The pleasures of Christmases past

Advice from Mom
By Rita Lessard

I really love Christmastime. Unfortunately, we celebrate it in a season that, at times, is not so pleasant, especially when the snow is flying and the visibility is so bad you end up in the ditch, which is what happened to my sister and me on Monday, December 3. Fortunately, a Good Samaritan from Hensall came by and gave us a ride to Huron Park, where we made arrangements for a tow. Thank you, kind sir.
I can easily forget about the weather and concentrate on this glorious and happy occasion. As the years go by and we are getting older, times change but our memories are still with us. The hustle and bustle I experienced when the boys were young are no longer. I have many good memories, so I will share a few with you.

When your kids outsmart you
I always considered myself a fairly smart person, but when you’re smart and have children, they tend to be smart, too. As it turns out, some of them can outsmart their parents.
I’m not saying all of my sons were devious, but our son Mike was always curious and he outsmarted me every year when it came to peeking at the Christmas presents. Every year I would use a different mode of operation. I’d hide them, but he’d find them. Then I changed tactics and used different coloured paper for each kid or I would number-code them or letter-code them.
Well, none of these methods worked. Mike didn’t care that I was so smart and organized because he didn’t really take the time to figure out what I was doing; he just opened all the presents and saw what everyone was getting and rewrapped them. I didn’t learn this until many years later, but I can honestly say I had fun trying to outsmart him, and I miss the excitement of doing all that shopping and gift-wrapping. Now our Christmases are more sedate but fun and the memories are still good.

Watch out for that tree
Putting up the tree was always a fun family affair; it wasn’t always a masterpiece, but it was the joy of doing something together. The one year, we were a little concerned about putting the tree up too soon because we had a cat and we figured it would either knock all of the bulbs off or, worse yet, just knock the whole tree down. We’re a trusting family, so we decided to give the cat a break and put up the tree anyway. Now Tom, our wise leader, didn’t agree and thought we should wait until Christmas Eve so the tree would be safe. This was one argument the kids and I won; the tree went up early and we were in the spirit of Christmas.
A week before Christmas, all the decorations were on the tree and the house was decorated and all was going just swell. Tom decided to celebrate early and shared some Christmas spirits with the neighbours. It was rather late when he got home, and being the considerate guy he is, he didn’t want to disturb us non-partygoers. He sneaked into the house and kept the lights off. He didn’t need to worry because the cat was there to guide him through with his watchful eyes. (I’m told cats can see in the dark, so like they say, Lead on MacDuff, and the cat did.) Soon enough, we heard this awful crash and it wasn’t Santa. No, it was Tom toppling into the tree. Holy cow, wasn’t that a sight? I got up to investigate and sure enough, the fool was ensconced in our lovely tree. I helped him up and he grinned sheepishly. I said, “I guess you were right, Tom, about putting the tree up so soon.” In the years after that, we didn’t have the cat, but Tom was still around, so we had more fun Christmases to look forward to.

On a final note, I noticed that our little village of Crediton doesn’t have its tree decorated and our Santa and reindeer aren’t up this year. It was lovely to look out my window and see this display. Thanks to Jordy’s, we have a wreath erected on her sign. Maybe if I talk to the right people, we can do something festive next year.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to one and all. Thanks for taking an interest in reading Casey’s paper (I love that man) and see you next year!

Cherishing memories of a Cypriot Christmas

Keeping the Peace
By Tom Lessard, CD

I spent Christmas 1967 stationed at Lizard Flats outside Nicosia, Cyprus, which had at one time been used during the Jewish exodus from Germany to Palestine. It was pretty run-down and in a way reminded us of Ipperwash.
A sergeant oversaw the junior ranks canteen. During the holidays, he would allow only one song to be played on the jukebox: “Green, Green Grass of Home.” Not a very cheery song for the young soldiers spending this time of year away from home. I’m sure the bartenders spent a lot of time mopping up the tears.
I was fortunate to be involved with organizing a Christmas party for the sick children’s hospital. It was the only place on the island where Turks and Greeks mingled. We sent home for toys, goodies and clothes for the kids, and got quite a load. We got one of the guys to dress as Santa, loaded up a couple of vehicles, and made our way to the hospital. The kids were waiting for us. Well, I was never so thrilled and choked up as when I saw the delight in those kids’ faces. They had a wonderful day, as did we.
I wonder if, after 40 years, any who are still alive remember that day. I do, and will never forget those little guys.

