Shay: How did the swim go?
Zane: I finished, but it was tough. I swam my arm off.
Shay: That can be fixed. You need to see my wife.
Zane: Shay, my arm fell off.
Shay: She can fix that.
Zane: I don't think you understand.
Shay: I understand. My leg fell off last week. She put it back on.
Shay: Matt and I have done Ironmans. She keeps us going. I'm telling you, she can put your arm back on and help speed your recovery.
Zane: *Ponders in silence.
Shay: She had a 4.0 in nursing school.
Zane: *Falls asleep in bed without answering.
Shay: She knows about athletes.
Shay: She is really good.
Shay: I know it's a long way to drive, but it will be worth it.
Shay: She will put your arm back on.
Shay: She will introduce you to kensiso tape.
Shay: She will give you a steroid shot.
Shay: She will prescribe you some meds.
Shay: She might give you some of this. *He sends picture of an anti-inflammatory gel.
Shay: Call this number and make an appointment BR5-000-4231
Shay: She is really pretty.
Shay: She is nice.
Shay: She will not hurt you.
Zane: *Wakes an hour later and sees the texts.
Zane: She's pretty? She won't hurt me?
Zane: OK. I think I'll call. Tomorrow.
Shay: She just had breast augmentation.
Zane: Hang on. I'm calling right now.
So I did it. I made an appointment to see Shelley Darby, FNP for one o'clock on June 15. On the way over, I had the opportunity to pray and think, a couple of things I always like to do. It also gave me the opportunity the relive the journey run I made this way a few years back.
When I made it to Louisville, I took the old Highway 15 through town and stopped at my cousin Joe Joe's place of business to speak to him. He was not in. Then I drove past the lot where my grandmother's house used to sit before a bad tornado tore it up. After that, I made my way south towards Noxapater. On the way there, I passed Flower Ridge Methodist Church where my paternal grandmother and grandfather and my Aunt Johnny and Uncle Howard are buried. I often stop for a walk through the cemetery but I kept driving this time. I did stop in Noxapater to see my dad's sole surviving sibling, Mary Darby. No one was home so I continued my journey to Philadelphia.
I have been by Philadelphia a lot and near Philadelphia, but I don't know when I have been inside the town. I was impressed as I drove around and looked at the pretty old homes. After finding the clinic, I went to Bumper's Drive In and bought one of the best salads I ever ate. Who knew?
At the clinic, I had to fill out paper work for about thirty minutes. They even asked me if I had ever shot a road sign, hunted on posted land, or cheered for Mississippi State in a football game. What? Is this an IQ test, a mental stability exam, or what?
I saw Shay with the two kids in the waiting room for a minute or two, and then they called me back. They put me in a room and two nurses came in and interrogated me for another ten minutes or so. "What are you here for" was one question they posed.
"I'm here to get Shelley to put my arm back on."
"To put your arm on?" one of the interrogators repeated as if to make sure she heard me correctly.
"Yes. I swam it off at mile eighteen of a twenty-three mile swim. She is going to put it back on."
She shot me a look like she had "one of those." Maybe the question about Mississippi State Football is about to bite me in the backside. But no, they had other plans for my backside.
Those two nurses got up and left the room. I half expected a security guard to come escort me from the building. What I got instead was Shelley.
|See. She did it. She taped my arm on.|
Shay was right. She was pretty, nice, and pretty nice. Not only that, but I found her professional, thorough, and I detected no hurry in her examination of my arm and shoulder. And just like Shay said, she put that arm back on. She even taped it up to make sure it didn't fall off again.
She left the room and then one of those other nurses came back in. "OK, swimmer man. I need you over there," she said pointing to an examination table while she attempted to hide something behind her back. "Grab aholt of that table and drop your drawers."
You know it's about to get real when they tell you that. And I got a glimpse of what she had in her hand. It was a syringe which was about as big around as my wrist and the needle about the size of a large drinking straw. I tried to hide my fear, but my hands trembled as I pulled at my belt.
"Anybody who can swim twenty-three miles ought to be able to take a shot in the butt," she said. I couldn't tell if that was a taunt or an encouragement.
Then she stuck that thing in my buttocks. I gasped out loud. It was most unmanly and terribly embarrassing.
"I forgot to tell you it's going to sting a little."
After the initial bolt of pain, it felt like she was pumping gravel into my butt cheeks. She finally ran out of rocks and told me to have a seat.
You have to get better after they do that to you because you don't want them doing it again.
Shelley came back in. She wrote me a prescription, gave me the gel, and we even chatted some about family. Then it was over. I left and compared to my butt, my shoulder felt great. I am getting better, I am getting better I thought as I made my way to the truck.
I drove back to the Darby's at Noxapater. They were home, and I showed them where Shelley put my arm back on and taped it up. Then I drove to the D and D Tires. I showed then where Shelley put my arm back on and taped it up. I went home and showed my wife where Shelley put my arm back on and taped it up. Then we went out to eat with some friends. I showed them where Shelley put my arm back on and taped it up.
If you need an arm put back on, go see Shelley Darby in Philadelphia, Mississippi. The FNP behind her name stands for Fantabulous Neuro-muscular Professional. Everything Shay said about her is true. Thank you two very much.