Don't F*%& With the Pancreas-The Maine Edition (Blogisode Ten)

Don't F*%& With the Pancreas-The Maine Edition (Blogisode Ten)

Happy Monday!  It's my day off and my parents have driven to Vermont to see us.  They come from Cincinnati--which is a haul and a half--and we're happy to have them for the week!  This is my father's first time in Vermont, and I'm not sure how he'll feel about the "Green Mountain" state, since it means he will be without TV for a week (remember, we have no phone, Internet or TV in our house this summer.)  If you are in Vermont and a strange man knocks on your door asking to tune your TV to Fox news, it's probably my father.  Turn him away.  We're detoxing him.  Technically we're deFoxing him.

This blogisode is brought to you by the game "Headbandz" which is a game where you wear a headband that holds cards on your head and people give you a clue to guess what the card says.  It also doubles as a crown to wear with your mermaid dress to the grocery store.  She's Princess Mermaid of Dice.

I'm on limited time today--I'm writing during the matinee on Sunday (one and done!) and I have to be DONE by Act Two.  I have about 45 minutes...and GO!

So we left off with Charlotte and Beatrix continuing day one of no parental supervision happiness, Rob bemoaning the fact that he was in the ambulance on the way to Lewiston Hospital--technically called Central Maine Medical Center--and me following behind in our Subaru Forester...which gets about 25 miles to the gallon, and currently had about a gallon of gas remaining.  Hopefully.

I have been informed by my husband and elder daughter that I have misrepresented myself in the pictorial that appeared with Friday's blogisode because I did a little editing.  Fine, I'll fix it.

Here's the picture I posted:

Here's the picture I took:


You don't even see the difference, do you?  Isn't this fun?  It's like a Highlights Magazine compare the picture game.  If you even care or bothered to look, you might notice that perhaps maybe I edited out the speedometer on the right hand side, which gives away that I maybe possibly was traveling at the speed of 31 mph while taking the picture.  Allegedly.

Please keep all arms and legs inside the ride at all times. Please place cameras out of reach.

Please keep all arms and legs inside the ride at all times. Please place cameras out of reach.

May I take this moment to make a public service announcement reminding you not to take pictures of you gas tank while driving on an empty back road in Maine.  Especially while following the ambulance your husband is riding in.

In my defense they said not to follow them if they turned they lights on and took off.  They said NOTHING about taking a picture of the empty gas tank.  I know I'm an idiot.  Please refrain from sending me hate mail.  My husband and child already chewed me out and this is my punishment.

Moving on.

Most people think of Maine as oceans and lighthouses.  The western side of Maine, where this blogisode is set, is the "lake" region, and on the cusp of the beautiful and majestic White Mountains. We drove through some truly beautiful scenery on our way to the hospital....I mean, I guess it's beautiful if you aren't stressed out because either

a) In the back of an ambulance.

b) In a car that is out of gas.

Warning. You are now closer to empty than you were 3 seconds ago.

Warning. You are now closer to empty than you were 3 seconds ago.

The good news was, the gas light wasn't on yet.  The bad news is, as fast as I typed that, it came on.  Yellow light.  Warning.  I tried to remember how much gas that meant was left in the tank...except I couldn't remember because I have no idea.  Here's a math problem for you.  If I get 25 miles to the gallon (if I'm guessing), and I have about a gallon of gas left (if I'm guessing), and I am driving an undetermined distance, will I make it without my car dying on the side of the road?

Rob's good at math.  Do I call and ask his advice while he's in an ambulance?  Yes.  I called him.  (Before you ask, YES, I used my headset.  I may take a picture while driving, but I use my headset while talking on the phone.)

He answered sounding very chipper.

Rob: Hello honey.  I'm just getting to know my new buddy, Reggie.  He's telling me stories about being a medic in Iraq that would make your skin crawl.

Me: I don't want to hear them.

Rob: I know.

Me: But hey, I'm glad you're bonding up there.  Have they forgiven you for being obnoxious?

Rob: Oh yeah, we're all buddies now.

Me: That's so great, can you ask your new friends if we can make a quick pit stop?

Rob: Where?  The LL Bean Outlet?

Me:  Hardy har har.  I'm a little bit out of gas.

Rob: How can you be a little bit out of gas?

Me: Um.

Rob: Is the light on?

Me: Maybe.

Rob: Honey, you have to get some gas.  Hold on a sec.

I could hear him talking, and some laughing, and then Rob came back on the line.

Rob: They aren't allowed to stop, but you should get gas and just get to the hospital on your own.

Me:  Rob, I'm in the middle of no where.  I won't ever find it.

Rob:  There's a map in the car.

Me: I can't read a map and drive, that's not safe. (That's irony for those of you looking for extra credit.)

Rob:  I'll get directions.  Hold on.

Rob came back and gave me instructions that started (as all complicated directions do) with the words, "It's really easy" followed by turn left at the pine tree, turn right at the

Make a right at the blueberry bush.

Make a right at the blueberry bush.

blueberry bush, veer right and then left at the moose tracks.

I wasn't ever going to make it on my own.  Besides (and I'm not kidding), there wasn't a gas station in sight.

It seemed that the only thing I could do was risk it.  I watched the yellow light get brighter as the needle dropped past "E".  The ambulance stayed squarely in my sight and somehow....somehow....I managed to make it all the way to the parking lot of the Central Maine Medical Center.

And that's where the next round of fun began.

To read the next blogisode, go here.