'Wet Floor'...

'Wet Floor'...
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

The Emergency Room Registration clerk sat at her desk typing info into her computer.  The ER was slow tonight.  She was glad to get the break... she would make up for it later.  It was common knowledge, the ER didn't have a lot of slow times like this.

A young couple came into the waiting area.  The guy was on crutches... he hopped as he walked.  They saw her through the door, and headed her way.  Once in the little registration room, they both sat down.  "I want to see the doctor", the young man said.

The registration clerk went on to ask what seemed to be the problem.  The young man told her that he needed the doctor to look at his leg... the one in a cast.  

The clerk looked at both people, really seeing them.  She always paid attention to people.  She took her job seriously, and knew how important it was to pay attention even to the smallest of detail.  

It was her nature... she knew sometimes, people didn't always say how sick they were... and would begin to get sick fast.  She didn't at all think that was the case here.  But... if it was... she'd have time to go get a nurse.

Everything seemed to be fine.  While she talked, asked appropriate questions, she typed on her keyboard.  The cleaning lady came in, greeted her, began emptying the trash can.  Once the trash can was emptied... she swept the floor.  

The registration clerk giggled as she rolled out of her way... so, the cleaning lady could sweep there, and... not sweep under her feet! Everyone 'knew' if someone swept under your feet ... you would never get married.  She sure wanted to marry one day!

Once that was done, the cleaning lady rolled her yellow bucket of mop water in from the hall.  She put her mop into the clean, sudsy water... and pulled it up through the rollers, squeezing excess water out of the mop.  She began to mop... then, placed her little orange cone on the office floor.  The cone was to warn someone of 'wet floor'.

The cleaning lady rolled her bucket out into the hall, pushed it to the locked door.  She pulled her cleaning cart behind her... she waited until the registration clerk unlocked the door.  When the door buzzed, she could go through it.

Once inside the smaller room where people sat to register in privacy ... the cleaning lady emptied the trash can, swept the floor, and mopped it.  She placed her little orange cone on the floor... she told the couple that the floor was wet.

She went through the doorway to the waiting area, began cleaning. In just a moment, the cleaning lady was forgotten. The registration clerk pushed the papers forward so, the young man could sign them.

The young man stood up, his girlfriend handed him his crutches.  He asked the registration clerk to unlock the door... he wanted to go to the bathroom in the hall.  The registration clerk told him the floor was wet, it'd be best to go to the bathroom in the waiting area.

The young man went ahead, began hopping toward the locked door, ignoring her. All of a sudden, as she watched ... he pretended to fall on the floor.  He didn't think she noticed that the fall didn't look real.  He knew what he was doing... he 'fell' so he wouldn't hurt his leg.

He looked up at her, told her that he'd just fallen on the wet floor! He began acting like he was hurt. She looked him straight in the eye, he looked away.  He began yelling louder...

The registration clerk told him to get up from there... she knew he didn't really fall... because she watched him as he pretended to. You aren't hurt!  I saw you... there's no way you hurt yourself the way you made yourself fall!

The young man got up from the floor, grinned... said, "I was just fooling, I didn't fall"!  He and his girlfriend walked into the waiting area, laughing.  

The registration clerk went into the Emergency Room, talked to the nurse, and doctor.  As a precaution, the nurse came out to talk to the young man... he told her that it was only a joke.  She documented it... and went on. 

After that, the pace in the Emergency Room picked up... the clerk took it in stride.  She loved her job... you never knew what would happen next!

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• Bed 3...

I Was Kidnapped... And I Was The One Who Had The Gun!

I Was Kidnapped... But, I Was The One Who Had The Gun!
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

I don't know 'who' the woman is in this photograph!  I chose this photo to put here... please don't ask me 'why?'  There was a time when Tommy was here... and I had someone to send silly photos to!  So now... you know what that means?  Yes... I have to share them with you!  :)))  It is what it is!  And... life is that way sometimes!

I was sitting at the dining table... I heard a knock at the front door.  I knew it wasn't anyone I would know... because I have no family, and only several friends who would come to see me.

Besides... anyone who came to see me, would come to the back door.  You know it's a friend when they know where to come.

