Day Eight Back In Florida

At Denver Airport in the morning, there was no transport person!

There was however, one wheel chair inside the door, which I grabbed away from an elderly woman; took outside, put Bob in and brought him indoors; where I could see him while checking in.

Thank God for Betsy and Bill. They waited curbside looking after Bob and our luggage while I’d been inside. We had a tearful goodbye.

Now the attendant assigned to us appeared. However, he had another person in tow. Before I could blink, he took off for security pushing two wheel chairs. I scurried behind.

I had instructed my husband, to lie about his age going through security and say he is 75 years old, this way he wouldn’t have to take off his shoes or stand up.

Praise the Lord, we didn’t wait in line. The second transport, a woman, was late for her flight and checked her Apple watch repeatedly, as I piled her carry on belongings into bins.

Then Homeland Security was about to wand Bob, and I panicked.

“Don’t do that!” I yelled as I raced to Bob’s side. “His arm is broken!” .

“STEP BACK LADY,” he bellowed with his hand on his gun.

 Bob remembered to lie. But said he was 74, not 75 yrs old. He is 73. Men!

The ordeal had me shaken, but not for long because. . . now. . . “transport guy” was racing toward a waiting train. I realized he was getting on and followed, running, but I couldn’t keep up. So, before the doors closed, jumped in any car. . . and started to spill my guts to a stranger I was now face to face with.

I couldn’t even remember the terminal our flight would leave from, although the tickets were in my hand. I was dizzy, although it may have been my vertigo.

When I caught my breath, I saw “transport guy” in the next car. He waved.

I’ll skip the flight and transport ordeal on the arrival side and simply say we were picked up by our daughter, Janine and grandson, Dominic.

We drove directly to the emergency room of our local hospital and waited six hours before Bob had an emergency room bed. Sometime later, he was given morphine for pain. The next day, day nine, Bob was admitted for surgery. The surgery, delayed due to an allergic reaction, was on day twelve, June 26th, our 51st Wedding Anniversary.

Every step along the way had sidesteps and challenges. He now has a nine-inch rod in his arm and three weeks post operation is doing well.

As Betsy, Bill, Bob and I lamented, this was one hell of a Yellowstone trip.   

. . . just saying

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17 thoughts on “Day Eight Back In Florida

  1. I knew part of the story but not this much! Your next writing should be “Warning: 70+ Is Dangerous “! Kidding aside, we love you and have you in our prayers.


  2. Happy way to celebrate your 51st.
    A day that will live in infamy so to speak.
    That’s a pretty long rod!
    Mr Iron man makes another entry into The Guiness World Book of Records.


  3. I can only imagine the scurry of your ordeal and the pain Bob must have been in until he got his morphine. All is well now, thank goodness. Find traveling a hassle even without a broken shoulder.

    Liked by 1 person

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