You Can't Make This Stuff Up: Shenanigans & What Nots

I remember the first time my longest, dearest friend (Hey Ness-Phi) said this to me.

Irony is, I don’t remember what part of my life caused her to say this for the first time, and over the 35 plus years we’ve known each other, it’s been said so many times, I’ve lost count.

Some people find my stories, humorous, shocking, and unfortunately, sometimes tragic.

For example, this one may be all three.

I mentioned on a previous Facebook post, I lived with a friend for a few years, and one day she invited me to her office picnic.

It was a little awkward, at first, being introduced to everyone because my family was “the needy family” my friend’s company adopted at Christmas.

I’m not blaming her at all, but it felt like the equivalent of giving a homeless person a sandwich then filming them eating it.

Nevertheless, the “picnic people” knew my backstories. I knew how to behave in public, and after requesting a burnt hot dog, then sitting down next to my friend at the table, someone asked me about being overseas in Turkey.

I was in Adana, Turkey for three weeks to care for my then husband who suffered a brain aneurysm. (For those of you who didn’t know, yeah, freaky coincidence huh?)

In between bites of my hot dog, I told the story of almost being arrested and detained by Turkish police for, I assume, causing a disturbance.

I guess that’s why they surrounded me. I was wearing a bright red FILA shorts set, crying, shaking, while watching the civilians gawk, point and stare at me

Why was this happening you ask?

Me too.

I’ve asked this so many times in my life, I’ve lost count. But in this instance, it was because The United States Air Force, in all its infinite wisdom, sent me to Turkey to care for my husband and left me in a Turkish civilian hospital WITHOUT AN INTERPRETER!!!So, when the orderlies at the hospital kicked me out of the room to shave off ALL his body hair, throw a sheet over him and roll him into the hallway, laugh then leave????

I had no idea what the entire f*ck to do.

This was before cell phones, and because I was in a foreign country, I didn’t understand how to work the landlines. And because I didn’t speak Turkish, I was unable to ask for help.

So full blown panic set in.

I’m sure I muttered something to my heavily sedated husband, before I grabbed my purse and ran out of the hospital crying hysterically trying to light a cigarette.

Sidebar: My husband shared a room with three other men. One man, was older always smiled and waved at me. That’s how I noticed the large ruby ring on his finger. He also would go to the window often. The one time he went, held up his hand and there was this ovation of cheers and applause. I wondered if he was royalty or something. Possibly a political figure? I didn’t know and I couldn’t ask because I only spoke ENGLISH and my husband’s commanding officer, never spoke to me directly. Only one doctor ever introduced himself to me, but he did say his name was Dr. John-Jim. And if I needed anything to just go to the desk and ask for him. I did and the woman/nurse at the desk just scowled and spat something in Turkish at me that sounded like profanity.

Imagine my shock and horror, when I ran out into a crowd of fully garbed people who were also upset and crying and pointing to the hospital wailing.

Except this one woman who pointed at me and hissed then I’m sure called me out my name in Turkish.

I LOST IT AND DID NOT CARE!!!

I SCREAMED!!! YES!!! I AM A CRAZY AMERICAN PROSTITUTE, YES!!! WHOSE D*CK DO I HAVE TO SUCK TO GET OUT OF THIS GOD-FORESAKEN CESSPOOL OF A HOSPITAL!!!???

I called the hospital a cesspool because there was once a dead fly in my husband’s IV fluids. Also, and I can’t prove it , but I’m pretty sure one of his roommates was dead for over a day , because the room started to smell to all hell. Then one day it didn’t smell and the roommate was gone.

So, back to the crazy American prostitute screaming on the steps of a Turkish hospital. This was back when I had excellent peripheral vision, so I saw the police coming and I’m crying to the point I feel like I’m gonna vomit. Because all I remember from Midnight Express is I would never survive a Turkish jail. Then the next thing that happened to me was NOTHING BUT GOD!!!

I just started yelling, “Help me Dr. John-Jim!!! Help me!!!”, over and over again. Until I felt a tug on my t-shirt and low and behold, there he was.

Dr. John-Jim ushered me back into the hospital calmed me down, explained the reason why they shaved off ALL my husband’s body hair was for the angiogram insertion into his thigh. He apologized for the orderlies being assholes by scaping my husband’s area with the razors and assured me they’d be reprimanded.

He also said, they increased my husband’s sedation because of the pain, but I could go back up to the room whenever I wanted.

I did not want to.

I wanted to smoke a whole carton of Newports, get rip-roaring drunk ,then go get my kids and go home.

But God.

God had other plans.

Mind you, I was maybe thirty years old when all of this happened, so I didn’t know what to ask. So, I asked EVERYTHING and I was in his office a while, which I know now is rare. Neurosurgeons are extremely busy and don’t always have a great bedside manner, so thanks Doc for keeping me out of jail and sh*t, thanks for everything.

I calmed down enough to return to the room, so Dr. John-Jim walked me to my husband’s floor and I took a deep breath before going in the room.

To my surprise there was a woman standing over my husband caressing his sleeping face.

“Hi, I’m Michele, may I help you?” I extended my hand to shake hers.

The woman, took my hand, but put her finger up to her lips to shush me, “He’s sleeping.”

“I know the Dr. explained he’s sedated.”

The woman was stunned, “The doctors spoke to you? See that pisses me off, they’ll give information to his co-workers, no offense, but I’m his girlfriend’s mother and they won’t tell me sh*t.

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