Chapter 4: Domesticity

The next morning the doc came in, checked my wound, and changed the dressing.

He said, "Well, one more inch to the left and it would have shattered your femur. Two inches to the right and you wouldn't be here, he'd have missed. Of course three inches to the left and it would have taken out your femoral artery and you would have bled out in a few minutes and wouldn't be anywhere."

This guy was a real comedian.

"Ha, ha," I said. "When can I go home?"

"I can let you out today, but you will have to take it really easy for awhile. Sit with the leg elevated as much as possible and use the crutches we will give you when you move around. Keep your weight off of it as much as possible. I will prescribe some broad spectrum antibiotics for the next ten days. Watch for any redness, swelling, or unusual discharge from the wound and get back to us immediately if you see any. I will have this all written up in your discharge instructions, but do you have any questions now?"

"No doc, as you can see from the road map of scars on my body, I'm not a virgin. I have literally lost count of the number of times I've been chopped and stitched. I think I can handle it from here."

Heather and Mai came in shortly after and said they had stopped to see An, and she was semi-conscious and the doctors were looking at her now. I told them I was sprung and just waiting on the paperwork. We decided we would get me dressed with the clothes Heather brought me and go to An's room and wait on the verdict.

We walked into An's room, I looked at her, and again wondered how the human body can undergo such devastation and still survive. She looked pretty much as I remembered her from yesterday, only now she was in Technicolor. Red, blue, green, yellow, black, were all competing for space on her face. Her left arm was in a cast. Her eyes were mostly still swollen shut but one eye was open a little and was following us as we entered.

Mai ran over to her bedside and started excitedly speaking to her, I assume in Vietnamese. An whispered something back to her and Mai went silent.

We approached the bed and I said, "An, I am Sean North and this is my wife, Heather. We are very sorry for what you have undergone. We want you to know that we will help you and that you and Mai have nothing further to worry about. We will care for you if you will let us. You are going to be OK. Everything is taken care of."

I watched as a tear slid down her cheek from her one good eye.

She motioned me to come closer with her good hand, and when I bent forward she whispered, "Thank you for saving Mai and me. We will do whatever you say we should do and owe you our lives. That makes our lives yours now."

"Oh, oh," I thought. "This isn't where I wanted this to go but now isn't the time to argue with her. We'll get to it when she is better."

The last thing I wanted was for her to transfer her submissiveness from some slave driver to me.

Mai started a rapid conversation with her again in Vietnamese. An responded in whispers. After about five minutes of conversation, Mai turned to me.

"I am sorry to speak so you couldn't understand us but Mom, while she understands English and can speak it with an accent, understood me faster in Vietnamese. I explained to mom about us living with you when she gets out of the hospital and how you would help us with our other issues. She said anything you say is the way it will be."

She smiled at me, and turning her head so An couldn't see, winked at me.

It was obvious that An was getting tired. I told her we would let her sleep and be back in the morning to look in on her. I was tired of the hospital atmosphere and wanted to go home, have a Guinness, and kick back on my recliner, with Chucky glued to my leg.

Oh, about our current dog. Chucky is sort of another stray. After I retired and our last dog passed away, we swore, "no more dogs!" Well, our oldest son moved here from out east with his new wife and a brand new puppy.

He had a new job in our area and was going to resettle here after many years on the East Coast. Of course they moved into an apartment, and both proceeded to get jobs and go to work leaving the dog in a carry kennel in the apartment for 10+ hours a day.

Within three months I was "dog sitting" and Chucky identified with our house as home more than their apartment.

Just after I returned home from another surgery and hospital stay, they approached me saying, "Hey dad, you know how Chucky is over at your place more than ours? Well, we have come to the conclusion we really can't take care of him like we should, and wonder if you thought we should bring him to the animal shelter, or would you want to keep him?"

Was that a loaded question? So, we ended up with another "stray". By the way, they moved to North Carolina within a year anyway. Young folks are gypsies.

