Previous Post: Picture of the DAY: Best Actress in a Leading Role   Next Post: Where’s the BEEF?

Life in a PISH bowl

Dear Diary,

This point can’t be stressed enough, in order to become really good at difficult tasks in life— talents that you really wish to obtain a high level of proficiency in.. it’s gonna take a great deal of fortitude and focus, hard work and a freakin’ fabulous attitude. So right now, if I feel so inclined to do a little victory dance over my successful pee-gathering mission involving my MIL Ru at the doctors.. then SOMEONE should let me revel in my happiness for all of five seconds, BEFORE totally peeing on MY PARADE by saying,

“So..seee? You do have some sort of SKILL after all.”

Thanks Ru. You know, I think I deserve just a teensy bit of credit here for making it look as easy as I do. When THAT my friends, is oh so very far from the truth.

I’m not going to brag.. but, all right.. maybe I will— It’s not EVERYONE that can identify a possible LIFE THREATENING urinary condition with the skill that I have demonstrated with a staggering amount of crap-shoot over these last (million) years. As your eldercare educator you guys, just a heads up, that WHEN your senior family member with dementia seems like she’s acting.. overly dementia like— don’t hesitate to haul her sorry ARSE over to the nearest Starbucks. You have a few drinks, calm her concerns and then and ONLY THEN.. do you ATTEMPT to sit her on the JOHNNY. It’s here that you might feel the need to expedite the process, by pointing your lightsabre phone app. at her threateningly to “put out” the necessary amount as INSTRUCTED on this poster (pointing strongly at measurement chart on door) or you’ll shoot. Works for me. Kidddddding.

You have to admit Ru.. I’ve come along way from the days I was all.. “OK. You can go. AAACK! STOP. I have to fix the HAT (thing you pee into.. not from the Chanel Kentucky Derby line) AND READY? SET.. GO! UGHHHHH. STOPPPP. You moved”, and so on and so on.. until at last, I was forced to fill her up with ANOTHER Venti, one pump vanilla, skinny mocha and go through the whole entire affair AGAIN. Not this time. I’m all.. Bam. Bam. Bam. Got it. Let’s blow this pop stand BAY-BE. Then “we” march out, not only five lbs lighter but intensely proud of MY huge important.. maybe even life-altering (doubtful) accomplishment now donated to medical science for closer inspection for any present signs of..

“backache”?

Yup Ru. Precisely. THAT will be addressed too. But by allllll means, if you FEEL like you want a second opinion from that sometimes friend of yours across the hall Selma, the QUASI dental hygienist from 1714.. then we’ll ask her when we get back to the ROAM (Random Occasional Accidental Memory) floor. K? OOPS. Maybe a tad snippy for granny’s taste, judging by the body language of her.. FACE with her tongue sticking out.

“Oh come on. We had f-u-n today didn’t we? I got you out of Happy Hands class and that amazing trivia game conducted by the cute new activities girl in.. POLISH.

“YOU would think it was YOUR urine the way you’re carrying on about it blah blah blah..(Uncomfortable pause.. to adjust tight waistband) Do you have a tic-tac?”

Ohhhhhhh.. I get it. YOU want recognition for your role in this don’t you sweetie.

Ru?

“Yes.”

Ru?

“you already said that.”

Right. Hey! Will a mint tea bag work.. I have one of THOSE to suck on?

Not being able to resist what I KNOW I most certainly will come to regret later.. I’m thinking for PURELY entertainment value purposes o-n-l-y, to probe deeper into the (unknown) thinking behind the tic-tac request. This is what I was able to squeeze out of her.. see if you can follow. This morning Ru was seated at breakfast next a HOSTILE man named George, who had no desire to allow her to “test for doneness” his glazed cinnamon roll and when he finally got around to shoving the gooey morsel in his mouth, my always impeccably mannered MIL claims to have SUBTLY mentioned, that he need not SPRAY the food stuffs all over the table while he gums his cud like a farm animal and he BLEW her OFF. The nerve. Then she gets up out of her chair and ACCIDENTALLY touches the top of his foot with the bottom of HERS.. and he’s screaming something about being LITIGIOUS and his dad’s a lawyer. Oh so what Georgie? I’m practically a.. DOCTOR.

As Ru and I are walking down the hall to her room.. you know we pass that fish tank with the adjacent bench’s where Blanch and Marion always hang.. which the new guy Herman pronounces, BITCHES. “Let’s all go sit on the bitches while we watch them fishy’s swim in circles until they eventually float up to the surface and die from boredom. You girls’ game?” Ru starts to slow her gait WAYYYY down and kind of distance herself from me for no OBVIOUS reason that I can see.. until HE emerges from behind the fish tank all sweaty and muscular. With his big strong hands grasping his huge and glorious.. fishing net. WHY.. Hello there Mr. Tank cleaner dude. I’m Ru’s DIL and I take really goood care of… OUCH! Why’d you hit me?

“I didn’t HIT you. I nudged you. Can’t anyone else get a word in edgewise?”

Then Ru.. starts to totally do her flirty routine on this.. no older then (that Starbucks guy LAST week) 19 year old and she’s PUSHING me against HERMAN sitting on the BITCHES. At last the reason for her sucking on that mint tea bag all the way home.. Jonathan. Let me tell you.. I’m really big on allowing the freedom of choice to remain for as long as the individual shows a smidge of interest. But, there was no WAY.. so I’m basically shoving her in the direction of her room and all the while she’s shouting her room number in his direction and making the “call me” sign with her fingers. Yup. Don’t hold your breath little fishy.

-A

Copyright © 2009-2010 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.