I sat there a moment, decided I would answer the door.  First, I reached for the gun I kept laying close by me, whenever I was alone.  I got up, walked to the door.

I opened it, and there were two men standing on the other side of the storm door.  One held some magazines in his hands.  "We'd like to show you these magazines", he said.

I spoke through the glass door, told him I wasn't interested.  The second man said, "Well, maybe you'll be interested in this"!  He held a gun up, pointed it straight at me.  "Open that door, be quick about it"!

Dumb-ass me... I opened the door... and let them kidnap me... take me away!  Where the gun went, I don't know!

As I walked, I saw a big truck parked.  I saw my son, Tommy... laying part-way on the top step, and on the tire (which is impossible, so... I thought!).

"Tommy, are you alright?  Tommy, why are you laying like that?"  I wanted to go to him, make him get up.  I couldn't go... I was kidnapped!  "Please be alright, Tommy, please be alright"!

Oh, my God!  My thoughts turned to the dining table, and the dishes that were set out for supper.  I've lost one of the little forks!  Where did that little fork go?

I became aware that my pillow was 'rock-hard'... and shifted positions in the bed.  I was awake now... I was still remembering my dream.  I could still see Tommy laying there.  I felt a deep sadness in my heart.  I dreamed of Tommy... and it wasn't a good dream at all.

Skip woke up, and asked me if I was okay.  I told him... "I was kidnapped... and I was the one who had the gun"!  I heard him laugh, as I fell back asleep!

Happy Birthday To Me...

Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee...  This is a memory that wasn't pleasant, but... one that doesn't bother me now...  I look back on my young life... not understanding 'why'... now, I don't even question 'why?'

I know, now... it was to prepare me to be very strong for what life what going to bring me through the years. No matter how bad... nothing was as bad as losing my only child.  I must not have 'had enough bad things to happen to make me strong enough' to lose my child.  I write always in memory of... Tommy.

My memories are the 'colors of my life', my stories.  Don't ever feel sorry for me... I never felt sorry 'for me', even as a little child.  I just 'knew' it was supposed to be like that.  I always remember 'I wasn't the only child' who lived in Hell... the difference being that I ... write my life... I can't write theirs.  But... I see their little faces in my mind, also.  I never forget.



*********************************************************************************

Happy Birthday To Me...
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

I was excited!  It was my birthday, and it was going to my first birthday party!

Actually, not just my birthday party... it was my half-sister's birthday party, too.  You see, our birthday was on the same date... she was exactly one year younger than I.

Valentine's Day... that was our birthday, as well as ... Valentine's Day.  I'd never had a birthday party in my entire life!

I was going to be 14 years old... my sister was going to be 13.  There was going to be a big cake, ice cream, lots of good foods, music... dancing!

We lived in a huge, beautiful log home in Roxboro, NC.  The house was spotless... all the wood glowed from Old English oil.

The hardwood floors had a beautiful sheen.  We knew how to wax a floor with Johnson's Paste Wax... we put the wax on the floor, then buffed it with soft cloths.  The house was immaculate... always.

My step-mother, and two half-sisters, and I... kept a beautiful house.  It was decked out for our birthday party.  The den was a huge room with lots of sparkling-clean windows.  They reflected the lights in the room, making all look festive.

The den had a big floor, this would be where everyone would be dancing.  There were over-stuffed chairs, couches... lots of places for everyone to sit.

The party began with lots of young people arriving on time... everyone was laughing, talking.  The music began, boys began dancing with the girls.  I was asked to dance... I had no sooner begun to dance when one of my half-sisters told me to go into the kitchen.

I walked to the kitchen... it was at the far end of the house.  It was well away from the party in the den.  My father was in the kitchen, so was my step-mother.  Both told me that I had to stay in the kitchen, not come back to the party.

To this day... I can't remember 'why' I couldn't stay at the birthday party.  It was my first, only birthday party... it lasted all of maybe ten minutes.

I sat in the kitchen that night... I looked at all the dishes that were beginning to stack up on the counter top.  I got up, began washing dishes as I listened to the music in the distance.  I could hear laughter, squeals of happiness.

