Nobody Reads This Page – “Phone Assistant, Part Three”

 

c. 2024 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(3-24)

 

 

Morning arrived with a wash of sunlight filtering through my bedroom window. Something that was very welcome after days of overcast skies and rain. As I started to make coffee, the phone rang from its perch at the end of my sofa. A place where it had been connected to the charger, overnight. Before finishing with my morning ritual, I stumbled across the carpet to retrieve my device. Arthritic stiffness made my short trek difficult. Yet the glow of a new day bolstered my spirit.

 

Janis was up early, at her nursing home in Ashtabula.

 

“What are you doing, Rodbert? They served us breakfast already, more heaps of mush. There was one kind colored pink and yellow, I think that was ham and eggs. I ate it because my tummy was grumbling. Then I managed to sneak a pop and a Snickers bar from the vending machines in our lobby!”

 

I imagined her standing in long pajamas with some sort of cartoon characters decorating the fuzzy fabric. Perhaps with her hair pulled up in a messy bun, and telltale drips of soda betraying the dietary crime she had committed. It made me nervous about a choking event that might follow this misbehavior.

 

“Why won’t you listen to the nurses? They’re trying to keep you alive, after a heart attack and three strokes. Doesn’t that count for something?”

 

She cackled like a young girl at a Halloween party.

 

“Stop telling me that shit! I don’t want to think about it! The food here is horrible!”

 

I covered my eyes and yawned heavily. Her old personality had returned after months of rehabilitation. I was not quite awake enough to face that reality.

 

“Look, I know you’re ornery. It’s unavoidable. But if you keep breaking the rules, they’ll discharge you from the treatment program...”

 

My rowdy friend laughed so loudly that an aide came running to see what was happening.

 

“YOU’RE A DAMN SISSY, RODBERT! BITE ME! BITE ME HARD!”

 

Erica, a student health coordinator on duty, was livid when she saw the contraband items. Her tiny hands flew into the air, as a sign of protest. She began to dance on her spot like someone with a weak bladder. This made her scrubs wrinkle with sweat.

 

“You just won’t listen, right? Miss Janis, you’re a handful, I swear! Now you’ll have to sign another waiver about choking!”

 

The feral female on her patient roster snorted and sneered.

 

“I’M TIRED OF EATING SLOP! OKAY? GRANNY FED OUR CHICKENS AND PIGS BETTER THAN THE CRAP I GET HERE! I CAN’T STAND IT ANYMORE! AND I WANT A CIGARETTE!”

 

Her caregiver tried to deescalate the conflict, with a word of reason.

 

“Woman, you can’t swallow yet. Not properly, anyway! It’s my job to keep you from having a crisis. Doesn’t that make sense? If you don’t quit adding to your daily menu, we’ll have to put you in a private room, away from everyone else. That would be a shame, because I can see you’ve become friendly with several of the other residents...”

 

I scratched my beard and held the cell phone closer to my ear.

 

“Listen to her, she’s trying to keep you from having another trip to the Cleveland Clinic ER!”

 

I could hear the staccato sound of her landline handset being banged against a corridor wall.

 

“NO MORE MUSH! NO MORE MUSH! NO MORE MUSH!”

 

My face was burning. And my stomach felt as if I had been eating gravel.

 

“Your new wireless device should be there later today. Just hang on for a few more hours. Walmart sent a delivery notice to your e-mail account yesterday. I know you’re bored, I get it! Just try to think happy thoughts. Maybe there’ll be chocolate pudding for dinner...”

 

Silence split the distance between us, before she answered in a whisper.

 

“I gotta pee, Rodbert. Dammit, that means I have to get up from this folding chair!”

 

There was mumbling in the background that I didn’t understand. Then, I heard Erica’s soft voice intone a caveat for my benefit. She had the lilting diction of a receptionist at her counter.

 

“Whoever you are on the line, Miss Janis just disappeared with her walker. I think she is headed toward the bathroom. There was a half-empty bottle of Cherry Pepsi in her robe pocket! Maybe she will call you back later! Umm... have a good day!”

 

I finally had time to put coffee grounds in the filter basket of my Bunn brewer. Then, I poured a carafe of water into the reservoir. While waiting for its cycle to begin, I checked the Walmart site on my computer, in the back bedroom.

 

Through bleary eyes, I read a message that had arrived earlier in the morning.

 

Confirmation: Your Straight Talk card will arrive next Monday. However, your Motorola phone has been delayed. Check back later for delivery details. We will do our best to ensure a speedy delivery! Thank you for shopping with us! Walmart is your one-stop destination for electronics and accessories of every kind!”

 

I needed java to jump start my nervous system. But being numb helped me to survive reading this woeful bulletin.

 

“No! No! No! Not again! How long will it take to get that thing in her hands? She’ll have a fit when it doesn’t show up today! Those poor assistants at the care center will have to put her in isolation!”

 

When I reread the order page, it said that her prepaid card was being sent by a delivery service like FedEx or UPS. But the Motorola unit had been scheduled as an item to be taken out of store stock, locally. Something they would drive over from the nearest supercenter. Undoubtedly, this must have seemed to be a logical option, with corporate planners in Bentonville, Arkansas. Yet it had thrown a wrench into the works, for my contrarian cohort.

 

I poured a first cup of the steaming, black elixir, and then sat with my head on the computer keyboard.

 

“She will have a fit! A crazy, wild, caterwauling tantrum!”