If It Ain't One Thing

{I haven't been writing much, and this is written over several long and sometimes miserable months. So, it's partly what is going on, partly what went on, almost like taking notes.

I did manage to finish one short tale from a long time ago the other day, but it's not easy considering the upsets.

What upsets, you might ask?

Lots of stuff, so this is just a catching up on all of the B/S I have been dealing with. OK, not ALL bad, though.

My world is picking on me. Laborious typing here, two fingers on one hand and my thumb on the other, so it's a few paragraphs each day. That means I am writing about things as they happen, or as I remember which also means it's rather scattered.

So, if are looking for something sexy, or a wank tale, this ain't it. Just letting you know. At least I don't think so, not right now anyway. Plus I ramble a lot, consider yourself warned.

I am about to post what I have written so far, it's getting long. As I write the last portions, it is nearly 2019. Will more happen? Hell, I don't know.}

+++

It's tough to feel sexy when everything hurts.

Well, at least so far anyway. Hell, I don't even know what this story is about yet, I am bored. Sitting here in a wheelchair, can't go fishing, can't go to the café down by the docks, can't do much of anything so I am typing.

Kate comes in and leans over my shoulder every once in awhile, then she giggles and leaves.

Who in the hell is Kate?

I will get to that.

Damn she is cute. Yes, I know, I am married. But my wife is the one who brought Kate to live with us, so it's OK to look all I want to.

For a few weeks there, everything hurt like hell. Not much sexy about that. As I sit here right now, it's three weeks after the accident.

I will get to that in the next few days, too. My second wreck in just a couple of months, like I said, life is picking on me.

+++

One thing about me is that I like hand jobs. Debra knows that, the truth is she does also so part of our lifestyle is massages at home. It's all women therapists around here, and it can take some effort to find one willing. Of course, Debs and I also massage each other, which is fun too.

I know where my hands on fetish came from. A place called Vietnam. The tiny women there often did not speak English but they all knew the universal hand sign suggesting a happy ending. I never fucked any of them, could have but after seeing the guys lined up getting stabbed in the ass by the medics, the idea of doing that scared the shit out of me.

Some of those little women had diseases I can't pronounce.

So, my outlet became hand jobs, still love them to this day. I honest to God also used to check their hands for sores, or anything suspicious. Being a voyeur, I often sat and watched them dance, they would lie down and spread their legs, then use their fingers to open themselves wide. Yep, you bet I checked their hands.

The reason I mention that is because of what happened, I am pretty gimped up from the accident, can't help myself due to my wrists so Debra pitches in. I seem to have fairly regular needs for my age so having a willing wife sure helps.

Debra likes doing that, it's obvious. As a Doctor, she gets to see and touch a lot of men, she likes that part also. But she never does anything with any of them beyond medical.

She does keep one nurse on staff for the very rare cases where an "assist" is required, something I found out myself during my Medicare physical.

Really.

You don't believe that, I bet. Nurses usually will not even take a peek, which is a fact. But, things do happen, I suspect there is my wife involved in some of that happening, in fact, I am sure of it.

Blood, bacteria in a sperm sample can suggest issues. Most physicians will not bother, but when dealing with primarily geriatrics, it can be important to test. That is what Debra tells me, and I believe her.

Her clinic is the ONLY one I know of that does check. "Sexuality is a part of life." She has told me literally dozens of times. Healthy sex means a healthy body is her other common comment.

For the first year or two after we got together, I sometimes wondered about what all went on at my wife's work. Now? It doesn't bother me at all. Being married to a woman like Debra changed me, changed the way I think about life, human sexuality.

+++

My wrists were just about healed from the first screwup, seems I managed to stack up my three wheel Harley Davidson trike a few months back. They don't handle like a motorcycle or any other vehicle, as I learned.

Well, I DID know that, but after driving four wheel vehicles, instinct gets in the way.

Remember when on a trike, do NOT accelerate out of a corner, they don't turn well. Steering it even more trying to make the thing turn makes it worse.

I opened the throttle, the thing went straight, which caught me by surprise.

I broke both wrists, scratched and cut the holy shit out of myself and fubar'd one leg. The leg wasn't broken, but it felt like it was. Part of my right leg is metal from an accident 40+ years ago in a Corvette so hard to break that, I guess. The other problem is, I am on blood thinners, so, my leg was about as black as it can get.

