Ty was still broke. He no longer mainlined stolen pharmaceutical grade opioids. He no longer slept with women of questionable morals who had a husband and children at home. He no longer stood naked on the interstate showing the speeding headlights the length of his happiness. No, Ty had cleaned up his act and yet he was still broke.
Having, only five months prior, moved across country on a good idea and a $10,000 Chevy Chase Gold Card*, Ty was surprised to find his Eldorado repo'd, no money in the bank, and a billing statement for $10,005. As he saw it, there wasn't much more for him to do. He was registered with Stat Nursing, pulling a few shifts a week at different hospitals, going to meetings on a regular basis, and spending money only as he needed. The frustration of having moved 2000 miles just to be poor where the weather was better, wasn't paying off emotionally. Having had enough, he did what his friends in the rooms had suggested. He talked to God about it... well, more like, yelled at God about it. Ty was not one for doing things on the half-assed scale**. "LOOK! I don't know if this was a good idea or not. But, it was an idea. I did something different. I thought that was the answer--not repeating the same mistakes. So...if you want me to stay here, you're gonna have to get me $12,000. I gotta pay the bills and get some wheels. I don't know how you're going to do it--it sure as heck isn't gonna be from that damn job I'm working--and I don't know when you're going to do it, but I need it fast!" And then he just stood there. The earth did not move, the ground did not shake, money did not fall from the sky. He just picked up the brush and continued on the eye the was painting.
The Yelling-At-God-Plan took place on December 29, 1996. Earlier that year Ty had divorced, quit his job as a nurse, gave up the 12 room Victorian, and had started waiting tables. He had done all of this to change his luck. Part of the Luck-Changing-Plan was to attend school at the University of Southern Indiana. It was the middle of summer, he was learning philosophy from a very nice man in a non-air conditioned room full of very backward people. One day, as the next bead of sweat rolled off his nose, he asked himself why he was there. Not "there" in the classroom, but "there" in Southern Indiana. He had no ties and no motivation to stay. He left the class, headed to the library, and found a city atlas.
This city atlas held statistics for all of the incorporated cities in the United States. Each were rated in ten different categories. He took the three categories that were the most important to him, weather, arts/culture availability, diversity, and doubled those scores, then recalculated the tables. Unsurprisingly, the top five results, in no certain order, were: Miami, Chicago, Atlanta, New York and San Francisco.
Great opportunity. 12 hours meant 4 hours at time and half. And since it wasn't for medical need, this meant Ty didn't have to be on his feet all day. He was grateful and took the gig. Plenty of sleep, a good breakfast and a 90 min commute into the city to UCSF and Ty was ready to kiss ass and make some money.
William Hewitt was recovering from heart surgery. He wasn't a bad bloke. Pleasant enough [he was recovering from surgery, after all], and it was easy for Ty to move him around. Mr. Hewit was 6'2". Ty was 6' and 300lbs. The patient mostly rested, the nurse mostly considered what bills to pay first. The shift went well.
At 8 pm, as he was walking in the front door of his crapy apartment in crapy Alameda, the phone was ringing. It was Jonathan. Jonathan, was excited and happy and in a mood to beg. "Please, please, please do another 12 hours tomorrow. He was so impressed with you. Please, please, please." Without hesitation, Ty agreed. That will be time and a half for the first 8 hours and then double time for the last 4. It was a little easier to sleep in his crappy futon that last day of 1996.
The first sign that this was going to be not only an interesting shift, and not only an interesting year, but also and interesting life came when the surgeon made his rounds. As they were talking, Mr. Hewitt said to the doctor, "... it doesn't matter at this point because I am going home today."
Surgeon: "Well, OK, I won't argue, but I would like to state that I think you still need someone to assist you with your activities of daily living. Now is not the time for you to fall or injure yourself."
Patient: "Not a problem, doctor. I'm taking him with me."
In an instant Ty's inner dialog went from "Fuck you, telling me what to do." to "What will I wear?"
When the doctor left, Mr. Hewitt said, "Don't worry about the money, you will be well taken care of. I just need to know if you will agree to come up to my place for a time. You'll have a room to yourself, my chief is great, and, you will enjoy the property. What do you say?" What could he say, but yes.
Mr Hewitt got on the phone, Ty excused himself, grabbed some linens in the linen room to get ready to bath the patient. As he walked back into the room, he heard Mr. Hewitt say on the phone, "Yes, drive up in the '76 Roles." Then he heard him whisper. "Oh, and Rick, tell Laura to stock up on food. He's a big one."
To be continued.....
*The subtlest, best, improved, one-liner I have ever heard was, upon me flashing my new card in front of him, John Young said, "Oh, for the Practical joker."
**Half-assed scale: Grandpa always use to say, "Son, I'd like to measure the work you just did, but my half-assed scale is broke."
Having, only five months prior, moved across country on a good idea and a $10,000 Chevy Chase Gold Card*, Ty was surprised to find his Eldorado repo'd, no money in the bank, and a billing statement for $10,005. As he saw it, there wasn't much more for him to do. He was registered with Stat Nursing, pulling a few shifts a week at different hospitals, going to meetings on a regular basis, and spending money only as he needed. The frustration of having moved 2000 miles just to be poor where the weather was better, wasn't paying off emotionally. Having had enough, he did what his friends in the rooms had suggested. He talked to God about it... well, more like, yelled at God about it. Ty was not one for doing things on the half-assed scale**. "LOOK! I don't know if this was a good idea or not. But, it was an idea. I did something different. I thought that was the answer--not repeating the same mistakes. So...if you want me to stay here, you're gonna have to get me $12,000. I gotta pay the bills and get some wheels. I don't know how you're going to do it--it sure as heck isn't gonna be from that damn job I'm working--and I don't know when you're going to do it, but I need it fast!" And then he just stood there. The earth did not move, the ground did not shake, money did not fall from the sky. He just picked up the brush and continued on the eye the was painting.
