Nicknames
My husband likes nicknames. He gives one to anybody he likes. Sometimes they aren't always kind, but those he gives the "less than kind" nicknames to, usually know his heart and are not offended.
He has a few of his own. One is Grumpy, accompanied by a framed picture of his namesake. He also has a hat we bought last September when we were in Disneyland that has "Grumpy" in cheerful colors across the front. He thinks that being grumpy is one of his cuter traits. For me, it is my number one reason to throw his butt in a nursing home first chance I get.
Two weeks after Ivan....we have pulled a good portion of the soggy stuff out of the house. A couple of the local golf courses have reopened, nothing here in our little town, but a couple in the nearby burg that didn't have as many trees, or maybe a better landscaping crew to clean up, I'm not sure which.
For the rooster, playing golf is almost as important as breathing, and I felt like he needed the break. I didn't go, because we were expecting an inspector from the Small Business Administration to come look at the house and verify that, indeed, we needed the loan to help get our house back. We had gone through the incredible pile of paperwork, not really expecting to get approved, but what the heck, worth a try, right? So, off he goes, and on, I stay.
I get a call from the SBA guy, he's in the vicinity, and if it is convenient for me, he will be by in a half an hour. Fantastic....I had really expected to sit all day and not hear anything. Only thing that has gone well in this process so far.
Five minutes later, I get another phone call, this time from the rooster. "Can you meet me at the hospital?"
"Uh, okay....what's happened, are you okay?" ( not REALLY sinking in, and HE'S talking to me, so chances are, he's not on the verge of dying. I'm a nurse, these are assessmant skills I have acquired over the years.)
"Well.....I got run over by a golf cart, and they are making me go to the hospital."
PAUSE
"Yeah, I know."
"....okay, how did you manage to get run over by a golf cart, which hospital are you going to, and HOW did you get run over by a golf cart?"
This really shouldn't have been that much of a surprise, as he has, over the years, found some really novel ways to hurt himself. But, I do believe this one will take the cake.
The EMS guys told him they weren't real busy, so they could take him to the hospital where I work, it will cost extra, tho, as you get charged by the mile. Okay by the rooster, people know him there, he feels he will get better care, etc. Okay, so my hospital it is, but it will take awhile, as they have to go another route, the bridge is out.
"Okay, but the SBA guy is on his way!!!! Said he would be here in half an hour!!!"
"Well, that is too important, and I'm not hurt that bad, you stay there, it will be at least 45 minutes before I get there, anyway, maybe longer."
"Okay, see you as soon as I can."
Still don't know how he managed to get run over.
About 15 minutes later, I get a call from our daughter, she's coming into town to go to church. Wanted to make sure we were home so she could come by after.
"Well, call me before you do, you may need to go by the hospital....Dad got run over by a golf cart!"
PAUSE
"Yeah... I know"
"Do you want me to go there first? HOW DID HE GET RUN OVER BY A GOLF CART?"
"Don't know yet, but he's not hurt bad, because he chatted with me for about ten minutes before he got in the ambulance, and he made as much sense as he ever does."
She relays this info to her car mate, who I hear say "WHAT????A GOLF CART? HOW DID HE GET RUN OVER BY A GOLF CART????" She replied "You know my Dad." "Yeah... yeah I do."
"Okay, yeah, it would help if you go there first, because the SBA guy is coming and this is too important and I can't get there right away. It will help if he has somebody there."
SBA guy comes, takes pics, takes info, doesn't take very long. Goes away, and I head to the hospital.
When I walk in the room, the rooster has three big dents on the side of his head with the top layer and maybe the second, of flesh scraped off. LARGE amount of flesh scraped off his arm, bruises starting to darken a number of spots on his body. I look at him, and say "Only you."
He grins and says, "yeah I know."
Nurse are coming by at regular intervals, sticking their heads beyond the curtain and asking, "Are you the guy who got run over by the golf cart?" The rooster likes attention, so he retells his story multiple times.