Too old for winter; plus thanks for fundraiser support

Advice from Mom
By Rita Lessard

I don’t know how everyone else feels about winter, but as far as I’m concerned I am not really looking forward to it. I’m not sure when this all came about, but it probably started when I realized that those fancy high-heeled shoes had to be replaced with the more sensible oxfords, the lovely shaping nylons had to be traded in for support stockings, and of course, there’s the cutesy bikini underwear that was taken over by the nice warm bloomers. So you can see where I’m coming from; yes, it’s called getting older, dear.
Getting old is inevitable, and since I’m in pretty good shape, I’m sure I’ll be fine, but as far as winter goes, if we prepare for it, maybe we will manage.
Here are some tips to consider:
- Take care that your car is properly equipped with the necessities in case you get stuck in bad weather. Examples: blankets, flashlights with batteries, candles, matches, booster cables, extra clothing, sand, salt, non-perishable food, etc.
- Get a tune up as soon as you can, and always make sure you’ve got plenty of gas in your tank.
- I suppose a cell phone would also be handy. I don’t have one, but Christmas is coming, so maybe someone will surprise me.
- Perhaps you’ll want to check your shovels or snowblower out also. Either way, keep safe and stay out of the ditch.

Hint: As I was struggling to open my door, which had frozen up, one of my coworkers suggested I put vegetable oil on the rubber on the inside of my door so I’d have no problem opening it. This seals out the water. Try it!

Thanks for all your support!
Sorry that my article is a little brief, but I wanted to concentrate on a more important issue, that being my thank you to my friends, neighbours and area business owners who made Tom’s benefit dance such a success. The support and kindness we received was incredible.
First and foremost, I would like to thank Debra McNair and Corry Price for organizing the event, the Huron Park-Centralia Lions Club for sponsoring it, and Li’l Audrey for providing the great music.
These businesses donated their support: Canadian Tire, Exeter; Iceculture, Hensall; Hansen’s Independent, Exeter; Scotty’s Pizza, Huron Park; Exi-Plast, Huron Park; Gnutti, Huron Park; Fast Photo, London; Country Corners, Exeter; Gar’s Bar, Exeter; Hayter’s Turkey Products, Dashwood; Foodland, Exeter; SAAN, Exeter; Aunt Gussie’s, Grand Bend; Bob’s Advanced Auto, Crediton; Jordy’s, Crediton; Malibu Restaurant, Centralia; Exeter Lions Club.
The following people donated money or prizes: Mike & Val Lessard, Sue and Wayne Foote, Doug and Keli Nethercott, Frank and Bridgitt Dubarry, Herman and Joan Minderlein, Pat Gray, Nancy Zettel, Bob & Millie Lessard, Bill & Anne Lacourtois, Brenda & Dave MacDonald, Deb & Doug Mason, Sid & Jeff Reaburn, Jeff & Jamie Weir, Rosemary Stewart, Tim Glavin, Ken Jones, Gary Sauder, Diane & Yvonne Wells & Lisa, Terry & Corry Price.
Thank you to all the people who helped at the door and with games, lunch and at the bar.
Special thanks to my sister Joan McCullough, who is way too generous with her help and kindness.
Last but not least, to Casey, who provides me with the opportunity to thank everyone in his paper.
Thank you all for your kindness and support. Thank you very much to the people who attended or bought tickets to the event. I apologize if I have missed anyone; to everybody who contributed, your efforts and time were greatly appreciated.

Thank you,
Tom and Rita Lessard

The long and winding road to recovery

“I’m going to walk over on my artificial leg. And maybe get up and do a slow dance with somebody.”

Benefit and dance for Tom Lessard
Saturday, November 3 – 8 p.m. to 1 a.m.
Crediton Community Centre
Sponsored by Centralia-Huron Park Lions Club. Age of majority required. Lunch provided.
Entertainment by Li’l Audrey.
Admission: $5.
Tickets: Corry Price (519) 228-9907 or Debra McNair (519) 235-0158.
Proceeds will offset costs associated with leg amputation Tom received this summer. An artificial leg costs (after government help) at least $2000. Tom could need three in total.

As told to Casey Lessard
Photos by Casey Lessard

Tom Lessard: The pain was out of this world. I’ve never gone through pain like that. Some of it was the gout, but that was just in the toe. The rest of the pain was just a constant screaming pain. Even morphine didn’t work. I had constant pain in my leg 24 hours a day. It was excruciating.

