If you have not read the first two parts, this last one will make little sense, not that I make a lot of sense normally, but you get the picture.Click here for Part 1, and here for Part 2
I checked into the ER at 11:45 pm, finally being seen at 6:00 am, and waiting for results of the Cat Scan, by 10:00 am, I was hungry. A very polished waiter lit candles on my bedside tray and placed a most delectable breakfast in front of me. Perhaps I don’t remember all the details correctly, due to the ravenous growls emanating from my stomach, but I do remember a few details quite clearly.
First, it was very difficult to place the fork in my mouth without stabbing myself in the face and coffee wanted to run out of the corner of my mouth. My pugilistic pal, who had graciously sent me on this adventure, also has some feeling loss in his mouth. He had a run in with one of those white coated, masked gang members, who sign their names with Mad Dog (M.D.) I could not help but wonder if my friend wanted me to really understand how he felt while trying to eat as my movements during eating and drinking were strikingly similar to his.
When I finally got home, I took a short nap, and then it was time to pick up Eldest and Middlest from school. In particular, Eldest was not happy about my trip to the emergency room. I figured I would get a little sympathy from the two of them. Eldest made some sympathetic noises, but Middlest just looked at me for a moment and then announced, “Dad, it looks like you got Botox.” I do not need Botox, I am already the best looking man at my house.
By the time the weekend rolled around, I was feeling much better, but my face was still not behaving properly. Friday night I was at my part time job and feeling a bit parched, I took a swig of my carbonated beverage of choice, Diet Mt. Dew. Drinking from a bottle required quite a bit of intricate planning. First, I would open my mouth, then I would carefully place the opening on my lower lip, because I couldn’t make a seal around the top with my lips. After the opening was in the proper place, I would pour a small amount into my mouth, close my mouth and swallow the small amount. This particular time, I poured more into my mouth than I had planned and when I went to swallow, my mouth sprung a leak. Like some granite swan found in a fountain, I squirted my pop in a nice neat stream from the left hand side of my mouth.
Speaking of pop, my first day back to work I was getting ready to put my Mt. Dew in a refrigerator when my pugilistic pal caught sight of the bottle. Now there are two things this man loves more than anything, coffee and soda. Honestly, who can resist that tingling, nose tickling, effervescent elixir of the gods? This man, seeing my bottle, grabbed a small cup from the kitchen cupboard and walked up to me. With the biggest brown eyes and the half-grin that mirrored mine, he spoke. Starting loud, slow and clear, and finishing quietly and mumbling, he asked, “May…I…have..somesodaplease?” It was evident from the look on his face that he had totally forgiven me for not understanding the pain he was in the night he punched me. It was also quite evident by the look on his face, he expected no less than forgiveness from me.
I poured him some soda, filling his cup to the rim. With glee written all over his face he sat down at a table to drink. His eyes shone, his smile grew wider and he drank. The small amount I gave him was soon gone, but the smile lingered, and his happy laughter was like music.
Over the past few weeks my face has healed nicely. I still have a little paralysis left and need to confer with a neurologist. However, I did see my primary care doctor, and I am pretty sure he said I looked like George Clooney, and that is better than I looked before the injury.
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