The cart had stopped, they couldn't figure out why, so he gets out and looks underneath. He's on the ground in front of the cart, he sees a stick, good sized one, hung up under the cart, keeping it from moving any farther. Tells the guy he's riding with, "Wait a minute, I'll get it" reaches in, pulls it out, and now that the stick is gone, the cart can GO. Right into him, pushes him several feet, and before they can get it to stop, has torn multiple areas of flesh off, put dents in his head, and made him goofier than he already was. He told me he was not really with it for awhile, and wanted to go ahead and finish the round when he started coming back around, but clearer heads prevailed. They threw him in the back of a pickup, took him to the ambulance. He got a rain check from the golf course.
The ER is getting lots of guys who have fallen off roofs, cut off body parts from chain saws while cleaning up the debris, having heart attacks from working harder than they have worked in, maybe, their entire lives. And who knows what kind of stress the staff was enduring from their own losses? The rooster was without a doubt, comic relief.
Called my son. " Just wanted to let you know, we are at the ER. The rooster just got run over by a golf cart."
PAUSE
" Yeah... I know."
I tell him the story, and he says they are on their way, he has to see this for himself.
They have scanned the rooster from head to toe, found out he does have a brain, albeit a little rattled. They give him a script for antibiotics and creams for the scrapes and such. Before we get out of there, tall person comes in, looks at the rooster and says,"HEY, SPEEDBUMP! HOW YA DOIN'?"
Speedbump it is. He's Speedbump to all who know the story at the golf course. Before we put the drywall back up, we all "tagged" the concrete block walls with our own special graffiti. SPEEDBUMP is now forever part of the makeup of this house. I can't imagine anything before the wrecking ball comes that will make that disappear.
It is also forever part of our Ivan lore. And, I doubt the nickname will ever go completely away. At least , I hope not. That would mean he would have to top it, and I am afraid he has the skills.
(This story is as true as I can make it, not having been there. I have left out some of the related details that were told to me, but they don't change the flavor of the tale.)
He has a few of his own. One is Grumpy, accompanied by a framed picture of his namesake. He also has a hat we bought last September when we were in Disneyland that has "Grumpy" in cheerful colors across the front. He thinks that being grumpy is one of his cuter traits. For me, it is my number one reason to throw his butt in a nursing home first chance I get.
Two weeks after Ivan....we have pulled a good portion of the soggy stuff out of the house. A couple of the local golf courses have reopened, nothing here in our little town, but a couple in the nearby burg that didn't have as many trees, or maybe a better landscaping crew to clean up, I'm not sure which.
For the rooster, playing golf is almost as important as breathing, and I felt like he needed the break. I didn't go, because we were expecting an inspector from the Small Business Administration to come look at the house and verify that, indeed, we needed the loan to help get our house back. We had gone through the incredible pile of paperwork, not really expecting to get approved, but what the heck, worth a try, right? So, off he goes, and on, I stay.
I get a call from the SBA guy, he's in the vicinity, and if it is convenient for me, he will be by in a half an hour. Fantastic....I had really expected to sit all day and not hear anything. Only thing that has gone well in this process so far.
Five minutes later, I get another phone call, this time from the rooster. "Can you meet me at the hospital?"
"Uh, okay....what's happened, are you okay?" ( not REALLY sinking in, and HE'S talking to me, so chances are, he's not on the verge of dying. I'm a nurse, these are assessmant skills I have acquired over the years.)
"Well.....I got run over by a golf cart, and they are making me go to the hospital."
PAUSE
"Yeah, I know."
"....okay, how did you manage to get run over by a golf cart, which hospital are you going to, and HOW did you get run over by a golf cart?"
This really shouldn't have been that much of a surprise, as he has, over the years, found some really novel ways to hurt himself. But, I do believe this one will take the cake.
The EMS guys told him they weren't real busy, so they could take him to the hospital where I work, it will cost extra, tho, as you get charged by the mile. Okay by the rooster, people know him there, he feels he will get better care, etc. Okay, so my hospital it is, but it will take awhile, as they have to go another route, the bridge is out.
"Okay, but the SBA guy is on his way!!!! Said he would be here in half an hour!!!"
"Well, that is too important, and I'm not hurt that bad, you stay there, it will be at least 45 minutes before I get there, anyway, maybe longer."
"Okay, see you as soon as I can."
