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Families?
I saw a quote one time that really summed things up. It went something like this..."Thanks to my dysfunctional childhood, I'm ready to kick some adult ass." Given my last few hours I figured that quote would make for an excellent thesis for this post.
My parent's taught me that unless you're:
- A. Bleeding.
- B. Convulsing from fever.
- C. Or have lost a major limb (fingers or toes don't count).
You're not sick. You're not gonna get sympathy from them. To illustrate this point my mom had a stroke a few months ago and she still swears it was just a "bit of a headache". She was in the hospital for 9 days 'cause of that "little headache." She slurs her speech, but she's back at work selling kids used clothes. Headache!?!
Anyway, my parent's moms (aka my grandmothers) have had every known illness known to mankind, from the flu to ebola to mad cow disease to scurvy. They've had every surgery that can be performed, performed. Their health or lack of it is the only thing they have left to contribute. They'll get into "scar wars" given an open moment in a conversation. I swear I thought I overheard my dad's mom say one time that she had "prostate surgery". Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't you have to have testicles and all the other male paraphernalia to have a prostate? I never thought of my grandmother as a dude. It kind freaked me out.
Well, you can pretty well guess how well this goes over with my mom and dad. It irritates the hell out of them. To the point that they have very little tolerance of or compassion for their respective mothers, sisters, brother, etc.
All of that being said, I get a call tonight that my aunt (my dad's sister) is on her "death bed". On the way to pick up my grandmother and take her to the hospital I figured it'd be a good idea to let my folks in on the fact that Aunt "A" is in trouble. To break the news to them I had to be subtle, here's how the conversation went.
MOM: Hellooo (multi-syllabic, remember we're from the South).
ME: Hey Patty (we're on a first name basis), I'm heading to the hospital, looks like Aunt "A" is taking the Deep Train #6. (The Deep Train #6 is just one of hundreds of euphamism we have for dieing/death. Anyway back to the phone call.)
MOM: Ah shit, what is it this time?
ME: 'not sure. Got a call from "T" a little while ago. Come to find out she had another surgery a couple of days ago. He said her kidneys are shot and now they've stuck her in ICU.
MOM: Do you think we have to come down?
ME: Beats me. Let me get a read on the situation. If I call to let you know the nurses are taking bet's on her "going cold" (another euphamism) before the morning, then you'll know it's time to.
MOM: Well don't tell them you talked to me.
ME: Sure. Gotta go.
MOM: I love you.
ME: Yeah, me too.
So after that compassionate call, I go and pick up my grandmother and take her to the hospital to see her "only child left". I don't think she really considers my dad hers anymore, they just don't share the same zest for life.
When we get to the hospital there's about a dozen people in the waiting room. I walk in pushing my grandmother in a wheelchair. the whole room goes silent. All the men in the room do that thing with their eyes, that same thing that happens when someone farts in an elevator. You know kind of an eye roll, kind of a eyebrow lift thing. It's non-verbal for I should be home watching the fucking game, instead I'm here. Like the good guy that I am.
Once we get into the room and say our hellos the conversation din picks back up. The guys are talking about work, screwing the nurse that just walked through, sports, hunting, you know... general guy stuff. The old ladies are saying things like: "She looked so good... just last week", "It's truly sad, what will "K" (her husband) do without her?". I'm privy to all these extraneous conversations 'cause I get to be the "fly on the wall". I'm the spawn from the black sheep remember.
Anyway, back to the aunt. Yes, she's in ICU. Yes, she's ill. Yes, I'm concerned about her. But is she about to die? NOOOO! I push my grandmother into her room in ICU and she starts crying. My aunt wakes up, she's semi-conscious. The conversation goes something like this:
AUNT: ~in a breathy drug induced stupor~ "Todd...Todd is that you?" (my name is Mark)
ME: No Aunt "A" It's me, Mark.
AUNT:~soberly~ Oh.
GRANDMOTHER: sobbing
AUNT:~back to the breathy drug induced stupor~ Thank you from brangin'(sic) momma down. (It's a southern thang)
ME: Glad too.
GRANDMOTHER: sobbing
AUNT: ~sleepy talking, I can't seem to make it out~ Then she says "you almost lost your aunt today".
ME: uh huh. (What am I supposed to say? "Ah shucks?" or "So you want to hackey-sack or what?")
AUNT: ~passes out~
GRANDMOTHER: starts praying.
At this time I'm standing around with my hands in my pockets. Stuck not knowing what to do or say. My grandmother is wailing and praying. So I started praying silently, it went something like this:
ME: Hey GOD.
GOD:
ME: I've got a good life.
ME: Oh and I've got my health.
ME: And I almost forgot, you made me smart.
ME: GOD? GOD? Anyway, Thanks.
GOD:
I don't pray much. I used too. But whenever I do I realize things'll be ok. I'm fine with that.
About this time my grandmother started to dry up. So I wheeled her back into the waiting room to be with all of the old ladies. The old ladies who seem to appreciate a good sick or a good death more than good health. I went back to being a "fly on the wall", with a slight grin. I realized then with all of the dysfunction around me, I'm kicking some adult ass!
I'll call my mom tomorrow and let her know that Aunt "A" is still 98.6.
The nurse? The nurse that the other guy's were talking about "drilling", she came over to talk with me later. We're old friends. It pays to be the black sheep.
10/9/2003 01:04:02 AM
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