I somehow, understood the party wasn't ever meant for me.  I felt such pain inside my heart... I was the outsider in that house.  I knew that one day I was going to run away from there.

I lived in a beautiful home there, I dressed in very nice clothes... we all made a beautiful family.  No one could see looking at us... that I was the outsider.  No one could see that I wasn't wanted.

I never told anyone how unhappy I was... in fact, I accepted how I was treated.  I didn't think to complain to anyone.  I was afraid if I did, I would have to face the wrath of my father, step-mother.

I never got a birthday present that night, nor got to go back to the birthday party.  I did get to help clean up all... when everyone went home.  Happy Birthday to me.

BED 3... A NOTE ABOUT BED 3...

BED 3...

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

 

 

 

Bed 3... turned into a 'short story' as I started out to write something else. 

 

That's what happens when I begin to write, draw... paint.  What begins 'as one thing'.... turns into another.  :)))

 

Some people thought it was real... it's just 'practice writing' that turned into this story.  :)))

 

Thankfully, 'such things' don't usually happen... or we hope that they... ... don't.



BED 3...

BED 3:
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee



The young woman watched as the young man got out of his car.  He ran quickly to the passenger side of the car... opened the door.  She stood at the glass door that opened into the parking lot.  She peered closer... to see what he was doing... to see what she needed to be ready for.

He reached in, lifted something from the front seat.  He turned around, began walking forward with his load. The car door hung open... forgotten.

The young man began struggling to carry... an older lady he held in his arms.  His knees began buckling under the weight.

The young woman opened the glass door leading into the waiting room.  She worked in the office as an emergency registration clerk.  This was the room everyone waited in for their turn to go into the emergency room to be seen by the doctor.

She always watched out for the emergency waiting room, in case someone was very sick.  She didn't want anyone to die while waiting there, to see the doctor.  The clerk was very responsible... she took her job seriously.  She paid more attention to the people around her, than most people who worked her job.  She cared.

She also, watched on the other side of the locked door she'd walked through to come into the registration area, to enter the door of the waiting room.

She watched, listened for the double doors that would swing open any moment with an emergency patient on a stretcher.  Most of the time, she was alerted by a nurse... or the wail of a siren.  Sometimes, no one would hear a car come up carrying someone who was deathly ill... until the family member came in to get help.

The clerk worked in a small community hospital.  The emergency room was across from the doorway of her office.  It was her job to run between the actual emergency room, and the office to register patients.

She would meet the rescue squad when they came in with a patient.  It was her job to meet family members as they came through the doors with the patient... guide them through the locked door for them to be seated... get their information for the patient.

The waiting room was empty.  She had walked to the door she had to unlock, to enter the registration area... to walk out into the waiting room.  She was listening to the news on the tv mounted on the wall.  She had walked to the glass door to look out into the parking lot, when she saw the fast-moving car drive in, park.

"What's wrong with her"?  The clerk asked while she motioned for him to follow her.  "She's having bad chest pain; she has a history of congestive heart failure"!  The young man could hardly talk, he was breathless from carrying his load.

The clerk led the way through the door she kept locked, closing it behind her.  She saw a wheel chair, pointed at it.  The young man shook his head, meaning to go on!

She led him through the open doorway of the emergency room.  He followed her.  The clerk led him to Bed 3... where she had watched... life and death play out more times than she could count. This 'was' the bed for heart patients, and patients who were deathly ill, patients who were in a bad way.

Her eyes had paid close attention to the woman... she had the feeling 'something was going to happen'.  She felt the woman was very sick.  She knew that it was okay to take the patient directly into the emergency room.

As she passed the nurse, and doctor sitting at the white counter top on stools that rolled them around... she leaned in to tell them the woman was experiencing severe chest pain... she had a history of congestive heart failure.

She hurried on, knowing they would go into action.  This doctor, and nurse were very good... she held the highest respect for both.  They were a 'good combination'... anyone would want to be in their hands... if they were fighting for their life.  Anyone with chest pain would be seen right away!

Sometimes, the 'combination of doctor, nurse' ... wasn't a good one.  This time... they were ... the best.  She felt proud to be working with these two, today.  They were her friends, also.

