NOT QUITE YOUR FAVORITE TRANSPORTATION

It took a day or 2 to get over the "Shower thing". In the middle of the ordeal, amidst gales of laughter, Bob cut a "Slammer" of a fart. Not only a loud ear shattering fart, it also could peel the paint off the walls. Poor Bob was so embarrassed, was doubled over (not knowing whether to laugh aloud or puke) and Ruthie (the suppository queen) was jumping up and down, barely able to contain herself. I have yet to figure out the true function of holding your nose and jumping up and down. It must be a ritual learned in nursing school-they were all doing it!
Ruthie, after performing this ritual, suddenly took off and to get the doctor. Bob and I thought that she had something against him and wanted the doctor to come before the "Haze" left the hall. Trust me, it took awhile to dissipate.
I'll be damned, the Doctor was just as excited as the nurses. He whipped out the old cold stethoscope and started listening to Bob's stomach. I'm thinking,” you don't want your face that close to that end, number 1 and number 2, his heart is on the other end anyway". The doctor persisted.
He finally stood up and with a huge grin on his face, he explained that farts and
pooh are a good thing! . ) .. . . .
He was explaining all this and I was thinking he IS trying to make a potential biological weapon sound like a good thing. We all needed gas masks!
Evidently, there had been a possibility that Bob's natural functions were affected and farting and poohing might not have worked at all and a colostomy would have been required or else the ensuing "explosion" (of Bob) could have been fatal for hundreds, trust me. Knowing that his "relief valves" worked, was small comfort.
This little revelation started the process of achieving certain goals require before a "para" can be discharged to the custody of a "Rehab" center. The "tilt-table torture" began again-IN ERNEST!
Two or three times a day, the nurses would strap Bob (who by now had earned at least a "Johnnie") to the tilt-table, wheel him into the hall and stand him up.
I had been deemed" primary care person" so they handed me a tennis ball and just said "play catch 'til he faints, then call us".
At first, it was a bit frightening. Bob would be all happy, catching the ball and tossing it back, watching me chase it down the hall....then his face would turn a sickly white and he slide down in the restraints. This would occur in 5 minutes or less. After a couple of days, Bob could "stand up" indefinitely. I could wheel him around in the upright position (until the nurses caught us touring).
It was then that we hatched the plans......
We decided that we could earn some extra money by strapping Bob to the tilt table, wheeling him out the front door and down the driveway to a nearby bank. It
would be easy enough to steal jar of pencils (we had to pass an administrator's office), Bob would just pretend to faint. While The admin folks were busy with Bob, I would steal the pencils and hide them under my shirt.
Bob would then miraculously be well and I would scramble him out the front door to the bank.
Now this bank was always busy and the window constantly had a line of cars.
Each car had to stop before the window, right? Well we were going to park Bob there, with the stolen pencils and have him look really pathetic while selling each pencil for .50 cents.
Don't laugh, we though about robbing 7-elevens but he was to damn slow on the getaways.
Bob's birthday was approaching as was his discharge. WE WERE GETTING BORED! We knew he was getting better. Still no feeling in his legs, but at least no pain.
His going away party (and birthday) were celebrated in the Teflon tuxedo and johnny, strapped to a gurney. Aunt Birdie had arranged for Bob to be transported to the cafeteria for lunch and a birthday cake. Unfortunately, the gurney didn't fit on the elevator that went to the cafeteria, SOOOOOO we used the emergency elevator, which only went as far as the lobby. .
Do not EVER underestimate the ingenuity of a Conway (Birdie or myself).
The cafeteria was on the "garden-level. (that had an outside area with plenty of shade trees and lovely gardens. The only other access was by driveway, a long winding, downhill, driveway. Gurneys do not have power steering, nor do they have power breaks.....It was not pretty.
Birdie got in the rear and I (Stupid me) got in front. We started out nicely enough, then gravity kicked in-. We thought we had her under control with back-pressure.
Then that thing called inertia...
While Bob was yelling “we were trying to make him a Quad” we were desperately trying to control the damn thing. Birdie was yelling to an unseen audience to "Get out of the way", Bob was yelling instructions (between vague expletives)1 was just trying to avoid being run over!
This was all bad. Then we spotted the end of the driveway. A flat spot, happiness, relief,-not so much.
If I recall, there was a wall, not a big wall, but a wall, none the less. My mind did the old "life flash before your eyes" thing. Bob and his gurney had not slowed down.
One deep breath and I braced myself and Aunt Birdie did the same. We finally -managed to get the damned thing slowed down-enough-to turn the gurney onto the patio.
Everyone had to admit-"It was a grand entrance!” . Our adventure into "Cripdom" had truly begun........