sent out to the exit in the direction I had gone. "Give us up to an hour to get there," he said. "If no one shows up, call us back." What other choice did I have but to agree?
Lennon reminded me that he was going to leave me another dilemma in the car if I didn't let him out soon. I was already wet, so at that point getting out one more time wasn't going to hurt anything. Once back inside, I looked at the overhead digital clock. It was 8:05 PM/ Temperature: 36. I had planned on having Andrea picked up by now and back home by 10:00 PM. I knew those plans were thrown to the wind.
Just then, a knock came at my window. The friendly man from the fire station was now at my window, with his hands shading his eyes from the blowing rain. I rolled the window down a little and inquired, "Yes?" wondering what he wanted. He spoke loudly enoungh for me to hear over the rain beating rhythmically on the glass. "Ma'am, I hate to do this to ya, but yer gonna have to move this vehicle over to the side lot cuz there's gonna be a lotta cars coming in here soon. Y'see we're havin' a Christmas party here tonight."
Up until that point I was out under a light in clear view for the tow truck. Moving to the side lot, I was worried I wouldn't be visible. I told myself that there couldn't be that many fire halls out here, and a bright yellow VW Beetle would be hard to miss, too.
Sure enough, cars began swarming into the lot one by one and parking behind the building. The guys all proceeded into the side door with happy faces and slapping each other on the backs on their way in as if in some sort of ritual greeting. Soon the back lot was full of cars. The front lot was left vacant, probably in case of an emergency call.
Forty-five minutes and three cigarettes later, I was still staring out at the road making sure the tow truck didn't pass me by when another rap at my window startled me. I turned to see a big balding man's face grinning in at me. When I rolled my window down slightly, it didn't take long for the smell of alcohol to penetrate the air. I heard Lennon give out a low growl. He hadn't growled before, so it made me wonder if he sensed my edginess or just smelled trouble. The man pulled a hood over his head and, still grinning, asked, "Ya need some help, Miss?"
"Yes," I smiled back, "but I've already called for help, and they're on their way." I was trying to act as if I was in control. Was it working?
"Okay," he replied, "but if you decide you need my help, you feel free to come inside and get me now sweetheart." I smiled, nodded, and quickly rolled the window up again, checking to make sure the door was locked, too. Great! They must have already been getting into the holiday spirit before they even got there. After a few moments, the rain let up to a sprinkle, and two more guys came out of the side door, talking and laughing as they approached my car. I rolled the window down again. Again there was the unmistakable scent of alcohol. One of the guys was all dressed up for the occasion and acted as if he was in charge, saying, "Hey, listen I heard you're in a bit of trouble out here. Sure we can't help you till the truck gets here?" He spoke to me, but turned with a smirk to his buddy next to him, as if there was some kind of inside joke. With a flirty wink, he said, "You're more than welcome to come in and have a drink with us while you're waiting."
"No, I'd rather stay out here and make sure I don't miss them, " I responded. "They should be here anytime now."
He looked surprised at my answer and, as if by nervous habit, pulled out a cigarette from inside of his jacket, but then realizing what he was doing, he immediately put it back again.
"I'm afraid I can't take no for an answer. You NEED to come inside, " he insisted. I know you've been out here almost an hour now and probably no help is comin'. Know why?"
"Why?" I asked just to humor him.
"Cuz I already called them back and told them you were helped, and that they didn't need to come now," he answered with a glossy evil gleam in his eyes. His buddy giggled like a school boy beside him.
"Might as well unlock that door and come inside now," he continued more aggressively.
He leaned onto the door and curled his big fingers around the inside of the glass, trying to ease his hand in to unlock the lock. That was a mistake. Lennon was no longer growling, he was snarling and showing his teeth. I actually had to hold him back. The guy that thought he was God's gift to women suddenly backed away. He retaliated with, "I was gonna say you could bring yer dog in, too, but forget that!" Just then, his buddy, trying to bring him back to his senses, jumped in to shout, "Hey man, let's go back on inside! She don't wanna come in. You heard her."