It all started in 1988. I used to go back and forth to Exeter on Fridays. Then my leg started cramping up in my calves. I went to Dr. Gans, and he didn’t know what the heck it was. He was treating me with cortisone and all this other stuff for almost a year. Finally, he said, “You ever been tested for cholesterol?” I said no. “Well, let’s get you tested.”
It was way up. “All right,” he says, “let’s get you on this stuff,” and he put me on Zocor. He got me an appointment with Dr. Mike Sweeney here in London. I got down to him and he said, “I’ll tell you what. You smoke?”
“Yeah, I’ve smoked for 40 years.”
“Well, you either quit smoking or I’ll take your legs.”
I said, “Well, that’s easy enough, I’ll quit smoking.”
Smoking dried out the arteries and took away the elasticity they need. The cholesterol builds up in there. That’s hereditary from my mother and father, but back then we never knew.
The doctor said, “We’re going to put artificial arteries in your legs between your groin and your knees. We’ll do the one this time…”
I said, “Can you do them both?”
“It’s quite an operation,” he said.
I said, “Let’s do them both.”
I got in on the 16th or 17th of December, they did both my legs, and I had some heat down there and the pain was gone. It was December 25th when I got out.
He said, “I’ll guarantee it five years.” That worked along pretty good until about 2002 (14 years later), and then I had problems with my left leg. It started going crampy and all sorts of funny little things. So I went in and they gave me an angioplasty and sort of scraped out the inside of the artery, so that fixed my left leg.
Then in 2004, the same thing happened in my right one. They did that one, but then I got a fungus in my toes. That was about a year and a half ago, at the beginning of 2006. My family doctor tried to treat it but it kept getting thicker and thicker and thicker. Then I got what seemed like gout in my big toe.
At first, they said, “Just stick a piece of cotton batten in between your toes,” so I did that for a week and it didn’t work. So I went to a clinic and the doctor there said, “You’ve got gout.”
She sent me over for x-rays and blood tests, and sure enough, that’s what it was. I got this gout treatment, but nothing was healing properly. My toenail fell off. The foot started swelling up and problems in my right calf again.
I went to see my specialist, but I had a hard time getting to see him. Finally I did, and they hauled me in and that was February of this year. They did an artery bypass from my groin right to my ankle.
After it was over, they took the stitches out a little early and in my calf, there were five or six of them and it didn’t heal properly. They treated that for six months.
I’d go to the specialist and they kept taking pieces off my heel. Then I had an ulcer down there, the toenail was gone, and it was getting black. Finally, they said, we’ll take your toes off. This was the last week of June.
They took the toes off and part of the heel, and two days later when they took the wrapping off, I looked down at my toe and my foot was all black. They took off the rest of the leg to the knee the next Friday.
I came out of the operating room and I felt like a million dollars. I hadn’t been in my bed since October – I couldn’t sleep in my bed because it was too painful. I went 31 days with no sleep in that stretch between October and July.
I played pool the other day with the therapist. I had the leg on and you go around the pool table and see how long you can stand and move around. Also, we played shuffleboard last week. You try to stand for half an hour without too much pressure or getting too tired.
My leg feels better, but I’ve got a job to do at the post office. I like to go visit my friends at the bar. I’d like to go shopping, running to town and back. I can’t rake the lawn or do anything outside, which I always liked to putter around. A lot of the time I can’t even sit out there because I need someone to make sure the doors open for me.
I’ve lost my home life for the time being, and when I’m home I can’t do much. I have to ask Rita, “Can you take me out?” Then we have to get the wheelchair out and the walker and get down the steps. Then we get to where we’re going and it’s a big chore. So I very seldom even ask her.

They say if you’ve had gangrene, it’s a 50 per cent chance you’ll lose your other leg in five years. I had gangrene, so 50 per cent; that’s not bad odds. I’ve had 70 years (his birthday is October 27), and I went 20 years on a five-year promise.
If I have to lose the other one, what can you do about it? If you don’t want to live, you just say leave it on and let the gangrene take you. But I’m not going through that because that gangrene is deadly.

I think it’s very nice of these friends and neighbours to hold this benefit. I’m not going to turn them down. If they raise some money for me, I can certainly use it. We don’t have a lot of money.
I want to walk over there (to the benefit). I’m going to walk over on my artificial leg. And maybe get up and do a slow dance with somebody.

