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Davis, not ours." The detective told me. "Don't worry, we're still after ol' Don." He chuckled. "Maybe you'll be cell mates, and can swap stories." Now he horse laughed.I sat quietly with the handcuffs on and said very quietly. "They're both eighteen years old."The detective got very quiet and started studying his notes. About that time the female officer came around the corner. "Sarge, we've got a problem."The detective looked at me confused, and then turned his head to look at the officer. "Can I see you outside for a minute?" He closed his notebook, got up and headed for the front door, the female officer in tow.A short time later, the Detective came back into the kitchen, walked behind me, bent over and removed the handcuffs. With frustration in his voice he said, "You've got to be the luckiest sumbitch on the planet," just as the female officer entered the kitchen with the girls behind her. Sally who heard his comment leaned over to the officer and whispered, "It doesn't hurt. Now, I’m gonna ask you a few basic personal health questions. These may not relate directly to your problem, Ben, but they’re status quo, for all patients. And you don’t have to answer a question if you don’t want to. ‘Any allergies?’ Ben shook his head. ‘No, none.’ ‘Any mental issues or diseases?’ He again shook no. ‘Not unless sudden depression over losing my Mom counts.’ Angie flashed him another short, sympathetic, loving look, ensuring him they’d get on with the treatment soon. ‘Any hereditary or personal physical issues, disorders or STDs?’ Once more, he shook his head. ‘Okay, terrific. How is your appetite currently?’ He shrugged. ”S…normal, I guess.’ ‘How’re your eating habits?’ Ben raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, admittedly, since last week I’ve been eating more ‘comfort food’ than usual,’ he explained, air quoting with his fingers, ‘For what are probably by now obvious reasons.’ Angie nodded. ‘Gotcha. How’s your sleeping?’ ‘Oh…’ He made an unsure face, waving his.
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