As you are probably already aware my wife Kathie is in the Wheaton Care Center.

During my frequent visits to the Center, I have been introduced to the traveling nurses.

Traveling nurses have no hospital or care center to call home. Instead, they sign on to various hospital or care centers to work a set number of days and then move on to a new work site.

Over the past couple of weeks, I have copied their work style.

No, I am not a nurse, instead I call myself a traveling patient.

Let me explain.

First of all, for all my life I have been harassed with lumps developing in a variety of areas in my body.

In my teens my face blossomed into a patchwork of zits.

My first year in Wheaton I discovered a lump under my left breast area. The removal was scheduled for the next week.

Thank goodness I was not aware that men as well as women can develop breast cancer.

Not being aware of that fact saved me a week free from worry.

When I returned a week later all prepared for the big surgery the mysterious lump had disappeared!

My most embarrassing lump revealed itself when our grandchildren were small.

The lump grew quite large, and it was located on my chest.

The grandchildren were in awe of it and referred to it as Grandpa’s third boob! 🙂

We always take a family vacation in July. I wear my dated swim trunks as the grandchildren gatherer around and question me about my third boob.

After lecturing on that topic for a half dozen years the talk became quite polished. I’m not ready for a medical school presentation, however.

Most of the growths were a type of cyst and two weeks ago I had another cyst on my back removed.

This is the moment that I became a practicing “traveling patient”.

This time the cyst was removed by a surgeon, and he used stitches to close the wound.

That meant every morning before showering I had to reach behind my back, secure the bandage and rip it off.

I used the shower water to clean the area containing the stitches.

At this point a big problem arose. The stitches were in the middle of my back and required a new bandage after showering.  I couldn’t see them and with Kathie in the care center I had no one to help me.

So, I could either play “pin the bandage on the stitches” or become a traveling patient.

I became a traveling patient!

A nurse at the care center volunteered to act as my first caregiver.

Several other nurses followed suit as the weeks rolled by.

The hardest part of being a traveling patient is remembering to keep a bandage in your pocket.

Several times I forgot the bandage and had to make the three- mile trek home to get one.

This morning, I remembered the bandage but forgot to ask someone to slap it on my back. 🙁

I was at a Bible study led by my brother-in-law, Fr. Stan. (How would you like to go to confession to your brother-in-law?)

My plan was to ask Fr. Stan to do the bandage applying procedure.

I forgot and he was out the door before the bandage request could be made.

I didn’t panic as I knew I needed to visit the city library, and I was a good friend with the librarian.

With no nursing experience I was very impressed with her medical skills.

I explained the situation to her, and she hustled back into her office. When she returned, she was wearing a pair of plastic gloves!

Now that’s class!  🙂

Through the weeks I made several visits to our local clinic. That was very impressive as the doctor’s assistants were decked out in pretty blue uniforms. Plus, they were able to analyze the healing process around the stitches.

Thank goodness neither of them suggested I take a quick blood pressure check as that would have surely disturbed my white coat syndrome!

What was the most unusual bandage applier you ask?

That would have to be Tony the probation officer. When he came in for coffee that morning applying a bandage was the last thing on his mind.

I thanked him and suggested if he decided to change careers nursing would be a great option.

He didn’t look convinced.

Oh, we can’t forget the choir loft bandage! The young lady sitting directly in front of me was a nurse and I had a fresh bandage in my pocket.

No, we didn’t lift my shirt and expose the congregation to my bare back. We were discreet and stepped into the hallway to make the bandage exchange.

Then there was the chiropractor visiting his mother at the care center. At least twice he applied the bandages to my back.

I was a little disappointed he didn’t crack my back either time.  🙁

The receptionist at the eye doctor’s office was enthusiastic to apply the bandages.

I suppose a bare back with stitches was a pleasant break from dealing with glass frames and eye- balls!

Today I return to the Wheaton Hospital to finally remove my stitches.

My days as a traveling patient are over.

I just had a terrible thought as I end my search for bandage appliers! What if a cyst returns and it is located on my butt?

Then we are back to the drawing board, and I’ll cross that bridge when and if it comes.

What has this experience taught me?

To quote Hillary Clinton, “It takes a village….”

Thank you, village!  🙂

Until next time.