Hang Time
Perhaps my favorite story that perfectly epitomizes the
dynamics of Gram and Pap’s marriage is one that took place when Pap was bedridden
after having lost his second leg from Diabetes.
I was staying at Gram’s house at the time. I vividly remember sitting at the dining room
table while Pap was in his hospital bed in the makeshift bedroom/hospital room
that had once been Gram’s living room.
Gram’s house was small and she enjoyed open concept living long before
it became desirable and trendy. Pap’s bed
was along the wall in the living room and therefore could be seen from anywhere
in the kitchen and dining room. Gram resented
having lost her living room to that damn hospital bed. So much so that, the night that Pap died,
Gram said to me, “I want you to call first thing tomorrow morning and get that
Goddamn bed out of my living room. I
want my house back!” I did. She got her house back.
That day, I was sitting at the table facing toward Pap’s bed
and reading the paper. Gram was getting
him up into his wheelchair as she did religiously every single day. “He’ll get bedsores,” she would say in her
disgusted voice, “Like he had when he was in that damn hospital.” (Gram used to get so angry about the care
that Pap got during his many, many stays at St. Francis hospital. Non one could care for him the way she
did.) She used a Hoyer lift to get Pap
up out of his bed and into his wheelchair.
Although he was perfectly capable of helping out by rolling and lifting
some of his own weight, he usually would not.
He’d lie there like a dead body and let her do all the work. This, of course, angered Gram. She would swear profusely and talk under her
breath, as if he could not hear her, the whole time she was doing it. The Hoyer had a gray, square canvas material sling
that was about four feet square. It had grommets
on each corner where the chains would attach.
Gram would roll Pap to one side, slide the sling under him, then roll
him to the other side and pull it through while rolling back to center. The sling had to be centered under his body
in such a way that he would be balanced while he was being lifted. Once the sling was under his body, Gram would
wheel the lift so it was centered over the bed.
The lift was designed so that the base could be slid under the bed so
that the top was extended over the bed.
She would connect the four chains to the sling and then to the hooks on
the top of the lift. Once connected, she
would lock the brakes on the lift, then grab the handle and pump him up. Once he was high enough to clear the bed and
the wheelchair, she would unlock, push and turn the lift in such a way that she
could lower him over the wheelchair seat.
That particular day, Gram had gotten Pap into the lift and
pumped up. Since he had no legs, he looked
really funny dangling and spinning back and forth as he hung there. Suddenly, I glanced up and Gram was
gone. “Where the hell did you go, you Goddamn
bastard?” Pap squawked at that very same moment I looked up. Then, from behind the closed door of the bathroom
comes, “I had to take a Goddamn leak, you son-of-a-bitch! You’ll just have to wait!” I looked down at the paper I was reading and
pretended to not be paying attention, while I held back my laughing. I made sure not to catch Pap’s eye so he
would not see me laughing while he dangled there helplessly.
Gram eventually came back and they continued the bickering and
name calling until she got Pap into his wheelchair and over to the table where
she would then make his breakfast.
To this day, I still laugh when I remember that day. I love to tell this story.
No comments:
Post a Comment