Taking the Slow Train to Birmingham…

I was frying the bacon this morning as Mrs. Florene watched an egg timer that was timing the poached eggs that were steaming on the stove.

“Are they going to take George outside to smoke?” she whispered, speaking of the hospital.

George was sitting at the kitchen table across the room reading the morning newspaper. He couldn’t hear what we were discussing. 

“No,” I whispered back. “They will give him the nicotine patch though.”

“Well, don’t tell him that or he won’t go,” Mrs. Florene replied quietly. “He thinks he is going to be able to smoke.  He stuck four packs of cigars in his night bag last evening.”

A bed opened up overnight on the detox floor.  They called early this morning telling Mrs. Florene to bring George to be admitted as soon as possible.  Mrs. Florene and I are both so nervous.  Will he back out?  Will detox work?  Will all this set George on the course of a new life?  Only time will tell, and I tell you, I will be waiting anxiously to watch things unfold.  I love my friend and I hope he will be okay.