She pulled the curtain back, pointed at the bed.  The young man put his mother on the bed.  His mother laid back against the pillow. The clerk looked at her, didn't feel good about her.  The elderly woman smiled weakly at her.  The clerk ran out to tell the doctor, nurse to come on... briefly wondering 'why' they weren't already there.  Still... she 'knew' they'd come...

She saw the nurse, doctor still sitting there, engrossed in one another!  She walked quickly to them... apologized for interrupting.  "That woman is having a heart attack"!  How she knew the woman was having a heart attack... she didn't know.  She just 'knew something was getting ready to happen'!

She kept going until she got to her desk, computer.  She put the woman's name into the computer... found her... printed out all the info.  All the son had to do was to sign permission to treat her.  She ran back to the emergency room.

As she entered the door, she heard a commotion... it was at Bed 3.  Get the crash cart, call Code Blue!  The nurse picked up the phone, pressed a couple of buttons on the phone.  She began speaking into the phone... that became an instant intercom.   "Code Blue, Emergency Room!  Code Blue, Emergency Room!"

Medical staff began arriving, each knowing what their task was to save the woman.  The clerk stood back to witness the 'battle between life, death'.  She'd seen it many times.  She prayed this woman would live.

She was told to lead the son out into the emergency room.  She put her hand gently on his shoulder as, he kept turning to look back.  She had to keep her emotions in check... she wanted to scream at the doctor, nurse.  'Why' didn't they come on?

The clerk smiled gently at the young man, patted him on the shoulder as she led him to the door.  She opened it to let him go in, so... he could be seated in the waiting area.  She promised to come back to let him know how his mother was.  She closed the door... it locked automatically.

There wasn't anyone to register... so, the clerk walked back to the emergency room.  She stood watching the hospital staff do CPR on the woman.  They used the paddles....

She felt terrible anger, shock while she stood there.  'Why' didn't the nurse, doctor come to help the woman at the very beginning?  That wasn't like them at all.  She would have bet a thousand dollars on both of them to go to a patient, not waste time... to save their lives.  If 'they' couldn't save a patient's life... no one else could.

Yet... only 'she knew' that they didn't do what they should have.  They didn't come for some reason... they were the reason that woman was dying.  The clerk's eyes filled with tears... her heart felt deep anger.  She hated them... God, she hated them!  They did wrong!  Please God, don't let that young man's mother die!

She became aware of Bed 3... the commotion was dying down... she knew the woman had died.  She knew it!  She'd seen this happen over, and over.  Some patients lived... some died.  Bed 3 was like a portal to the other side.

Imagine a door .... if you open it... enter... you have died.  Imagine being at that door... and it didn't open... that means you missed death only by inches.  BED 3 was the portal to ... the other side.

The clerk never spoke to the doctor, nurse that she had always thought highly of, respected with her heart... ever again.  Never had she been so disappointed in someone.

The nurse, doctor came to her several times, after the woman died.  They came to talk to the clerk... she only turned her head away.  She couldn't bear to even look at them, much less talk to them.  She knew that they did wrong... they let a woman die... while they were enjoying each other's company.  She ... hated them.

She never told a soul... how could it help anyone.  They knew they did wrong.  They let that patient die... on Bed 3.

I Didn't Choose To Go This Way At All...

I Never Meant To Be A Fighter... I'll Win This Battle, Too
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Chadwick, our precious Pup...he's never been sick a day in his whole life until the month of October, 2013.  He is 6 years old...  



For the past two weeks, I haven't been feeling well at all.  Not only that, I have felt so 'down'.  So, many things going on in our life.... when I tell you, I think you'll see... 

I don't wallow in self-pity, and cry 'woe is me!'  I'm a fighter... I'm a winner... I've had to be ... to be living, 'now'.

It's been one of those times that I've had to face something completely new in my life... turn down another path that I've never traveled before.  So, foreign... alien to 'me'.  Who would have thought... just who would have thought?

