Jim recovered. HooRay. It started as a simple appendix operation but because it wasn't made correctly, it took a extra day in Northwest Community Hospital.
Lori was so brave for her first trial with Jims' illness. Nerves of steel. And plenty of laughs at Jim's expense.
Heck we were all laughing. Sorry Jim, it must be an Elliott thing.
It didn't end at the hospital. We were all curious. When the boys were told come on over and see dads operation marks, Nate ran away and Owen got closer.He was so interested. Jim had a drain out his side flowing into a little bottle.
Owen couldn't wait to check it out. He wanted the bandage removed so he could see better.. Maybe our first doctor in the family, except for Jacob back in 1786.
When I took the photo, we were all laughing so hard we had tears.
Just the opposite happened this morning at Panera. Yes, the front window boys were all giving it to each other for a couple hours.
I saw two friends in the back, Margaret & Mary H. Mary laughed about my adventures in this blog. I said it was getting difficult to find adventures to write about. And today would be slow.
I walked from them toward the front and noticed an elderly man, (compared to me) sitting with a much younger woman. He was about 5'08 230lbs hunched over, his hair cut too short around the ears and his hair sticking almost straight up--silver of course.
I immediately knew it was his Day Out with his daughter. He sat there with that blank stare listening to her tell him such important things as he shouldn't eat this or that.
Maybe, asking about long dead relatives or just sitting there trying to exchange thoughts. But too many years behind his ears made it tough.
I went up front and poured another cup of coffee when who should be there also.
Hi, they let you out for the day. A dazed look appeared on his face, suddenly he picked up on what I was saying, for instantly, he smiled and shook his head. Yeap, my daughter is taking me out.
He said its tough to listen to her advise me Oh not advise but tell me what I'm doing wrong. She thinks I've been 88 yrs old all my life, but then they all do.
Its my anniversary tomorrow. You know, Sept 21st 1944. I was taken prisoner by the Germans in France. 300 days they had me. They beat us terrible, why I carry this (injury) on my left hand.
300 days, were they long days? What an ass I am!
He tried to talk but choked up and tears came to his eyes. He shook his head and mumbled, it was bad.
I introduced myself and he said My Name Is Art...Art Koziol.
I'm glad I talked to you.
I then walked to his daughter and said he must have wonderfull stories. Have you recorded any.
We can't get him to talk, not now and not ever.
I will never ever forget the few seconds I spent with this man.
Another Day Sept 20, 2008, another of Jim Elliott's Adventures.
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