I thanked my driver for finding me. One of my neighbors was waiting out front for her ride as well. She was on her way to physical therapy; she had slipped and fallen while carrying a small watermelon and had to spend time at a nursing home. She told the same story to my driver when he pulled up.

My driver and I briefly discussed how “interesting” some of my neighbors could be, especially the guy who strips down to his underwear and yells at the rest of us. We talked about how difficult it is to get medications balanced correctly and how everyone – the patient and everyone surrounding that person – suffers, especially when mental illness is involved. Sometimes it’s a fine line.

I told him that I dated a few guys who were bipolar, and one in particular on and off for six years. He attempted suicide 3 times. I found out my driver works at Pima Medical Institute and so has a lot of exposure to different medical settings, so we talked about mental health nursing, and then wound care. I educated him on Manuka honey and its specific properties in killing a wide spectrum of bacteria. This was a fast and wide-ranging discussion.

My driver mentioned that years ago, he had vending machines, and he had a security guard that he put in charge of collecting money from it. One day he dropped in unannounced and went to do a sort of spot check, and he caught the security guard pocketing all of the money and running away. The money slowed the guard down so that he was doing a sort of jingling waddling walk-run. When my driver caught up with him, the security guard said oh man, you’re not gonna call the cops, are you? No cops, right? And my driver said no, that’s okay, no cops, just give me what you’ve got. (Really, how much can be in a vending machine?) He was a super nice guy, helped me carry my stuff, which I rarely allow.