I've been devastated... but, not so much that it kept me 'on the ground' long.  In a short time, I 'picked my ass up, dusted my pants off'.  Now... I'm facing it ... head-on.  I don't have to tell you ... who's going to win.  But, I will... it's going to be 'me'.  :))) I'm going to win.

It's another thing to experience in my life... I've never known many people to experience quite as many things in their life.  Usually... one or two things is what is in any one's lifetime.  Mine... I can't even begin naming them off... unless I sit, take time to do so.

Even at this moment, when I let myself think about my 'newest' crisis... tears come to my eyes.  Don't worry, my childhood prepared me for all this... believe me... I've been tested.  

I'm most strong... I've been through more than anyone knows... or could even guess.  If I cry... it doesn't mean I'm weak... it means something is causing me... great pain.  Or... I am very angry...

You see... the worst has happened.  Only one thing could happen now, that would equal 'the worst' in my life.  I pray that doesn't happen.  The worst being is... Tommy died.  My only child ... died.

So, whatever happens to me... it no where compares with the death of my child.  It changed me, forever.  

My doctor called me, herself... to tell me that I am diabetic.  'Me'... diabetic!  It still feels alien, foreign to me.  I 'knew deep down inside'... I wasn't well.  

For some time now, I've been laying down during the day time... I just haven't felt well at all.  I could see 'something I couldn't identify' in my face, my eyes.  'Now'... I know.

I have a beautiful doctor... in spirit as well as in person.  I think God led me to her, and Skip to his doctor.  The right time, the right place sort of thing.  We both feel very fortunate to have both.  She was so kind when she talked to me about this.  She 'knew' that I would handle this... she knew I was a positive person.

Truthfully, for a day or two... I wasn't positive at all.  Inside... my mind raged, ranted, screamed... to know that I 'have another battle'.  I began crying about Tommy... I almost lost it.  

If I'd been a wrestler... I'd whipped everyone's ass, and have thrown them out of the ring!  The anger... was so great!  For a brief moment... I felt like giving up... that didn't last long!

I didn't feel sorry for myself at all.  I just got 'pissed off'!  I don't mind telling you.  Like I said... I'm glad I wasn't a wrestler... someone would have had 'a bad day'... :)))

Sometimes, I get damn tired of having to go into battle after battle.  I'm a very weary soul... it doesn't mean I'm weak, though.  I just get so tired of 'fighting to live'... but, fight I will.  :)))

I was just 'damn' mad 'as hell'.  I still feel 'mad'... I don't have 'an ass to kick'... this is another 'invisible thing' that I can't see.  If I could, I promise you... I would get a head-start, and I'd run like hell, and bust it 'wide open'.  

For a couple of days I wasn't positive at all... yet, deep inside... I 'knew' I still was.  I was like a pot water on the stove... I 'boiled over'... until I could be ... calm.

The truth is the truth... I won't sugar-coat this at all... either.  How could it possibly help anyone if I made it all 'sound good'?  

Well, it isn't good... it isn't good at all.  I can make it be okay, though.  I can deal with it, take it in stride... I still don't 'feel like it's a part of me'... and if I can help it... I can forget I have it.  I can take the medicine, eat half-way right... and go on living.  I won't dwell on it, and... I'll do my part to 'help myself'.

Another thing is... I know many people have this medical condition today.  I'm not the only one to be told this.  But... I have been told this... and it's my life that is affected.  I have another battle to win.  Just know that 'I know I'm not the only one'... I am the only one to tell 'my story'...                               

I will... win this battle, too.  You can bet your ass on it!  Yes, I am saying these words.  These are my 'mad words'... they are 'a part of me' when 'I feel angry'... and, 'I will say them'.  

We are going through tough times... we are worried about our Pups, Camie and... Chadwick.  

You all know about Precious Camie (Camo).  She's the little puppy I rescued from death... she isn't well yet... and I worry because she has another medical condition to get well from... also, a very serious one (Erlichia canis).  She can't take medicines for both conditions at the same time... it is too much for her.

The medical condition she has now (demodectic mange)... she's taking antibiotics once again for it.  It's been 4 months... she still isn't well... so, it is concerning.  I'm afraid for her.