The rain started to change to sleet, and a continuous slapping of wet flakes on his cheeks must've been enough to make him agree. He turned to leave, but not without waving and yelling back, "It's your loss!"
I felt my heart beating fast and didn't know if it was out of fear, or because of Lennon's startlingly uncharacteristic behavior. All I know is that I was glad he was there to protect me. I was shaken at what could have transpired if he hadn't been. That thought quickly disappeared when I began wondering if what the man said was true. Gaining control of my senses, and trying to keep from crying, I picked up my cell phone. I knew I needed to call AAA back to see if my call really had been cancelled.
The recorded message came on again just as the tow truck pulled in. The man looked over and pointed questioningly at me. I smiled and nodded yes, wiping the tears from my eyes. Just as I was ready to jump out and greet the man (maybe even hug him for finally making it) my cell phone rang. I thought maybe AAA wondered why I hung up and was calling back, but instead, it was Andrea.
"Hey Mom. You okay?"
"Yes, the tow truck just got here. I don't know if they can fix the problem yet," I said, "or if I'll have to be towed somewhere. I'll call you back and let you know though. I'm really sorry about this, honey."
"Never mind, Mom," she calmly replied, "I just called to tell you that I ran into someone else here at school who has family in Ohio. They said they'd give me a lift. So, now you don't have to worry about it. They're waitin' on me now; so, love ya; gotta go.".................................................................................
The tow truck driver was friendly. He asked to see my AAA Plus card. Then, sitting in silence, I had him tow me the two hours back home.
The Trip
I tried to reassure myself that it would only take four hours there and back. I was still irritated. Why couldn't her roommate bring her home as originally planned?
Lennon looked sadly up at me as I quickly grabbed my coat and gloves from the hall closet.
"Come on Lennon," I said. "You can come, too." His bushy tail wagged with delight when he saw me pull out his blue leash from the closet.
He hopped his stubby body right into the yellow Beetle and immediately took his place in the passenger's seat. He shook himself off, and tiny blonde and white hairs flew everywhere. I sighed, knowing that the black cloth upholstery would look like the lint trap in my dryer by the the time I got back. But he was company.
I didn't look forward to the trip. Driving through Pittsburgh always made me nervous with its rat mazes of one-way streets. With my cell phone charged and ready to go and a tank full of gas, we hit the interstate, headed east.
The sun set early in the middle of December, which was not unusual. What was unusual was the continuous rain. Andrea had wanted a white Christmas during her break from college, but I was beginning to wonder if that was ever going to happen.
About halfway there, Lennon started to become restless. His big brown eyes gave me the cue that he needed to be walked. Luckily, the rain had subsided to a drizzle, so I pulled off at the next exit. I felt like I was the one being walked as he tugged me along, marking every bush in sight with his personal Lennon-was-here signature. After circling the service station twice, I finally said, "All right Lennon, you've done enough. Time to get back on the road." He leapt back into the car without hesitation as soon as I opened the door.
"Only another hour to go Lennon," I said, as I turned the radio on and made my way back onto the crowded highway.
The rain started up again. My night vision wasn't all that great anyway, but the rain just made it worse, adding to the tension I was already feeling. The droplets falling on the glass magnified the streaming glare of headlights from the other side of the highway, along with the cars that were following way too closely.
Occasionally there would be a sign informing me of how much farther I had to go. "Pittsburgh--20 miles" was reassuring to see. "Not much longer Lennon," I said. His ears perked up, and he looked at me as if to nod, and then laid his head back down onto the security of his paws.
As I started to get into three lanes of traffic, I noticed the sign, "Bridgeport--One mile." That was only ten minutes away from Pittsburgh. All of a sudden there was a tremendous downpour. I usually never put my winshield wipers on high speed, but this time I had to. Even then it was hard to see the lines on the road ahead of me. It seemed as if no one wanted to slow down either. There were cars ahead of me, behind me, and on both sides of me anxious to get to their destinations. Then, suddenly it happened. The windshield wipers of my "new" Volkswagen stopped. They just stopped! The radio that had been turned up to hear over the wipers, was now blaring with Mick Jagger singing, "I CAN'T GET NO SA-TIS-FAC-TION..." I panicked! Instinctively, I pressed the lever for the windshield wipers to make them work, but that only made matters worse. I had hit the windshield washer button instead. Blue-green spray, mixed with the pounding splats of rain, blanketed my windshield and left me feeling blind.
