Saturday, February 19, 2005

A Tremendous Dream

I'm on hold with the Red Sox ticket office, trying to get through to get some Yankee tickets they put on sale today. From conversing over the internet with other sox fans I am facing a long wait, but at least I am through the last hour of busy signals and all circuits are busy announcements. Fingers are crossed for several reasons.

***

Two calls so far.

Took in Big Mamma and Little daddy from yesterday. Seems they were not happy with the treatment they got at the hospital last night, little daddy's head still hurts and Big Mamma doesn't like to hear her baby cry. We took them to the kid's hospital, where they were put in the waiting room. Little Daddy immediately got down on the floor and starting playing with some toys.

The other call was for a woman in her mid forties with back pain. She had beautiful blue eyes, a slender woman who looked like at one time she was very pretty, but she was sleeping on a mattress in a house that smelled like urine. It looked like she had track marks on her arms. She had two dogs in the house and the cop asked her who was going to feed the dogs while she was away. No one, she said. I'm here alone. What about the guy who lives with you. I got rid off him, she said.

***

Check it. Four right field box to the Sox-Yankees in July. Only waited fifteen minutes once I got through.

***

Got two late calls.

A lady with pnemonia/CHF/COPD.

An old guy who was "unconcious" according to the nurse at the retirement community. It seems the old guy went down to the movie in the community's theatre room, sat in the back, was confused by the movie, and couldn't hear to well, drifted off to sleep, was "dreaming a tremendous dream" when he was awoken to his bafflement to see several people standing around him. It seems when the lights came on, he was "unconcious" sitting in his seat. The nurse said it took fifteen minutes to "revive him." He said he felt perfectly fine. His story seemed reasonable to me. She wanted him checked at the hospital for a possible stroke.

After working eleven days in a row, I am hoping to go to sleep soon, to dream a "Tremendous dream," then wake up feeling perfectly fine.

Just keep that nurse away from me.