Urgent Care

It is 8:30 pm, I am in bed watching season two of The Boys on Prime.  Firefly is in the bathroom taking a shower.  I am looking forward to one last even with her when my phone rings.  My son Maxwell works the evening shift unloading at Lowes.  He dropped a pallet on his foot and they want him to get an x-ray.

"Can you take me to get an x-ray?"  He asks.

"Yeah, of course I will be right there."  The store is just five minutes from the house.

I get up, slide into a pair of jeans and tell Firefly the situation through the bathroom door before taking off.

"That okay my mom wants me to stop over, anyway.  She says she has something for me,"  Firefly tells me.

I take the new Gladiator up to Lowes and park in the fire lane out front.  I check my phone for open urgent care facilities in the area.  Most of the ones that deal with workman's compensation injuries are closed.  The nearest 24 hour one is an hour away.  Max comes limping out a few minutes later.  He is wearing a black Vans pullover hoodie and jeans.

I suggest we go to a Henry Ford urgent care that is right up the road and he agrees.  It is just past 9:00 pm when we get there but the place seems deserted.  I drop Max off at the door and park the Gladiator.  When I reach the entrance they already have him in a wheelchair but the nurse working the door tells me I have to wait in the car.  They are not allowing guests in with the patients.

I head back out toward the truck to wait.  I cannot help be admire the truck under the parking lot lights.  I am still in awe of it.  It is a mighty beast.  I stop an take a photo.  It is blurry but a car pulled in near by will I was snapping the image and I didn't want to appear to be gawking over my own vehicle so I did not take another.

An elderly security guard wheeled Max out thirty minutes later.  His foot is bruised and may have a hairline fracture but nothing serious. 

"Do you want to get your truck, now or just wait till tomorrow?"  My house, his mother's house where he lives and the Lowes are all within a five mile radius.

"I'll get it tomorrow,"  he informs me, so I head for his home.

"Don't you have safety boots?"  I ask on the ride.

"I do, but I decided to wear my tennis shoes today."  Apparently work boots are not required.

This morning I text him.  "How is your foot?"

"Better but bruised to hell."