Alby - Hanging On

Hanging On

The exceedingly slow process of infusion became less and less bearable as the long day progressed. Because of his age and a few other concerns, the infusion machine was programmed to deliver the chemicals in minute amounts. Dad started looking for excuses to get out of the chair just so he could move his body a little. Bathroom trips became more frequent, as did walks up and down the hall with the ever-present I.V. pole rolling along beside him.

He asked me to massage his neck which was getting stiff from immobility. Pressing my thumbs hard into his muscles, I kneaded and pushed as hard as I could in the hopes of bringing him some relief.

“It feels like it’s in spasm,” he said. “I don’t think this has ever happened to me before.”
“You’ve got to be kidding, Dad,” I reminded him.

After Harvey came home from his I’m-gonna-find-myself-and-live-like-a-pauper-and-shit-in-the-woods trip to India and decided that he preferred the American way of life, he joined Alby’s accounting practice and began working in earnest. Alby couldn’t have been more delighted to have his son by his side. With Harvey’s long, curly hair tucked beneath a short-haired men’s wig, Alby brought Harvey with him on appointments so he could meet all the clients.

“Where’s my daily diary, Pearl?” Alby asked as he got ready to visit the business site of an important client. He misplaced things all the time. We lovingly called him the Absent-Minded Accountant. “And my briefcase. Where did I put it?” Pearl had everything at her fingertips, long accustomed to the routine.

Dad went to the front hall closet, grabbing his heavy black woolen coat and shrugging it on. He looked dashing with his white satin scarf as he and Harvey walked out the door with a wave. Harvey was driving and Alby sat in the passenger seat going over the day’s agenda. As he spoke he would periodically bend his neck from side to side, and complain that his neck was hurting. The drive continued but Alby’s growing discomfort with his neck was causing concern.

“What’s the problem, Dad?”

“I don’t know. I’m just so uncomfortable in my neck; it’s hurting more and more.”

“Did you sleep funny? Maybe you twisted it.”

“Can’t be. I was fine all morning. I feel like I’m being stabbed or something.” With every sharp jab, Alby would groan.

Harvey decided to pull over to the side of the road so he could get a close-up look. “Come out of the car, Dad. Let me see what’s going on.”

It took only seconds before Harvey was reduced to hysteria. Alby, of course, had no idea what was so funny.

“What? What are you laughing at?” Alby asked innocently.

“You know Dad,” Harvey said with all the seriousness he could, “When you put on your coat, it’s important to remember to take it off the hanger first.” Yup. The metal hanger was still inside the coat, its hook jabbing into the back of Alby’s neck every time he moved.

Never one to miss out on a great joke, even at his own expense, Alby calmly took off his coat, removed the hanger, put the coat back on and turned toward Harvey. “I guess we have an excuse for being late at the clients today. We’ll just have to tell them we got a little hung up.”