Butthole Stuffing

She was getting teary eyed and turned away. But I saw what was happening and it was too late. I got in my car so they wouldn’t see me getting all misty eyed myself and when I was down the long blacktop driveway lined with pine trees, I looked back at their house and started blubbering like a toddler. They were both still standing in the open garage door waving as I had to leave this safe place wrapped in white vinyl siding with red ribboned wreaths hanging from every window.

I now had to face the reality of having only $23.00 in my savings account with over $600,000 in debt. I was overcome with emotion with no plan for how it was all going to work out. But there was one more stop I had to make before I got on I-24 and I needed to pull it together before I got there.

My Grandma had been admitted to the nursing home, the only one in Calvert City, about five years earlier after having a series of mini-strokes that left her with uncontrollable blackouts when they occurred. One such instance took place as she was driving home from church, passed her house, drove through an intersection and nailed a house after plowing through the owner’s front yard.

Like my relationship with my parents, I have always been extremely close to my Grandma. Our birthdays are a day apart so growing up we would even have cakes that said happy birthday to both of us on them. I felt like the most prized grandson and still do. I needed to stop in to say goodbye to her for what I always fear will be the last time before I got on the road.

On the way to the nursing home, I was still sobbing after leaving my parent’s house and trying to pull it together before I walked thorough the metal doors. Call me crazy, but I never think it’s a good thing to walk in the door of an old folks home in tears. It only goes down hill from there. When I walked in, it was the same as usual. Some people were in a catatonic state while being supported by their silver wheel chair with plastic blue seating while others were approaching me begging to be taken home the same way a puppy would if it could speak during a visit to the SPCA. This was something that always took me a few minutes to prepare for and this time I hadn’t been able to get 100% there.

That overwhelming smell, a cross between Lysol and betadine leapt up my nostrils just before I noticed new homegrown signs hanging on the backs of all the closed doors.