The Yelling-At-God-Plan took place on December 29, 1996. Earlier that year Ty had divorced, quit his job as a nurse, gave up the 12 room Victorian, and had started waiting tables. He had done all of this to change his luck. Part of the Luck-Changing-Plan was to attend school at the University of Southern Indiana. It was the middle of summer, he was learning philosophy from a very nice man in a non-air conditioned room full of very backward people. One day, as the next bead of sweat rolled off his nose, he asked himself why he was there. Not "there" in the classroom, but "there" in Southern Indiana. He had no ties and no motivation to stay. He left the class, headed to the library, and found a city atlas.
This city atlas held statistics for all of the incorporated cities in the United States. Each were rated in ten different categories. He took the three categories that were the most important to him, weather, arts/culture availability, diversity, and doubled those scores, then recalculated the tables. Unsurprisingly, the top five results, in no certain order, were: Miami, Chicago, Atlanta, New York and San Francisco.
- Miami: Ty had spent time in the Ft Lauderdale area for 3 summers and had moved there right after high school. He did not want to run into that past.
- Chicago: He had always hated it there, too cold and too midwestern.
- Atlanta: Having never met anyone who had ever moved to Atlanta caused him to discount the possibility.
- New York: A place he had always dreamt of running away to, however, this was not a running away event. The City seemed too fast and he the wrong age to consider the Big Apple.
- That left...
San Francisco: Great weather, great diversity, great opportunities, and many people had moved there before. Within 6 weeks, he had sold most everything he owned, packed the Eldorado, said goodbye, and headed towards St Louis. [Ty had never been farther than St Louis, so, to get out of the drive way, he told himself he was just gonna go see the arch. It stayed the fear and allowed him to press the gas.] Now Ty found himself, broke, fearful, and yelling at God.
On December 30, 1996, Jonathan, the scheduler at Stat, called about an assignment. "We have had some problems with this case. The guy only needs a CNA, but, we need someone who can be gentle but firm, and we thought you would be perfect. He's a VIP, and we want the repeat business. Are you available for a 12 hour shift tomorrow?"
On December 30, 1996, Jonathan, the scheduler at Stat, called about an assignment. "We have had some problems with this case. The guy only needs a CNA, but, we need someone who can be gentle but firm, and we thought you would be perfect. He's a VIP, and we want the repeat business. Are you available for a 12 hour shift tomorrow?"
Great opportunity. 12 hours meant 4 hours at time and half. And since it wasn't for medical need, this meant Ty didn't have to be on his feet all day. He was grateful and took the gig. Plenty of sleep, a good breakfast and a 90 min commute into the city to UCSF and Ty was ready to kiss ass and make some money.
William Hewitt was recovering from heart surgery. He wasn't a bad bloke. Pleasant enough [he was recovering from surgery, after all], and it was easy for Ty to move him around. Mr. Hewit was 6'2". Ty was 6' and 300lbs. The patient mostly rested, the nurse mostly considered what bills to pay first. The shift went well.
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| photo by: free use rights off the internet |
At 8 pm, as he was walking in the front door of his crapy apartment in crapy Alameda, the phone was ringing. It was Jonathan. Jonathan, was excited and happy and in a mood to beg. "Please, please, please do another 12 hours tomorrow. He was so impressed with you. Please, please, please." Without hesitation, Ty agreed. That will be time and a half for the first 8 hours and then double time for the last 4. It was a little easier to sleep in his crappy futon that last day of 1996.
The first sign that this was going to be not only an interesting shift, and not only an interesting year, but also and interesting life came when the surgeon made his rounds. As they were talking, Mr. Hewitt said to the doctor, "... it doesn't matter at this point because I am going home today."
Surgeon: "Well, OK, I won't argue, but I would like to state that I think you still need someone to assist you with your activities of daily living. Now is not the time for you to fall or injure yourself."
Patient: "Not a problem, doctor. I'm taking him with me."
In an instant Ty's inner dialog went from "Fuck you, telling me what to do." to "What will I wear?"
When the doctor left, Mr. Hewitt said, "Don't worry about the money, you will be well taken care of. I just need to know if you will agree to come up to my place for a time. You'll have a room to yourself, my chief is great, and, you will enjoy the property. What do you say?" What could he say, but yes.
Mr Hewitt got on the phone, Ty excused himself, grabbed some linens in the linen room to get ready to bath the patient. As he walked back into the room, he heard Mr. Hewitt say on the phone, "Yes, drive up in the '76 Roles." Then he heard him whisper. "Oh, and Rick, tell Laura to stock up on food. He's a big one."
To be continued.....
*The subtlest, best, improved, one-liner I have ever heard was, upon me flashing my new card in front of him, John Young said, "Oh, for the Practical joker."
**Half-assed scale: Grandpa always use to say, "Son, I'd like to measure the work you just did, but my half-assed scale is broke."
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