Patient Cornbread...and I ain't referring to the adjective...

When I was little, my mama used to always say, “you are just like your daddy!” Back then, I took offense to this b/c normally when I had gotten myself into some sort of trouble.

Now, I understand what she meant. My dad and I have very similar personalities.

Well, for those who do not know, my daddy was in the hospital last week. I’ll tell you, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows by any means; but it never fails, my daddy is bound to do something to crack me up.

So, last Wednesday, my daddy was not a happy camper. Not at all. He had been on pretty much a liquid diet since Sunday night. They had cut off foods and liquids on Monday night at midnight, thinking the test he needed to take would be early Tuesday morning. SURPRISE! The doctor wasn’t working that day. So, Tuesday at midnight had rolled around and they starved him again. Grumpy doesn’t even begin to describe his mood Wednesday morning, bless his heart.

We walked in to a miserable Cornbread sitting on his bed, arms crossed and eyes rolling. Mama made the mistake of asking if he’d slept good…

“No, I didn’t sleep good, that old man (the other patient in the room) had his tv going wide a$$ open all night!”

(Thank the Lord the man in the room was deaf as a door knob…which is why his tv was so loud.)

Then we met his nurse of the day, a woman who will ever be known nurse Hitler with the napoleon complex. That woman was mean as a snake. —By the end of the day I was ready to call up friends to round me up some bail money b/c I was ready to throw something at the witch-- After arguing with dad over the time of his test, and several other things, she came back in with paperwork.

“Sir, are you Jehovah’s Witness?”

“Hell no! I’m Baptist! Why in the devil are you asking me that?”

“Jehovah’s Witness don’t accept blood.”

“Oh. Well, I’ve donated 12 gallons of blood over the years. Lotta good that did.” Oh my Lord, was he grumpy.

As a side note, I have to tell y’all…I my sister and I were cracking up the first night we went to see dad.

We had to park in the ABC Liquor parking lot (which I later found out is frowned upon). We start to walk to the doors of the hospital, and we see a doctor lift the back of his Honda CRV. One of those oxygen tanks on wheels comes barreling out and fell on his foot, and he has to chase it across the parking lot. Beeb and I were the rude girls doubled over laughing.

Then, we get in the elevators… For those of y’all having to visit the hospital, there are a few issues with the elevators. There is one elevator, that has the option to go to the fifth floor, but it won’t allow you to go to the fifth floor (even if you push the button a bazillion times…). We went up to the fourth, I pressed the button for like the third time and it didn’t light up, then we started going back down. Well, Rheba got the bright idea to go to the fourth and then take the stairs… Somewhere along the lines, she got out of the elevator and said “screw this,” I didn’t follow, so the doors shut with her standing on the floor, with hands raised going “Wth?” …Then I forgot which floor I lost her on…. I was giggling the entire time going back up the floors trying to figure it out. The nurse thought I was “special.” When we finally got up to the fifth floor, I was about to fall out from laughing so hard.

It’s always an adventure with the Sheffield clan.

Speaking of which...guess where I'm going tomorrow night? My dad wants me to go to a Dog Hunters Association banquet. I don't hunt. So this should be fun. What do I even wear??