our neighbor rich is 82 years old.  well, not quite – he’s going to be 82 on July 6th.  he was born in 1928.  he’s tall – six feet one – and thin – 175 pounds.  his middle name is Charles.  he isn’t on any medication, for anything, except he takes vitamins and calcium.

i don’t normally know this much information about my neighbors.  i’m actually not sure what some of their names are.   i know a lot about rich because we spent most of the Memorial Day in the emergency room together.

rich’s wife, bernice, called us at about one o’clock on monday afternoon.  i’d already been running, we paddled around in the kayak, i ran some errands, and was reveling in the thought of no plans or obligations for the day.  Bernice sounded terrible – rich had fallen and he thought he’d dislocated his shoulder and bernice had had surgery the week before and couldn’t drive him to Urgent Care.  would we mind?

of course not.  we drove the two doors down to their house and i waited in the car while kevin went in and got him.  rich came out of the house, not looking so bad.  quite dapper, as usual, in a neatly ironed orange short-sleeved shirt and khakis.  rich is always nicely dressed, whether he’s driving away in his car or out mowing his lawn.  he mows, he trims, he works on his huge motor home a lot, he tinkers with his cars.  rich, 82, is a very busy man.

but his arm was hanging funny.  kevin got him in the car and rich didn’t say that much.  he did say “this is the most pain i’ve ever had in my life.”  he didn’t say it loudly or anything, he was very matter of fact about it.  more pain than i’ve ever had.  no big deal.  he’d been power-washing his driveway and it started to storm and he slipped in all the water.  he reached his arm up to hold onto the side of the garage, and the arm stayed up but his body went down.

we took him into the prompt care place; he wanted to go there because he’d been there before and so they had his records.

ok, so the most important thing to remember here is this – IF YOU DO SOMETHING PHYSICALLY BAD, LIKE YOU MIGHT HAVE BROKEN SOMETHING or something like that – GO TO THE HOSPITAL EMERGENCY ROOM.  don’t mess around with any of those “quick” care places.

the place was packed with people.  nobody was bleeding or crying in pain, so i figured they were probably all sick.  we waited.  and waited.  and waited some more.  rich was doing ok; he was talking to us, asking how we met, chatting – but every once in a while he’d wince a little and say “most pain i’ve ever had in my life” and “i can’t get it my arm in a comfortable position.”

an hour and a half passed.  the tv was turned to the cooking channel and bobby flay was doing back-to-back grilling shows, a memorial day grilling bonanza.  it made me want grilled steak, grilled burgers, even grilled pizza, although that sounds kind of gimmicky and i bet if i tried it the crust would slide right down in the grating.

finally they called Rich in.  he tottered on in; he wasn’t too steady on his feet.

more waiting and waiting, and then they sent him across the room for an x-ray.  wait wait wait.  then back to the doctor he’d seen.

it was severely dislocated, just like he’d thought, but they couldn’t fix it there.  he had to go to the hospital emergency room.

we should have insisted to begin with that we take him there, but now we know for next time something happens to somebody.

off to st. john’s, which wasn’t busy at all.  i stood at the front desk wanting to check him in, but a woman was in front of me and it appeared that she was going to stand there talking all day.  she was explaining to the attending nurse that she was 53 and she’d been there last year and she had kidney stones and she had never wanted to have to go back there again and here was the bag of the medication she was taking and she had been fine until sunday but then her stomach started in, real bad, and…and…

i stood there thinking, if only we’d gotten there two minutes earlier, i would have been spared hearing her entire life medical history.  finally she shut up and they checked rich in and put him in a wheelchair and rushed him right in to a room.

finally, some speedy service, but too much time had passed.  we crowded into the room with about five nurses and they took lots of vital information from rich and then they x-rayed him again.  the doctor came in and said he was going to try to put rich’s should back in without putting him under, because it’s better to do it that way when somebody is rich’s age.  so the doctor stood in back of him, manipulating his scapula, a nurse was on the other side pushing, and they got kevin to help push.  it was painful to watch, but rich claimed that it didn’t hurt any worse – but i guess there wasn’t anywhere to go, pain-wise.

the doctor finally gave up on the pulling and said they’d have to give him a little bit of anesthesia.  we got to stay in the room the whole time, watching.  it was all so fast, and as they set it up the dr. looked at kevin and said “i remember you.”  we’d taken dad to the ER two winters ago when he was having chest pains, and the doc remembered kevin from that.   amazing.  i’m lucky to remember my own mother, and this guy remembered kevin from two years ago and kevin wasn’t even the patient.

rich was lying there, unconscious, but he was gripping the nurse’s finger so tightly that his knuckles were white.  all those hours of with his bone out of its socket, the muscles were so incredibly tight and clenching clenching clenching, so his whole body had to be in such a state of intense tension and pain.  the doctor started in on the pulling again but it wouldn’t budge.  they finally had to give him some muscle relaxant, and then, thankfully, it worked.

whew.  rich was lying there, snoring, and the nurse explained that since he’d been given a small amount of sedation, he could wake up in five minutes, but it might take longer.  he looked so peaceful there, free from the horrible pain, but after a while she tried to wake him up.  she leaned over him and yelled RICH.  ARE YOU AWAKE?  CAN YOU HEAR ME?

nothing.  he kept snoring.  i felt bad for him when she did that every ten minutes or so; i wanted to say “can’t we just let him sleep?”  but finally she asked if he could hear her and he shook his head no.

something was stirring in there.  he finally opened his eyes a little and the nurse said I NEED YOU TO DO FOUR THINGS.  YOU HAVE TO STAY AWAKE.  YOU’LL HAVE TO DRINK SOME WATER.  YOU’LL HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM.  AND YOU’LL HAVE TO WALK.  THEN YOU CAN GO HOME.

this seemed like a lot to ask of him, but after he was lying there for a little bit more, he did sit up, he drank a lot of water, and she helped him out to the bathroom.

he said “the pain’s gone,” and then he kept thanking the nurse for the great care.  she told him he’d want to take some pain reliever, and what kind did he prefer?

none.  he doesn’t take advil, or aspirin, or tylenol.  no pain medication.  “if i get a headache, i didn’t cause it, so i’m not going to put anything in my body to make it go away,” he said.

wow.

i wondered if he’d take anything that night.

the next day he said he took two advil before bed, and two in the morning.  this is probably the most advil he’s ever taken in his life.  he drove the next day, he’s getting along fine.

rich is a prime example of why you don’t need to blame getting older for what ails you – if you stay fit, you stay healthy, you, too, can power wash when you’re 82.

ok then,

thursday grace.