While out for a frigid winter run beside the Bow River
I was home alone administering his evening medication and assisting him to use the washroom. With all the energy he could muster, a word or two at a time, Riley let me know that if it was not too much trouble, he wanted to take his medication in bed and then have me help him to the washroom and provide him with a hot washcloth there for his face. I let him know I understood completely and proceeded to carefully measure out his medication. I placed the medication in the washroom along with the warm washcloth before tip-toeing back to his bedside. Riley’s forlorn expression upon my return said it all...he was unable to speak so I spoke for him: “Listen dumb arse, I am barely able to function here and you cannot seem to follow a simple set of instructions!” Riley’s mouth formed a painful half smile, a tear rolled down his cheek and we did everything we could to contain our laughter to avoid startling him.
I am thankful for these moments of levity that break the tension, and like the lightening of the sky, tease hope out from its’ hiding place.
Mr. “Dumb Arse” Lindberg
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