The Hancock-Henderson Quill, Inc.
-by Sherryanne De La Boise
Peachy Joan
Steps In
Most folks celebrate Pi Day on March 14, because = 3.14 (Remember from Math?). But, Joan prefers the 22nd of July, because 22 divided by 7 is the closest approximation to Pi using fractions. And, she learned her fractions by slicing pizza and pies.
This year, it has to be a Georgia Peach Pie.
Her ex is recovering from an extreme case of Stupidity. Early in their marriage, he painted the ceiling by standing on furniture. He collapsed right through the center of their dining room table. 18 months ago, he collapsed a ladder, damaging enough of his vertebrae that he's 2.7" shorter. If Mrs. Claus is reading this, there's a short, chubby, white-haired, snowy bearded ex looking.
Eschewing conventional treatment for damaged vertebrae, her ex opted to spend the past 18 months telecommuting to work from a swimming pool. With his arms around a Styrofoam noodle, he could reach his poolside laptop. Ignoring his diabetes, he had delivered Southern barbeque and all things fried. He was thrilled when the pandemic hit, as he did not to have to leave the pool (or put on pants).
This past May, en-route to the pool, he passed out, cracking a rib, as he hit the ground. He came around just enough to call 911, get the door open (he'd never want to pay for a broken-down door to be repaired), and passed out again, clutching tightly to his brand-new, locked cellphone. The EMTs had no information to give to the nurses, His wallet was nowhere to be found.
Now, men often "hit on" nurses. He took "hitting" one step further. In his delirium, he decked two emergency room nurses (thinking they were stealing his new phone). They got the phone, after they sedated and restrained him, but it was locked. They couldn't notify anyone. After a week in a coma, he rallied enough to indicate they should call his daughter, "Pull-the-Plug" Paulina (She got the name after she argued to gas the beloved family cat rather than pay to have its urinary tract cleared).
The doctors have too much ego to admit they really have no clue. Operate, operate, operate! Surprisingly, Paulina gave permission. Once inside, the Surgeon found a murderous, dead Gall Bladder. Seems his diet had killed his Gall Bladder. The Gall Bladder was returning the favor by trying to kill him. It had put him into a septic coma and sent his diabetes spiraling further out than Jeff Bezos. The removal resulted in a huge gash across his belly. They used giant staples to bind together the leathery skin of that old dog.
Much to her credit, the daughter and boyfriend drove 12 hours to collect him from the hospital. The return trip took 26 hours. Not because anyone needed breaks, but because the return trip became a bourbon run. So many places to visit between the Deep South and Illinois…
Six weeks pass. The Paulina was showing signs of strain from taking care of him. It's hard to live with someone who leaves their Depends where they drop. Stupidly, Joan volunteered to give her daughter a break and take her ex south to get his staples removed, get referrals for social services, pay bills, find a missing $120,000 check, and his wallet.
O'Hare was the first time Joan's seen her ex, in years. What a shock! He used to look like a virile Hans Solo. Now, too weak to walk through TSA, he did not want a wheelchair, because of the tip. Upon learning he'd get to early board, without paying the $35 fee, he quickly calculated, with a $5 tip, he'd be $30 ahead and climbed into that wheelchair.
He early boarded that plane very angry, for Joan made him tip $20. The ride included pushing him up a ramp to the furthest gate, L23. And, he's no featherweight.
"Now, I'm only $15 ahead," he sputtered as he worked his way to the back of the plane. Her purchasing a seat upgrade (only for herself) did not help the situation. She didn't bother to inform him of the upcoming $20 tip for a wheelchair at the other end of the flight, making him $5 behind…
Rather than pay to fly to Macon, he flew them to Atlanta, where he wanted to take the $40 jitney the rest of the way. He didn't make reservations. They'd to have to wait four hours, on a hot bench, in the Georgia sun, for the next available bus seats. During their marriage, money was tight. Not because they were poor, but because he prioritized deposits into his retirement accounts over heating bills and diapers. "They are supposed to be super absorbent, so you don't need to use more than two a day."