"Oh God, Oh God, Oh God," I chanted as Mick chimed in with, "HEY, HEY, HEY, LISTEN T' WHAT I SAY..."
I could see the blur of the red taillights ahead of me. I just needed to stay straight and follow them. My rearview mirror was clear to see the blotchy headlights of the car behind me. I could see the dark shapes of cars beside me with my side mirrors. There was only one other problem. I needed to get off at the fast approaching exit, but I was in the MIDDLE lane. I immediately put on my right turn signal in the hopes that someone would be kind enough to let me over, or else I was screwed. A couple of stubborn people just drove on by, and then, at the very last second , I saw there was a chance for me to make my move. Just as I did, there was the exit sign, and I kept merging right onto the ramp. I pushed my emergency flashers on to let the drivers behind me know there was a problem. I had a partial sense of relief that I had made it off the highway safely. "Thank you God," I thought to myself as if he had heard my earlier pleas. Surely there would be at least one gas station at this exit. I was wrong. There was a sign pointing to the right for Bridgeport on Rt.50 East, and one pointing to the left for Rt. 50 West. Other than the street light and all of the angry drivers passing me, there was only surrounding blackness. And rain.
I decided to turn right towards the town of Bridgeport and quickly pulled off to the side of the road. I was shaking. I had to get my bearings. I switched off the discomforting static that was now eminating from the radio and lit up a cigarette.
Lennon sympathetically looked up at me as if he knew there was something wrong. "It's gonna be okay Lennon," I responded. I spoke to him as if reassuring a child, which remided me.....Andrea would need to know what was holding me up. Still jittery, I pulled out my cell phone from the side pocket of my purse and pressed her stored number on the keyboard.
"Hey," she nochalantly answered, seeing it was me on her caller ID. "Andrea, it's me!" I exclaimed. "You'll never believe what just happened!" I proceeded to tell her of my ordeal, and that I would need to call AAA when I got off of the phone with her.
She just laughed and said, "I figured you were lost again, Mom."
I angrily replied, "I'm not lost! I was on my way. I can't help what happened, but I'm not lost!" I wished my words could have convinced myself. I could just picture her rolling her eyes as she spoke. "Okay, Mom," she replied, "give me a call after you get help so I know when yer finally gonna get here."
I agreed, and as soon as I hung up the phone, I jumped out of the car and into the rain. Before I called AAA I wanted to make one last ditch effort to see if I could get the stupid wipers to work. Mechanical skills have never been my forte. They continued to be stubborn and wouldn't budge, so I got back into the car, pushing nosey Lennon out of my seat. I was drenched from head to toe from the chilling rain, which made the heat inside the car feel extraordinarily good. I could only hope that the heater wouldn't stop working, too.
I anxiously began to rummage through my purse in pursuit of my AAA card. Their emergency number would be on the back. I knew that they would ask me for an address of my location, and yet I wasn't at all sure what town I was actually in. That's when I decided to continue farther on down the road before calling them. I wanted some sort of address or landmark to give them, I thought. A well-lit parking lot would be nice, too.
"Okay Lennon, we'll go on down the road and see what we can find," I answered, as if approving HIS idea. His ears perked up at hearing his name, but he stayed put in his seat this time.
As I drove back onto the road, I got the notion to roll down my window in order to see the white dividing line. The car inched slowly down the dark and winding road, with my head out of the window in order to see. Hell, I figured I was wet anyway, what did it matter? But I couldn't see much better with the blowing rain stinging my eyes. As soon as headlights appeared from either direction, I pulled off to the side of the road again until they passed. Still no place in sight. I passed houses scattered here and there for about five miles until there were bright lights ahead on my right. It was a small country fire station with what looked like the name OLIEN inscribed in large letters above the two front garage doors. In between the two garage doors was a regular entrance. There were lights on inside which was a good sign.
