FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING

SECOND VISIT TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM
Yesterday (Friday, September 14, 2007) my first intent was to run, with Linda walking the dog here at home.
I dressed for it, but that quickly deteriorated to me walking the dog here at home, while Linda stayed home.
But that deteriorated to me not walking the dog, because Linda was afraid she might faint.
Finally, after a lot of hemming and hawing, I decided we should go to the Thompson Hospital Emergency Room; only I would drive her instead of the ambulance.
At the hospital, Linda was able to walk into the Emergency Room, but holding onto me.
All this is rather frightening, since it’s not the super-strong Wonder-Woman I’m used to.
“I’m not in stellar shape,” I said; “but I don’t feel I might expire any minute.”
Linda was put in a wheelchair, and wheeled into the ER.
With that I drove home. I had a dog abandoned in the house, so I took him for his promised walk.
“Here we are, you little monster,” I said; “just you and me; and and I won’t be able to do as much as I’d like, like fill in for Linda.”
I ate breakfast, and slowly started doing a grocery-list.
I did it long ago, but haven’t for years (we have prompt-cards).
Time passed slowly, yet quickly. The poor dog sat dejected on his sofa.
Linda had her new cellphone with her, and I had mine. They transmit more like landlines than our old ones.
Finally I set out for the infamous Honeoye Falls MarketPlace supermarket in the Bucktooth Bathtub — a store I’m not familiar with, unlike Linda, who has been there “hunderds” of times.
I had my cellphone in the center console, and it rang.
Who knows how it rang despite my allegedly never having it on.
I answered it, and said “I’m driving......”
FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING. Even though driving down a side-street in deepest, darkest Honeoye Falls, I was jawing on my cellphone — illegal in New York State.
—Although yammering with this cellphone is much easier than the old cellphones.
“They’re sending me home,” Linda said. “They can’t find anything wrong.”
“I’m headed toward the MarketPlace, and the dog is alone in the house,” I said.
“My inclination would be to unload what I buy, and pick up the dog; but that may take a while,” I said.
I also was approaching a stop-sign with a turn, so had to discontinue.
After blowing at least an hour wandering lost around the MarketPlace, putting away groceries, and getting the dog, I headed for Thompson.
Linda seemed more herself — not utterly washed out.
“About all I’ve done is sleep a lot,” which she couldn’t do the night before. (She also probably took on too much; like can tomatoes.)
“I wondered if my coming to the ER was silly, but they said it wasn’t.”

“Linda” is my wife. She has non-Hodgkins lymphatic cancer.

Our dog is Killian; a rescue Irish-Setter. We had a second rescue Irish-Setter, Sabrina, who died in March 2007.

“Thompson Hospital” is the hospital in nearby Canandaigua.

“The Bucktooth-Bathtub” is our 2005 Toyota Sienna van; called that because it’s white and like sitting in a bathtub, and appears to have a bucktooth on the grill.

“Hunderd” is how my loudmouthed macho brother-from-Boston noisily insists “hundred” is spelled.

RE: “despite my allegedly never having it on.....” My noisy blowhard brother-in-Boston claims I am utterly intimidated by cellphones — and therefore never turn mine on.

Using a cellphone while driving is “illegal in New York State.” (I usually don’t answer it if I’m driving, since it’s a distraction.)