Okay, so what you don't know is that I was SUPPOSED to go and visit Mare & Lair this past weekend. Quick trip up, watch some football with Dad over the weekend, we were going to bring a Honey Baked Turkey--it would've been a beautiful thing.
Check out the word I capitalized.
Now, we were going to be leaving on this past Saturday around 1pm-ish....after the wife finished getting her hair done--nothing was going to stop that. Then, we would go up, and maybe stay until Monday afternoon, get back before dark and all the crazies that would be on the road....we're all set with our plan. Yeah......
So I call my Dad on Friday night to firm up the plans and let him know what time we would be arriving...it was about that time that Dad uttered those fateful words.
"I'm fighting a headcold."
Oh boy. Headcold. Now, the problem with the old headcold....I mean the problem besides the OBVIOUS problem with a headcold, is that yours truly is remarkable adept at catching colds, flu's, influenza or any illness of the like...if they get within approximately a one mile radius of me. And my daughter can catch them from within a TWO mile radius. Lovely. So I start talking to the wife, we're considering a change in plans.
And of course, I would be remiss if I didn't mention the fact that, ya know....DAD wasn't probably feeling up to a house full of people, no matter what the heck he tells you. So, I decide to maybe put my trip off until the day after New Year's....maybe I'll go up by my lonesome...spend some quality time with them both....and, ya know...
It was in the late afternoon of the next day that my Mom called me......
"So, um...your father is in the hospital....they think its pneumonia."
Well that's a fine hi-howdya-do.
Now, one of the really, really good things about me is that I'm may just be the world's biggest hypochondriac......stomach ache? Must be a tumor....chest pains? When's the last time I hard a cardiac checkup? Headache? Am I dieing? Seriously....my wife has rolled her eyes at me so many times her eye color is changing. Of course, I should mention on my behalf that my daughter is WAAAAY worse at that than me, but that's a story for another day. Anyway, I begin to freak out just a bit, because about a year or so back, my Dad let a bad cold turn into pneumonia by not taking care of himself....and it was not a pleasant experience for him--or us, who were worried sick ourselves.
So naturally I get on the phone with my sister....who I will always love, but who's worried phone calls are usually subject to post-conversation analysis. (sorry sis)
What did she REALLY mean by that? Is she making too much out of this? Anyway, my sister is worried that my Mom is so concerned that SHE'S not eating....its one huge cluster. So sis informs me that she's heading on down that way the next day to do a little recon work....and I call Mom back and do a little phone recon--only to discover that Mom, as I discovered via my extremely clever question and answer session.....has in FACT been eating!! What in the Holy Clara Barton was my sister talking about? Like I said...post conversation analysis.
Now, as if THAT isn't bad enough....down on OUR homefront...we had a minor crisis.
My beloved dog Beezer (aka Bee-da-lee, aka My Sweet Prince, aka a few other cute but weird names that every other pet owner gives their pet--cough) had developed yet another ear hematoma--this time in his OTHER ear (prior surgery on his right ear for the same thing). So it was back to the doctor for surgery for "Hematoma Boy" (yet another nickname--see what I mean?) to drain the hematoma and then essentially cross-stich the ear to keep it from happening again. Just another thing to worry about!!!
So meanwhile, back up in Orlando, I call my Dad in the hospital, and they got him on all sort of anti-biotics and he's a little crabby at the prospect of missing some of the football games on New Year's Day---not that I can blame him on that particular matter, because i would be a complete NIGHTMARE to deal with if it was me.
The next day I was very happy to find out that my father did NOT have pneumonia, but just a good case of bronchitis (very rare those two words are used together) and a slight case of asthma---but not pneumonia, and the doctors were very happy that he didn't wait, ya know....two weeks or whatever it was the last time to turn himself in for treatment. Men! What the hell do we know about being sick, am I right?
And back at Mom & Dad's house, Mom is sorta//kinda sick herself...probably do to the fact that Dad is sick...but sis is there and doing the old TCB.
I call back to Dad's room...and Dad is not there. I call the house...and Dad is home.
(My medical training indicates to me that this is a good thing) He says he's still a little raspy, but doing okay. I tell him not to let it get too bad, and to go back to the hospital if he starts feeling too weak or anything. The good news is, that my brother is coming in later in the day for, you got it....some re-con work after buying a boat in the area.
Personally, I think he just wanted to show off the boat and get credit for being a concerned son....but who am I to judge?
This morning I got up far earlier than I should when I'm on vacation to take Beezer to the vet for his surgery. He gives me "the look" (and you know what I mean if you own a pet) and I head home to wait for the news on his surgery. A few hours later the doctor calls me to tell me that he's coming out of sedation, that they have some headphones on him....he's listening to some Pink Floyd and has a satisfied look on his face. Whoops, wrong surgery. Anyway, the doctor says he came through it like a champ...and should be ready for pickup later in the afternoon.
Later in the morning I call to check up on my Dad to see how he's progressing. Mom informs me that he's supervising my brother doing some randomly assigned task. Trust me, this means Dad is feeling better.
Early in the evening, Kim and I pick up the Beez, and the doctor comes out and describes how the surgery went, and gives us the instruction on the various medications.
And then....Beez comes out. And naturally, having had surgery on his ear...he's wearing:
(say it Audrey)
THE CONE OF SHAME
Yes he's wearing the cone, or the satellite dish, that will prevent him from trying to scratch at his ear or whatever he might do that will cause a problem for his still bandaged ear. The best part, again, is when he first sees you. He comes out, there are other dogs in the waiting room....he sees you (which makes him happy)....he sees the other dogs (while wearing the CONE)....and the look of disgust he gives you.....the one that says:
"Oh MAN! Do you know how much crap I'm gonna get around the neighborhood for having to wear this thing? I mean.....DO YOU?????"
So finally, I call back to give one last check on my Dad's health. Mom informs me that he is returning to a state of normalcy, making phone calls to his lodge, making demands, issuing orders....yep, the Commander is back on duty. And then Mom says:
"But...oh, your brother is going to the doctor tomorrow....he's not feeling good...."
So like I asked already.....what in the blue hell is going on with my family?????
Later,
Jeff
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