"Just stay here Lennon," I said, as if he had a choice.
Without hesitation, I jumped out with optimism that someone must be inside. When I looked through the window though, my hopes rapidly began to dwindle. I knocked loudly in case someone was just out of my view, but no one came. As quickly as I had gotten out of the car, I found myself back in it.
Looking over at lennon, all I could say was, "Shit! What now?" I still couldn't call AAA for help because I still didn't know exactly where I was. Just as I was driving away, I saw someone pull up in front of the station. I backed up in front of the building once again and watched a man run up and unlock the door. I was so happy to find there was still life on the planet after all. I was beginning to feel as if I was in the twilight zone. He then ran back to his car. Afraid that he was going to leave again, I jumped out and yelled over to him, "Sir! Sir, wait!" He looked over in my direction with a puzzled look on his face. I proceedeed to tell him of my dilemma and asked, "Can you please tell me where I am so I can get AAA out here to help me?"
"Yer on the outskirts of Bridgeport in Olien Township ma'am," he answered with a grin. He then hurriedly walked back to the door with a box in his hands, trying to escape from the rain. As he reached for the doorknob, he asked, "Ya wanna come in and use the phone? Yer welcome to."
"No, that's okay," I told him, "I have a cell phone. Thanks anyway." I smiled at him and reached for my car door.
Lennon was acting restless. He must've been wondering what the heck was going on. Then I realized he just needed walked again. "Just wait a minute, Lennon. I've gotta make a call first." He wouldn't lie back down. Instead, he eagerly looked outside while jumping back and forth between the front and back seats. I didn't care at that moment. I was finally going to make that call.
The card was still lying on the dash. I grabbed it and immediately started pounding the numbers into the phone. After two rings, I heard, "Thank you for calling AAA. Your call is very important to us. Please wait on the line and the next available representative..." I wanted to throw up. And what did they mean by have my account number ready? It's on the membership card, too. Did they think I just had their phone number memorized?!
There must have been a lot of people needing assistance because I waited five more minutes before receiving the same message again. Finally, a real live person came on the line and started right in with the questioning. I told the operator the township and the firehall I was at, but he couldn't seem to find it on the map. I started to feel like I was in the twilight zone once again. He reassured me that a tow truck would be sent out to the exit in the direction I had gone. "Give us up to an hour to get there," he said. "If no one shows up, call us back." What other choice did I have but to agree?
Lennon reminded me that he was going to leave me another dilemma in the car if I didn't let him out soon. I was already wet, so at that point getting out one more time wasn't going to hurt anything. Once back inside, I looked at the overhead digital clock. It was 8:05 PM/ Temperature: 36. I had planned on having Andrea picked up by now and back home by 10:00 PM. I knew those plans were thrown to the wind.
Just then, a knock came at my window. The friendly man from the fire station was now at my window, with his hands shading his eyes from the blowing rain. I rolled the window down a little and inquired, "Yes?" wondering what he wanted. He spoke loudly enoungh for me to hear over the rain beating rhythmically on the glass. "Ma'am, I hate to do this to ya, but yer gonna have to move this vehicle over to the side lot cuz there's gonna be a lotta cars coming in here soon. Y'see we're havin' a Christmas party here tonight."
Up until that point I was out under a light in clear view for the tow truck. Moving to the side lot, I was worried I wouldn't be visible. I told myself that there couldn't be that many fire halls out here, and a bright yellow VW Beetle would be hard to miss, too.
Sure enough, cars began swarming into the lot one by one and parking behind the building. The guys all proceeded into the side door with happy faces and slapping each other on the backs on their way in as if in some sort of ritual greeting. Soon the back lot was full of cars. The front lot was left vacant, probably in case of an emergency call.
Forty-five minutes and three cigarettes later, I was still staring out at the road making sure the tow truck didn't pass me by when another rap at my window startled me. I turned to see a big balding man's face grinning in at me. When I rolled my window down slightly, it didn't take long for the smell of alcohol to penetrate the air. I heard Lennon give out a low growl. He hadn't growled before, so it made me wonder if he sensed my edginess or just smelled trouble. The man pulled a hood over his head and, still grinning, asked, "Ya need some help, Miss?"
