Angels on High by Walt Deecki Sr

Author:Walt Deecki Sr. [Walt Deecki, Sr.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781973650157
Publisher: WestBow Press
Published: 2020-02-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Saturday: Jimmie Returns

Home from the Hospital

When the sun was setting, the people brought to Jesus all who had various kinds of sickness, and laying his hands on each one, he healed them.

—Luke 4:40 (NIV)

It was early in the morning when a nurse came in and woke me up as she took my blood pressure and temperature and checked my bandages. Nurses had woken me up regularly throughout the night to do those things, and I wasn’t happy that they kept asking me the same questions every time. But this time, I could see Mom sitting in a chair next to my bed. She opened her eyes and smiled at me.

“Hi, Mom,” I said. At least I thought that was what I said, but I was so tired I wasn’t sure. “When did you get here?” I mumbled.

The nurse smiled as she stuck a thermometer in my mouth. “Your mother has been here all night. As a matter of fact, she never moved from that chair!” She looked over at Mom while she did whatever else nurses had to do that wasn’t any fun for the patient. “Boy, are you going to be sore when you try to get up!”

Mom rubbed her eyes and yawned. “I guess I’m about to find out on a scale of one to ten exactly how sore I’m going to be, because I’m getting up right now.”

As Mom leaned forward, the nurse scrunched up her forehead as if she were able to feel Mom’s pain. “Would you like some help standing up?”

“No, thanks. I think I’ll be all right once I start moving around, unless you want to give me a shot of whatever it is you gave my son for his pain.”

“I can’t do that!” she said, laughing.

After Mom slowly stood up and stretched, she leaned over and kissed me on my forehead again. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’d like to know that myself,” the nurse said cheerfully.

Mom turned and looked at her.

The nurse shrugged. “I have to put it in his chart. So on that same scale from one to ten, how are you feeling this morning?”

My throat was a little dry as I swallowed. “I feel like a truck ran over my head!”

“I didn’t say on a scale from being hit by a bicycle to being hit by a truck; I said on a scale from one to ten,” she replied. She had a pen in hand, ready to write.

“Since you put it that way, make it an 8.5.”

“That works for me. By the way, you’re allowed to have clear liquids, gelatin, or something along those lines. So what would you like for breakfast this morning?”

I thought for a minute. “I will take some gelatin.”

“Good choice. I see that that is what is on the menu this morning! The doctor will be in sometime later, and then maybe she’ll let you eat something else, but in the meantime, I’ll be right back with your gelatin.”

After the nurse left, Mom gently put

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