For the two days after I spoke with John, a very tall big man who walked with a serpent cane, all I could think about was meeting Jeff officially. John had informed me that he was really good at fixing computers and was in charge of the internet and computer system at Side By Side Assisted Living the place where I now lived despite the fact that I was only 24 years old. John had noticed the internet was down in my apartment and offered to fix it. We had a long conversation where he somehow picked up from me that I had a major crush on Jeff.
“Jeff and I go way back,” Jonh told me. “He’s amazing with computers himself. How about I bring him with me when I come over to fix your internet, and then the three of us can just hang out?” he suggested.
“That sounds awesome,” I had agreed.
Jeff was another resident at Side By Side Assisted Living, he looked like he was about thirty years old or so with a clean-shaven face, dark brown hair that was cut short but had a slight curl, and a really infectious, troublemaker smile. As soon as I saw him for the first time I knew I had a major crush on him. It was the first time I had ever had a crush on anyone, male or female. Until I met Jeff I had worried that I was asexual. Now I was 100% convinced I was not.
The day Jeff was supposed to come over in the evening heaven broke through. I actually met him face to face in the kitchen!
It was around 11:30 in the morning and he was carrying a black and white cane, but not using it to walk. I knew I wanted to introduce myself to him, so I wheeled over to where he was standing, leaning on the kitchen counter. In my first few attempts at saying hi my mouth went so dry that no noise came out. Finally though on my fifth try, the word emerged.
“Hi, my name is Becca, I just moved in here a few days ago,” I introduced myself.
He smiled that cute “I’m so naughty” smile at me.
“My name is Jeff, I think I’m going over to your apartment tonight to help John fix your internet.”
“Yeah, you are,” I told him. “How old are you?” I asked him.
“Forty,” he told me, “How old are you?”
“I’m 24,” I told him. I couldn’t believe he was forty. He didn’t look anywhere near that old. At first, I was a little disappointed with his age, but then I didn’t care, I was over 21, what did age matter anymore, he was adorable and sweet and that’s all that mattered.
“How long have you been here?” I asked him.
“A few weeks,” he told me. “I was in a nursing home for a really long time before that, and before that, I was in the hospital for a really long time. I killed my liver and I’m on the liver transplant list. I had a good time killing my liver though. Lots of Molson Ice. I would have a 12 pack gone before lunch.”
“What’s Molson Ice?” I asked.
“It’s the best kind of beer,” He told me. “I started drinking it because no one else drank it, so that way I would have plenty of it, but then everyone else would finish their beer and want mine anyway. Those bastards!”
I giggled at the dramatic way he said it.
“Do you still drink?” I asked him.
“Nope, it’s been a couple of years since I last drank. I went to my GI doctor because we knew my liver was in trouble, he looked me over and looked at all my tests and stuff and sat me down, and told me that if I didn’t immediately stop drinking I was going to die. So I stopped drinking. The only problem was no one ever warned me that you can’t just stop drinking all of the sudden without help.”
“Oh no,” I said, “Did you start having seizures and everything?”
“Yup,” he nodded. “I was at a party, but I wasn’t drinking, and I had a seizure that wouldn’t stop. My friends were too busy hiding all of the drugs before calling the cops to notice I was turning blue and stuff. By the time I got to the hospital I’d had some damage to my brain and I was in a coma. I ended up spending a long time in the hospital after that. I had to relearn how to walk and talk and eat and write and everything. I had to go to a nursing home in Worcester to do that.”
“That’s crazy!” I said. “And now you just need a cane to walk?” I asked him, wondering about the cane. I had never noticed it before, and now he was walking around like a normal healthy person, but he was carrying the cane in one arm.
“Oh, this?” he asked, holding up the cane.
“Yeah,” I said.
“I don’t actually need it,” he told me, “I can walk fine now, with nothing, but I have to go to get the fluid drained out of my stomach whenever I get too much in it from the liver failure and I go to the hospital’s interventional radiology department to have it done. To scam the insurance to pay for a ride to the hospital I have to get on the chair van with some sort of cane, walker, or wheelchair. This is the cane I use for that. I’m supposed to be picked up soon”.
“Oh, ok, I get it now,” I said. Finally realizing where he was always disappearing too. He went to the hospital to get his belly drained. I knew from nursing school that this was called paracentesis.
“When I was in the nursing home they used to make me use a walker to walk. I hated using the walker, so I set it up in my room and used it to hang my clothes on. Then I would go for a walk without it. They would stop me and be like, ‘Jeff where’s your walker, you need to use your walker.’ I would tell them, ‘I am using it, it’s in my room holding up my clothes.’ They used to get so angry with me.” Jeff told me smiling his cute little smile.
“That’s too funny,” I told him laughing.
Just then the chair van pulled up out front.
“I got to go,” my ride’s here,” Jeff told me.
I was disappointed. Jeff was so much fun to hang out with, with all of his crazy stories and I loved sitting next to him, I could smell Old Spice Aftershave and sweetness. This was a dream come true.