August 31: On a Lighter Note.....

Somehow, I forgot to tell you all about this.

It was back on July 7, the Monday after the long July 4th weekend. I had spoken to Chrissy, the infamous subject of the Oct 29, 2007 posting, and had mentioned that there were no plans for the weekend, still resting the DF (damn foot). Chrissy was going to the shore with her extended family, but said if that fell through she'd call me. We didn't talk, I stayed in all weekend because of the DF and feeling sorry for myself.

Monday was going to be an easy transition back to a work week, because stress tests didn't start until later, so I wasn't needed until noon. I decided to wash my hair, a chore usually reserved for prior to bed and extended rest. So shower, exhaust fan running, then hair dryer. Making lunch, so of course not dressed, when there is this tremendous pounding on the door and repeated doorbell rings, over and over. Clearly, someone is really insisting on my attention. I divert through the bathroom to get a robe, then out to the front door, which has a lock which allows you to open the door by only an inch or so while still being secure. The knocking and ringing have finally stopped and I open the door in time to hear a bellow of "Phoenixville Police, anyone home?" at the same time that I see the clearly marked black and white squad car parked in front of my house.

There wasn't even time to formulate 'why' as I opened the door. Chester the Tabby Terror is also now tremendously curious, trying to squeeze out and assess the situation, which gives me horrid visions of him leaping onto the officer with teeth and claws bared and the bloody mess which would ensue to the unsuspecting cop. So there is no option except for me to come out on the top step, despite the realization that while my robe is double-breasted it is rather short and there isn't much on underneath. So I'm trying to push Chester back in, close the door and maintain a semblance of modesty in front of my curious neighbors all at the same time. I'm at a distinct disadvantage here.

Officer: "Are you Laura Brooks?"

LB: "Yes"

Officer: "Are you all right?" (Now THERE'S a loaded question)

LB: "Yes, why?"

Officer: "You're supposed to be at work."

LB: "No, I'm not!"

Officer: "Yes, you are!"

LB: "No, I'm not, I'm not due in until noon..."

Officer: "No, you were due in at 9 am..."

LB: "No, we don't start until later today..." (It doesn't occur to me to stop convincing him.)

Officer: "No, you were due in at 9 am (he dramatically taps on his watch) and you're never late."

LB: "Did they change the schedule?" (Like he should know this?)

Officer: "I don't know, ma'am (I HATE being ma'am'd!) but you're late to work and they're really worried about you. They called the radio room and asked us to check on your well being."

LB: "You have GOT to be kidding me?!?!"

Officer: "No, ma'am (ow, that's twice), they called and asked us to check on you because you weren't answering any of your phones and you ALWAYS call when you're late, even if it's only going to be by five minutes. You're very responsible and would never miss work without there being a major problem." (This said in the tone of voice which demonstrates he is repeating what he was told by dispatch word-for-word, this having been transmitted over the radio--a nice big audience)

LB: "Oh, God..." (Which translates as "Oh, crap ...")

Officer: "Have you been sick? They said you were sick and they were worried something had happened to you, that no one's talked to you for days and days (Yes, I'm a recluse, but I prefer the phrase 'in social retreat', if you don't mind), or you had fallen and hurt yourself."

LB: "I fell down my basement steps a few months ago." (Like he cares?)

Officer: "Yeah, they said you were really clumsy." (Great. Thanks. That's the reputation I was going for.)

At this point, we agree that I am alive and intact, he has done his duty and can clear the call while I phone the office and let them know I still live. On my way back through the house I now see the cell phone blinking madly with 3 text messages and 2 voice mail messages, and on picking up the house phone there are multiple beeps indicating a waiting message.  Shower, exhaust fan, hair dryer all masking the sounds of multiple calls. No wonder they were worried. On my voice being heard by the office staff there are multiple exclamations of "You're alive! Are you OK? (to others) It's Laurie, she's alive! (to me again) We were so worried about you! (Yeah, I got that message.) Chrissy has been beside herself, and now she has Dr. G all upset..." (Goody. It just keeps getting better and better.)

I have now realized a couple things: #1: I screwed up and forgot they changed the schedule at the last minute the Thursday before the long weekend and #2: There are many people who are truly concerned about me that I have put through a couple hours of hell. My guilt level is pretty astronomical.

Since, as previously stated, I'm dependable yet haven't appeared at work, poor Chrissy, feeling bad for not having called me, convinced herself, and then everyone else, of a Dooms Day scenario. She pictured me lying in a pool of blood at the bottom of my stairs, a victim of my clumsiness and coumadin, possibly for the entire three day weekend since I didn't have any plans--a pathetic fact now known throughout not only my office but the entire county. While even she will admit to a significant theatrical imagination, it's an completely plausible possibility. This is the reality of being a heart patient who lives alone, takes blood thinners and is undeniably clumsy. And it's the reality that not only I have to live with, but friends and co-workers do as well. This is the not-fun-part.

It all ends happily with me being greeted with hugs and scolding on my eventual (late) arrival to the office. Chrissy was further tortured by the phone girls, since when they called over she was doing a stress test with Dr. G, who was pissed about the interruption of his rather packed office schedule to do my stress tests juxtaposed with concern for me, and their only comment was "She's alive!" Not that I had called, just that I was alive, which didn't rule out my being loaded onto a helicopter and flown to a trauma center at that moment. Which was, of course, Chrissy's interpretation.

At least the cop was kind of cute. And, as Dr. G pointed out, if something does happen I know they would take action. (Hopefully before my starving cats began to eat my body--KC would be the one to take the first serving, he is the most food-obsessed cat.)

Chrissy is an insulin dependent diabetic, who gets busy and forgets to eat. Usually one of us recognizes this and gets food into her before anything happens. This lesson was learned about six years ago, soon after she was diagnosed, while we were giving a patient a stress test. She turns to me and says "Laurie, I don't feel so...." and goes unconscious. I moved faster back then, and flew out of my chair to catch her while yelling for help, as the patient took this all in from the advantage of the still-running treadmill right next to her. He was highly entertained.

Anyway, a few months ago, one of the medical assistants comes running to get me and says Chrissy's 'gone down'. By the time I get into the other office she is sitting up, being supported by staff and the reception desk as others get her to drink some juice to get her sugar up. She looks up at me through bleary eyes, just out of being semi-conscious and slurs "Great. More fodder for the blog."

Well, if you insist!

It is highly likely that any injury I suffer in the near future will come from Chrissy's hands after she sees all this. But hey, someone has to be the comedic relief in my Shakespearean tragedy!

Hope the chuckles you all get are worth my embarassment ;0 ) Laurie