It had been 10 days and Sam was sick and tired of being sick and tired. He had only been out of the house for a trip to Robert’s Apothecary for vitamins, nasal spray and a B-12 shot. He pinned his hopes on Robert’s elixirs, supplemented with Dayquil and Nyquil.
On the way home I treated Sam to ride through new developments north of Elm Lake subdivision, roads we pass every day but never venture down. It was a beautiful sunny, fall day and I thought the ride would do him good — something akin to a Sunday afternoon drive that folks used to enjoy.
With the Thanksgiving holiday fast upon us and Sam deciding the ole immune system was not kicking in fast enough, we got up and out to Elm Lake Clinic. The nurse took Sam to the back while I sat in the waiting room hoping no one would come in with the flu.
A tall, lanky man wearing an Alabama ball cap arrived. He told the receptionist he needed his blood pressure checked and sat down. Another man dressed in a suit sat nearby. A conversation ensued and as conversations do, one led to another, trailing through his being raised by his grandfather who he said “taught me how to be a man and I think he did a good job.”
Before the conversation was over, I agreed with him. He told me about his son and the child’s diagnosis of cancer at the age of 7, their time at St. Jude’s Hospital and how hard it was, and how now seven years later the boy was in remission. We agreed we all had much to be thankful for. Unexpected moments shared with a stranger are pleasant to the soul.
Sam returned and thankfully was not masked like he was last year, having succumbed to the flu. This time it was a sinus infection. The nurse reported, “Respiratory infections are running rampant this year.”
Once in the car Sam said, “I got two prescriptions and two shots, first one cheek and then the other.”
“Really,” I said. “I’ve never heard of getting shots in the cheeks. Was that for your sinuses?”
Sam stared a minute, “Not those cheeks.”
Sam broke into laughter, which does about better than anything to loosen up congestion.
Thanksgiving arrived, along with our family members, and Sam was as fit as a fiddle and happy to be so. He bundled up the first day and went fishing with brother-in-law Tim. They caught a few but didn’t want to clean ’em and the freezer was full, so they tossed them back for another day.
The next morning the fellas were up and out and headed to the deer stand, armed with binoculars and Sam’s camera.
Upon returning, “I got nine bucks, good ones. Two might be trophies. The nice thing about hunting with a camera,” Sam said, “is they’ll be there tomorrow.”
We figured if all our blessings were tossed in a basket, the basket would be full.
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