"Yes," I smiled back, "but I've already called for help, and they're on their way." I was trying to act as if I was in control. Was it working?
"Okay," he replied, "but if you decide you need my help, you feel free to come inside and get me now sweetheart." I smiled, nodded, and quickly rolled the window up again, checking to make sure the door was locked, too. Great! They must have already been getting into the holiday spirit before they even got there. After a few moments, the rain let up to a sprinkle, and two more guys came out of the side door, talking and laughing as they approached my car. I rolled the window down again. Again there was the unmistakable scent of alcohol. One of the guys was all dressed up for the occasion and acted as if he was in charge, saying, "Hey, listen I heard you're in a bit of trouble out here. Sure we can't help you till the truck gets here?" He spoke to me, but turned with a smirk to his buddy next to him, as if there was some kind of inside joke. With a flirty wink, he said, "You're more than welcome to come in and have a drink with us while you're waiting."
"No, I'd rather stay out here and make sure I don't miss them, " I responded. "They should be here anytime now."
He looked surprised at my answer and, as if by nervous habit, pulled out a cigarette from inside of his jacket, but then realizing what he was doing, he immediately put it back again.
"I'm afraid I can't take no for an answer. You NEED to come inside, " he insisted. I know you've been out here almost an hour now and probably no help is comin'. Know why?"
"Why?" I asked just to humor him.
"Cuz I already called them back and told them you were helped, and that they didn't need to come now," he answered with a glossy evil gleam in his eyes. His buddy giggled like a school boy beside him.
"Might as well unlock that door and come inside now," he continued more aggressively.
He leaned onto the door and curled his big fingers around the inside of the glass, trying to ease his hand in to unlock the lock. That was a mistake. Lennon was no longer growling, he was snarling and showing his teeth. I actually had to hold him back. The guy that thought he was God's gift to women suddenly backed away. He retaliated with, "I was gonna say you could bring yer dog in, too, but forget that!" Just then, his buddy, trying to bring him back to his senses, jumped in to shout, "Hey man, let's go back on inside! She don't wanna come in. You heard her."
The rain started to change to sleet, and a continuous slapping of wet flakes on his cheeks must've been enough to make him agree. He turned to leave, but not without waving and yelling back, "It's your loss!"
I felt my heart beating fast and didn't know if it was out of fear, or because of Lennon's startlingly uncharacteristic behavior. All I know is that I was glad he was there to protect me. I was shaken at what could have transpired if he hadn't been. That thought quickly disappeared when I began wondering if what the man said was true. Gaining control of my senses, and trying to keep from crying, I picked up my cell phone. I knew I needed to call AAA back to see if my call really had been cancelled.
The recorded message came on again just as the tow truck pulled in. The man looked over and pointed questioningly at me. I smiled and nodded yes, wiping the tears from my eyes. Just as I was ready to jump out and greet the man (maybe even hug him for finally making it) my cell phone rang. I thought maybe AAA wondered why I hung up and was calling back, but instead, it was Andrea.
"Hey Mom. You okay?"
"Yes, the tow truck just got here. I don't know if they can fix the problem yet," I said, "or if I'll have to be towed somewhere. I'll call you back and let you know though. I'm really sorry about this, honey."
"Never mind, Mom," she calmly replied, "I just called to tell you that I ran into someone else here at school who has family in Ohio. They said they'd give me a lift. So, now you don't have to worry about it. They're waitin' on me now; so, love ya; gotta go.".................................................................................
The tow truck driver was friendly. He asked to see my AAA Plus card. Then, sitting in silence, I had him tow me the two hours back home.
Monday, November 29, 2010
I'm a Newbie
What can I say other than that I am bored out of my mind right now and feel like trying this sort of venting...can't hurt, right?
First of all, I got the idea for the title of my blog from the Bee Gees' song, "Words" (love that song!) where he sings, "Speak in everlasting words and dedicate them all to me.....Don't ever let me find you down cuz that would bring a tear to me" and ... "Words are all I have to take your heart away."