Hit the ice, granny

Advice from mom
By Rita Lessard

With all of this nice warm weather we’re experiencing, you would think that a winter sport such as hockey would be the last thing on our minds but since we usually spend money for the kids when they go back to school, we might as well add to that the expense of hockey registration.
I don’t imagine families do any fundraising to offset the cost of registration, which in turn pays for ice time and other hockey needs. Fortunately for us, when our five sons were playing we had a fundraising committee that raised lots of money that helped out a lot.
These days, I realize parents haven’t got the time or the energy to raise money in the fashion that we did. Although I was always at the arena, I never quite watched a complete hockey game. Usually I was working in the food booth, but that wasn’t my only excuse. Once the fans got going with their screaming and hollering, I couldn’t stand it and I would make myself scarce.
I realize hockey is a rough sport, but fans are sometimes more violent than the players on the ice. I remember one game in particular when we experienced the wrath of the fans.

Coming out swinging
(Note: names have been changed to protect individuals’ identities)
Jack’s parents and grandparents never missed a game. They really enjoyed watching Jack play and he was a very good player but they got a little carried away with their screaming and hollering. Grandma was the worst. She was quite feisty and she really didn’t appreciate it when Jack was in a scoring position and a player took a penalty to foil him. Joe seemed to be in the penalty box a lot, which wasn’t always a bad thing because most of the time he was there for stopping Jack from scoring.
This time, granny notices Joe’s jersey number after one such incident, and her vindictive mind brews a plan.
Granny waits a little bit until the game is over. As always, when the game is over, it is a custom for the players to line up and shake hands in a friendly manner; all things good or bad are forgotten. Not quite this time.
All of a sudden, Granny makes an appearance on the ice heading straight for Joe. Holy cow! With her purse as a weapon, she gets on the ice and starts swinging like Willie Mays. Since she doesn’t have skates on, she’s not too steady on her pins and eventually she goes down. She ended up breaking her wrist and she was taken off the ice on a stretcher - screaming, of course. We couldn’t shut that woman up.
If you can imagine how shocked we were at this performance, the fact that she was wearing a skirt when she went bottoms up was quite comical. Not too pretty!
Although Joe was startled, he wasn’t hurt. Grandma ended up getting a penalty: she wasn’t welcome at any more of Jack’s games.

Reach out and touch someone
You know, it truly is amazing how times have changed. I was listening to the news the other day and in some schools, the kids are not allowed to touch each other in any manner – no embracing, no hand shaking, no playing tag. It saddens me to think my grandchildren are denied this act of affection. If that were the case in the real world, I’d probably be locked up by now. I encourage you to take a chance and hug somebody today.
And remember, keep your stick on the ice and granny off the ice.

You won’t hear from mom for a while - not because she’s locked up, but because the Strip doesn’t publish again until Nov. 21. Read more advice then.

Keep it clean, boys

Advice from mom
By Rita Lessard

Thanksgiving – what a great holiday. This is a wonderful time of year to celebrate and reflect on all the many gifts and blessings we have received throughout the years. Since I’ve lived quite a few years, my blessings have been numerous.
I am especially thankful for my neighbours, my first family, friends, and last but not least, my husband and five sons.
My siblings – whom I consider my first family – are very special indeed. I keep in touch with my brothers and sisters as much as I can. My sister Joan, who lives in Shipka, is very kind and generous to Tom and me, so to her I say thank you on this Thanksgiving Day.
A couple of months ago, I was talking to my neighbour and she was quite astonished that I had raised five sons and lived to tell the tale. I told her that having five boys was the best thing that ever happened to me.
“Well,” she said, “I had two sons and I find that boys are so dirty.”
My response to her was, “Yes, you’re probably right, but I made sure that my guys were clean as they had to take a bath or shower every night,” to which she said, “Whatever!”
I think the idea of taking a bath every night backfired on my son Glenn on one occasion. Glenn and Tom Jr. (my oldest boys) had an opportunity to visit and have a camp-out at a neighbour’s farm. Since we’re basically town folk, this was quite an adventure.
Instead of having their bath the night before, I made the boys take their bath before they left for the farm. Tommy was okay with it, but Glenn put up quite a fuss. He insisted he was going to get dirty anyway, so what was the point? I prevailed and the boys were freshly bathed when they set out.
When they got to the farm with a group of other kids, they were quite excited to see the animals and the farm machinery and the rest of the makings of the farm. After they were there they were allowed to explore a bit, which was a lot of fun.
Glenn decided he’d like to go up in the hayloft and see how that felt, so up he went. He got walking around and everything seemed fine. Then, all of a sudden, he stepped in a hole and fell through the loft into the cows’ toilet. He was covered in manure.
Was he ever ticked! Glenn thought he would get dirty at the farm, but not this way. When he came out of the barn smelling like dung, the kids thought it was quite funny. Off he went to the bathroom for - you guessed it – another bath.
So yes, boys do get dirty, but you can always clean them, and this is another thing I am thankful for.
Count your blessings this year, and be ever so thankful today and every day.

