Saturday, January 18, 2020

Help Me . . . I’m Sorry



          For the most part I turn off my phone before I go to work.  I leave it in my bag and do not carry it around with me.  I’m in class, after-all.  It’s not like I can answer it or have a conversation.  On Tuesday morning I went into Roland’s office to tell him that I was leaving to go to Canyonville.  Only he wasn’t in his office.
         
          The front door had been left open indicating to me that he must be outside.  I still couldn’t find him.  I called out his name but he did not answer.  As I pulled out of the driveway I saw him on the hill wearing a blue shirt.  He must have fallen shortly after I pulled out of the driveway – long before I got to Canyonville.  Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately as I did not allow myself time to freak out) I did not get his message until after I had returned home from work.  He had already been taken to the hospital by then.

          I found him in bed.  He explained what had happened – though it was very hard for him to get the words out as he was still short of breath.  Not only had he landed on his back during the fall, but had the wind knocked out of him as well.  It could have gone so much worse.  He could have hit his head on a rock or a cinder block but didn’t.  He was conscience and stubborn and determined to get up – though I don’t know what he used to pull himself up.  He had ripped out the clothesline during the fall.

          He made his way back into the house though he was in excruciating pain.  He managed to change his clothes and call me on his phone – only I didn’t answer.  He had left two verbal messages and one text message.  I got his text message first.  Could I pick up some Aleve on the way home.  I did not get the message until I walked into the house.

          I noticed a tightly packed pharmacy bag on the fireplace.  I wondered where it came from.  When I found him in bed, laying on his back, he explained that he had called our home teachers and had them take him to the veteran’s hospital in Roseburg.  He said he had felt every bump in the road.  And then I listened to his messages.   I would have driven home in a panic if I had heard them earlier as I could hear his gasping for breath between each word.

          I called another member in the ward to make arrangements for Jenna to be picked up in the morning as Roland was (and still not) in no position to drive and I cannot see in the dark.  Thus our household is down to just half a driver for now.  Like Jenna, Roland makes for a lousy patient.  He is an eternal optimist and is not in his nature to complain.  But he is still in pain and his pride hurts just as much as he does.  He is not healing quickly enough and has had to take time off work.  That has been hard for him.  Asking for assistance has been hard for him.  He has tried so hard not to complain, but he is in pain.  I know he’s in pain.  I get it.  I’ve been there.  I know what it’s like to feel helpless.  He must have forgotten how often he’s waited on me.  Now the roles seem reversed somehow, and he doesn’t like it.

          On Wednesday the wind blew.  I could see the trees dancing.  And the chimes were playing their tunes.  It didn’t seem like a very huge wind – but it somehow knocked the power down – in quite a large area.  The high school still had power but the middle school was without longer than we were.  It was just a little scare.  I haven’t minded when we have lost power but knew that it would be devastating for Roland.

          I cancelled the assignment which I had accepted for Thursday.  I didn’t want Roland falling again and felt I needed to be here when he’d be on the phone with social security.  I didn’t know if he’d be able to answer all questions without running out of breath.  But he did fine.  I had assisted a little, but not much.  I went back to work yesterday.  When I returned I found him in bed again.  He was proud of himself because he’d been sleeping on his side.  He can’t sleep on his back.  He has tried sitting up.  Sometimes he will nod off, but never a deep sleep.

          He said he doesn’t know if he will make it to church tomorrow.  I had expected that he wouldn’t.  I really don’t even want him to drive right now.  If we were going to put him in the car as I passenger, we would have to take him out at least 20 minutes before we need to leave so that he would have time to walk to the car and we could load him in.  And I suspect it would take 5-10 minutes getting him out and across the parking lot of the church.

          He doesn’t wish to be dependent.  I think there’s a lesson that he needs to learn.  Perhaps many different lessons for each of us. Yesterday I had my phone with me.  I checked it between each class.

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