Anyway, this blog will be used for favorite poems and verses to songs as well as my own personal insights in relation to them. I would be happy to hear of other's favorites, too.
I found a compilation of poetry that I had done in highschool while going through stuff in my closet. I had kept it all these years because I received a perfect A+ on it! (I was so proud) The assignment involved finding poems we liked, a picture to go with each, a table of contents, and a personal take on each poem chosen. I am dating myself, but this was back when things had to be typed on a typewriter and so, if mistakes were made, one had to start over...unless one was fortunate to have correcting tape, which I UNfortunately did not. Anyway, I decided to see what poems I had chosen and my insights on them. Wow!!! I have to say, for a ninth or tenth grader, I impressed myself all these years later! I have had to read stuff from ninth or tenth graders nowadays and am, first-of-all, overwhelmed with the grammar and spelling errors, even though they have spell and grammar checks on their "word processors," and then it's as if no one cares to do a good job at school work anymore. Typically, I can tell when a student writes only as much as he/she has to just to "get by." There is no pride...it has been replaced with laziness...and encouraged by parents and teachers alike who are not willing to expect more from them! Did you know that even in college, essays are being accepted by professors that are in text abbreviations?! Give me a break....I seriously worry about our future if these are our future leaders! Students today are hooked up to things in their ears while texting away on their cell phones...oblivious to the whole wide world surrounding them...clueless, as if having the most songs stored on their ipods and having the longest cell phone bill is going to make them somebody. What's bad is this whole technology thing has spread to the adult generation, too. That commercial out there with everyone walking around like zombies, just staring down at their cell phones is so true. No one is able to communicate one-on-one anymore! And when they do...it's interrupted with a cell call or a text that HAS to be gotten.
Well, I guess I'm guilty of falling into the technology pit to some degree myself, since here I am plugging away on my computer instead of cleaning house or doing something else productive. Hey! At least now I can "word process" what I think instead of typing away at a typewriter!
First of all, I got the idea for the title of my blog from the Bee Gees' song, "Words" (love that song!) where he sings, "Speak in everlasting words and dedicate them all to me.....Don't ever let me find you down cuz that would bring a tear to me" and ... "Words are all I have to take your heart away."
Anyway, this blog will be used for favorite poems and verses to songs as well as my own personal insights in relation to them. I would be happy to hear of other's favorites, too.
I found a compilation of poetry that I had done in highschool while going through stuff in my closet. I had kept it all these years because I received a perfect A+ on it! (I was so proud) The assignment involved finding poems we liked, a picture to go with each, a table of contents, and a personal take on each poem chosen. I am dating myself, but this was back when things had to be typed on a typewriter and so, if mistakes were made, one had to start over...unless one was fortunate to have correcting tape, which I UNfortunately did not. Anyway, I decided to see what poems I had chosen and my insights on them. Wow!!! I have to say, for a ninth or tenth grader, I impressed myself all these years later! I have had to read stuff from ninth or tenth graders nowadays and am, first-of-all, overwhelmed with the grammar and spelling errors, even though they have spell and grammar checks on their "word processors," and then it's as if no one cares to do a good job at school work anymore. Typically, I can tell when a student writes only as much as he/she has to just to "get by." There is no pride...it has been replaced with laziness...and encouraged by parents and teachers alike who are not willing to expect more from them! Did you know that even in college, essays are being accepted by professors that are in text abbreviations?! Give me a break....I seriously worry about our future if these are our future leaders! Students today are hooked up to things in their ears while texting away on their cell phones...oblivious to the whole wide world surrounding them...clueless, as if having the most songs stored on their ipods and having the longest cell phone bill is going to make them somebody. What's bad is this whole technology thing has spread to the adult generation, too. That commercial out there with everyone walking around like zombies, just staring down at their cell phones is so true. No one is able to communicate one-on-one anymore! And when they do...it's interrupted with a cell call or a text that HAS to be gotten.
Well, I guess I'm guilty of falling into the technology pit to some degree myself, since here I am plugging away on my computer instead of cleaning house or doing something else productive. Hey! At least now I can "word process" what I think instead of typing away at a typewriter!
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