After that, it seems to me Stot drove me to the ER. I sat there for six hours. During this time, a hundred people came in an out of the hospital. But not one of them was my friend Skim.
Skim was a mile up the road eating steak. I called her to let her know my dilemma, certain that she would arrive to keep me company and feed me.
I called her mobile. She answered. “Hey, Skim, I’m in ER with Stot. I don’t know if I’ll make the barbecue.”
I’m sure I told her of the current events, but I don’t recall her response, except, “Oh, that’s too bad. The steak is really good!”
Taking my seat once again, I sighed, “Sorry. Doesn’t look like we’ll be eating steak.”
“I’ll call Yvette. She’ll bring us some food.” About an hour later, Stot’s wife came in with Chinese.
“Grand is having a cookout a mile down the road and they didn’t bring us any!” was the first thing out of his mouth when Yvette came through the sliding ER doors.
She smiled, “Really? How mean!”
“Yeah,” I said feeling abandoned.
We made friends with the guy in the bed next to me. He was a student from Asia attending Arizona State. Turns out that he knew my neighbors as they were international students there also. Discovering he had no way home, we offered to drive him.
Yvette had already left. The three of us lived in opposite directions. It was going to mean 1 1/2 hours in the car driving all over the Valley, then rushing to the airport to retrieve my family.
And so it was. Off to Sky Harbor International Airport with no round of golf, no steak, no shower and no one to drive for me. In a state of frenzy, I parked and hobbled to the gate. The passengers were just disembarking. The airport was quiet, as no other flights were arriving or departing in the terminal.
I am not sure how I must have appeared, but everyone that passed by looked at me with fright. “My sister will not be alarmed. She knows me,” I told myself. But when her youngest son spotted me, he tugged on the sleeve of the older one, who had the attention of his mother.
When all were looking at me, conversation stopped abruptly. My sister gave me a slow, inquisitive stare, raised one brow and said, “Where have you been?”
It was obvious something was not right. Both my nephews dropped their jaws and their eyes opened wide. All were waiting to know what had happened.
“I just got out of the ER. I have been there all afternoon.”
They looked down at my ankle all wrapped in bandages. I hobbled about. “Why don’t you have crutches?”
I went blank. It was a good question. Why didn’t I? I had no answer. It was then I noticed my ER band still around my wrist. My hair that was once in a pony tail had dropped to one side, loosened severely with short ends sticking out in every direction.
“Oh my G–!” was all she could say, followed by a little chuckle.
I survived the night. In the morning my father arrived having known nothing of the previous day.
When I answered the door, there he stood his usual self, looking chipper beneath his baseball cap, with folded newspaper under his arm.
Immediately he made notice of my injury. He nodded, smiled and said, “Oh, good. I was beginning to think something was wrong with you having not injured yourself in a while.” After I explained the events, he pointed his finger at me and said, “Do you know how many people that happens to?” I hadn’t heard, but was so relieved to know I wasn’t the only one. My posture eased as I awaited his response, “One.”
By Jori Sams