After Midnight

What is wrong with this place? It was only about twenty minutes past midnight on a Friday when the bandleader apologetically called things off. Apparently it was the end of their third set. They were done. No more Monk, no Mercer, no Gershwin for us. Maybe if I'd waved triple figures to them it may've made a difference, but I'm a nurse, not a doctor.

We finished up after just getting there, then went home and let our fingers do the walking. What a nice way to end the evening. Oh well. Too early for us New Yorkers in the valley of the sun. But is it ever too early?

She was the nicest old lady, ninety-five but going on only seventy, if you know what I mean. "No," she'd say, "Not this time," when I'd answer her call light and ask her if she needed a little assistance to the bathroom again. She just wanted the phone put in her reach.

She'd had a colonoscopy that morning, after having a rough time with the GoLytely prep the day before.

At one point she had vomited a bit of it, and I was obliged to let Dr. N. know about that. He was, like the other gastroenterologists in his service, a bit strict about bowel preparations, so I knew when I called him what he was going to say. "Sounds like she needs an NG tube," he said. Right on, I thought. Like that would help.

She was so good about it, and she apologized to me as if it were somehow her fault or something. I used a 14 French and she took it like a champ. I promised I'd take it out as soon as she had gotten all the prep, so she only had the thing down her nose for an hour or two.

Even after the insertion of it she vomited a little more of the prep solution, but it was plenty enough to get her going. At one point, upon assisting her to go, the stool was so explosive it got all over the walls of the bathroom up to about waist-height. Poor woman. But she was so good-natured about it all.

The young one was doing a sleep-over at her best friends' apartment so we went to a hot new tapas restaurant, and our waitress there was someone we were familiar with from another place, a Thai eatery that we also like.

Weird. That never happens. You can go about for months here and never run into anyone you've ever met before. The Valley is big and wide with many millions of people in it, almost all strangers.

The tapas place was crowded, noisy, and served good food. We'll go again and do the whole menu eventually. Interesting crowd, too. I wasn't the only person there with odd eyeglasses.

Then we went to the local blues club and danced with about every lesbian in the Valley, it seemed. That's always a special treat. The all-woman band we heard brings this on, or maybe it's the place itself. A good and safe hangout. Seems like every time we go there the audience is less than half straight. I like that. Reminds me of my college days.

We stayed for two sets before we took off. Since we weren't really yet ready to call it a night we tried the jazz place. But that ended before it began for us. I guess I don't really know where to hear jazz in the Valley. My stereo, probably's the best place. Plays after midnight, anyways.

The colonoscopy was negative, thank goodness. Such a sweet woman. No matter what happens, she'll be okay.