Chadwick, our 'blonde/yellow' Pup began having seizures in October (this year, 2013).  I began putting a new flea drops product from the vet....on him.  

I'm not saying the drops are responsible... they are just the only 'new' thing in his life, that's 'different'.  He's never been sick in his whole life.  We have had him since he was a tiny puppy.

He had 5 seizures in October... and yesterday, he had 2 more seizures.  I put the drops on him on November 6th (the first time the drops were put on was October 6, 2013).  I am afraid for him.  He needs lab work... we can't afford that.  

If it wasn't for many people donating to help Camie get her medical care... we couldn't have done it alone.  I'm forever grateful to everyone.  

I will go to an organization to help get donations to help Chadwick, also.  They will take a percentage of each donation for helping with them.  Chadwick is a beautiful Pup, and I love him with my heart... and I will do it.  

We love all three of our Pups, and we will ask for help for them... I never knew I could do that.  I've learned when you love ... you'll do everything you can to 'save the other'.  

If anyone wants to help with either Camie's ... or Chadwick's medical care... I will put the information here.  You can call the vet, donate directly to Dr. Fontenot... tell them who it's for. 

 Dr. David Fontenot
115 N Church St, Louisburg, NC 27549 
919-496-2638
Website:  www.louisburgvet.com

You will know exactly where your money goes... it's not like donating 'blindly', to never know.  I update/post photos on Camie, and Chadwick, Kissy on her Facebook page daily (at night-time).

You can visit, stay in touch with me there to know what goes on in hers, and Chadwick, Kissy's life.  Come be Camie's Facebook Friend... at:  https://www.facebook.com/camocameobates  

You can also, come to:  http://www.facebook.com/grannygee.  That is my Facebook link.  Come be my Friend there, too.

Without going into more things... there's a lot been going on in my life, lately... I will mention this.  People have commented, emailed that they were concerned... this is 'why'.  I had 'to be alone with myself for a time'... before I decided when I wanted to talk about it.  Strange... I can't put 'being diabetic' ... with 'me'...

I felt I needed to tell you... you all have followed me so long... and have cared 'when the worst happened to me... when Tommy died'.  Believe me... what I've written about myself isn't anywhere as bad.  About our Pups... it is most upsetting... they are part of my very world.  Skip and the Pups are my whole world... they are all I have.

I would like to let you all know, also... that when I am writing stories, poems... sometimes, what comes out may once in a while sound 'dark'... to do with dying.  It's only writing... it's like when I go to draw or paint a picture.... I begin drawing, painting one thing.... by the time I'm finished..... it's altogether different.  

Writing is the same way... it isn't always the same thing... especially with me.  You all know... I don't write constantly about 'any one thing'... you never know 'what's on my mind'.  

I think about living, dying... and when the writing mood strikes... 'off I go'.  :))))))))))  So, if I write something 'dark like death'... it doesn't mean anything 'bad'... they are thoughts that I think, and I 'voice' them.  A lot of times when I write... I am 'wondering what, and what if?' My writings are my colors, my feelings, my life stories.  

I promise you... if I knew I was going to die... I would meet it head-on, and write about it... so, you would know what goes on in my mind first-hand.  Just like this 'diabetic-thing'... if things happen, I'll tell you how it feels, how it affects 'me'.  I can't tell you about anyone else... only myself, since I'm the one... who knows best.  :)))

I am looking at this new medical crisis in my life in a good way... it could be a blessing in diguise... I won't know until I'm down the path a little farther.  Sometimes, 'bad things' bring about 'good things'.....

I never knew I'd be groomed as a little girl... to grow up to be a fighter.  As much as I love peace, quiet, privacy, soft-happy things in life... I never meant to grow up as a fighter.  I never meant to be a fighter.

I have just begun another new path in life...  I didn't choose to go this way at all.

Straight To Hell...

