Close to Nowhere

I’m home again and starting to feel better. It was my third trip to the hospital and ICU.

This time they took out my gallbladder. I have heard more stories from folks who’ve had their gallbladders out. And after what preceded the gallbladder surgery, I am paying strict attention. I never want to go through that again.

I would bore you with the details, but I understand that everyone has either had their gallbladder out and went through the same misery, or a relative has had theirs out.

This has been a tad tougher to get over. Sunday, after I’d been home several days, I finally dragged myself into the kitchen. Brother Dennis, who lives in Memphis, Tenn., was coming for the afternoon and I wanted to cook. Spaghetti is one of his favorites, and while time-consuming, spaghetti is not hard to make at all, especially if son Kris is right there to fetch and open cans and find spices.

During this time of massive hospital visits, the ice maker on the refrigerator has completely frozen over. Apparently, it wasn’t being used enough and kept making ice until there was no more room for ice.

I hesitantly asked Dennis if he could get the ice out. Hesitantly because Dennis is the least mechanically inclined person I know. But, he wants to fix things. Makes him feel macho maybe?

In just a little bit, Dennis had the ice maker partway out, banging on the huge chunk of ice with a table knife. Kris suggested the hair dryer might melt it faster, so in minutes, Dennis is standing with the hair dryer plugged into an extension cord laying on the floor and blasting the ice with the dryer. What happens when you hit ice with a strong force of hot air? It melts, right? And drips into the floor where Dennis is standing with a table knife in one hand and the hair dryer in the other, melting away.

I had terrible visions of him frying like he was in the electric chair. Grandson-in-law Tim, who is nearly through with electrician’s school, would have had a heart attack on the spot.

Dennis eventually got the ice maker out without killing himself (my nerves were shot) and carried the offending ice and machine outside.

After he poured boiling water on it at least five times, I still have a massive chunk of ice in the ice maker. It’s not going anywhere soon.

Now, I guess I’ll get an ice maker repairman to come out. I still need a washer repairman after brother Danny and Tim both worked on my washer.

Maybe I need to go back to the hospital? It’s quiet there...