I will punch you in your Trach hole.

I will do it.

Last night I walked into my house around 5:45 pm carrying my gym bag, brief case, purse, etc. Before I had an opportunity to do anything, GpaK came at me, waving a piece of paper in his hand. "What the hell is THIS?" If you didn't know better, you would think that he found a plutonium stash in his recliner.

"I don't know, Dad, I just walked in the door and I can't see what you have in your hand."

"It's a BILL!"

I recognized it as he toddled toward me - a bill from AT&T for "reserving" his home phone number. When GpaK got very sick and we didn't know if he would ever live in his apartment again, we cancelled some of his utilities but decided to preserve his phone number, for which they charge a monthly fee. Try explaining this to a cognitively-impaired 81 year-old with hearing loss. After repeatedly insisting that they owe him a refund, I think I convinced him that the $12 was gone forever, and that he should call them to cancel this outrageous service. "Why don't we have a bake sale to recoup your losses?" I suggested. (The hearing loss comes in handy sometimes.)

Thirty minutes later, with a little help, he found the correct phone number to call. After a few dozen dialing mis-cues, he was on the automated customer service line with AT&T.

It sounded like this:
"Yesssss"
"Nooooo, Jesus"
"Home"
"I DON'T KNOW!"
"YES"
"NO"
"Well THANK YOU for NOTHING!"
"Can you believe I wasted my time doing that?!"

Funny stories

GpaK had a cocktail (or two) by the time I got home last night. Probably just the equivalent of one since I watered down the Gin (thanks for the idea, Carol!)

Anyway, he was soooo happy, until he wasn't. I lamented a bit about the situation with my company, the dire outlook for the industry, how horrible it would be if the company didn't survive.

My (sympathetic) father said what any right-wing nut job would say: "That's what happens when you have a black democrat for president . . heh heh heh" So I said "Black?" He responded "OK, African American." As I stomped gracefully up the stairs I yelled "What does race have to do with it? Why is that the first thing that comes to your mind?"

Turns out it was the Gin talking. I got a legit apology when I returned to the kitchen. I'm pretty sure that since dinner was right around the corner, he felt that he needed to be sincere.

Later, after he went into his den to watch some crime show for the 743rd time, I turned on a taped episode of Project Runway. (Since GpaK commandeered the family room TV, I don't often get to watch my two favorite shows: Project Runway and Biggest Loser). Anyway, I was about halfway into PR when GpaK came back into the family room and sat down. Between the fashion content and the alternative lifestyles of one of the judges, and all the male contestants, GpaK was NOT having it, finally asking "What could you possibly get out of this show?" He promptly left the room.

Sucka!

Bar fight . . . and more.

GpaK appears to have been in a bar fight. While at Carol's house in Virginia for the Month of September, he fell down a few stairs, head-first into a railing. Thirteen stitches, two black eyes and, worst of all, a broken bone in his hand.

He returned home less steady (likely because he can't use the walker with one hand and now relies on a cane) and more cranky. If he's not describing a fabulous meal (oh it was so good) or his fabulous caregiver Carol C., he's complaining. Here's a sample:

This morning, when I asked if he brushed his teeth (and answered Yes):
"Why the hell should I brush my teeth in the morning, when I just brushed them before bed and I haven't eaten anything since?!"
BTW - his toothbrush was dry.

Last night, before the Brewers' playoff game:
"These TV announcers and their insipid remarks!"

After being told that he has an 8:15 am doctor appt:
"8:15? That's EARLY!"
Dad - you are usually up by 5:30
"No I am not." (right - it's usually 3:30, then 5:30)