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And all the while, the nurse is in and out doing various things. For some reason she decided my name is Beverly. "That's why Beverly is here," she said. We didn't correct her, just agreed that's why. When she left, I asked him if I look like a Beverly. He said the woman at the front desk knew my name, so we figured it must be written in the paperwork somewhere and the nurse would come across it.
He came back from the procedure awake, told me he felt great, could have driven himself home, and in fact felt like he could drive all the way to Las Vegas that day. But then, when they sat him up, nausea set in, and he had to have a shot administered through the IV, and we rested awhile longer. And he didn't remember talking about driving, or that the doctor had been in to talk to us.
At some point, the nurse called me Beverly again, and we got the giggles and told her that's not my name. She had been thinking what a cute coincidence it was that one of the other patients also had a wife named Beverly, and she had even written it in Mr. Troutbend's paperwork herself. We were sorry she figured it out because it was kind of fun to be Beverly.
We stopped at Walmart on the way home to pick up cat food with gravy (Yummmm! Gravy! is the name of it), and he was just hypnotized in the grocery department because he hadn't eaten in so long. It was fun for me because I had plenty of time to browse around while he gazed fondly at turkey legs in the meat case.
When we got home, Mr. Troutbend was wiped out for the rest of the day - no more thoughts of driving himself the 700 miles to Las Vegas, and he didn't remember anything that went on before we got home.
Your friend, Beverly for a Day.
too funny
