NOT FOR SALE

 

by Roger Kiser, Sr.

 

"Is there any way I can get a cup of coffee with sugar?" asked

the homeless man, sitting in the hospital waiting room.

Still half asleep and just coming to work at Phoebe Putney

Memorial Hospital in Albany, Georgia, I waived my hand, back and

forth, as if to tell him not to bother me.

Entering the emergency room, I noticed Dr. McCall as he ran

behind one of the many drawn blue curtains, several nurses

following close behind.

"What's the deal?" I asked the nurse, sitting behind the nurse's station.

"Car accident victim, I think," she replied.

I walked over to the curtain and slowly peeked inside. That's

bad, I thought, as I saw an older woman on an ambulance gurney,

her right leg bent backwards beneath her body.

"Kiser, you wait out front and watch for her husband, Mr.

Champney. He is flying in from Atlanta and should be here in about

30 minutes," said the head nurse, as she quickly pointed her finger

toward the front of the hospital.

Walking toward the entrance I once again had to venture through

the emergency room waiting room.

"Is there any way I can get a cup of coffee with lots of sugar?"

asked the dingy fellow again.

Walking into the hospital gift shop I poured a half cup of hot

coffee and dumped in about a half cup of sugar. Waiting for the

gentleman to arrive, I constantly watched though the large glass

windows as I walked back to the waiting room and handed the coffee to the man.

We knew Jeffrey, as he constantly visited the hospital emergency

room, several times a week, with one ailment or another. Just the

week before he had a rectal itching problem, so we gave him a four

pack of suppositories. Several hours later he returned and told us

that his problem had not been relieved. When the nurse asked him if

he used one of the suppositories, he replied, "I used two of 'em but

they sure tasted waxy."

It took everything Dr. McCall could do to keep from falling

down on the floor and laughing.

I stood outside for more than an hour waiting for the gentleman

to arrive. All at once, a black Cadillac raced into the driveway and

came to a screeching halt. A well dressed man opened the back door

of the car and headed toward me.

"Champney here. Where is my wife?" shouted the large man, in a

very authoritative voice.

As he pushed everyone to the side, I tried to explain that she

was in the emergency room when I last saw her. As we reached the

emergency room door, I carefully reached up and placed my hand on his arm.

"You wait here and I'll see what's happening. No one allowed

inside, except hospital personnel." All at once, the man pushed me,

causing me to fall against the wall. "HEY!" I yelled, "You can't

go in there."

The gentleman stopped, gave me a very stern look, and

pointed his finger at me.

Backing up from his large finger in my face, I pointed to the

seating area, I said, "You sit down over there and I'll find out

where your wife is so you can see her." Slowly, the man turned

and began walking away.

"YOU STINK LIKE HELL," Champney screamed at Jeffrey, as he

quickly moved away from him.

Jeffrey smiled, reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out the

two remaining suppositories and said to the man, "Would you

like a candy?"

I smiled and walk into the emergency room.

Several minutes later, I walked back to the waiting room and

began to explain to Mr. Champney that the doctor was having a very

difficult time finding blood. She had a very unusual blood type.

"I know she has an AB- blood type. Don't you fellows have any?"

he asked, shaking his hands furiously in front of him.

"Excuse me," said Jeffrey as he interrupted our conversation.

"WILL YOU SHUT UP!" screamed Champney, as he pointed directly at Jeffrey.

Slowly closing his mouth and looking down at the floor, Jeffrey

moved backwards and took his seat in the corner.

The next thing I knew Dr. McCall's hand was resting on my shoulder.

"Roger, let me have a minute here," he told me.

I walked several paces away and stopped. He explained to Mr.

Champney that his wife was in need of blood and that none was

available. The nearest AB- blood he was able to locate was in

Jacksonville, Florida and that it would take several hours for it to

arrive.

"Can I have some more coffee with sugar?" Jeffrey asked me.

I walked over, took his cup and turned to walk away.

"I have AB- blood in my veins," he mumbled.

I winked at him, jokingly, then walked away to go get his coffee.

Upon returning, I saw Mr. Champney bent over with his head and

arms resting on the water fountain. Saying not a word, I walked over

to Jeffrey and handed him his coffee.

"Really, I have AB- blood," he replied once again.

Still saying nothing, I walked back into the emergency room

and went over to Dr. McCall.

"What are we going to do?" I asked him.

"Need that blood and we need it quick," he replied.

"Doc, that leg looked pretty bad when I saw it," I voiced.

"That leg is going to be okay. The surgeon is on his way.

It's the blood loss I'm concerned about."

"This may be nothing but that Jeffrey fellow says he has

an AB- blood type," I said.

With a strange look on his face, Dr. McCall turned and walked

toward the waiting room. Within seconds he had Jeffrey by the arm

and was walking him into the ER. The laboratory technician was

summoned and performed several blood tests. Sure enough, it was

found that dirty, old homeless Jeffrey had a very rare blood type

classified as AB-.

I immediately walked back to the waiting room and told Mr.

Champney of the news. Doctor McCall and Jeffrey were walking

out of the ER when Champney yelled, "I'll buy all the blood you will sell

me."

"My blood is not for sale," Jeffrey told him, in a very firm

voice. Champney's eyes immediately enlarged to the size

of golf balls and he stood there speechless.

I watched as McCall and Jeffrey disappeared down the long

hallway towards the Pennington Ambulance section.

"You wait here and I'll have a talk with him," I told Champney.

I walked into the gift shop and poured myself a cup of coffee

and headed down the hallway to find Dr. McCall. After searching

for about ten minutes, I located both of them in the doctor's lounge.

Jeffrey was in the shower, covered from head to toe with surgical

soap and Dr. McCall was scrubbing him with what appeared to be

a large toilet brush.

I stood there looking at Jeffrey's dirty, skinny, naked body --

his ribs almost protruding threw his sides -- wondering the entire

time how such a body could have something, almost as valuable as

gold, flowing through its veins.

"Are you going to let that woman die?" I asked him.

"Well of course not."

"But you said your blood was not for sale."

"It's not for sale," he replied.

Dr. McCall smiled at me and then patted Jeffrey on the back

several times. Soap splattered everywhere.

Within the hour, the surgeon had arrived and the woman and

Jeffrey were taken into surgery.

Several hours later, Jeffrey was once again sitting in the

waiting room, along with Mr. Champney. Both were laughing and

drinking coffee together.

Later that afternoon Junior, Wilbur and I took Mrs. Champney, by

ambulance, to the airport and loaded her onto a private plane. I was

standing on the runway when I saw the black Cadillac drive out onto

the tarmac. As the door opened, I watched as Mr. Champney and

Jeffrey emerged from the vehicle. I smiled as I looked at Jeffrey.

It was the first time I had ever seen him clean and all dressed up.

"Look at me," said Jeffrey, with tears in his eyes.

"The tie looks good, Mr. Jeffrey," I said, nodding my head

forward and saluting from my brow with two fingers.

"Would you like a candy?" he asked me, as he reached toward his

shirt pocket.

"No thank you, sir," I said, with a smile, as I watched the two

of them board the plane together.



Sugar Syl Says:
The kindness you spread today
 will be gathered up and returned to you tomorrow.

Faith is the strength by which a shattered world shall emerge into the light.

Helen Keller

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