Straight To Hell...
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

She sat in the cold, hard, vinyl geriatric chair
A nurse's aid had come in to get her up from bed
She threw a cold, sterile sheet over the elderly woman

Sit there, shut your mouth... you better be good
The elderly woman knew better than to say a word
All she had to do was to look at her arms to see bruises

Bruises left there by thoughtless, cold, cruel people
Who were disguised in all white, with smiles of caring angels
When family left, so did the smiles... out came the claws

Shut up, shut up... I said!  I'll slap you if you make a noise
I don't need none of your mess tonight, I'm tired... sleepy
I didn't come to work to be bothered by the likes of ... you

The cold, heartless b____ never saw, felt a thing
As she slammed the wooden door to the room behind her
To go to another room to ...do her job

She left behind her a frail, frightened elderly woman
A lady who always smiled... now, she always had tears
In her eyes of green... eyes that were frightened as well

She could walk, even dance if she wanted to
She hid her abilities, played weak
One day she was going to kick an ass, or two... just watch and see

With no one in the room to watch her, she rose from the chair
Threw the cold, white sheet on the floor
Stretched her arms, stretched her legs

It's a good night to take care of business, I'm the one to do it
She walked quickly to the door, quietly opened it, went into the hall
She could hear the b___'s voice verbally abusing another patient

Didn't I tell you to shut your mouth, I'm too tired to mess with you
You aren't going to give me any problems, mess up my night
Lay there in your s___, I'm not changing you!

The nurse's aid came out of the room, slamming the door
Looked up, saw the frail, elderly woman out in the hall
As she stood there, one hand on the wall to steady herself

What the f___!  I told you I wasn't messing with you tonight
Get your ass back in your room... get in that bed!
Get, you hear?  Get in that bed, and don't you dare get up!

When the elderly woman didn't move, the nurse's aid grew angrier
Her eyes had an evil look... her lips pulled back in a cruel smile
She loved to slap around, bang up her patients

She began to walk toward the fragile, elderly woman
For a moment, she thought she saw a little smile on her face
A gleam in her eye... she knew that wasn't possible

Until... the elderly lady spoke in a strong, calm voice
Told her... yes, told her!  that she'd better not come closer
Because her ass... yes, 'her' ass was going to be kicked

The nurse's aide was ready to beat the old woman down now
She reached out with both hands, she'd break her body into
No sooner than she thought these things, all became a blur

Pain, flashes of colors in her eyes, she felt her body being attacked
She'd done messed with the wrong patient, this one got her ass!
When all was said and done... the elderly woman stepped back

She spoke in strong, calm voice... you get up off the floor, now!
You are going to work your ass off, tend your patients as you should
If you hurt another soul here tonight... I'm going to send your ass...

Straight to Hell...

Let's Don't ... Tucumcari

Let's Don't...  Tucumcari
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/Granny Gee

Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee... When I drove big truck with Skip!  Anthony, Texas...........


The radio was blaring wide open.  I was in the passenger seat of the big truck.  I was dancing in my seat, and I was 'getting down'.  Hands in the air, moving back, forwards in beat to the music... head bobbing side to side... curls bouncing!

R-E-S-P-E-C-T was playing... it had a good beat, it made me feel happy.  I loved to dance... I loved music.

Skip was driving.  It was his turn... Skip is a little more reserved than I... he didn't dance to the music.  What he did do (and I love it!), was begin 'playing drums' with his fingers. Skip can play drums.  He played in a band as a young man.  They used to play at dances.

We had just left Love's Truck Stop in Oklahoma... we were into the music, just enjoying riding... keeping that beat.  Ever so often, I felt this little feeling of 'something not quite right'.

I began paying attention to the signs as we traveled Interstate 40... then, I'd forget ... the music was in my body.  'I had to get down'... I had to dance.  :)))

Mmmm-mmm, something's not right.  I went on to forget, thinking about how glad I would be when we got to North Carolina.  I was ready to be home for a few days.  I loved driving a big truck... it was wonderful.  I learned to drive on the highest mountains out west... without getting the brakes hot.  I was very careful, and proud that I, as a woman, could get the opportunity to do it.

The inside of our big truck was like a motor home... beautiful.  I had all very nice.  Beautiful bed with nice sheets, comforter and matching pillow cases, shams.  The upholstery on the walls was nice.  I loved how nice I could make it look with my own touches.

