REHAB,ROACHES & HAIRY ARMPITS

Introductions were made, and Bob was settled in a corner bed. The advantage (supposedly) was a real wall with a bulletin board, (instead of a curtain) all the comforts of home (Not).
The guy next to Bob had been in a motorcycle accident. He was a 'hemispheric paraplegic.( I think that is what they called it) He was paralyzed on one side. He could feel the pressure sore that was big enough to drive the motor cycle through!
We got the feeling he had been there for quite a long time. The nurses seemed to ignore his moaning.
The kid across the aisle was a full quad-diving accident. I believe he was a c3, I know he was a whiner! He cried for attention all day and half the night. (at least 'til the meds kicked in). He spent all of his time manipulating anyone that came near him. Bob spent his time perfecting rubber-band shooters.....
Three or four beds down was a quiet gent named Tom. He was a trucker that just jumped out of his cab the wrong way and snapped his neck. He was a C2,which translates into "talking Head". The only things he required were conversation and a cigarette. This became my duty. He was so nice and never complained.
Occasionally his mouth thing that he used to turn pages and point would fly out of his mouth. He would ring the bell. The nurses would never come. It became apparent that this particular ward was not exactly at the top of anyone's list.
Bob decided that the 6 month period was going to be over as soon as possible.
It was policy to remove the wheelchairs form the bedside in the evenings. Don’t ask me why. I suppose they were afraid these guys would get out of bed, get in their chairs and mutiny while they nurses and aids were playing cards or stuffing their faces.
I would get to the ward as early as possible and retrieve Bob's chair. We could have him shaven, bathed, teeth brushed and dressed, before the nurses even knew I was there. Then Bob would toodle down the hall to the "rec room", also known as the torture chamber.
Bob then started lifting weights and doing exercises to try and gain some of his strength back. While he was busy with that-I would smoke for Tom, then go to work.
I managed to get a job across the street in a meat-packing plant. I could see Bob's ward from my desk window. By this time, I had quit the airlines, not re-upped in the air force ,and quit the job at the Sheriffs Department, as it appeared that Bob was going to be a full-time occupation.
The plant was close enough that I could go to the "ward" for lunch with Bob and "the boys".
I must backtrack to The King unit. Early on during his stay, he let the kitchen know that he disliked parsley. The kitchen at King unit, trying to be a bit more appetizing than a cafeteria , tended to decorate the main meal with parsley and fruit. I guess they were truly trying to be restaurant. The chef relayed Bob's distaste to my Aunt Birdie, who immediately relayed this information to the doctor, who, immediately wrote an order to put parsley on ALL of Bob's food. Everything, including his cereal in the morning had parsley on it!
Of course, they all had a wonderful laugh at Bob's response, but they never rescinded the order. The entire stay at Elliot Hospital, King unit, was decorated with parsley. Picture it! Decorated cheerios, orange juice and a cold beer-What a Country-eh?
Now, back to the present. Bob received his mail in the late mornings. One lovely card came from the King unit nurses. Enclosed in the card was, you guessed it, a bouquet of pressed parsley! The note to Bob stated that they all missed him, this was to remember them by! Several groans and chuckles later, I thumb-tacked the bouquet to the bulletin board, just as a reminder not to complain!
Several days passed. Bob became a bit stronger and I had figured out ways to spend a bit more time at the rehab unit. I did miss a few days of lunch (thank you), but would get there for the "gourmet road-kill" at dinner. I have had jail-food that was better, and that was boiled by a drunken Indian. (different story, different lifetime ).
The decision was made that I would either cook and deliver, or find a reasonable restaurant.
Our old friends at Ming Chows missed us I guess, the owner showed up with enough Chinese food to serve an army. It was one of those "Happy-Sad" kind of things. The owner was happy to see Bob progressing, sad that he could no longer get down stairs to the after-hours portion of the bar (which is where we spent most of the time). None the less, he left the food and a promise to deliver at least once a week for the "Troops".
Unfortunately, that left 2 more meals and 6 other days to find something edible.
There was small hope on the horizon! The next day Bob was to start "Occupational Therapy" . This was touted as the way for Bob to take care of himself and for him to begin a "Normal" life again...Ah new anticipations, they were going to open the kitchen and teach Bob to cook......
We figured that Bob would be able to create something edible at least once a day as he was quite adept in the kitchen. Due to his single status, New Hampshire (inexpensive) apartment and Airline mechanics job, he was accustomed to making escargot, gourmet "mac" and cheese, steaks etc.. These thoughts were comforting.
Unfortunately, the excitement passed about the time we both looked up and watched a cockroach nibbling on the piece of petrified parsley on the bulletin board.
I thought that there was nothing that could be grosser than that! We went to the dining room, just in time to see Steve( puff and blow chair guy) open his prefab, cellophane SEALED Sandwich . He started to lean down to take a bite and a roach crawled out from between the mystery meat and the bread.
Needless to say, I left and went to the nearest restaurant I could find. I was obviously guided by Angels! Who knew there would be a GREAT Italian restaurant in the middle of a Polish neighborhood?
I must have still been a bit green around the gills, because the guy behind the counter looked very concerned. The first thing he asked me was "are you alright?" I explained the best I could (without messing up his floor). I noticed there was distinct air of understanding. Then he asked what floor Bob was on.
"rehab, God help him". I said The poor man went gray! "My mother was almost killed on that floor, They tried to starve her!"
