Some of you have been wondering about what happened to me that involved lights, sirens, and screaming people. Me too. In fact, I’ve been wondering how all of it happened so quickly.
Last Friday started out as a good day. I woke up late. I ate a leisurely breakfast. I moseyed around the house asking myself what I wanted to do next. (Just so you know – every day is not like this. It just so happened I’d met all my deadlines for the week.)
All of the sudden it hit me. Oh crud. I was late.
Maybe I’ll just skip, I thought. They won’t really miss me. I am one of many smiling faces at the old folks home on Fridays. One of four faces, anyway. Three faces? Maybe two?
Oh crud again.
I threw on some shoes and jumped in the car. My foot hit the accelerator and I sped out of the driveway. Left turn. Right turn. Wrong turn. Turn around.
I made it to the nursing home with two minutes to spare. The singing session went well. One Alzheimer’s patient called me “perty” repeatedly. I’m not sure if she meant “pretty” or if she thought I was someone from her past named Purdy. But she was so sweet I thought I would stay and talk with her.
“Do you think you could take the patient back to the Alzheimer’s unit?” a volunteer asked.
“No problem,” I said. “Just tell me where it is.”
Here’s where you need to know something about me: I don’t do directions. The moment someone starts to tell me how to get ANYWHERE, my brain thinks about what I had for lunch three days ago, what happened to every rock star after 1970, and what my favorite shade of green looks like on my wall at home.
During all of this, I vaguely hear the direction-giver speak. Certain words stand out to me, like “Black button” and “Left, NOT right”. Those were the words I heard last Friday. I nodded, smiled, and headed down the hall to the LEFT not RIGHT.
Everything was great until we reached a set of doors. I saw a BLACK BUTTON on the left. Aha, we were getting somewhere. I once worked at hospital lock-down unit. I knew how this worked. Hit the button, the door opens.
I hit the button.
Nothing happened.
Oh, it’s one of those, I thought. You hit the button then press on the door handle.
I pressed on the door handle and the entire place lit up. It was like Christmas. Only there were sirens. And screaming. And frowns from the woman on the other side of the door, who I soon learned was actually the director of the nursing home.
She kindly informed me I was supposed to go through the door on the LEFT, not the RIGHT.
It was an exciting day.
5 comments:
Oh no! You poor thing...I'm awful with directions too. I've lived in the same place for like 10 years and I still can't tell anyone how to get anywhere. I use landmarks like restaurants...but that doesn't work when you try to tell someone how to find the nearest circuit city. Oh well...
What an exciting day! *lucky you* : )
What you need is easy to remember directions...like Fat People Directions. Fat people give the best directions! They're all like "Turn left by the McDonalds, and it'll be up by the Krispy Kreme place. Remember if you hit the DQ you've gone too far." : )
Debbie
PS: I mean no offense to fat people. That is how our family-- honest to goodness--gives directions to others.
I wish God would do that for me when I go the wrong way. Then again, my world would be an awfully loud and brigtly lit place. LOL.
OMG! I clicked on the link and was in awe of your beauty, creativity, and just amazement! Great blog!!!!! Super envious! :D
Christy - I totally hear you! When My Boy and I were dating, he handed me a map when we got lost. All I could do was laugh hysterically.
Debbie - OK - I read your comment to My Boy. He said, "She is so funny!" And it's true. You are NOT fat, BTW.
Amy - Great analogy! If only I'd thought of it. Now if it shows up in my first book, will you sue? ;)
Jennifer - You are so sweet. Do you have a blog? It's fun reconnecting with everyone on here.
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