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Tuesday, July 27, 2010

A new house, a bum, a gun and a neutropenic room for Sheila

Late yesterday Sheila was moved to a neutropenic room. This is a private room with double doors and it's own air filtration system to emliminate any chance of Sheila getting exposed to any nasty hospital infection. Everyone entering the room is required to santitize their hands before and after leaving. I am glad we are in this room for another reason. Theroo......a fantastic nurse we met last year when we where in here for a month. She is from Shri Lanka and is just an unbelievably great nurse and really nice to Sheila. Sheila ran another fever last night but it came right back down and today she is feeling pretty good considering what she has been through. This morning she had her usual Cheerios, Ensure and orange juice and finished all of it. A little improvement each day I can live with!
 Last night I left the hospital to get  things settled into our new We Care House. It is only one block from the hospital. When I was getting ready to go to sleep I heard a knock at the door. I thought it might be Carol, the owner, but it was late and I decided to look through the peephole to see. There on the doorstep was a very scroungy looking guy with a skinhead haircut, homemade tattoos and scabs and/or scars all over the back of his noggin. He would not face the door but kept his back turned away and was looking up and down the street. He knocked again then got on his cell phone.  I knew Mr. Scabby Head was not likely the neighborhood Welcome Wagon, here to bring me a late night casserole! I watched him through the peephole. He hung up his cell phone. He stared back at me this time through the peephole. Using the remote I turned on the living room TV and turned the sound up a notch. He knocked again as I looked through the peephole. I didn't know if he could see or hear the TV so I turned on a light that I knew he could see from the front door. Now he knew someone was home.  I could see the street but only my car was out there, he had not driven here as far as I could tell. He did not leave. Was he talking to his buddies around the corner waiting on him? This started to feel like a home invasion robbery in the making, at least that was my thought. If he was just looking for an unoccupied house to burgle why was he still standing there watching the street. He knew someone was home. Maybe he thought just an old lady and her sick husband, that was here the previous night and all last week. Maybe he had been watching them come and go. Scabby Head was in for the surprise of his, so far short life , if he took this to the next level. He seemed to be thinking it over, at least this is what was going through my head just two feet from his on the other side of the door. I tried to think of a legitimate reason he would be knocking on the door so late. I thought...ok, a census taker and had to stiffle a laugh. I was not overly concerned about all this, he was still at least on the outside......and...... I had a good was right where it my hand. I had made sure I had taken it out of storage after the last We Care House was broken into while we were at the cancer center. That was not going to happen again at least not while I was home! Good....Tony Tattoo was leaving now, headed down the walk to the street. But wait....he hangs a quick right and walks right along the front of the house staying in the shadows of the trees and bushes overgrown against the house. I watch his crater filled full moon of a head slowly go by the three living room windows. Does he not think he is being watched? Maybe he doesn't care. Maybe he has help. Does he not think someone may be calling 911? I briefly think of doing so then reason takes hold. Better to keep a close eye on Pus Pate here to see what he is up to. I go into the bedroom and watch him go by those two windows. He does not test any windows. Maybe he already knows they are locked? Has this dirtbag been here before? He turns the corner of the house and I watch Bandaid Brain disappear into the darkness. I cannot see him anymore. Our rooms are just on the front side of this 3 unit remodeled old house. The unit behind us is still unfinished and unoccupied. I know better than to go outside in the dark with a gun and try to find him. I wait a while, nothing happens, I assume he has moved on to other misadventures. Then I go to turn in, the shower can wait till morning. But sheets for the bed, Carol has taken them to launder because the last guests didn't bother. I dig out my sleeping bag, throw it on the bed and sleep like the dead..........with my brother's Smith and Wesson Airlight and his Wilson Combat D2 knife taking the first watch.

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