not Monday, again

I want to say at the outset, while someone was apparently injured here, and probably rather seriously, I've been assured by the police that this person will be ok.

I woke up to the cell phone alarm, slapped it into snooze and went back to sleep. About two minute later my house phone rang. I dug my cell out from under the pillow, opened it and grunted a sleepy "hello?" into it. Shit. I dropped the cell and picked up the house phone, glaring at the caller ID. It was my gynecologist's office. I answered it. The receptionist told me they need to change my appointment. Again. Without computer and calendar, I picked a day I hoped was good and set it up. I repeated the day and time to her, then to myself after I got off the phone. I thought about getting up and writing it down. In a minute, I told myself. Next time the alarm goes off....

Even though I technically still had at least 20 minutes of snoozing left before I'd consider myself to have overslept, and even though there was a cozy orange cat on my bed (making it all the more appealing), a warning cramp fairly launched me out of bed to find food to take my drugs with. This is so not how I like to get up.

Cat fed, coffee poured, and drugs swallowed I sat down to update my calendar. I had been repeating the new date and time of the gynecology appointment since rising. I heard a chainsaw in the distance. I didn't think a hell of a lot about it at the time. I thought "oh, a chainsaw" because I don't like chainsaws, and then went about pointedly ignoring the sound. It seems like someone in the neighborhood is always having yard or house work done on any given day. Nothing remarkable there. Just pretend there's no chainsaw. I called to change an appointment which I just then realized I had doublebooked and got some guff from the staff member on the phone.

In general, I'm not a fan of doctors' office staff. Often, I find they piss me off. I think I get more pissed than I would otherwise since I used to be a medical secretary. This means I have done their jobs. While I realize it can be a hard job, I don't think I was ever that shitty to a patient. To doctors and nurses? Yes. To respiratory therapists? Sure. To other secretaries even? Definitely. But not patients.

This staff member wasn't shitty, she was exasperated that this was the second time I had to change this appointment. I held my mouth in check, mostly because I was still waking up and therefore rather verbally unarmed. It is frequently at this point where I get cheeky and from there it's a very rapid descent into shitty. When she finished giving me her exasperated huffy mild shit and making my new appointment, I explained, "You know, that last time I canceled I was calling you from my broken down car. And when we rescheduled that appointment then, when I was calling from my broken down car, I didn't actually have my calendar with me."

It wasn't much but I thought she needed to know it. She had slid back into a more sympathetic tone, complete with gracious "oh"s and "ooh"s while I was reminding her about these circumstances. I'm not fooled. I've seen what's under that mask and I won't forget it.

I got off the phone, updated the calendar again, and was just returning my attention to some serious coffee drinking and email checking when I heard the chainsaw cut out. You remember the chainsaw. The one I pointedly ignoring until I realized it had stopped suddenly and was followed by what sounded like a dog which had been hit by a car.

For a moment, it was just that. This yelping sound and nothing else. It was otherwise quiet. And then every dog for blocks started barking and howling along with the sound, which continued. It was an urgent sound. You cannot ignore a sound like that. I grabbed my cell phone and went outside just in time to hear the yelping turn into a very tortured sounding human voice saying "HELP ME! Somebody please help me!!! HELP!"

What seriously sucked was I had no clear idea where this man was. Consequently, my 911 call was sort of fragmented. "Hi, I'm in (town name). I just heard what sounded like someone working with a chainsaw outside, then a man started screaming and yelling 'help me' and I'm walking toward where it was coming from but I don't know what house he's at yet....I'm on (street name) near (street name) and I can tell he's around here somewhere..."

I'm sure they love this kind of call. I realize as I type it that I have just completely assumed they get this kind of call from other people.

I was coming up on the huge house about a half block down and another half block around the corner from my street. This was where I suspected the man was, mostly on the reasoning that this was the biggest house around and so the inhabitants could probably afford and be inclined to hire someone to come work on the yard, which is most likely who was doing yard work on a weekday morning.

The man had gotten quieter now and less verbal although he was still vocalizing. The 911 dispatcher stayed on the phone with me while I yelled "Where are you? Are you ok?" into various driveways and yards until I got to the long driveway at the big house. I hobbled up to the top of it.

Here's what I saw.

A tree with a huge branch hanging off it. I couldn't see the point where it departed from the tree, just that it was at such an angle that it had to have been nearly detached and just stuck there on the tree or something. I saw a man standing a little away from the tree. He was standing where the side I couldn't see would have been fully visible to him. "Where is he? Is he ok?" I yelled to him. He half turned toward me I saw he was holding a cell phone to his ear.

Two men came running out of the garage toward the tree. They were each carrying several two by fours. One of them had heard me asking if the guy was ok and replied hurriedly "He's stuck in the tree and he's hurt."

"What's the address?" I yelled to anyone who could answer. "For 911" I added. The man with the cell phone snapped the phone shut and said "They're on their way now." Then he approached the tree, where the other two men had started doing something with the boards on the side I couldn't see.

I waited for a moment near the top of the driveway, thinking I should probably go since I was serving no useful purpose and since I had NO inclination to actually see what had happened. I started toward the road. I got out to the street just in time to see the first emergency vehicle slowly driving by. I guess the guy who called 911 had no idea what the address was either (hey, there's a lesson here - make sure your damned house number is visible from the street!) . I waved them down and sent them up the driveway. I started to leave again only to make eye contact with a cop who was very slowly driving by, scanning the sidewalks carefully. "He's up there, in back" I said helpfully pointing back toward the driveway. He pulled into the driveway and stopped. Sirens were starting up somewhere. "Can you stay here and send the others up?" he asked me. Er, ok. So I did, only realizing after I sent up the second cop car how much it sucked that I had no bra on under my t-shirt. Great. You know, you just don't think about this sort of shit when you hear someone screaming like that.

After the fire trucks came and parked out at the driveway entrance, bright obvious lights flashing and all, I decided there was plenty of indication where the emergency was. And my cramps were coming back. I started to think about walking home, which seemed a bit further now than it had about 20 minutes ago. A cop came down the driveway on foot and said "He's going to be ok," and that was all I needed to hear - I was out of there, arms crossed very not casually over my chest, wanting to walk much more quickly than my hip would allow, which is probably good because while I am not huge of chest, without bra there's still a hell of a lot more jiggle than I'd care to be showing as I made my way back up to my apartment.

Now I'm back home, drinking more coffee, feeling sort of sick to my stomach, being thankful that I didn't go around the tree to get a better look, wondering why my period always manages to come at the worst possible time (my first two hour lecture of the semester will be on day two - of course), trying to shake off that knock on wood feeling, and trying to forget the chilling sound of that particular pain call.

Did I mention that I have always hated chain saws? I do. When I hear them I have to consciously tune them out or I'm likely to have nasty images flood my mind. Good lord I am glad I didn't go around that tree.