Never A Dull Moment

So Thursday, Joey had an appointment with his orthopedist to follow up on his shoulder injury. About 4 years ago, he tore something and as a man would be known to do, self-medicated. Meaning Beer and sleep. It got better for a few years, but the last year he has been living in pain daily. So six months ago he finally saw a doctor and was started on cortisone shots and physical therapy. Neither really helped, so surgery was the next plan.

When he went Thursday, the doc performed some range of motion tests, and very flatly informed Joey that he was hours away from losing use of his arm. So, guess who woke up at 4am to drive him to the hospital yesterday?? Yours truly!

We were at the hospital by 4:45 and I didn't walk back in my house until close to 3PM. Thank GOD for my friend, Christie who stayed with the kids all day.

I tell ya, sitting at a county hospital all day is an eye opening experience. I saw prisoners in orange gowns being wheeled into surgery with hand and leg cuffs.

I sat next to a woman who explained that her husband had a little too much to drink the night before and decided to cut some crown molding in the garage. I learned that Pabst Blue Ribbon and Mitre saws don't mix well, as her husband was now missing his ENTIRE hand which rolled down the driveway and into some dirt.

I have been singing 'On Top Of Spaghetti' since she told me that story.

But, I think the BEST part of my time in the hospital was when a VERY drugged patient in the holding area broke free of her IV pole and ran into the waiting room. She spotted the tray of complimentary bagels on the table and started shoving them in her mouth like a rabid animal. It was at that point that the orderlies came running after her and in an attempt to control her, tackled her to the ground. This caused her flimsy hospital gown to open, exposing her very fat and very white ass for all the world to see. I think the entire population of the waiting room gasped in unison at the sight.

Joey came through the surgery fine and is now as high as a long haired hippy freak at a Phish concert.

He is pretty much sleeping non-stop, only waking to drink, take his vicodin and ask me to bring him things, like our cat that died last year.

As an added bonus, he is not allowed to shower until Friday, which makes me SO happy. Because, if there is anyone who loves washing hairy balls more than me, I dare you to find her.