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?!"