I have this roommate and we have the same name, Francis. When we have friends over they yell “Hey, Frank,” or “Frankie” and one of us will answer. We hear a lot of, “Not you, the other Frank.” When it’s just the two of us, I’ll say, “Hey Frank,” and he’ll mumble “Yeah? What?” because he’s usually watching television and he’s bugged that I’m interrupting him.
Frank and I are both part-time waiters in a local pub and we’re both college students. Frank is studying history in hopes of being a high school teacher and coach. I’m a nursing student, in my final year, which consists mostly of clinical rotations.
On the first day of our “community clinical” the professor asked each of us to tell the class our name and to state why we sought a bachelor of science degree in nursing. I’m the only guy in this clinical group. When it was my turn I said in my best James Earl Jones voice, “My name is Frank and I just want to jump out of helicopters and save people’s lives.”
When I was a kid I was on the small side. Not very tall and too thin for my liking. But, I was fairly athletic. To prove I was good enough to make the team, whether a school football team or just a pick-up baseball game I always made sure to run the fastest, throw the most accurately, or hit the hardest. I was named for my grandfather. And even thought I loved Gramps, I always hated being named Francis.
As a kid I wanted to, alternately, be a fireman, pilot or doctor. Then in college it hit me: Wait! I can be all three. Well, kind of...
Unlike my roomie, Frank, I’m just above average as a student, so probably couldn’t make medical school. I’m the kind that has to work hard at it, while Frank barely cracks a book and aces every class. I decided that I didn’t really want to be a pilot anymore. But, I do know I’d like to make a difference. So, I took the firefighter test and got my lottery number. I can start as an ems, while I work as a hospital critical care nurse until I have enough experience at both to get a job as a flight nurse.
Frank watches a lot of those shows like American Pickers, Storage Wars and Pawn Stars. So, whenever I try to get rid of anything, like when we have duplicates of something he’ll say, “Dude, do you know what that’s worth? You could sell that.”
“Yeah, but I don’t need it and maybe someone could use it...”
“Yeah well, just keep your mitts offa my stuff.”
We’ve been roomies for a couple of years now and sometimes we get on each others nerves. I like to get things done. Frank is more laid back. I think he’s a slob. He says I'm "fastidious." And there's the fact that he’s managed to accumulate a ton of stuff in just a couple of years. But, basically, Frank is a decent guy.
In my nursing community clinical we go out to make free, weekly home health visits to interested people in the neighborhood near the university. Mostly they are poor elderly people living independently. We take their blood pressure, check their pulse, make sure they understand their meds, and give them general suggestions on improving their health and safety. Suggestions like eating right, taking meds as prescribed, securing rugs so they can maneuver safely, not plugging too many extension cords into one of those multi-plug outlets and such. I’ve been assigned to visit this old guy, Charlie. Charlie is 79 years old and lives alone in a studio apartment in a housing development. I’m shocked to learn that he has no living immediate family.
Charlie takes prescribed medications for his diabetes, blood pressure, cholesterol, an anti-coagulant, and an anti-depressant. I teach him to fill one of those huge pill-minder boxes. I make him a chart for his refrigerator that will help him to remember the times each day to take his meds. I secure a mechanical pencil to the chart, so when he opens the refrigerator it will bang the door and remind him to check his log. If he doesn’t comply he could miss necessary doses or overdose.
When my half semester with him was coming to an end, I wrote copious notes for the next nursing student assigned to Charlie. Then, I asked him if there was anything else he needed. “No, not right now, I’m pretty good, thanks to your help, Frank.” Then, “Um, well, uh...” he hesitates.
“What is it, buddy? You can ask me.”
“Well, you don’t happen to know anyone who has an old air conditioner they don’t need? I have a few dollars set aside. It gets so hot here on the top floor in the summer. I have a fan, but it doesn’t really help much come summertime. In the winter, we get good heat, but in the summer it seems like all the heat rises to my floor. But, no, that’s too much to ask...” he voice drifts off.
“Let me see what I can do, Charlie. I’ll let you know.”
Yesterday I asked Frank if he could help me move my air-conditioner from the storage locker downstairs to a apartment in the neighborhood.
“Dude, it’s Christmas!!”
“Well, not exactly, Frank. It’s only the 22nd. So, technically it’s Christmas Eve-eve-eve.”
“I don’t have time,” he tells me. “I haven’t even bought my sister a gift yet. Besides, why are you selling your air conditioner in the middle of winter? You could sell it in the summer for primo price on Craig’s List.”
“I’m not selling it, I’m giving it to one of my community nursing patients.”
“Oh, jeez,” he shakes his head.
“Frank, listen, Charlie really needs it and I can always buy a new one when I start working full-time next summer.”
“Where exactly does this “Charlie” live?”
“You know that building on the southwest corner of Newgard and Pratt?”
“What!? Are you nuts? You don’t mean that section 8 building? Do you know the crime that goes on there? The cops have that blue light camera on that corner for a reason.”
“Uh, yeah, Frank, I’m aware. I’m only in the building every week.” I hesitate, then, “Please, Frank. Will you do me a solid? Like you said, ‘Dude, it’s Christmas.’”
“Like you said, Dude, “‘It’s only the 22nd, so technically it’s Christmas Eve-eve-eve.’”
I keep at him and he finally relents. I make arrangements with Charlie to move the air conditioner in today, on the eve of Christmas Eve. Once I got Frank on board, he didn’t complain too much. Even when it turned out that we had to tromp through a few inches of new snow and the building elevator was out and we had to carry it up four flights. I’d brought some insulation and tape and shims and stuff along so we could set it up for Charlie. I knew that, come summertime, when I’d be gone Charlie might have a hard time finding someone to help him install it. Frank was a big help with the install. He spent some time talking with Charlie and he had a chance to see how some of our “independent” seniors really live, their meager provisions, their cramped quarters, and even though living in a large city, their virtual isolation.
We tested out the air conditioner before we left. I think Frank saw the grateful sheen in Charlie’s eye as he thanked us both, shook our hands and wished us a happy holiday.
When we got home, I started to pack for a trip to my folks’ home for the holiday. Frank said, “Hey, first can you come down to the storage locker with me?”
“What for?”
“I want to see what other stuff I have that Charlie can use.”
I stood there, mouth agape, I’m sure, when Frank laughed, “Dude, it’s Christmas!”
Like I said, Frank is a decent guy.
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