He calmed down a bit and asked what I wanted. I said what ever the special was. He disappeared into the kitchen.
About 10 minutes later, the man showed up with 2 huge grocery bags. He said he had made way to much so he packed it all up for me. When I asked how much, he said "my lunch specials are ALWAYS $2.50. Every Day, they are $2.50 ",with a wink. He became my guardian angel.
I returned to Rehab with my acquisition.
The aroma as I got off the elevator, attracted the patients attention (as well as the staff). It was MAGIC! The dining room was instantly filled. I opened the bags and there was enough spaghetti , salad, hot Italian bread and meatballs to feed everyone. I even had enough to fix a plate for Tom (cigarette man). It was wonderful.
The reverie did not last....We met the Occupational Therapist.
I am grateful that my mind is such that I almost immediately forget (or bury) those things in my life that are most unpleasant. I can't remember her name (the O.T.).
What I do remember is her appearance (unforgettable).
She announced her arrival in the middle of the first edible meal in quite awhile (since Ming Chow)."Forget restaurant food, I am going to teach you how to cook for yourselves!".
Bob might have been excited, except her legs had more hair than her head, a sleeveless dress revealed that what hair didn't fit on her legs had snuggled under arms.
Her hair appeared to tamed with a rake and her clothing was possibly stolen from a homeless shelter. .
My first thought was that she was working undercover for a Drug sting. Bob thought she had escaped form the psych ward, except the staff all seemed to know her.
Again, Bob was glad he had finished his spaghetti.....
The Occupational therapist (Brazilian hostess reject) announced, with all seriousness, she was going to teach them all to make chocolate chip cookies. Bob asked "and why, pray tell, are we going to do dessert before dinner?" The "Waif" replied, "Oh I am only teaching you how to make cookies, after that you will know how to run the kitchen!".
The collective GROAN could be heard in the projects. There was no escape. This was for real. After the cockroach incidents, the thought of her in the kitchen, cooking ........ We are talking, "gag factor of 10"!
Bob held back as the parade of wheelchairs lined up behind "Her Hairiness" he was hoping he could duck into another room and miss the whole thing.
His plan was thwarted, however, by Steve.
Steve was a high level quad that they had fitted with a "Puff and Blow" chair. It was operated with a tube that was positioned near his mouth, much like a headset mike. Steve a slight case of the sniffles. No, he had a BIG CASE of the sniffles.
Thank God they were headed away from the stairwell when he sneezed.
Bob saw it coming. You know, that "AH,AH. chu chu ...........AHCHOO!” Unlike the rest of the lambs being led to slaughter, he got out of the way.
He quickly sidled up to the wall and grabbed hold of the rail, and braced himself for the crash.
Poor Steve. He had no control. Thank God he was strapped in, because when he let go, the chair lurched in full speed ahead.
There were several turns but all corridors met at the nurses station. Each blind turn had a convex mirror mounted near the ceiling so you could see what was approaching from the other corridor. This was a safety thing for the nurses.
Remember, this is a Rehab for newly injured "Crips". Power chairs can be lethal machines, especially uncontrolled power chairs.
A couple of nurse saw what was coming and jumped behind the desk. (Just in the nick of time). Steve (eyes closed) was screaming. Think now, this expels air, which makes the chair go forward-the more air in the tube, the faster the chair goes.
We could only hope he would have to catch his breath (SOON) as the act of inhaling stopped and reversed the chair. No such luck. He smashed into the desk then took a deep breath, got in reverse, then had to sneeze again. Back he went going 90 miles per hour on the "Ah" part then 90 miles an hour in forward on "CHOO" part.
There were dents, screams and general chaos on the floor.........Bob's only thought was...."thank god, we don't have to make cookies today, my stomach couldn't take it".
Damn good thing something like this was anticipated. I think the desk was steel reinforced. It remained upright and mostly intact!
Needless to say, they were all sent to their rooms while they inspected the damage. We never knew if Steve broke anything or how severely he was hurt (he can't feel anything) and they nurses weren't talking. I do know he was immediately put on a full course of antibiotics to get rid of the cold.
The rest of the day was taken up with watching the cockroach on the bulletin board. It had consumed over half of the sprig and still chewing… Bob figured he (the roach) had about a week to finish it. How bad would things get after that? "At least I didn't have to make cookies".
Bob realized that the nurses were a bit preoccupied, but Ed needed to be rolled.
Ed was the guy next to Bob who had been in a motorcycle accident and was the semi-hemi-para. The poor man could feel everything, but had no motor sensors at all, therefore he couldn't move himself. He had developed a HUGE pressure sore and was supposed to be rolled every hour. No one came. He a tried to get the nurses with the call button, but it had moved out of his reach. Bob was in bed and the nurses had a nasty habit of putting his wheelchair where he couldn't reach it., so Bob used his call button.
At first, the nurse answered and said she would be right there.
15 minutes later-"she would be right there" 15 minutes after that-"quit calling, someone will be there" 15 minutes after that-NO ANSWER!
So Bob, a Lead Mechanic, (not used to being ignored) got on the phone and called the hospital and asked for his floor. The "Nurse Nasty" answered very sweetly.
Her toned soon changed when she recognized Bob's voice. She slammed the phone down and 10 and behold showed up to roll Ed.
Bob now knew how to get their attention.
The days dragged on......