A week and change in the hospital, longer than what it would usually be, but my wife Debra being a Doctor and in charge of the entire local medical system means I get special treatment.

I accused her of using the hospital as a baby sitter, so she could go to work and not worry about me. She just laughed at that. But after a couple of weeks at home I was up and around, both wrists still in casts, my leg improving quickly.

So I walked down to check on my Harley, the shop is about a half mile. That took me nearly an hour, but the walking was good for me. In the hospital, starting with the 3rd day, the nurses made me walk up and down the hallway, wearing my yellow Big Bird "fall risk" outfit.

The guy at the bike shop gave me a quote to fix the thing, it was about what I paid for the machine plus a couple of grand so it now sits in our garage. Probably for the best, the way my mood is.

(It's still for sale, by the way, if anyone is interested. Runs like a top, the front forks are a bit to the right of where they should be and the tank has a big dent, it needs a wheel, and a rear fender where it bounced off the end of a culvert, and the middle of the frame is sprung a bit but other than that...??? Oh, the headlight, too.)

Minor stuff, easy to fix if you are handy.

I ran some ads, no bites at all yet.

+++

This is what happened next.

I was back up and around reasonably quickly, even going down to the South jetty to do some fishing once I got the casts off.. I used to walk to the North side, it's not that far, but my leg still bothered me some so I took my big old Dodge Ram pickup. I prefer to go to the North jetty, but the rocks there are less protected from storms, and even getting out there is difficult. It's best to pay attention out there also, the ocean is unforgiving.

When I was younger, not a problem. Now, I am way slower than I used to be. My wife Debra told me to not go out there at all, but I used to sometimes on the calm days.

So, after getting hurt I use the South side, which means crossing the bridge and driving. It's maybe three miles further from our house. Way less wave action there, way less fish also. Too many people is why.

I got to the intersection, turned left to cross the bay bridge, then turned right there at the end out to the jetty parking area. That way, 100 yards and I would be sitting on my favorite flat rock.

That last trip I got my limit quickly, 5 fish now. I remember when I was a kid there was no limit and I could fill a gunny sack with them, now? A limit of 5 is a good day, and bites come maybe 15-20 minutes apart instead of almost instantly. The fish that used to weigh 4-5 pounds are now closer to one, a big one is two pounds.

The Seals and Sea lions are fatter, though.

Anyway, I got back in my truck and headed home, sack of fish in the bed. I came to the stop sign at the highway, traffic was heavy like always. Sometimes I will sit there while maybe 50 to 100 cars go by, all going too damned fast and about 10 feet apart. So, unless someone slows down to turn the other way, I get to wait. Which is why I prefer to walk, if I feel OK.

I wanted a drink of water, my little cooler was sitting on the rear seat. I unbuckled my seat belt, reached for the dash to turn the silly dial to shift my truck into park. No gear shift lever on the new Ram pickups, which I think is dumb but oh well. I keep turning up the heater trying to put the thing in gear.

There I was, on my knees in the front seat, reaching for the cooler.

I caught a glimpse of a bright red car coming around the corner, fast, then WHAM! Last thing I remember was trying to get turned around and back into the seat as my truck got shoved right out onto the highway. Something `else slammed me, then another crash, streaks of spinning lights, and nothing.

+++

I opened my eyes, wandering why someone was shining a light in my face. I tried to sit up but couldn't.

"What's going on?" I asked. I sensed someone was there but I had no idea who.

"Just lie still, Danny. You were in an accident." The voice was familiar, I glanced over and saw it was Stephanie, my usual nurse at the wife's medical clinic she runs.

"What happened?" I asked her.

"Accident. Some young guy ran into you, then two other cars hit you, several others involved. I guess it was a big mess, but you will be just fine. Why didn't you have your seat belt on?" She reached out and patted my stomach. I realized my ribs were wrapped but my belly was bare.

"I was stopped at the sign, I unhooked to get some water. Hey, how is my truck?" I asked.

Hell, it only had 9500 miles on it. Nice big Dodge Ram, four wheel drive, Ecodiesel V-6 engine. Only had the thing for six months.

