Life can sometimes be summed up in one sentence. “Well, that didn’t go as planned.”
Our sister-in-law, Myrtle, who lives in Denver, can attest to that fact.
“Hi, Myrt! How’s it going today?” I asked her, as she picked up the phone.
“Ugh. I’m looking at my poor floor. The wood is buckling in the laundry room and in the hall.”
“Oh my gosh, did the water do all that damage?”
Myrtle continued on with her story.
“And on top of that, I’m walking around looking at this mess with tea bags stuffed in my mouth to stop the bleeding from the surgery,” she moaned.
“Ha. That’s funny, Myrt.!”
“My neck is black and blue, the left side of my face is bruised, I have a black eye, and I am not looking my best, that’s for sure!”
Here’s her story.
Myrtle recently underwent dental surgery for the eventual implant for a new tooth. Since there wasn’t enough bone in her gum for this procedure, she needed a bone graft first.
Myrtle had the surgery about a week ago. Bad words have gone off in her head ever since.
This first phase involved extracting some bone from her jaw, and mixing that bone with donor bone. The mixture was then “planted” in the deficient bone area.
In a procedure like this, a combination of de-mineralized, sterile human bone and the patient’s own bone is used to build up the jaw bone, creating enough width and height to accommodate dental implants. While this sounds pretty scary at first, the truth is that bone grafting in the oral cavity today is a routine, predictable and painless procedure. But, a tooth tied to a string wrapped around a door knob, it aint!
The plot thickens. The day before the surgery, Myrtle’s washer broke down. It was a toss-up whether to fix the ailing machine, or to get a new one. Myrtle opted to buy a new washer. It was scheduled for delivery the day after her surgery.
Myrtle had the surgery. It was not a picnic. More like a tsunami!
A friend drove her home afterwards, and Myrtle immediately went to bed. She looked like she had been in a battle with a boxing kangaroo and the kangaroo won. By then, her face and neck were bruised as well as her feelings.
Myrt hit the bed.
The next morning, the washer arrived. Myrtle still felt like she had been run over by a washing machine. The medication no doubt was still in effect and her body was screaming, “sleep, sleep.”
Myrtle arose from her “death” bed to supervise the operation as best as she could. The service guys appeared to be in a toot to get the washer installed ASAP. Obviously, thought Myrtle, they were working on a tight schedule. Myrtle asked them to give her time to clean up the space behind the washer, and the men seemed to be impatient and in a hurry. Dust is NOT on their agenda. But, she got it done, in spite of her wooziness. The washer was hooked up, and Myrtle crept back to bed. The men turned on the washer and left.
Much later, she got up, walked into the hall, and her feet squished in water everywhere she walked. She soon discovered that the washer water had been spilling out over the floor, flooding her new wood floors. She ran to the downstairs basement area to turn off the water. There, she saw water dripping from the ceiling that was located under the laundry area.
Here she stood, bruised and battered, and now this!
“I had neither the energy, nor the stamina to clean this mess up. I got on the phone and called the store.”
It seems that the men did not fasten the water hose down in the drain pipe when they turned the washer on and left. The hose had jumped out of the pipe and flooded the floor. Handy, they weren’t.
Myrtle was devastated. She had just remodeled the entire first floor, installing inlay wood floors throughout the laundry, bathroom, foyer, hall and living room.
Now, several days later, the repair is beginning. At this point, the floors are buckling, and the water has found its way to other locations in the floor. The buckling of the floor is higher than Pike’s Peak!
I don’t think that she feels sorry for the men who were in such a hurry to get the washer hooked up and running. She said something about doing dental surgery on them!
But now talking with Myrtle on the phone five days later, she appears to be in much better shape though she still mumbles. She looks rough, but she feigns improvement.
It’s her emotions that have taken a beating. But Myrtle is a tough old bird, and she goes with the flow. It’s the mental picture I have of her walking around with tea bags in her gums that makes me laugh ... That, and the image of the two repairmen with bandages on their jaws.
Hey, when life gives us lemons, eat the lemons!

Judi Tabler lives in Pawnee County and is a guest columnist for the Great Bend Tribune. She can be reached at bluegrasses@gmail.com. Visit her website juditabler.com.