Legends of the fall

Advice from mom
By Rita Lessard

Fall - what a great time of the year. Not too hot, not too cold. Standard time is approaching and thus we’ll fall back an hour. The word fall is used in so many ways, for example, fall in love, fall out, fall from grace, fall back, etc. This column will address the physical act of falling.
Tom has had many falls in his lifetime. My first experience with Tom’s falling problem was when he was attempting to carry me over the threshold. Isn’t that the perfect time to trip and fall? I only weighed 105 lbs. at the time, so that couldn’t have been the problem. I ended up falling on top of him, and I think the fall knocked him out. I ended up dragging him over the threshold – there was no way he was going to get away from me. I was a little feisty even at that time.
When we moved to Huron Park, Tom would ride his bike back and forth to work or to the local pub and he sometimes didn’t get home in one piece. He was in and out of the ditch; I believe he had a balance problem. One Friday night, I was watching TV with the kids and we heard this big bang on the side of the house. Sure enough, it was Tom on his bike, so I said to the kids, “Your father’s home.” The kids looked out the window and said, “Yep, you’re right, mom.” He seemed to be fine, but I suggested he should either get his brakes checked or his eyes checked.
After we had five kids, we needed a bigger house, so we moved across the street to a four-bedroom. The layout of the new house was a little different. In the old house, the bathroom was on the main floor, but in the new house the bathroom was upstairs. The night before we moved in across the street, Tom and a couple of our boys decided to camp out in the new house (they slept in sleeping bags in the living room). It was Friday night, so Tom was a little tipsy. In the middle of the night, Tom woke up and had to go to the bathroom. Thinking he was in the old house, he made a left and then a right turn to go to the bathroom. Unfortunately, in the new house, this was the way to the basement. He opened the door and stepped in, or rather dropped in, because the next thing he knows he’s falling down the stairs. I swear Tom has seven lives because all he got out of the fall was a bloody nose. He did manage to get back upstairs without peeing himself and went back to sleep, not going to the bathroom until the next morning. Amazing!
One more story about falling: my friend, who has false teeth, was out shopping in the mall one day and was checking out the cosmetics and smelling the various perfumes. Suddenly, she had a sneezing fit, and before she knew it, her teeth fell out of her mouth. As the kids say, wouldn’t that bite? Hoping no one noticed, she delicately picked them up and went about her business.
I hope you enjoy this nice fall weather and if you have to fall, do it on your knees in church, where at least you have padding.

Now where did I leave my…? Lessons in absent-mindedness

Advice from mom
By Rita Lessard

Absent-mindedness: I’m quite sure you’ve had occasion to experience this malady at some time or other in your lifetime. This problem has no age barrier - it happens to everyone.
Last garbage day is an example of my experience with preoccupation. I work at night now, so I put out the recyclables before I leave for work. This past Tuesday I made several trips. I usually put the garbage out when I get back because the dogs and cats will sometimes get into the garbage bags and make a mess. So after three trips I grabbed my purse and got in my car and I was good to go. I was about to look for my keys in my purse but my purse wasn’t anywhere to be found. Now I know I grabbed my purse, so back in the house I went, searching. After five minutes or so I was getting ticked so I went outside to look around. Then I thought, maybe it’s in the blue box. Well, hello, there it was - right at the curb where I put it. I shook my head and chuckled. You know what I mean.
This forgetfulness happens to other people too. When I worked at the local hotel I saw many sights. Picture this: a very inebriated lady came out of the washroom and unbeknownst to her she had toilet paper sticking out of her slacks. Believe me it happens. So being the concerned person I am I said, “Excuse me lady,” and I started to tell her she’s dragging, but since she was rather drunk she turned to me and said, “What the blankity-blank is your problem?” So I rolled back my eyes and said, “No problem,” and let her go on her way. Darn if that wasn’t a sight.
Tom can be absent-minded, too. After I spent several days in the hospital having our first son, Tom came to pick us up and take us home. Before we left we had to sign some forms and gather up our luggage and gifts, etc. I handed the baby to Tom for a minute while I made some last minute arrangements. For some reason or other Tom set the baby on a nearby bench (as usual I wasn’t paying that much attention). After a while we were ready to go. Out we marched to the car. Tom helped me in and put the luggage in the trunk, and we were good to go. Wrong! I turned to him and said, “Pardon me, are you forgetting something?”
He looked around like he had lost his keys and said, “I don’t think so.” I replied, “You fool. What about the baby?” Although he can’t run very fast today he certainly had the ten-yard dash down in no time that day.