"Debra said you will need a new one." She still had her hand on my stomach. That tickled a little. I think she meant it to.

Now I like Stephanie, she is a close to perfectly round sweetheart. We had a sort of intimate moment when I was in the hospital from the silly bike accident. If getting what is called a hand finish from a nurse that is pretending to just help to wash you can be called an intimate moment. That sort of began with her pretending she wasn't but ended up with it being she obviously was. Hesitant at first, then touching, next thing I knew she had a grip and was going for the reward.

Hilarious, Stephanie for God's sake?

Now I have known Stephanie for over a decade. She has been in the room while a Doctor does a checkup, so she has seen my junk. (I have to have my own Doctor, can't use Debs, some silly ethics bullshit.)

But this was the first time she had ever touched it, and I got the impression she enjoyed the hell out of doing that.

Nobody believes that stuff, not that I care. The first 65 years of my life I saw a lot of Doctors and nurses and not one of them ever did anything sensual or sexy, the closest was when a fat Navy Doc stuck his finger up my ass for maybe three seconds.

I doubt that he even knew what he was feeling for.

It turned out that the intimate moment with Stephanie was training for her, Debra was thinking of her being the one on staff that handles certain things since Jennifer moved on. Stephanie liked and trusted me, so I guess I was first. And I did get an erection that time, way back with Jennifer I didn't. Back then I didn't even know a male can ejaculate without having an erection.

That deal with Stephanie was all strictly medical, of course it was. Had to be done, both of my wrists were in casts.

Now Stephanie is a heavy gal, probably 5'3" or so and well over 200 pounds, but I suspect from joking with her that she is also on the naughty side. Every time I have seen her, it's light hearted sexy banter back and forth.

"Go ahead and take off your shirt, Danny." She tells me.

"You first." Is my standard response.

She giggles, I laugh. Yeah, I know. Silly shit, every nurse on planet Earth has heard that one.

+++

What was Stephanie doing working in the hospital? She was supposed to be part of the staff at the clinic my wife runs. I was going to ask her what was up with that but she came in with a tray about 30 minutes later and one glance got my mouth drooling. I felt like I had missed breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Turns out I had, Stephanie mentioned I had been out cold for just over 24 hours. There had been a CT scan that picked up a minor bleed in my brain, scary but they said it stopped on it's own.

I tried again to sit up and couldn't, something was wrapped around my ribcage. No ribs broken, just bruised and torn loose I guess. They had me on Oxygen, I already realized I couldn't get a deep breath. Stephanie touched a button which made the bed tilt me upwards. That also made my head swim.

"Concussion" the male Doctor I didn't know told me when he came in later. He also mentioned I was lucky, the big Dodge Ram held up pretty good mixing it up with a few much lighter passenger vehicles. Air bags do wonders, if I had my seat belt on I probably would not have even been hurt as badly, if at all. They told me several people got hurt but nobody died, thank God.

It seems the air bags help even when you are unbuckled and they deploy at you while you are sideways to them. Which explained my ribs being wrapped up like a mummy. With nothing to hold me in place, I also got bonked on the noggin pretty good. My left wrist was broken by the steering wheel, or my steering wheel was broken by my left wrist, pick one.

Fucking kid in a hot rod damn near did me in.

I did ask Debs about the truck when she came in at around 6 that evening, hell, it was brand new and I liked it.

"You will need a new one, honey, it's totaled, the bed got shoved clear to the cab. I already talked to the insurance people, they will handle that. " She told me.

"They gave us the choice of a check or they would supply one, I figured you would want to pick one the way you wanted it so I told them we would take the check."

"How much?" I asked. That turned out to be almost 15 grand under what we paid for it, oh, well. Way it is with insurance companies. The bastards even tried to claim later that my injuries were half my own fault for not having my seat belt on.

That didn't work, Debs handled that, too. Hell, I was stopped, and in park, what did I need a seat belt then for? So they covered the medical, all $186,000 worth, not counting the home care and ambulance which Medicare actually covered for awhile. Plus we have our own insurance through the clinic of course, the kid that ran into me didn't have any. They didn't even sue him, the kid had no job, no assets other than his totaled hot rod so no point.

