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By Robert Smith
I spent the month of June in a rehab hospital to recover from my two previous months in a regular hospital. I had to learn how to walk again.
In the workout room in the hospital, therapists have a station where they work with the patients who have to start over from scratch. The physical therapists try to teach patients how to comb their hair,
brush their teeth, put on their make-up and so forth.
I was watching one day when a therapist brought an old guy in and sat him down at a table. The therapist put a mirror in front of him and handed him an electric razor, and I guess she told him to shave. Well, she was distracted by people behind her. While she was talking to them, the old man looked somewhat puzzled and started shaving his forehead.
I thought, “What in the world is he doing?” I was afraid that he might get into his eyebrows or his hairline. That would have been painful. Luckily, the therapist turned around in time and saw what he was doing and had him shave his face.
That is the moment that I really realized the true meaning of “black humor.” It was funny and sad at the same time. I hope that he eventually recovered. Many I saw in there will not.
Editor’s note: While Rabbit was in the hospital in Florida, his daughter kept his friends up to date on his condition, setbacks and progress. He reports now that he’s able to get around without a walker and to drive his car.