Big Pimpin'

So I've been away from here for a bit. Frankly, I've been pretty glum lately with my health issues, people being assholes and the time of year. I have been hating summer and the humidity and heat and I do love fall but sometimes it makes me sad for some reason. Today, was the best day I have had in about a week and a half. Let me share with you, Okay?

I was assigned to a new patient. For those of you who are confused, I am a home rehab therapist. I go to people's house's/apartments here in NYC and give them therapy if they need it. I work in Harlem and Washington Heights, not the typical neighborhoods that tourists think of as NYC. There are some colorful things and people in these areas that only real New Yorkers get to experience.

Before arriving at my new patients house, I read the referral as I usually do. This is basically a brief blurb summarizing the current situation. The part that alarmed me was this, and I quote "patient has gotten rid of the ducks he states were donated to park but still has 2 chickens including a dead chicken in a box and 1 hen remaining which he reports will be gone by the end of today." OK, I'll admit, I've seen a lot worse than this so this really didn't freak me out at all. It just made me wonder, what on earth am I getting myself into?

I walked in and introduced myself to Mr. Smith's aide, Verna. I asked Verna "where is Mr Smith?" to which she replied with a head jerk toward a back bedroom. She also rolled her eyes in a way that made me wonder if she was warning me or disgusted with him or both. I plowed ahead as I always do, took a deep breath and entered the bedroom. There he was, all 350 pounds of him, sitting on the edge of his bed with his portable commode in front of him and two cigarettes burning a hole and leaving singe marks on that commode. I introduced myself to him and my evaluation was underway. Mr Smith ,as I'll call him, initially creeped me out. I'll admit, there are times when I will walk into a place and think to myself, dear God, I hope I do not have to come back here. This was one of those situations. This man smokes to the point of me barely being able to breathe and my clothes smelled like an ashtray on leaving him. This is going to be a problem but let me tell you the good parts.

I got the basic stuff out of the way, asking him questions about his functional abilities and as I did this, all of a sudden, the voice of Susanne Pleshette came through the window. Remember her? Bob Newharts wife in the original Bob Newhart show? She had the serious manly, froggy smoker voice? That was the voice I heard. I looked at that window and there was a head. She was scolding Mr Smith about something and he got irritated with her and told her to leave. He then told me "that lady is my better half". A minute later, she came though the door and into the apartment. She turned on a Michael Jackson DVD and proceeded to take a shower.

I finished my evaluation when all of a sudden, a hen, yes, a hen came out of nowhere and began to peck at me and chase me around. I guess he couldn't bear to part with her because she was still living here despite his promises to get rid of her. My reaction to this was one of hysterical laughter. Verna, the mild mannered aide came in and began to laugh too. Mr Smith then explained to me that he keeps her and has had her for years. He then asked me if I wanted a dozen eggs. Apparently, his hen lays an egg everyday and he eats them. I looked around and sure enough, there were a few eggs in odd places. As we spoke, I heard clucking and there were occasional pecks at my legs. The beauty part was, I actually became used to it. And I began to talk to the hen. Mr Smith then explained the hows and whys of hen egg laying, where roosters come into the picture and all that good stuff. My mouth was wide open for much of our interaction. I was in total disbelief that of the situation I was in.

I told Mr Smith that I needed to leave but that I would be back later in the week and we would start our therapy at that time. He was down with it and he paid me a compliment on being pretty OK with his situation and thanked me for not judging him. That was nice. I actually liked him.

I went to the front door to leave and I could not get out. The door was broken. Even Verna the aide could not get it open. She whispered to me "this place is CRAZY!" She yelled for Mr Smiths "better half" to get out of the shower and help us get the door open. In the midst of this, the hen began to chase us around. Enter Ms. Better Half, completely naked from her shower, a crazy hen clucking and the three of us pushing the door open.

I got outside and you know something, I felt ALIVE. Better than I have in a few weeks. And I was smiling a mile wide smile. And I laughed all the way down the block. I met up with my Spanish interpreter Miguel at my next patients house and told him about the last one and he said to me "wait a minute. Did he live in the first apartment on the right?" I said yes. He said "I know that guy, the nurse I used to work with saw him for years. He used to sell goldfish to the neighborhood kids from his wheelchair. He brought them in a shopping cart and hung out outside the school. They were really nice too. Oh and he used to be a pimp and that lady was one of his prostitutes." OK, after that whopper I screamed "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?". It was just the capper on the whole scenario. And it really made my day.

Today, I went to visit a former pimp, who used to sell goldfish, has his own personal hen, lives with one of his old prostitutes and offered me a dozen eggs. I also got locked in his apartment, chased around by his hen and freed from the the broken door by an elderly naked former prostitute who sounds like Suzanne Pleshette and a bewildered home health aid named Verna. Yes, it was a very good day. :)