The kid did try to make out it was MY fault, claiming my brake lights didn't work. Yeah, sure, brand new Dodge Ram, SURE they didn't work. Well, they didn't after he had shoved them halfway to the cab. Besides, I didn't even have my foot on the brake.

We got all of that sorted out rather quickly.

My wife is very efficient about everything. That is part of why the medical system spent a pile of money on her training. I didn't like that almost an entire year of her only being home every other weekend a couple of years back, but to get her Doctorate she had to complete the courses. Even at that, they fudged some with her certification, mostly because she had worked as a Registered Nurse Practitioner for decades. No need to bother with being an intern. There has to be a full fledged Doctor on staff, that is the law and since my Debs ran the clinic mostly anyway up until old Doc Barker died, it worked.

So now my Debs is a full fledged Physician, and the pay increase was enormous.

Which was how I got a new truck, and also how I ended up in the fucking hospital.

Chain of events, of course. No money, no new truck. No new truck, I wouldn't have been there, wouldn't have been run over. Life, the way things work.

Sorry, sitting here at home right now, bored out of my mind, so my head is running wild.

+++

Anyway, there I lay, back in the damned hospital again, leg messed up, both wrists seriously fucked up, a headache to end all headaches, and there didn't seem to be any spot on my entire body that was not sore.

There was the male Doctor that came in, short fellow, scruffy beard, I forget his name. He was businesslike, he checked reflexes, did all sorts of tests, asked a bunch of questions. Usually a Doctor spends 15 minutes, stares at a computer screen, not this guy. I figured out that Debra had told him who I was, and he knew well enough to not take any chances. For anyone in medical in the system in our community, Debra is their boss.

"Well, Mr. Magnusan, considering what you went through, you are doing even better than we would expect." He finally told me.

"That's good, I guess. How long will I be stuck here?" I asked.

"We are worried about the brain bleed, you broke your wrist again, that leg is going to need rehab. Why you have no broken ribs or spine injuries is beyond me but you can be glad for that. Your physical condition is amazing for a man your age. Still, I think we will keep you here for observation for at least 10 days, perhaps more."

"10 days! Damn it, the fish are running." That made me crabby, it was just beginning Salmon season.

{There is this spot up the river where some huge boulders are, the fish move in there to wait out the outgoing tide. I usually manage a few of the big Chinook every year, a bobber and a gob of Salmon eggs works pretty good. I like that spot, it's out of sight from the road and not many people even know about it. If they don't fish it just right, they instantly get hung up, which is discouraging so most give up on the place. I cast so that the bait drifts right between the big boulders, the Salmon lay there out of the current and will nail the eggs as they drift by. Salmon are lazy, they don't like current much. Too deep, it hangs up, too shallow and they won't touch it. The tide has to be right, too. Just turning to outgoing, about an hour after high tide is best. I use a huge hook, a gob of eggs half the size of my fist. One would think a 25 pound Chinook Salmon would just nail the bait, but nope. They sort of gently nibble on it so to catch one, I really need to pay attention or they crush the eggs and move on.}

Of course I was busy explaining to the Doctor how I caught the fish, over the years those have gotten bigger, too. My biggest is 34 pounds, that is one big slab of fish, let me tell you.

I told the Doc it was 45 pounds, yeah, I know. Leave me alone, I am a fisherman, we all lie about that. By next year it might top 50 pounds.

OK, sorry about this last part, rambling, by now you know how my head works.

The Doctor seemed interested and laughed at that, told me to rest and he would be back to check on me. It hit me that the next time I went to my secret spot he would probably be sitting there.

I should probably keep my mouth shut.

And rest? Hell, I was stuck in a bed that was too damned narrow, barely long enough. I couldn't walk, not until my leg healed up some, and my wrists were right back in the same itchy casts that I had just gotten taken off less than three weeks ago. The right one wasn't broken, but they put on a soft type cast, something about torn ligaments.

Rest? Yeah, sure.

I was pouting, feeling sorry for myself, when in walked this red headed vision! About 5'4", maybe 25- 30 or so, even in a blue ankle length smock, she was clearly nicely built. She smiled at me, green eyes, even in my miserable state it was impossible to not notice her.

I like redheads.

+++

"Hello, sir. How are you feeling, any pain?" She asked, she didn't introduce herself.