FknBucky

I make the right hand turn squeezing my car in real close so I can grab the little paper ticket needed to make the bar go up.  You know the one  that we all fantasize about smashing through while being chased by the police because I just robbed a liquor store. Um ok that might just be me.  Well then, it goes up and and I pull through letting a sigh out as I think about the fact I’ve just worked 10 hours, walked the dog, and now I’m about to watch 30 people trash a room for 2 hours.  A slight smile curls on my lips when I also think about the fact it will make some people extremely happy.

The close spots are taken, I do have a blue man that allows me to park in the super close spots, but so does everyone else today.  I make the ten point turn in the middle of the parking lot to get back where I came from.  I find a place to park, double checking my door will open enough for my chair to fit.  Pushing through the parking lot, I pay close attention to my little wheels in the front so they don’t fall into the cracks & holes, or hit rocks that will cause me to lawn dart into the pavement.  I mouth the word fuck as I come up to the speed bump that is like a fricking mountain, but end up navigating it with some serious skills. 

I smile at the nurse smoking outside next to the no smoking sign and roll on into the hospital.  The counter guy remembers me and says hello and asks how I’m doing.  I almost always reply “another day in paradise” and then tell him to get off his ass and work for a living.  He looks at me and says “why don’t you?”  Prick.  We laugh and I punch in the code that checks me in and tracks my volunteer hours.  The machine is new and it took a year for it to actually work, which reminds me that I’ve been doing this same routine four years.   Time flys…..

I cruise down the hallway, my blue shirt and badge giving everyone a reason to smile at me.  Being a volunteer screams out, be nice to me, I don’t have to be here, but I obviously want to be.  This particular evening like many others the air hockey table is already rocking and the hoots and screams that go with scoring a goal are echoing down the hallway.  Sometimes the kids are waiting for the other volunteers and I to show up, but tonight someone beat me there and already got it all going.   Never quiet in the playroom on Tuesday nights, and I believe it never should be. 

I enter the door with Murph walking next to me.  She is a bit taken back by the noise and new faces.  Some of the faces I’ve known for the last couple of months although their skin changes colors, hair falls out, but the smiles are the same.  They are happy to see me, even happier to see the dog, and remarkably just plain happy.  These smiles are certainly contagious. 

I scan the room remembering the 13 yr old boy from the last two weeks.  A quadrapelgic that was hurt snowboarding just weeks ago.  I also see a couple  of the cancer patients that have “lived” at the hospital for months and most times have been and out for there for a couple years.  The boy remembers Murphy and forgets my name.   She is definitely better looking and cooler than I am.  Stupid Dog. 

I ask him about his week and make sure he has been taking care of the skin problems I saw the week before.  Being an old pro at the wheelchair I explain how important it is he learn that little problems can become big ones overnight.  His mom is awesome and his attitude shows she raised him the right way.  The kid is thankful for what he has and doesn’t complain about “why me”.  It shows in bright loud colors when you raise your kids correctly.  It also shows when you don’t.

I help make sure everyone has plenty of glitter paint, crayons, and paper to make the masterpieces that sometimes go up on the wall.  A duck I colored a couple months ago is up there, and I must say it does kick some serious crayon ass.  The duck is crosseyed which is a little inside joke for me, some of you might get it. 

We talk about scars and how some of the larger ones on my face got there.  I tell the G-Rated versions that have  been “molded”  over the last ten years.  All the while a quiet almost hairless girl plays in the corner plays with the kitchenette set that we have.  No one bothers her much and lets her do whatever it is that is keeping her happy and busy. 

I stop talking for a moment, which rarely happens if you know me, when she walked up pulling the machine along that is connected to her by tubes.  The monitor, batteries, bags of liquids all firmly placed on the stand with four wheels that reminds of coat tree we had on the farm.  No coats on this one though, just medicine, fluids, and machines that will alert the nursing staff if shit hits the fan.   Not a fun thing, although sometimes the kids learn they can ride it like a skateboard.  Who would teach them that?? 

So little girl hands me a note that invites me to a tea party and the time says, NOW.  Most of us get a note and we all look at the 2 foot tall round table set up with spots for 6 people.  Each setting has plates, spoons, forks, knives, and of course plastic hot dogs and french fries.  One particular spot has a birthday cake and candles which very conveniently is saved for the host of the tea party.  I wanted that cake so damn bad. 

I looked at my note, the table of plastic food, and then told her to shove it and call me when she was 19.  Actually it was one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.  We all gathered around the little table and started enjoying the make believe feast that was so thoughfully prepared for us.  Murphy of course was wondering where all the food was.  She saw us all eating, but couldn’t smell a damn thing.  That poor dog was thinking all these humans have lost their frickin minds. 

This was my Tuesday night and I left that hospital with a huge smile and the fact that my day was 15 hours long or I spent the last twenty five minutes of it cleaning toys (mainly plastic food) never crossed my mind.  We have to disinfect everything that is touched so each little utensil got cleaned. 

These moments in life are why we get up in the morning, or at least it is why I do.  I rant and I rave about things, but I also take plenty of time to enjoy the best parts of life.  I’ve been in nightclubs all over the country, done drugs with rock stars, and slept with models.  I can honestly tell you that little tea party was better than any of those other moments put together and I’ll never forget it.   Life changes and hopefully you are spending it finding ways to better yourself.  I have a long way to go, and much to change, but we all have hope.

Lesson of the day is when invited to a tea party make sure you sit next to the chick with cake. 

Fknbucky