As soon as I got back from Europe, I began preparing for a move to Atlanta. Joe had preceded me to his home. A phone call confirmed that he had been picked up at the airport and was currently receiving medical treatment for his ailments. He sounded slightly better than when I left him on a plane finishing the final leg from our return from Europe. He expressed gratitude when I offered to come down and assist him. He owned several rental properties and maintenance and management of them was considerable. I figured his compromised health would make it difficult for him to keep up with all his duties as landlord. Remembering his recent weakened condition while we traveled in Europe made me feel it expeditious to get to Atlanta as soon as possible. He assured me that he was in a better state than when I saw last saw him and I could take my time getting there.
Apparently he was responding well to medications and I could use some time preparing to move temporally to Atlanta. I was not certain how long I would be away, but the preponderance of AIDS cases worldwide made the outlook gloomy. Furthermore, it seemed once opportunistic infections set in, the time line to the end was not long. But for now it seemed I could afford to gather myself together and not rush off unprepared. I had a wife, daughter and house that would be left behind and arrangements needed to be addressed how they would manage while I was away. Fortunately, our house had no mortgage and only expenses were food and utilities. Amelia had just turned seven and was in second grade. That left Sara enough time to work part-time to cover expenses. I had a little savings to support me while I moved to Atlanta. One snag occurred when Sara’s car “shit the bed.’ That was an expression used to describe a situation that was totally broken down.
Even though that phrase is plenty graphic, I never completely understood its significance until such event happened to me. Many years later after undergoing brain surgery, I was moved to a recovery room and instructed how to call for a nurse when I needed a bedpan. The first time that need arose, I was late ringing and the nurse was slow in responding. Consequently, I let loose a bed load of shit. As I lay there covered in it, I thought, “Hmm, covered in shit and a healing open wound on my head; this cannot be good.” No matter, a nurse showed up and quickly assured me this happens, was normal, cleaned me up, changed my linens, and tucked me back in. So even shitting the bed is not critical. I decided to leave my vehicle for Sara to use and make my first trip by plane. That cut down on the items I would be carrying.
Since it was not critical that I leave immediately, I could visit friends and stock up on spiritual sustenance to carry me through difficult, tedious, and sometimes seemingly unrewarding work. I found Lenny. He had finished carving his totem pole and was now painting a large mural on the side of a fish market. He offered me small work helping him and large encouragement to press ahead with my plan to assist my brother. Many of my friends, most of whom I joined in fellowship in AA, were likewise supporting of my mission. It felt that my financial and spiritual houses were in order so I could make this journey to fulfill a promise to myself.
Apparently he was responding well to medications and I could use some time preparing to move temporally to Atlanta. I was not certain how long I would be away, but the preponderance of AIDS cases worldwide made the outlook gloomy. Furthermore, it seemed once opportunistic infections set in, the time line to the end was not long. But for now it seemed I could afford to gather myself together and not rush off unprepared. I had a wife, daughter and house that would be left behind and arrangements needed to be addressed how they would manage while I was away. Fortunately, our house had no mortgage and only expenses were food and utilities. Amelia had just turned seven and was in second grade. That left Sara enough time to work part-time to cover expenses. I had a little savings to support me while I moved to Atlanta. One snag occurred when Sara’s car “shit the bed.’ That was an expression used to describe a situation that was totally broken down.
Even though that phrase is plenty graphic, I never completely understood its significance until such event happened to me. Many years later after undergoing brain surgery, I was moved to a recovery room and instructed how to call for a nurse when I needed a bedpan. The first time that need arose, I was late ringing and the nurse was slow in responding. Consequently, I let loose a bed load of shit. As I lay there covered in it, I thought, “Hmm, covered in shit and a healing open wound on my head; this cannot be good.” No matter, a nurse showed up and quickly assured me this happens, was normal, cleaned me up, changed my linens, and tucked me back in. So even shitting the bed is not critical. I decided to leave my vehicle for Sara to use and make my first trip by plane. That cut down on the items I would be carrying.
Since it was not critical that I leave immediately, I could visit friends and stock up on spiritual sustenance to carry me through difficult, tedious, and sometimes seemingly unrewarding work. I found Lenny. He had finished carving his totem pole and was now painting a large mural on the side of a fish market. He offered me small work helping him and large encouragement to press ahead with my plan to assist my brother. Many of my friends, most of whom I joined in fellowship in AA, were likewise supporting of my mission. It felt that my financial and spiritual houses were in order so I could make this journey to fulfill a promise to myself.
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