If you, like me, are over a “certain age” and your parents are still alive, you know that you have issues with them. Now, I’m gonna preface my post by saying that I love my folks and cannot imagine how devastated I will be when they are gone.
I will arrange my weekend schedule, as far as visiting the P’s, with certain parameters in place:
1. my sister will be there
2. the weather is good
3. the medical issues are minor
Because NOTHING would be worse than being cooped up in my parents’ house, without my sister, bad weather, and Mom having poop issues. See, Mom has had all kinds of digestive problems, culminating in more than a year of on-going diarrhea. And we get to hear about it in the daily (or for me, weekly) Poop Report.
My sister is the brave one — she calls Ma every day. EVERY. DAY. Not me. I don’t have that much to talk about. I don’t like people in general enough to talk to them on the phone every day. Even my OWN peeps.
Anyway, Ma’s life revolves around the Poop Report — I won’t get into the nitty-gritty, but suffice it to say that if she has the shits, she’s not going anywhere. Not to her Senior’s group, not to HCE, not out with her sister, not even to the grocery store.
Well, MAYBE to the grocery store. Depends on what she “forgot” to buy the other fifteen times she’s been at the grocery this week.
She also refuses to try anything different in her diet to possibly solve her digestive problems. I’ll tell ya right now, she eats more carbs that I can stand to look at, she and Daddy have fruit at every meal, and she will eat stuff that the doctor and nutritionist told her NOT to (she also has diverticulosis). “I’m not changing how I cook.” “Whatever Momma did is what I do …” OMG, my grandmother Clara had SUCH bacteria growing in her guts, from eating questionable stuff (dinner that’s been in the fridge for waaaay too long, for example), I’m surprised she survived until over 93 yrs old. And the GAS! Holy FUCK. It shoulda been classified as hazardous. SERIOUSLY.
In addition to the Poop Report, my Ma also cannot be, ummm, FILTERED in her speaking.
“Pa, did ya take a shit?” Say that in a grating, nasally voice. And draw out the word SHIT. “Pa, did ya take a SSSSHHHHHIIIIIIIIITTTTT?” “Pa, leave Harry outside — he’s sniffing like he needs to take a SSSSSHHHHIIIIIIIIIIITTTT.” Harry is one of the 5 dogs they have. If somebody farts … “Christ, did ya SHIT YOUR PANTS?” I mean, the word POOP or some other less graphic word can never be used. EVER.
Now, can you imagine that SHITSHOW without a sister/buffer, stuck in the house on a rainy day, listening Ma & Pa talk about POLITICS, with nothing to do and nowhere to hide …. it’s a middle-aged woman’s hell on Earth. I’m sure I’ll miss it someday when they are gone. I just hope my daughters don’t write a blog post similar to this one about me.