Observations on quality time with my 84 year old father, day 14:
• Trying to get him out by 10 AM;
Dad – “Where’s my bag?”
Me – “On your shoulder.”
Out the door we go but he needs to go back in for napkins so he can spit in them. Better than out the car window I guess. We get into the car and he can’t find his comb. “I need to go back and get my comb.” Before I can finish saying, “Dad, are you planning on visiting a modeling agency?” he’s in the elevator on the way back to the apartment.
Tick, tick, tick…10:15…Sigh….
• I think Medicare must sell detailed phone lists to marketers because people constantly telephone to sell him medical supplies and services, many of which have to do with diabetes (my mother is diabetic). As much as he refuses to use his cell phone, he also seems to have problems with the land line. “I can’t hear you! What are you saying?” God forbid they have any sort of accent. If so, they might as well be talking in a foreign language. “I can’t understand what you’re saying. What did you say your name is? Shabob? That’s your name? What do you want? You want to sell me diabetic supplies? That’s for my wife. Where is she? Try in two weeks. She’ll be in the cemetery.”
Talk about gallows humor…he scars these people for life.
• His printer cartridge is empty. Normally that wouldn’t be a big deal but I just installed a new one about 2 months ago. My suspicions? As he is both a chronic litigator as well as a Luddite, in spite of showing him how to save, view and share a 3,700 page digital document of my mother’s medical records without actually printing it, I suspect he printed it.
Add tree killer to his list of sins.
© Curt Weiss 2014