Help
Talmadge texted to let me know Stanley was in the
hospital. I called his room.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
“When you’re 92 I bet the nurses won’t fight over who gets
to give you a sponge bath,” Stanley said with a laugh.
I laughed too. “’Gets to?” Oh what a treat for them.”
“They listen to my heart a lot,” he said. His voice caught,
but he added, “Just looking for an excuse to see me bare-chested. Who can blame
them?”
We talked for half an hour. Several times he said he didn’t
want to bother the nurses. “I did tell
them I’d be happy to talk to anyone who was here ‘cause of an OD.”
I knew what he was really saying. He wanted to help, he didn’t
want to be helped.
“You know, it’s ok to ask for help,” I said. “You are in the
hospital, you know.”
He snorted, called me “a candy-ass who’d never take his
thumb off the nurse call button” if I was in the hospital.
I ignored him, and asked, “You will ask for help if you need
it?”
“If it will make you happy,” he said.
Today I’ll ask for help if I need it.
Fawlty Showers 2
is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and anyone you
might know is purely coincidental.
Other works by Ken Montrose are available at:
• www.greenbriartraining.com
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