The Tim Allen Story
I was on the cardiology floor seeing a patient today. Ran into a nurse friend, and started talking about how things were on that floor last December when I was cards SMuRf. Talked about the memorable patients, especially the ones waiting around for a new heart.
And then she told me the bad news. Seems that Mr. A, the guy who was related to Tim Allen, had a traumatic brain injury in his 40s. And tended to confabulate (without malice, he just believed his stories). And so it seems that he made up this whole thing about him being Tim Allen's cousin. And his wife, not wanting to upset him, went along with the whole charade.
Which means, my priceless book, the one autographed by Tim Allen, is now just a book with some scribbles by a crazy patient! Gaaahhhh!
Damn, this patient was convincing. And the problem was, although I didn't see Timmy and no one I know actually saw him directly, there was talk of nurses who know nurses who saw him on the floor that day. Kinda like Elvis sightings. But then again, we not infrequently get VIP/actor visitors to our hospital. Heck, even the Presidents come here.
I suppose I should have suspected something amiss when the person who wrote it misspelt 'stitches'. Then again, I thought to myself, he's just an actor, who knows, maybe he can't spell.
I suppose if nothing else, it's still a souvenir of an otherwise funny patient. Good story to tell my grandkid.
But I was hoping that I could sell that darn thing on Ebay when Timmy won his Oscar. Or died. Or gets busted for cocaine again.