I had a strange dream last night. I dreamed I was back at an assisted living facility, only it was in the gym at the church center where I grew up. Furthermore, an actual resident that I've cared for was in the dream. I was on the morning shift and each morning when I would go to check my resident, she would be soaked through, bedding, clothing, everything.
This happens all the time in real life, the night shift always seemed to have trouble doing their four to five am rounds and consequently, by the time the day shift reached them, by six or seven in the morning, there were major sanitary issues.
In real life, I busted my butt (or more to the point, my back) getting everyone cleaned, dry and dressed but in my dream last night I slacked off. Not only was I slacking off, but I was doing so because bizarrely, I was popular and spent more time joking around and socializing than working.
Two days in a row I neglected my resident and then the supervisor called me into the office to see if I was worth keeping on as staff. I assured them that I was great at this job, a natural and I felt so guilty for not taking better care of my resident.
I woke up at that point. It was a disturbing dream, in it's own way, perhaps because of the actual person I was dreaming about, a gracious lady who had been an art teach and a mother, but had suffered a massive stroke and was paralyzed and speechless by the time I knew her.
I still feel guilty, even though in real life I actually was an excellent care manager and took quite good care of this particular lady, who has since passed away, years ago now.
On Thursday I was out, peaceably running a few errands when I got a call from an unknown number. Normally I don't pick up those calls, but I'd called Keith twice that morning only to get his voicemail and I was starting to get a vague, bad feeling.
It turned out to be a guy from Keith's company, but a different platoon. That platoon had a seventeen mile ruck walk that morning and one of the sergeants had asked Keith if he wanted to join. And Keith decided to, and had left that morning at four thirty. That's right-he didn't have to, he just decided he wanted to.
Not only did he decide he wanted to, but Keith, it turned out, was determined to keep up with the lead guy, a much younger guy who had been training for four weeks. And he did keep up with him, the entire way. In fact, the two of them were so far ahead of the rest of the men that someone brought a truck, got the rest of the guys in the truck and drove them up a hill in order to catch the guys up.
After they reached the end, Keith sat down and immediately knew something was terribly wrong. He told the guys to drive him to the emergency room. By the time he got there, he was literally screaming in agony from heat cramps that were all over his body, from his back to his calves. They put two I.Vs in him right away and taped him up to electrodes, worried that he was having a heart attack.
I had no idea, so there I was, five hours later, comparing peanut butter brands in the local Pamida when I answered my phone.
Pamida, for those of you unacquainted with this fine store, is a little like a Wal Mart, only a much more depressing version. It was very nearly empty, everything was washed in strong florescent light and there was this monotonous elevator music playing, the kind that could drive a person quietly mad. Everything appeared to be on sale, which made me wonder if it was close to going out of business.
The soldier who called me assured me that Keith was fine, but he would need a ride home and a Subway sandwich, since apparently he was starving. I tossed a jar of chunky peanut butter in my cart and made for the check out.
"So you've landed yourself back in here already, huh?" were the first words out of my mouth when I walked into Keith's emergency room. They might be less than wife-ly, but by god, my husband thinks he's John Wayne and he isn't. It's not the first time he's pushed his body to the point of breaking, as though it were a beast of burden, subject merely to his inexorable will, not to the delicate laws of biology.
We spent several hours there, amusing ourselves by playing a few games of hangman and some of charade using my grocery list, which made it rather too easy but still fun. ("Ketchup!" "Coffee!" were a few of the answers.)
Eventually the doctor came in and told him they'd ruled out a stroke or heart attack. He put Keith on two days quarters, which means Keith was suppose to stay home. He was also suppose to rest and drink lots of water.
Only, the next morning, as I was bringing our weekend frittata out of the oven, Keith got a call from a younger soldier who'd broken down on the side of the freeway in Louisville with his mother and nine month pregnant wife along for the ride. They had a tow truck on the way, but they needed a way to get home.
So off Keith went and I put the frittata back in the oven to keep warm. An hour or so later, Keith called and said that the tow truck wanted a hundred dollars just to come look at the broken down vehicle....
So, he came all the way back home, went out into the hot and punishing sun to hook up the car trailer and play vehicle roulette to get it free. Shortly thereafter, he was driving back to Louisville to pick up their car, drive it on post and into the car shop.
He happened to be the same soldier that Keith had brought home a few months ago, when he was having a really bad spell. He and his wife are doing a lot better. I met her, she came in for some cold water and A/C while Keith was hooking up the car trailer. I liked her a lot, she was very straightforward and kindly natured.
All told, it was about two thirty before we sat down to our breakfast. It was still pretty tasty.
The next day we went adventuring and ended up eating breakfast at a Denny's. Right near the door was this young couple. The young man was in his class A's, his skinny neck barely filled out the collar, his long legs were all tangled up under the table. His girlfriend still had the full cheeked look of childhood, but with dark hair so long it made mine look short. It was loose all down her back. They were deep in earnest and meaningful conversation.
"Did you see those adorable kids...?" I asked Keith, as we sat at our booth. I didn't even have to finish my sentence, he grinned and nodded. The young couple made me feel old, but in a very good way, especially as I looked across the booth at my broad shouldered husband of almost two years, absorbed in dumping his silverware out of the paper napkin, completely unaware of how much he was being loved on in that moment.
