Before I leave Jill Halliday, I have to recount another little vignette in our relationship. Shortly after I had begun doing some legal work for Jill, and before she had Julio in her life, I received a call from her at my Office, but she was not calling about legal work. She was calling because she wanted to report that she might need some help getting to the hospital. From what I recall, Jill had been working around the house and had severely bashed her knee on a door. We later found out that she had pulled off the kneecap.
Before Jill had called me, she had called her father (who lived outside Perth), to advise of her condition, and that the pain had been so acute that she had been throwing up. Jill being in this helpless and emergent state, her father fortunately had the foresight to tell her to call me to give her a lift to the hospital (I think as well that part of the problem for her was that her automobile was a standard shift, making the prospect of driving even more onerous under the circumstances). So, when Jill called, you can imagine that she was in a bit of a state, on which I not only picked up, but I too became quite agitated. When she told me what had happened, and the seriousness of it all, I said to her in my own state of panic, almost screaming, “Whose your lawyer?!”. To which she replied in a matching high-pitched voice, “You are!”. I responded, “I mean, whose your accountant?!”, to which she responded almost hopelessly, “Bob Wilson.” (which of course I knew because I had just incorporated her business pursuant to the advice of her accountant). And finally I got a grip, and said, “I mean, whose your doctor?!”, to which Jill replied in an obviously ruinous tone, “Jim Howe - but he'd dead!”
When we had eventually conflagrated these details, I was able to get her an appointment with my own physician, Dr. Franz B. Ferraris. The rest of the story is entirely medical, and all worked out well. I shall however, never fail to be amused by Jill telling me that I was her lawyer!
Before Jill had called me, she had called her father (who lived outside Perth), to advise of her condition, and that the pain had been so acute that she had been throwing up. Jill being in this helpless and emergent state, her father fortunately had the foresight to tell her to call me to give her a lift to the hospital (I think as well that part of the problem for her was that her automobile was a standard shift, making the prospect of driving even more onerous under the circumstances). So, when Jill called, you can imagine that she was in a bit of a state, on which I not only picked up, but I too became quite agitated. When she told me what had happened, and the seriousness of it all, I said to her in my own state of panic, almost screaming, “Whose your lawyer?!”. To which she replied in a matching high-pitched voice, “You are!”. I responded, “I mean, whose your accountant?!”, to which she responded almost hopelessly, “Bob Wilson.” (which of course I knew because I had just incorporated her business pursuant to the advice of her accountant). And finally I got a grip, and said, “I mean, whose your doctor?!”, to which Jill replied in an obviously ruinous tone, “Jim Howe - but he'd dead!”
When we had eventually conflagrated these details, I was able to get her an appointment with my own physician, Dr. Franz B. Ferraris. The rest of the story is entirely medical, and all worked out well. I shall however, never fail to be amused by Jill telling me that I was her lawyer!
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