I bought a nice tv, that was white.... it sat on its own shelf.  It had a radio on it, plus weather radio.  I loved it... it picked stations up good.  We had our cellphones, and of course, back then... CB radios.  Today's time... not a lot of people use their CBs.  They listen to satellite radio, and talk on their cellphones.

We'd driven almost 50-60 miles... "Hey Skip, I don't think you are going the right way!"  Skip looked at me... alarm in his eyes.  "What makes you think I'm going the wrong way?"

"Well, that sign said ... Tucumcari, that's why.  Didn't we come through Tucumcari, New Mexico to get to Love's Truck Stop in Oklahoma?"  Skip told me to quit joking... 'he knew' we were going the right way!  I thought to myself, "you are going to see!"

Sure enough, we saw another sign that got Skip's attention... he hated that he'd made a mistake in front of me.  Of course, I sat there with 'that little smug smile' we all get... when we are right.  I didn't often get a chance to say.... 'I told you so!'

He turned that big rig around... to go in the right direction... Interstate 40 East.  Homeward bound!  We'd driven about 60 miles in the 'wrong direction'!  We wanted to get home... that wasn't a good thing.

Now... in today's time... we make reference to Tucumcari in a good way.  If one of us feels down... we say we need to go forward, not backwards the same way we've already come... it just takes longer to get to that point in time... again.  Time that is wasted.

So, now instead of 'Tucumcaring'... we try our best to go forward, instead of ... backwards.  One of us will say, let's don't 'Tucumcari', now.

I Won't Be Here... I'll Be There

I Won't Be Here... I'll Be There
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates

If I die, would you notice if I were gone
Would you see the empty space I left behind
Before things shuffled, filling it in


Would you miss the sound of my voice
The brightness of my smile
Could you possibly... miss 'me'


I only mean something to one person
One person in this world
Everyone is gone, even my only child


Sometimes, I wonder when I already know
That some people would really care
Some would shed a tear or two


When I die, it will be a private affair
No one will need to come to see my body
I don't let anyone come to watch me sleep


Sleeping is a personal thing
Dying is personal, too
I don't want anyone to come stare at me


No one needs to know when I'm gone
No one needed to know when I was here
Let me rest in peace


Cremate my body, free my soul
Let the fire change my body to ashes
Be placed in a beautiful chest with painted roses


Maybe one day my ashes will be scattered in the wind
To swirl, dance, play in the air
My ashes will become dust in the wind


I will be ashes to ashes, dust to dust
I will be until I'm no more
I won't be here... but, I will be there


If I die, don't come looking for me
You didn't find me when I lived
I won't be here... I'll be there

Someone Else's Son...

Someone Else's Son...
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

My Precious Son, Tommy... Born November 20, 1969... Died May 29, 2010

We walked toward the big box store
People were standing in a group to collect
Money to repair a church roof
My eyes were suddenly drawn to one person

Tommy!  Oh, Skip, look!
That guy looks so much like... Tommy!
My eyes followed the guy as he talked,
Moved, smiled... my heart began to hurt

I couldn't take my eyes from him
So engrossed I was ... I ran into a barrier
In front of the store

The pain in my stomach wasn't anywhere as near
As the pain in my heart as I tried
To tear my eyes away from someone else's son

Sick to my very soul, I followed Skip inside
Skip!  Did you see how much he looked like Tommy?
Did you see... he had glasses, his kind of haircut, too

Tommy, for a few moments I watched 'you' move
I watched you smile, talk
Today... in someone else's son

.........                   .........                .........             .........             .........           .........            ..........

Author's Note:

Grief is a terrible thing... it strikes like a rattlesnake hidden in the grass.  No matter how beautiful the day, how wonderful all is... it strikes with a vengeance... the pain can bring one to their knees.

It can't be predicted... no more than when lightening will strike something from the sky.  You can't imagine how bad it hurts to lose your only child... how bad it feels, knowing you have nothing to look forward to in later life... no son, no grandchildren.

The only protection is being strong, determined... looking forward, not backwards.  I do this every day, minute... I have to.  It's like walking a tightrope... I always have to be balanced, so... I ... don't fall. Sometimes, I fall very hard when... I least expect it.  I tell you because when it happens, I promised to.

Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

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