Ronnie has been such an aggravation to me today.
Here's what I'm talking about.
I was trying to get my financial papers in order and had been steadily working on it all this morning. By early afternoon, I was beginning to see the light to the end of the tunnel...and I got a phone call. It was Randy, on Ronnie's phone, calling to tell me Ronnie was in the hospital, "throwing up blood and with blood in his stool and his pee" and Randy thought this was the end, that Ronnie was dying. Ronnie was "in the ER at Memorial" and they wouldn't let Randy there because he wasn't family and I needed to get there fast.
So I dropped everything and went there, with Randy calling me twice more along the way and even meeting me in the parking lot, each time rattling off the same spiel and looking like he was about to cry.
They let me into the ER holding area and directed me to the gurney pulled up against the wall.
white blanket pulled up
past his head,
curled up on his side...
sleeping?
No blood anywhere.
At all.
Dirt, yes, but no blood.
I gently placed my hand
on his shoulder,
and told him I was there...
and he starts nattering away, like he was just fine, nattering away about being hungry and wanting a cigarette and being ready to leave.
He was drunk, of course.
I felt like I had been tricked.
I waited for a nurse to finally come by.
What was Ronnie's problem?
He had fallen, while drunk, and banged up his right ribcage, but the X-rays showed he had not broken anything, just bruised the area.
But I knew that was the SECOND time he had done that. The first time had been just a few days after my hand surgery. He had been complaining about the fall when his daughter (my first niece) had taken me and him to dinner that Monday, four days after my return from Charleston. (I had ended up paying for all three of us.)
I got so angry. So angry that Randy had lied to me, so angry that Ronnie was drunk again, so angry at feeling used and stuck.
We were able to leave by 4 PM.
Then we went to IHOP for a late lunch.
Usually, Ronnie picks at his food and talks about how much his stomach has shrunk, so he can't eat much.
Not this time.
He ate every last bite of a big bowl of grits, two pieces of French toast, two huge strips of bacon, two sausage links, two eggs, and two pancakes.
Every last bite.
I had texted Smitty, to get him to join us.
No response.
My anger continued to build, and Ronnie constantly nattered on.
We left for CVS so I could get his pain medication.
I tried Smitty's cell phone.
After ringing and ringing, the call was disconnected.
Did he hang up on me???
Truly ticked, I called his house.
Mary answered and I told her all about how awful an afternoon I was having and Ronnie's stuff and nonsense and Randy lying to me and Smitty blowing me off...
And she calmed me down. Smitty was home sick, on the couch. He had tried to get to his phone, but didn't reach it in time and he hasn't set up the voice mail. Everything would be okay. What could she do for me?
Just hen, a young man leaving the drugstore, seeing Ronnie, shook his hand, slipping him a folded five-dollar bill and wishing him a "Merry Christmas"... and then he did the same with me.
With ME.
I was so embarrassed.
I just broke down and cried.
Did I look as bad as Ronnie did? Did I look homeless and dirty?
Ronnie totally did not understand.
I paid for his prescription and then took him to Target to get a new phone card, since he still had his phone and it was about to run out of minutes. Thank God For the manager (Allan) of the electronics department at Target. He could see how distraught I was and he took charge and took care of us. He even loaded the minutes onto Ronnie's phone, so that is set for the next two months.
All the way out through the store, Ronnie kept saying, "I sure could use one of those" and "I sure would like to have that" and "Santa should bring me one of those".
I finally snapped out, "Well you better ask Santa Smitty for that because I am tapped out."
buy him some beer.
Seriously.
I had just dropped
close to
seventy dollars
on his behalf
and he wanted me
to buy him
two bottles of beer
at the Chevron,
since he has been banned from its premises.
Banned, from a gas station...
I told him I could not, in good conscience, buy him any alcohol.
I then dropped Ronnie off at his neck of the woods, literally.
and sat on my bed
in my darkening
bedroom, under the
soft glow of
my special lamp,
hugging myself
and rocking
as I cried for the
next thirty minutes.
i thank You, God, for that helpful young man at Target (Allan) and that well-meaning young man outside the CVS and that sweet waitress (Cheena) at IHOP...
and i ask for you to be especially kind to them...
Now, I am joining Barbara and Sandy for our previously-scheduled outing tonight, with those improv folks.
I certainly need a good laugh...
No comments:
Post a Comment