Thursday, August 18, 2011

Don’t Cry Wolf for Me Argentina

I love my family with the heat of a thousand suns. We were raised to love, honor and respect one another.

My Mother is the eldest sibling, had plenty of love and attention growing up and to this day she is the most respected member of the entire family. This is not something you can learn, you either earn this standing in the family or you don’t. She wears it very well, she deserves it. She lives for it.

She also has an ugly character flaw she loves drama. Specifically the type of dramatic flair that Aesop would have envied while penning “The Boy Who Cried Wolf,” perhaps he knew my Mother. I have never understood the crying wolf strategy. I mean why does she feel the need to bring it into play?

Both of my parents are elderly at this point and have watched younger family members and dear friends pass away. I understand that with each passing they gauge their mortality. Thankfully for their age they are healthy both mentally and physically. Of course there are changes as each year passes but we are so lucky to have functional parents. May the rest of their years on this planet be healthy, happy ones. Amen.

As she ages, my Mother’s drama spirals out of control. Today I called Mom from work just to check in. The Great White Retired Psychiatrist (my Father) answered the phone in a mood. This is not unusual for elderly parents. This is how our conversation went:

GWRP: We are trying to do the best we can…
Wicked: What’s going on Dad?
GWRP: Here, talk to your Mother. She will explain.
Drama Queen: (barely audible) Hello?
Wicked: Oh hi Mom, how are you?
DQ: (HEAVY SIGH)……….. (Followed by a short of breath) not good.
Wicked: What is wrong?
DQ: My legs are heavy (deep sigh) I am dizzy (sigh) I just don’t feel right. I am sure it will pass, if not know that I love you.
Wicked: Maybe you should call your doctor.
DQ: No, I don’t want to die in a hospital.
Wicked: Are you dying?
DQ: In case I do, just bury me somewhere.
(During this exchange, she was yelling orders to my Dad to put this there and that over there. She is hosting the weekly lunch with 2 of her closest friends one hour from this phone call)
Wicked: Maybe you should cancel the luncheon.
DQ: Just make sure my burial plot will have a nice view of a meadow.
Wicked: Sure thing Mom. I know Dad wants a cement bench and a plot near the cemetery’s restroom so his visitors won’t have to worry about emptying their bladder. Brain Surgeon wants a fountain. Do you have any special requests?
DQ: Just that you visit regularly.
Wicked: You got it!
DQ: (Heavy Sigh) Well…I need to finish my preparations.
Wicked: Ok, tell the ladies hello.
DQ: (perkily) I sure will – kisses…bye.

Maybe she does this so I can keep the internets amused?

5 comments:

Nutcracker Sweet 54 said...

Sooooo right! Doooo funny! You should be a comedy writer

Pinar said...

I don't know which one is worse. My mom won't say a word if she doesn't feel right. She could be having a massive coronary and she'd still sit there crocheting her 5 billionth doily. Makes for some dramatic hell for leather drives to the hospital at the last minute...

Wicked H said...

Pinar: 5 billionth doily!! Snort out loud goodness. You know we are single handedly to blame for remaining single. Oy - so much thread and not enough doily.

Both scenarios are worse - we do what we can.

dann said...

wicked is like i when i was young. good read.

Anonymous said...

DD
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