So here we are, coming to you still alive from Telford Terrace Rehabilitation Center in Richmond where I am recovering from two strokes that kept me in St. Joseph’s Lexington Hospital for the better part of last week before being transferred to Telford where I intend to learn to walk again.
I say “we” because my Telford roomie is fellow columnist Dick Ham who has been writing for the Richmond Register since long before the paper began carrying my column. I knew that Dick was here recovering from hip surgery and that he’d been here for some time.
So the first thing I asked when Loretta wheeled me in to reception was whether he was still here.
“Not only is he here, Mr. Adams, but you’re going to be his roommate.”
I suspect that Register Editor, Bill Robinson is behind this arrangement and that he is secretly hoping Dick will teach me how to write. But that’s not gonna happen because Dick is being sprung from here on Monday and I can tell you for sure that if he hasn’t published a column before you read this one, it’s not because he is unable to do so.
In fact I’m finding it difficult to get any rest because all the women who work here keep coming in an kissing the bald spot on top of his head, making loud smacking noises, and then telling him how much they’re gonna miss him.
If I get a send-off like that Loretta will try to pawn me off on one of them. But Dick has been here for over five weeks and I’m hoping that it will not take me that long to get my legs back under me. On the other hand if I have to be institutionalized for a spell, I can think of few other places I’d rather be and none where I’d expect to receive better care. I am already planning on emailing a certain hospital to suggest they send their cooks to Telford Terrace so they can learn how to prepare edible food.
I’m not much of a complainer, but I did make frequent snide remarks to the nurses while I was in the hospital.
Loretta often teaches nutrition classes and she has a little case full of little rubber food items — eggs, bacon, sausage links, hamburger patties and name any fruit or vegetable — that she uses to illustrate when she is explaining their nutritional values and calorie content. So I told the hospital staff that I was sure that Lo’s rubber goods tasted better than the stuff they were trying to force feed me. I know for sure the rubber stuff looks better.
Finally, fed up with my whining, one of the nurses told me that she didn’t know anybody who had ever checked into a hospital because they were looking for a good place to eat. I must confess that I didn’t have a come-back to that one.
Anyway, by the time you see this piece in your newspaper, I hope that I’m out of rehab or at least packing up to leave. I’ll take all the loving the women here want to give me when the time comes to say good bye, but I hope they don’t shave the top of my head to make a bald spot they can kiss on. Of course they didn’t have to shave Dick Ham.
Contact Ike Adams at firstname.lastname@example.org.