Joan turned to the wheelchair attendant, "Take us to the Emerald Aisle."
National Car Rental's Emerald Club is lovely. All pertinent information is already in their computer. No hunting for the best price. No standing for hours in line to haggle. Joan walked into the Emerald Aisle, get into her choice of the available cars, show the attendant her driver's license, and drove away (ironically to Macon's Airport - the car return). It did cross her mind to leave him to take that jitney…
Her ex's apartment looked ready for a filming of "Hoarders." Not able to bend over, anything that hit the floor, stayed on the floor. In the Deep South, there are a lot of bugs. Tiny roaches may be a sign of filth, but the giant 3" roaches (Palmetto bugs), well even the U.S. Army declared them undefeatable. Palmettos are the sign of a good cook. That apartment had so many Palmettos, Joan's ex must have a future as an Executive Chef!
He had made appointment with the wrong doctor. Could not get to the right doctor until the following day, resulting in two nights in a hotel (at her expense), because Joan refused to stay in Roach-ville.
To kill time, she drove him to deposit a $120,000 check that had been in his mailbox for the six weeks (No, he did not win the Publisher's Clearinghouse). Due to money laundering laws, the check could not be immediately wired to a seller in Wyoming. For, Joan's ex has grand plans to purchase 70 acres in rural Wyoming, an income tax haven. It comes with a two room barbed wire encircled house, in bear country. She snickered at the vision of walker welding stapled Santa fending off a bear.
He wanted to eat at a favorite barbeque restaurant and then visit his favorite hair stylist. At each stop, he'd hitch-hike a thumb at her, "That's my Ex. She used to look like Princess Diana. A dead ringer. She used to be real good looking..."
Rather than retorting that his looks have travelled to a galaxy far beyond Hans Solo, Joan moved to the waiting area and focused on her phone. When her ex headed to the restroom, the hairdresser brought her four cans of adult beverages. "Here honey, put these in your purse. You're going to need these. It's a long drive home."
Horrors! She had not realized she had committed to drive him (in his car) back to Illinois. Maybe he can fly to visit his mother in New York? The next day, the Surgeon banned her ex from travelling to New York, "You have so much edema in those legs. You might have blood clots. I want you to have a doppler and start taking blood thinners"
While was hospitalized, his insurance had cancelled. He saved on this month's premium by using old medicine. Joan spends hours on the phone to get him re-instated, only to learn the first available doppler was next week. Oh no, three days with him was enough. He could stay in Macon and get his doppler, then fly to Paulina's or his mother's. But, oh no, he wants to drive to Wyoming and take possession of his 70 acres, 35 miles from the nearest town, with no electricity and a hand pump in the kitchen. "And no Palmetto bugs, Joan."
Joan decides to drive herself back to Illinois. As they are in season, she fills her ex's mid-life crisis car to the brim with Georgia peaches and nectarines; ignoring that he was not well enough to stay behind alone. But, the guilts got to her. So, she stuffed him and his walker into his 2-seater Nissan Z convertible coupe, which meant pushing the passenger seat forward, so the collapsed walker could wedge behind it, and driving for 2 days with walker wheels adjacent to her right ear.
We all have our limits, for Joan, there was no way she was leaving her peaches behind. But, he needed room in the tiny trunk for his gear ("It'll hold a set of golf clubs, Joan"). So, they drove with peaches packing in the walker, peaches on the dashboard, peaches in the doors' side pockets, and nectarines in the glove box. If anyone hit that car, they would really be in a jam – a peach jam –
Meanwhile, Paulina took a mini-break and had not returned home. Joan had no choice but to offer her ex the spare bedroom in her house for one night, which turned into five nights before she could get him a room at the Rehabilitation Center (where he needed to be all along).
Ten days had passed. Yes, poor Joan spent ten days with a man that she'd rather not spend ten minutes with. Now that he's out of her house, she's ready to celebrate Pi Day, a Georgia Peach Pie.