Got Any Johnny Cash?

   A recovering patient is a wonderful thing.  But when the recovering patient is a brother and you are the sister, there is valid reason for rolling of eyes.

   Today, he decided that he wanted to listen to Johnny Cash.  So he asked me to put the music on.  I told him that I didn't have any Johnny Cash music... that it was on his son’s ipod, that his son wasn't here today, and that he would have to wait until his son came back.  

   He asked every warm body that came within hearing distance from his bed, his speech still slurring from his injury, "Hey!  You got Johnny Cash?"

   The CNA that was attending him at that time was a young man originally from Ghana, Africa.  He had only lived in America for a few years, and was unfamiliar with my brother’s request.  He asked me, "What is dees Johnny Cash he keep saying all de time?"

   “It’s music,” I replied.

   "Oh, museec!  I can play da museec for you, my friend!" he told him cheerfully.

   My brother’s shoulders relaxed as he rested contentedly on his pillow and sighed, "Ahh, Johnny Cash."

   The young man found the bed's TV controls and put on some easy listening music, the kind like you might hear in a department store.

   My brother started rolling his head back and forth and groaning.  The young man said, "What is da mattah, my friend?  Ah you alright?"

   More moaning, "Johnny Cash!  Johnny Cash!  Johnny Cash!", then he rolled over (you'd think Johnny Cash was a pacifier).

   The young man looked at me with a huge smile, "I mus look up dees Johnny Cash aftah I feenish my job heah tonight." 

   I grinned back at him and said, "You can look up Johnny Cash and listen to his music if you want to, but you don't have to like it."

   My brother groaned.  
   What a big baby!  

   Looks like he's going to be just fine!  

~ae