Tuesday, May 28, 2013

My Husband The Hobo

My father in law is a farmer. As a farmer he is rugged, masculine and stubborn. He is also called the silver fox by countless peri-menopausal women in the Northern Utah area. That fact has nothing to do with the story but I felt it was necessary since this post is, in some ways, all about him. 

His name is Sam. This is Sam.
(Names have been changed to protect the identity of the almost innocent characters in this story)

He even has a Tom Selleck Mustache.

Sam, the manly farmer that he is, is never less than diligent in the doing of farm chores. Thus, at 10:00 PM last sunday, AKA Mother's day, he decided to go out to change water on a 1980's motorcycle with low headlights. While charging along at 20 MPH on a water saturated skinny dirt road inches from a 3 foot canal - disaster struck.  

The front wheel hit a waterlogged piece of driftwood and threw Sam from the cycle.

The motorcycle went one way, Sam went the opposite way, and his lower leg went both ways. 
Sam was taken to the Emergency Room, after a hearty amount of pleading of prodding of course, and was given every test known to man. 

His X-ray showed two broken bones in multiple places on his right leg, his MRI showed extensive tissue damage and his CT scan showed no brain damage. 

His leg was splinted and he was sent home the next morning with instructions not to move and wait for the swelling to subside.

He did not like waiting. 
Two days later the family gathered together for a BBQ. Sam didn't go to the barbecue. Instead, he went trolling around checking his fields for sufficient water and ensuring the farm was running smoothly without him. Because his right foot is broken, Sam used his left foot to pressure the gas pedal.

 Did I mention he was also on oxycontin at the time?
 Yes, yes he was. 

Yet another two days after that, Sam had a Doctors appointment. Due to the prior driving incident and other unsuccessful attempts, Sam's lovely wife Cathy hid all keys. While Cathy was in the shower and his son, my husband, was on the way to pick him up - Sam found the keys. 
He drove himself to the Doctor.  
With his left foot.
On opiates. 

No one can say Sam is not tenacious.

He thought only happy thoughts on his way to the Doctor.

Well... Mostly.... 

Once Sam got to the doctor's office he realized he may have been more affected by the narcotics than he originally supposed.

As he was lumbering out of his truck he looked down to find he had driven there without footwear.

He contemplated driving back home, since he was uncharacteristically 20 minutes early anyway, but decided against it. 
(Clearly another decision influenced by drugs) 
He was going into a medical office shoeless. 

The Doctor removed Sam's splint and gave him a boot as a replacement. 
He drove himself home with his good, and now slightly dirtier, bare foot. 

Once he got home, Sam didn't like his boot. The lack of structure allowed his bones to crunch around and the crunching made him less able to break the rules. 

He was miserable. 

In comes husband. Up until this point you've probably been wondering how the title of this blog post ties into a broken father in law. 
Here is how. 

Since Sam was miserable with his new boot, he decided he wanted his old splint back. 
Problem - the Dr's office was closed by the time he made this decision. And it was friday. The office would not be open again until Monday morning - an entire 72 hours away. 

An idea was hatched.

Most logical people would say this: 

Husband said this:

 So Husband climbed in his work clothes and drove to the hospital to dumpster dive for Sam's old splint.

Once he got to the hospital he realized the Dumpster was not in some back alley as he expected. Instead it was on the parking lot side of an all glass building facing two sides of a heavily windowed hospital.

He strategically parked his truck so it blocked as much of the dumpster as possible, but a giant red truck is more conspicuous than most.

He exited the truck. 

Nervously, he glanced around for onlookers. The last thing he wanted was to be recognized rummaging through medical waste in his chore clothes. 

For those of you who were not raised on a farm, let me elucidate the nature of chore clothes. 

Chore clothes almost always consist of coveralls. Large, thick uncomely overalls made of a taupe canvas material that barbed wire can't cut through. 
Old clothing that most people give to goodwill - become chore clothes. Jaron's barn clothing largely consist of shirts from the 7th to 9th grade. These shirts are not barbed wire proof and are thus often riddled with holes and few sized too small. 
Long sleeves are a must - which usually means ratty old jackets are layered on top of holed t-shirt. 
Boots are steel toed, rubber or drenched in mud. Usually all three. 

Dip the whole outfit in manure, tractor grease and general smelliness and you have chore clothes. 

Farmers know how to work.  

Anyway back to the story - Jaron, in his chore clothes, was hesitant to jump into the dumpster.

When it appeared he was audience free he boosted himself up and into the dumpster. 

He immediately regretted his decision.

Medical offices do not dispose of the same things that, say, a paper office would throw away. 

Doctors throw away things that have been under, around, on or a part of the human body. 
Often a diseased, infected or broken human body. 

He found many things of this nature. 

He Found: 

Used Casts

Fungus growing on the used casts

Used Splints - one of which may or may not have been Sam's

Fungi growing on the used splints

* ADULT diapers, not baby diapers.

Other gross things. 

He Did Not Find:



Laughing Gas


Any other thing the people passing by must have thought he was rooting around for. 

The next ten minutes went something like this:

He thought about this as he poked at a particularly fungus infested cast.

Then he obeyed. 

He buckled down, ducked his head so he couldn't be seen, and rifled through the entire load. Out of diapers, casts, bacteria and countless other health hazards he gathered all the Sam-sized splints, making a stinky pile just outside the dumpster. 

When his work was complete he hurriedly lept from the dumpster, ready to head home and take seven showers.  

But then the phone rang. 

He shifted the weight of the reeking splints to his other arm and managed to answer the call.

It was Sam. 

The End. 


  1. It has been far too long since you've posted. This post just made my day. I was sitting on one couch and Rich was sitting on the other couch. He was laughing to himself for quite sometime. I could tell he was reading something and finally after the millioneth laugh I asked what was so funny. Your blog. I didn't even know he followed your blog?! Needless to say I had to read it and it was funny and witty as always. Poor silver fox. And poor Jarebear.

    1. hahaha I love it. I'm glad Rich is a supporter (although I too was unaware of this fact) We made it into a book for Silver Fox but he made me change his name before posting it online to "preserve his anonymity". I told him only people who know me read this anyway... too bad for Silver Fox :(

  2. this was hilarious! I love your drawings, especially the Tom Selleck mustache. I hope Sam's foot heals (heels? haha see what I did there?)

  3. oh my heck. this is hilarious. i found your blog through Pinterest and love your sense of humor...and your sweet drawings! haha. they are awesome :)

  4. You made my day. Still laughing. Still waiting for your book to come out hmmmm. Love it, love you.

  5. Nevermind? Bwahahahaha. I would have killed him.

    Wait, no. I wouldn't have gone dumpster diving in the first place.

    1. Seriously. It was kind of disgusting but so, so funny.

  6. Oh my gosh.. Seriously.. Wow.. What a trooper your husband is! Or maybe just weird? Either way, hilarious!

  7. I was cackling loudly from this post. So, so funny. I love that your husband didn't think anything of it and just went dumpster diving.

  8. Hahaha oh my gosh, I love your posts!! Every single one makes me laugh and I love the way you tell it.


  9. Ha everything about this story is so wrong and yet so familiar. Life is a strange old dog

  10. Stumbled across this post looking for humorous x-rays. This was funny and made me laugh out loud several times. I'm suffering from a similarly broken leg right now, only from falling over on my bicycle, with splint, stitches, and on heavy meds, and totally understand your father-in-law's reasoning. I'm looking forward to the boot, but perhaps it isn't all that great after all.


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