The ten-miler: army takes physical education to a new level

Keeping the Peace
By Tom Lessard, C.D.

At 27 C.O.D. (the Central Ordnance Depot on Highbury Avenue in London), the only physical training I ever did was playing hockey in the London industrial league. Every Friday afternoon we had a practice at the fairgrounds arena. Our coach was an Indian sergeant who enjoyed his wine. We each took turns every week to go to the Brights wine store at Dundas and Adelaide to pick up at least a half dozen bottles of Katawba at about 50 cents a bottle. At every shift change, before we hit the ice he handed us the bottle to take a drink. When the two-hour practice was over, we were in pretty good shape.
I wanted to go to Germany. The only way I could get there was to take a posting with 1 R.C.R. (at Ipperwash), which was rotating in 1962; I grabbed the chance.
Being corps personnel, we were exempt from a lot of the training that the infantry did, with the exceptions being range firing and a bit of drill, until someone in Ottawa came up with the idea of a ten-miler. I’d never heard of such a thing but was soon to find out what it was.
I was told to get my packs, draw my rifle and report to the rec center. We were formed up, had our names checked off and our packs inspected. Everything I had in my pack was brand new since, being on the quartermaster staff, I had two of everything.
At timed intervals we were sent off in small groups. Off we went out the front gate and down the side road to the beach. Running in the sand with the extra weight was pretty demanding. After a few miles we finally left the beach and headed up the winding hilly road to Port Franks and Highway 21.
I was beat and hollered ahead that I wasn’t going any further. That was a stupid thing to say because the next thing I knew the guy behind me shoved his rifle muzzle into my back and hollered, “Nobody in my group quits!”
I eventually made it back to camp but I didn’t have the strength to carry anyone for the100 yards portion of the ten-miler, so Jack Crowe said he’d carry me. He gave me his rifle, which happened to be the one he used to prod me back at Port Franks camp. Off we went. I don’t know which was worse, carrying or being carried. Next we had to climb a wall and then jump a ditch. We completed everything with time to spare.
That was an example of life with 1 R.C.R. I had a great 11 years with a wonderful group of people.

A new reason to wear clean underwear

Advice from mom
By Rita Lessard

Laundry problems – I’m sure we’ve all had them to some degree or other.
For instance, how is it that we always seem to lose one sock or forget to take things out of the pockets? And how in the drying process do socks and underwear end up in your pant legs? Who knows!
Since last October, my husband Tom has had some major problems with his right leg, and with all the pain and suffering he had to go through it was a very trying time. The end result was the doctors decided to end the pain and amputate his leg on July 7. Tom is doing very well and now he’s ready to have an artificial leg.
On Thursday we had a meeting with a group of people to get him into Parkwood hospital so the process of getting him fitted for a new leg can begin.
We had a question and answer period and filled out a bunch of forms and the group explained what we can expect once Tom is in the hospital. Once the technical stuff was done, the doctor wanted to see Tom’s stump.
Tom was wearing long pants and on the stump part he had the pant leg pinned up – all his pants are now like this – so he unpinned the pants to show the doctor his stump. As he did this, a piece of material fell to the floor.
Since everyone was talking or looking at the stump, nobody paid any attention to what was on the floor. Nobody, except of course me, but I was distracted by the nurse who started asking me something. Suddenly, the doctor looked down and asked, “What is that?”
Tom thought he was talking about his stump and it kind of fazed him, but I spoke up and said, “Is that your underwear, doctor?” He replied, “I don’t think so.” Then Tom looked down and said, “That’s my underwear. How did it get down there?”
Meanwhile, everyone was choking with laughter. Tom was undeterred as he delicately bent over and picked up the underwear and stuffed it in his pocket.
I apologized because I do the laundry so it was my fault the underwear got stuck in the pant leg thanks to the pins. At that point, it didn’t really matter because everyone wanted to leave to laugh out loud.
The doctor finally got a hold of himself and said, “Well, I guess you’re good to go.”
All in all, the meeting went well. As soon as a bed becomes available, Tom will be admitted, and I’m sure he’ll be in a ward this time. Good luck, Tom.

« Previous Page — Next Page »