Still don't know how he managed to get run over.
About 15 minutes later, I get a call from our daughter, she's coming into town to go to church. Wanted to make sure we were home so she could come by after.
"Well, call me before you do, you may need to go by the hospital....Dad got run over by a golf cart!"
PAUSE
"Yeah... I know"
"Do you want me to go there first? HOW DID HE GET RUN OVER BY A GOLF CART?"
"Don't know yet, but he's not hurt bad, because he chatted with me for about ten minutes before he got in the ambulance, and he made as much sense as he ever does."
She relays this info to her car mate, who I hear say "WHAT????A GOLF CART? HOW DID HE GET RUN OVER BY A GOLF CART????" She replied "You know my Dad." "Yeah... yeah I do."
"Okay, yeah, it would help if you go there first, because the SBA guy is coming and this is too important and I can't get there right away. It will help if he has somebody there."
SBA guy comes, takes pics, takes info, doesn't take very long. Goes away, and I head to the hospital.
When I walk in the room, the rooster has three big dents on the side of his head with the top layer and maybe the second, of flesh scraped off. LARGE amount of flesh scraped off his arm, bruises starting to darken a number of spots on his body. I look at him, and say "Only you."
He grins and says, "yeah I know."
Nurse are coming by at regular intervals, sticking their heads beyond the curtain and asking, "Are you the guy who got run over by the golf cart?" The rooster likes attention, so he retells his story multiple times.
The cart had stopped, they couldn't figure out why, so he gets out and looks underneath. He's on the ground in front of the cart, he sees a stick, good sized one, hung up under the cart, keeping it from moving any farther. Tells the guy he's riding with, "Wait a minute, I'll get it" reaches in, pulls it out, and now that the stick is gone, the cart can GO. Right into him, pushes him several feet, and before they can get it to stop, has torn multiple areas of flesh off, put dents in his head, and made him goofier than he already was. He told me he was not really with it for awhile, and wanted to go ahead and finish the round when he started coming back around, but clearer heads prevailed. They threw him in the back of a pickup, took him to the ambulance. He got a rain check from the golf course.
The ER is getting lots of guys who have fallen off roofs, cut off body parts from chain saws while cleaning up the debris, having heart attacks from working harder than they have worked in, maybe, their entire lives. And who knows what kind of stress the staff was enduring from their own losses? The rooster was without a doubt, comic relief.
Called my son. " Just wanted to let you know, we are at the ER. The rooster just got run over by a golf cart."
PAUSE
" Yeah... I know."
I tell him the story, and he says they are on their way, he has to see this for himself.
They have scanned the rooster from head to toe, found out he does have a brain, albeit a little rattled. They give him a script for antibiotics and creams for the scrapes and such. Before we get out of there, tall person comes in, looks at the rooster and says,"HEY, SPEEDBUMP! HOW YA DOIN'?"
Speedbump it is. He's Speedbump to all who know the story at the golf course. Before we put the drywall back up, we all "tagged" the concrete block walls with our own special graffiti. SPEEDBUMP is now forever part of the makeup of this house. I can't imagine anything before the wrecking ball comes that will make that disappear.
It is also forever part of our Ivan lore. And, I doubt the nickname will ever go completely away. At least , I hope not. That would mean he would have to top it, and I am afraid he has the skills.
(This story is as true as I can make it, not having been there. I have left out some of the related details that were told to me, but they don't change the flavor of the tale.)
posted by Mommanurse at 9:16 AM
5 Comments:
That's the funniest story I've heard in a very long time!!!
It was one of those things that while it was happening, you didn't want to laugh because somebody got hurt......but you couldn't help it. IT WAS FUNNY! Thank goodness, I have a husband who is not offended by that.
Have to ask the question:
If you have a nickname, do you know it....is it used to your face?
I'm interested in what an evil Brother-in-law might be called!
The evil brother-in-law hasn't been around enough yet for a nickname. If he has one, I haven't heard it. I'm sure I have a few I've never heard....he's smarter than that.....
Glad I finally got your comments, Ferdy, it turns out some come to me in e-mails and others go to a moderation page. Don't know why there is a difference, but will continue the learning process to avoid missing comments.
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