Anyway, we had a recliner/loveseat that figured prominently in our daily life. It sat in the living room across from the wide screen LCD TV and saw a lot of use.

When we were not in it, Chucky was. If either of us were sitting on it he was grafted to our leg.

I should describe Chucky. His mother is a ten pound Chihuahua purebred and his father is a stocky little purebred Cairn Terrier. Chucky is about eighteen pounds and is long and thin like a fox and has very long red hair and green eyes. The hair on his ears hangs to the ground. I call him a "yard snake" because he is so long and he rolls in the grass and slithers just like a snake.

His life revolved around the loveseat and that's where he slept. Picture it getting close to our bed time and he was standing in front of us, looking at us disapprovingly, as the program we were watching was ending, impatiently waiting for us to get off his bed so he can sleep.

There is a theory that dogs are really the superior species on Earth. After all, when was the last time you saw a dog going around after a person, picking up his turds?

But, I digress. We left the hospital and headed to the car in the attached parking ramp. I like one thing about modern day hospitals. They don't make you crawl into a wheel chair, wheel you to the curb with snow and rain coming down, and dump you off. If you are mobile you just get up and leave. Common sense at last! I was used to using crutches so that was no problem.

We got to the car and I started to get into the driver's seat.

Heather cleared her throat.

"What?" I said.

"You think you're driving?" she said.

"Yeah, I always drive."

I have intense anxiety bordering on a full blown phobia riding with someone else, especially my wife.

"Not this time. You can sit in the front passenger seat, or I'll put you in the back with a bag over your head but you ain't driving. You are on pain killers, and in case you didn't notice, your left leg doesn't work."

I was going to tell her I didn't need my left leg but you don't survive 35+ years of marriage by being totally stupid. I got in the front passenger seat and Mai, with a little smirk on her face got in the back with my crutches. It doesn't take women long to start using that mental telepathy with each other when it concerns men.

Well, I made it home. The other thing I learned over many years of marriage is how to look stone faced and not stomp on the imaginary brake pedal I wish I had on my side. I suppressed the sharp intakes of breath that would normally accompany most maneuvers she would make. We arrived just as I was trying to think of a subtle way to pop another nitro tab. Whew!

I won't belabor the initial events upon entering the house. Needless to say Chucky did what most dogs do when their master is gone for more than 5 minutes.

His greeting underscored one observation I have made regarding the difference between having a dog and raising kids. The dog shows gratitude.

We got in and I got settled in my standard position; left side of the loveseat, legs up, Chucky between them with his head on my right knee and, unfortunately I couldn't put my laptop on my lap.

"Damn! How am I going to catch up on all the stories that have been piling up in my SOL library?"

This is where true ingenuity and field expediency comes in. I normally use a 17" wide screen Toshiba Satellite that weighs around 10 pounds. It has a great screen and is my favorite. Unfortunately the hole in my leg was going to protest that weight.

Luckily I bought Heather a Toshiba Portégé M400 Tablet PC. It weighs 4 pounds and I can put it into tablet mode and tip it up on my right leg. Time to catch up on some stories!

Of course, I had to take some crap first.

"You think you are going to use MY computer?" she said. "I suppose you think you can just take whatever you want even it it's someone else's?"

I made the proper husbandly response, none.

Life is never dull with Heather around.

We settled in and the girls puttered around making supper and bringing me a tray of food to eat while I watched the news.

"Oh, oh." I thought.

The news came on and the local coverage had a segment on the shootout from yesterday. I sat there holding my breath, waiting for them to announce my name.

They went through the whole sequence, with footage from the area and plenty of close-ups of the blood stains. They stated they had tried to get the identity of the shooter from the police, but were told no names would be released until completion of the investigation. I figured they would file a court motion for release of the file if the Grand Jury came back with a no bill. It was just a matter of time. What to do?

Well, that rather ruined my supper. The girls were buzzing around the house setting things up for the new members of the family, and I was holding down the dog and loveseat and trying to catch up on the stories in my SOL library. Ah, peace and quiet; how long will it last?