Little stories
Where to begin? So much has happened with the old folks over the past days! Went up to see Dad in hospital Tuesday after teaching/working all day. He starts moaning about what hurts, still having trouble, can't seem to get the urinal where it needs to be...
Yeah, the urinal issue, well, that was just a bit too much info for me.
The RN on duty comes in to check on Dad, post dinner. She has a paper cup with a pill in it - Lortab. She tells him to take it, he does after she sits him up in bed. Now, remember he was complaining about the pain, his legs, and everything else about 5 minutes before she comes in.
"How's your pain on a scale from 1 to 9?"
He thinks about it. Says, "Oh, about a 3, I think. I sat up all day in the chair. About 8 hours. I'm feeling pretty good." If he had pants on they would be ON FIRE like those guys in the Progressive commercial!
Then, he says, "You're unusual, you know" to the nurse, who plays along and says, "Why is that?"
"Well, you're middle aged you know." Yes, the man said that out loud. I was horrified, but the nurse laughed and said she knew. Dad, not one to let the dead horse alone, says, "Most of them are young - like 21 or 22." Yeah, he would get no urinal help from me.
Dad has a serious addiction to the phone. He called me 4 times today, the first time early. "Bring up my football card book and a red pen, and the other football book and my big nail clippers. Those are on your mother's dresser, or in her first drawer. The books are in that mess next to my chair."
"OK, Dad. But there's no mess next to your chair anymore, we cleaned that all up."
"You what?" Now he starts talking to someone else in the room. "They cleaned my room, I knew it!" and he hung up on me.
About 3 hours later, he calls again. "Never mind about the football books, bring me the baseball book."
"Dad, I'm not home. I already put your shit in the car." I sort of did, but couldn't find the football book, so I had put a baseball book and the new Consumer Reports and the new Readers' Digest in my car to bring to him after I picked Mom up from Old People Day Care. I ignored the other calls.
I pick Mom up, she has a bag with some crafty item in it. Now this is a woman who HATES "craftshit" as she always called it. I open the bag, and it's a pumpkin with a painted face, made out of a clay flower pot, and a cut off dowel for the stem. "Did you do this, Mom?"
"Yup. I painted the face and everything."
Needless to say, the pumpkin is in a place of honor in the den.
Yeah, the urinal issue, well, that was just a bit too much info for me.
The RN on duty comes in to check on Dad, post dinner. She has a paper cup with a pill in it - Lortab. She tells him to take it, he does after she sits him up in bed. Now, remember he was complaining about the pain, his legs, and everything else about 5 minutes before she comes in.
"How's your pain on a scale from 1 to 9?"
He thinks about it. Says, "Oh, about a 3, I think. I sat up all day in the chair. About 8 hours. I'm feeling pretty good." If he had pants on they would be ON FIRE like those guys in the Progressive commercial!
Then, he says, "You're unusual, you know" to the nurse, who plays along and says, "Why is that?"
"Well, you're middle aged you know." Yes, the man said that out loud. I was horrified, but the nurse laughed and said she knew. Dad, not one to let the dead horse alone, says, "Most of them are young - like 21 or 22." Yeah, he would get no urinal help from me.
Dad has a serious addiction to the phone. He called me 4 times today, the first time early. "Bring up my football card book and a red pen, and the other football book and my big nail clippers. Those are on your mother's dresser, or in her first drawer. The books are in that mess next to my chair."
"OK, Dad. But there's no mess next to your chair anymore, we cleaned that all up."
"You what?" Now he starts talking to someone else in the room. "They cleaned my room, I knew it!" and he hung up on me.
About 3 hours later, he calls again. "Never mind about the football books, bring me the baseball book."
"Dad, I'm not home. I already put your shit in the car." I sort of did, but couldn't find the football book, so I had put a baseball book and the new Consumer Reports and the new Readers' Digest in my car to bring to him after I picked Mom up from Old People Day Care. I ignored the other calls.
I pick Mom up, she has a bag with some crafty item in it. Now this is a woman who HATES "craftshit" as she always called it. I open the bag, and it's a pumpkin with a painted face, made out of a clay flower pot, and a cut off dowel for the stem. "Did you do this, Mom?"
"Yup. I painted the face and everything."
Needless to say, the pumpkin is in a place of honor in the den.
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