My Return to Writing
“Father, Creator of all, thank you for summer!
Thank you for the warmth of the sun
and the increased daylight.
Thank you for the beauty I see
All around me and for the opportunity
To be outside and enjoy Your creation.”
Thanks to St. Gregory’s Bulletin, I saw this poem about summer. I do hope that God doesn’t have too heavy a hand in doling out the warmth. A couple of days last week were brutally hot. Hubby has to water the plants around our yard, especially the impatiens, almost daily. The early roses are all but finished. However, we have two new bushes, planted last year, that are magnificent. One is a peachy-orange; the other, a vivid yellow. Hubby continues to take his camera outside to photograph both bushes as their buds open. They were not brand-names roses so there are no tags that we can use to identify them.
I must tell you why I’ve been missing for six weeks. Hubby and I, near the end of May, were on a five-day vacation to the Irish Village, “down the Cape.” We had already had two days of shopping, swimming with trip-organizer Eileen Collins, singing, and enjoying the food and entertainment. On Wed. morning, since that was the day that the motel did not supply breakfast to our group, we decided that we would drive toward Hyannis, eat breakfast at a “friendly” restaurant, and then shop our way down Main St., where there is a great Irish-goods store.
In we went to the restaurant. We splurged on bacon and eggs, with home fries. It was just after 9 a.m. as we walked out of the restaurant. The next thing I knew, I was face-down in the parking lot. I had tripped over one of the little mini barriers that stop cars from parking too close to a building. (It was my own fault; I wasn’t looking down while I was walking.) Thank goodness I was wearing dungarees so my knees were not even skinned. Hubby helped me up. I knew, from the way my arm was acting — and from the pain – that I had broken my left wrist.
We went to the car quickly. We knew that the Cape Cod Hospital was quite close to St. Francis Xavier Church because we had seen the signs pointing the way to the hospital right near the church. As we neared the hospital, we asked a police officer, working a construction detail, to point our way. We saw the Emergency Room sign and went in. I told the triage nurse that it was probably a broken wrist. In I went to the treatment area and was sent to the X-Ray Dept. (I am always amazed at how quickly x-rays are developed.) Dr. Herbst came along to speak with me. “You fractured your radius bone and chipped your ulna.” Soon an aide came with a splint cast and put it on my wrist area. “Don’t get this wet,” he warned, just before he left. Dr. Herbst came back to discharge me. He gave me the disc with my x-rays on it. Just as Hubby and I were leaving, one of the nurses asked if I’d like a Popsicle. “I would love one but I am sure that you don’t have a sugar-free one,” said I. “Yes I do,” said the nurse and over she came with the Popsicle. Hubby and I left the ER with the x-ray disc in my purse and a Popsicle in my mouth.
On the way home, Hubby and I were trying to figure out what to do. The only orthopedic doctor that I knew was Dr. McGuirk, who had replaced my right knee. I figured that he would tell me if he could help me or he would suggest another orthopedic doctor to contact. We stopped by Dr. McGuirk’s office in Braintree and told one of his assistants, Brenda, I think, what was going on. She asked if I had the x-rays with me. She took the disc and said that she would show it to the doctor when he had a minute. About 4 p.m. that afternoon, Dr. McGuirk called and said he would be happy to treat me. I was relieved.
Needless to say, showering with a splint cast was tricky. I taped a large plastic bag over my left arm and held that arm outside the shower curtain. The left side of me was very clean; the right side would have to be satisfied with a quick spray of water. Thank goodness I quickly went from a splint cast to a brace, which I could removed while showering.
Now it is back to work. The past few weeks have been very sad in our neighborhood. Here is just one example. I read that Marion (Walsh) Dalton had passed away on July 3. I had met Marion throughout the years at various functions. She seemed like a very nice woman. I send my sympathy to her children: John Jr., Mary Theresa, Kathleen, Loretta, Elizabeth, Mark, Matthew, Luke, and Eric. I am sure that St. Mark’s Parish will miss her.
There will be lots more news in next week’s column. Here is a terrific “Thought to Remember”: “Friends are those rare people who ask how you are and then wait to hear the answer.”