By Vicki Scott
Last Sunday seemed like a usual day as I got up, prayed, drank water and perked some coffee. “Easy Like Sunday Morning” by Lionel Richie and The Commodores played in my head during my time with God.
While retrieving my cell phone messages, a text message chimed in from my son Joseph.
Backing up to the day before on Saturday, my husband Alan and I were just doing our own thing. Our longtime friends Hollis and Audrey were coming over, and I usually walk with a lady’s group before they arrive. All the ladies were busy with other things that day, so I asked my dear sweet Alan to walk with me, and he did. The walk kept my life normal, sort of.
Hollis and Audrey arrived around lunchtime, and we all went gallivanting. They partnered with us on the booth rental we have in Alexander City and brought some things to sell. We had items to sell stashed in our cars, so we rode in separate vehicles. Selling trinkets and eating out for lunch is our idea of gallivanting.
While we were out, our workaholic son Joseph came to our house sick. He called to let us know what was going on and that he was in his former bedroom. Joseph had to be feeling bad to leave work. Hollis and Audrey are not at the peak of health and did not need to take chances, so they left. Our frolicking came to an end.
When Joseph woke up, he texted me to ask me to go to the mailbox, where his wife, Machi, a.k.a. The Greek Goddess, left him an apothecary of medications, soup, Dr. Pepper, and what looked like some baby items in a Dollar General bag.
We peeked in the bag and texted him to let Joseph know the items were on the counter. He asked for some Tylenol wannabes and wanted me to heat up a rice pack, which is something I learned to make when I taught school. We made pouches with rice that could be put in the microwave to heat or the freezer to cool. I always keep at least one in my refrigerator freezer. They come in handy for such an occasion as a bedridden son. I took care of my Jo Jo the best way I knew how. Later that night, he ate some of the soup Machi packed. She had also left a cute note for him hoping that he would be feeling better soon. Joseph seemed to feel better as he smiled at her note, and soon went home for the night.
Back to the chiming text from Joseph on Sunday morning. It read, “Mom, I can’t do this. I’m in so much pain. What do I do?”
I started running through ideas, but when told me he needed a doctor, I drove to his house. What I did not realize was he was on his way to my house. Unfortunately, we did not spot each other when our cars passed. I found him sitting in his car waiting when I returned and promptly took him to get medical attention.
The co-pays are outrageous at hospital emergency rooms, so I looked for an urgent care clinic. Apparently, said clinics are just as expensive on Sundays. The fact that we were there 15 minutes before it opened did not matter, since the doctor did not arrive until about 45 minutes later.
I wanted to kick myself. As I waited, an elderly lady told me she came from another urgent care that opened at 8 a.m., because they still were not open after 9. Joseph said he was in the twilight zone and did not notice anything anyway.
When Joseph was done seeing the doctor, he walked out limping from steroid shot but happy that all the tests were negative. I told him I would take him back to our house before going to the pharmacy to pick up his prescription.
Instead, he wanted to ride with me. The pharmacy did not open until noon, so he opted for a milkshake instead. Back at our house, he went to his room and crashed out.
When noon finally came, I hopped into my car and turned around with intent to go to the pharmacy. However, Joseph’s car slowed me down a bit after I crashed into it. I ran into the house to tell Alan. He did that sigh of disappointment that always breaks my heart, but I trekked on. My boy needed some medicine!
When Joseph finally woke again, he took his meds while I told him I wrecked his car. It turned out that Alan broke my heart much worse, as Joseph told me not to worry, grabbed his meds and went home.
If Sundays are easy, and Mondays are tough, I am going to need a lot of prayers. Stay safe, y’all!
Vicki Scott can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.