I've posted before about my Mother's battle with the Demon Alzheimer's - God and I are gonna have a little face-to-face talk about this particular disease if I ever get to Heaven, which, is probably a good indication that I won't get to Heaven..and if I DO manage to slip in, I'm sure I won't be staying long.
When I made my Daily Daddy Call this morning he waited until the end of the conversation for the ambush. "What are you doing this afternoon?" Lord, right then I knew I was trapped. I've told y'all before what a total reprehensible, ungrateful, loser of a daughter I am, right? That I don't do NEAR enough for my parents and should be taken out somewhere and beaten to a pulp, or at the very least be FORCED to attend lengthy band performances, complete with unending descriptive narrative from really enthusiastic band leaders. And really, THAT'S not even a harsh enough punishment for me.
Now, my father doesn't feel this way about me, but he doesn't have to...I've practiced Guilt Assumption my entire life and I am proud to say I have reached the level of Guilt Assumption Master. I draw guilt to me the way some mythical super-heroes draw super-powers. We're talking a veritable Human Guilt Sponge...if there's Guilt anywhere in the area, I will suck it up and incorporate it as my OWN. I am truly awesome in this regard and probably in need of serious counseling, and possibly medication, which would actually be NICE. But, on to my upcoming afternoon with Momma.
Daddy has a doctor appointment this afternoon with the dermotologist who literally, saved his nose. Daddy had a rampant basal cell cancer that, I kid you not, had eaten a majority of his nose and didn't look like it was gonna get tired of the nasal buffet. Two doctors performed separate operations and now my father has a nose that, truthfully looks a whole heck of a lot better than the one he was BORN with.
Of course, in true Daddy fashion, he stated loud and clear, that both doctors are incompetent know-nothings and didn't have a CLUE how to proceed until he TOLD them what to do. Uh huh, my father was a BANKER; one of these doctors is a respected dermatologist, and the other is a noted plastic surgeon. Thank GOD Daddy was able to instruct them in the intricate and delicate procedures needed to diagnose and treat his condition. In my opinion, BOTH doctors should receive Humanitarian Medals for not tossing my Dad out on his half-eaten face and the fact that they are STILL willing to have him as a patient speaks to their committment to their professions...or maybe they're really just not real bright - whatever.
Anyway, Daddy has an appointment with "DumbAss Dermotologist" this afternoon for a spot on his ear that he "can't clear up on his own". Huh...imagine that...skin cancers aren't cured by hydrogen peroxide and a band-aid....who knew?
He's dropping Momma off at my house so I can watch her and he can go to his appointment relatively stress free. I COULD just meet him at the Doctor's office, but Daddy always makes ME go in with him and, there we sit, all three of us, (four counting the doctor), with Momma asking her never-ending questions, Daddy being an obnoxious pain and me, with no chair to sit in to stave off my inevitable loss of consciousness that's bound to happen when the doctor removes whatever it is that's growing on Daddy's ear. If I insist on staying in the waiting room, Momma will proceed to talk, LOUDLY, about other people in the room...as in "WHOO-EEE, do you see how FAT that woman is?"; and "What is WRONG with that man's FACE - he sure is UG-LY!!" Now, I'm not saying that can't be AMUSING, but, you really need to be about half-tanked before it's funny....otherwise, it's just MORTIFYING.
So, Daddy will deliver Momma to my house this afternoon, sometime...knowing Daddy, a 4:15 appt. to HIM means he has to be at the doctor's office at 3:00, so he'll probably have Momma here by 2:00 just in case there's a MAJOR traffic jam in the mile long, neighborhood drive to the doctor's office.
The challenges this afternoon will be many:
First, I have to keep Layla off of Momma - for Momma's protection AND Layla's. See, Momma has NO problem smacking the snot out of Layla if she thinks Layla's bothering her too much. It's not that I'm afraid Layla would react to that and try to hurt Momma, but, more that I don't want Layla hurt.
Second, I have to make sure Momma stays in the house and doesn't wander outside and, God Forbid, fall in the pool or down the front steps. I can lock those doors in a way she can't unlock, so we're pretty safe there; and
FINALLY, I have to make sure Momma only eats things that are EDIBLE. In true childlike fashion, Momma has regressed to the point where she tries to eat EVERYTHING, including mustard and ketchup out of the ice box and even cleaning products if she can get her hands on them. I think I'm covered on THAT one, too...I'm gonna sit her down at the kitchen table and just load her up with all manner of junk foods....cookies, fried cherry pies, honey buns and, my secret weapon - the Chocolate Of The Gods, my youngest brought me from Disney's BelgiumLand. I mean it - I'm bringing out the Big Guns.
After the pig-fest, Momma might not be interested in her dinner - but that's too bad. I never said I fight fair - I fight to win and, after all, War Is Hell.
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