"I can't walk..."
Last night, we had a guest, and we were getting ready to go out. Our guest wanted to see my Mom and Dad, but they were not yet home. We assured her they would either get in before we left, or be there when we got back.
As luck would have it, Mom popped her head in soon after that conversation, with Dad right behind her. Now, I did say, "Guest", right? Mom does her introduction thing and goes and sits on the couch. Dad, however, says "Hi", then goes right into a litany of his daily issues with walking.
Dad walks most days down the end of our block and back, probably a bit less than half a mile. He walks up and down the stairs many times each day - up to their room, down the basement to his baseball card room (that's what we now call one of our rooms in the basement). He occasionally complains of a bit of stiffness, but has not said he can't walk.
Last night, he grimaced after saying, "Hi", and said, "I can't walk". He is standing as he says this, and had walked around to the back door and up the stairs to get into the house. He then says, "The doctor says I need an MRI."
"Well, Dad, you walked in to the house", straight faced I looked at him.
"I'm in agony, just in agony", and he plopped down on the couch next to our guest. By the way, she is a blog reader and I think may have really enjoyed seeing them both in person.
"Both my legs, and my hips, both of them. The doc says he's not sure what it is, maybe my back. I might have to have both hips replaced."
"Oh my goodness, Dad, what doctor did you see? And an MRI right away? Didn't you have all that checked in Florida after you fell?"
"That group, I went to that group you don't like, that did Vera. He said x-rays first, then maybe an MRI."
"OK, when did you go, Dad? You didn't say a word about anything bothering you at all."
"I went today, after the physical therapist said it's probably my back." He says this with much authority. The PT is in its last stages - for his chipped bone in his arm/shoulder. We never did really get the straight poop on that one either.
"So if it's your back, maybe you should be swimming and moving around more. When do you go to the orthopedist and which one are you seeing?" Meanwhile, I am the only one talking to him. Everyone else is somewhat amused or annoyed, depending upon how they see it. My Mom, of course, is quite annoyed, and keeps mouthing, "It's always about him" over and over again, knowing even if she whispers he cannot hear her.
"Yeah, I'm going next week to get x-rays, then I'll know more. I can't walk, and I have to swing my legs over the side of the bed to get up." I'm thinking, I swing my legs over so I don't fall out of the freakin' bed!
"Well, Dad, you better be careful, huh?" I say, and get up quickly so we can go before I start to get crazed about having to deal with this.
Of course, as we leave, Dad gets up to go into the kitchen, pretty quickly. He reaches up into the cabinet to get bowls out for the nightly ice cream snack...walking very well at this point! All of this with a guest in the house...
As luck would have it, Mom popped her head in soon after that conversation, with Dad right behind her. Now, I did say, "Guest", right? Mom does her introduction thing and goes and sits on the couch. Dad, however, says "Hi", then goes right into a litany of his daily issues with walking.
Dad walks most days down the end of our block and back, probably a bit less than half a mile. He walks up and down the stairs many times each day - up to their room, down the basement to his baseball card room (that's what we now call one of our rooms in the basement). He occasionally complains of a bit of stiffness, but has not said he can't walk.
Last night, he grimaced after saying, "Hi", and said, "I can't walk". He is standing as he says this, and had walked around to the back door and up the stairs to get into the house. He then says, "The doctor says I need an MRI."
"Well, Dad, you walked in to the house", straight faced I looked at him.
"I'm in agony, just in agony", and he plopped down on the couch next to our guest. By the way, she is a blog reader and I think may have really enjoyed seeing them both in person.
"Both my legs, and my hips, both of them. The doc says he's not sure what it is, maybe my back. I might have to have both hips replaced."
"Oh my goodness, Dad, what doctor did you see? And an MRI right away? Didn't you have all that checked in Florida after you fell?"
"That group, I went to that group you don't like, that did Vera. He said x-rays first, then maybe an MRI."
"OK, when did you go, Dad? You didn't say a word about anything bothering you at all."
"I went today, after the physical therapist said it's probably my back." He says this with much authority. The PT is in its last stages - for his chipped bone in his arm/shoulder. We never did really get the straight poop on that one either.
"So if it's your back, maybe you should be swimming and moving around more. When do you go to the orthopedist and which one are you seeing?" Meanwhile, I am the only one talking to him. Everyone else is somewhat amused or annoyed, depending upon how they see it. My Mom, of course, is quite annoyed, and keeps mouthing, "It's always about him" over and over again, knowing even if she whispers he cannot hear her.
"Yeah, I'm going next week to get x-rays, then I'll know more. I can't walk, and I have to swing my legs over the side of the bed to get up." I'm thinking, I swing my legs over so I don't fall out of the freakin' bed!
"Well, Dad, you better be careful, huh?" I say, and get up quickly so we can go before I start to get crazed about having to deal with this.
Of course, as we leave, Dad gets up to go into the kitchen, pretty quickly. He reaches up into the cabinet to get bowls out for the nightly ice cream snack...walking very well at this point! All of this with a guest in the house...
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