This has happened to me a couple of times in the past. Being a bag lady is something that just seems to befall me without any planning or forethought. It just happens.

The last time I held this esteemed position was when my granddaughter was born some nine years ago. As my wife rushed into the hospital room to be there for our daughter, the various items she was carrying with her that day were thrust into my arms the last few seconds before she entered into the room. Being just a Pawpaw did not allow me the honor of entering the room during the birthing process. It’s best anyhow, I would have probably gotten sick or something.

But as I stopped at the door in the hallway of the hospital, my wife handed me her purse, her sweater, her bottle of water and her bag full of gifts she had just purchased from the hospital gift shop. As I stood outside the door, I felt it was my honorable duty to protect the armload of junk she had just handed me. Well, it just happened again.

My wife and I received a phone call about 11:45 the other night from my mom asking one of us to come over right away. She was having some chest pains. As I entered her house, she was sitting in her recliner with her eyes closed and indicated she was feeling uncomfortable. We immediately went to the emergency room and after a short stay in the hospital and short procedure, she is doing very, very well. We appreciate all the calls and prayers from those that knew, but once again, I was thrown into that familiar position as the official “bag lady,” but this time it carried a different twist.

I was standing outside the room that night about 12:30 a.m. holding my mom’s purse as the hospital staff was prepping her for some tests. I was standing in an out-of-the-way place, but I could still see and hear a large part of the emergency room and the various functions going on in different areas. Over to my left I could hear a small child screaming and crying. I don’t know if the youngster was really in pain or not, but the cry sounded more like an “I don’t want a shot” cry than it did serious pain.

Either way, my heart went out to the kid because the older I get the less and less I like the sight of needles. Over to my right, all I could hear was an older guy screaming out loud words that were curse words to the Good Lord. The door was closed but we could still hear him. He would say the word God and then say the word for something that holds back a river. He kept saying this over and over and over again, and I don’t mean for just one or two minutes.

He kept saying it for over fifteen minutes because I started timing him. Those were the only two words he would say. Even though it saddens me of his cursing, I kinda found it ironic that a guy who was supposedly sick would be cursing God like that.

I glanced around the area where the staff was working and even though all this activity was going on, they all kept a very professional demeanor about themselves. I guess they have heard it all before.

After holding my position for about 20 to 25 minutes, one of the female staff members finally had to provide me with some deep, deep insight about myself that I had not noticed before. She made the comment, “Sir, Sir, your purse doesn’t match your shoes!”

I looked at her through my groggy eyes and busted out in laughter. She said I did very well on matching my brown jean shorts with my brown Croc shoes, but the pink purse just didn’t cut it. That’s okay, because this is a place I have been before. My wife always has to properly help me coordinate my colors, but in this case I just didn’t have anything that I could find in my closet that would match my new pink purse. The staff was lucky that my pants weren’t ripped between the legs and that my shoes weren’t a pair of rubber boots.

I warned her that I was going to write a story about this, so since I get the last laugh, I figured I can rib her a little bit. Yes, we men have a difficult time making our clothes match, but let me mention this to all you ladies. If anyone ever looks at the fashion pages of a newspaper these days, the clothes that some women wear are very laughable.

Peacock feathers in their hats, shoes that look like stilts, hose that would normally be used for fishing and half shirts and half coats that don’t cover the midsection. Who dresses funny? Hmmmm.

In all seriousness, I want to thank all the staff of Tomball Regional Hospital for your friendly, courteous and professional manner in which you helped our mom.

Clifford

Comments (0)

Subscribe to this comment's feed