About mid-afternoon we arrived home after visiting Mardelle’s daughter and parents in Lexington, Kentucky. It had been a pleasant time and we would have enjoyed staying longer, perhaps revisiting some of the old haunts we had enjoyed in former years.

“It’s good to be home again,” I said, “traveling is always a bit tiring.” Mardelle agreed and went about unpacking our travel stuff. Soon we were back in our regular routine.

We had been back two or three hours when Mardelle complained about an upset stomach. “Did you eat something that didn’t agree with you,” I asked.

“No, I ate the same things as you did. Maybe I got some bad water. I had a drink at the rest stop,” she said and went to take something to help settle her stomach. After a while she began to feel worse, complaining of cramps in the gut.

“Get ready. I’m taking you to the hospital.” Very soon we arrived at the emergency room. She explained the symptoms and was admitted as a patient.

I hung around waiting to see what was about to happen next. Without any direction I finally noticed a little room that seemed to be empty. I went in, finding it to be of barest essentials. At least there was a chair or two so I sat down to wait. There was not much else to do.

Meanwhile somewhere upstairs in the maternity ward there were some young men in a waiting room where there were comfortable seats, magazines and ashtrays. At least one man was puffing a cigarette. He put it out and lit another. He sat a while, then got up and paced the floor. I know this scene because I had been there myself, several times.

In my little room I fidgeted a little and took my pipe and tobacco from my pocket. I half-filled my pipe, tamped the tobacco in and struck a match to light the pipe. The only time a pipe smoker produces an appreciable amount of visible smoke is when he lights his pipe. Otherwise the smoke seen is slight. I began to light the pipe and, as expected, that formed a cloud of dense smoke that rose toward the ceiling. I started to relax with my pipe when a loud and terrible scream sounded. In a moment I decided the scream was in the room with me. It had to be--yes, a smoke alarm. I covered the bowl of the pipe that was not yet hot, with the palm of my hand, stuck my hand with the pipe in my pocket and exited the room. Back in the lobby, I put on my best “what the heck is that noise” look, found a chair and continued my wait.

There was some bustle around the lobby. A hospital employee scurried in to inspect the little room and turned off the alarm. Presently I thought I heard someone speak the words “fire department”. The smoke alarm had sent a false alarm to the fire department. I never had any idea that lighting my pipe would call firemen to the scene. Nobody asked me and I didn’t volunteer any information. I did however feel a pang of guilt, but that soon passed. How was I to know that the hospital had built in false alarms?

By and by a nurse escorted Mardelle into the lobby and said that she was ready to go home. The doctor on duty had asked her a lot of questions, examined her vital signs, given her some medicine and opined that she would feel better soon. Good news; she didn’t have to stay.

“Are you feeling better now?”

“I’m feeling much better. The medicine the doc gave me seems to help a lot,”

I took her home and made some chicken soup; or rather, I opened a can. It had been a long time since lunch. She ate a few bites and I finished the rest. Then we sat down in comfortable seats to finish our day by relaxing our frazzled nerves. Our morning trip home had been a real delight, compared to the last few hours. I loaded my pipe for a relaxing smoke, but before I lit up I glanced around to be sure I wasn’t close to the smoke alarm.