*Well, just go*

Whatever

Image found on the Internet and all rights belong to the owners.

You know how people seem to suddenly crowd the checkout line at the grocery store? One minute the three or five or seven checkouts are as empty as downtown Los Angeles on a Sunday afternoon, then the next you have food-laden carts jockeying for position as the morning commute to said downtown. On Monday.

That analog recently came to mind for a more grimmer purpose: death. Or at least serious illness. First were all the musicians and actors and writers. Then the Terri Shiavo case. The Pope followed.

Now my parents are joining the act. No, they're quite alive. However, dad's been feeling his age (compounding with mom ignoring her age. Note to mother: despite the fact that you weigh less than the average American female teen now doesn't mean you have the strength, flexibility, and stamina to actually dance all night like one. Especially when you bring dear old dad into the picture.)

I received a call from the parental figures. First, mom calls wanting to talk to R. When I explain the on-call schedule, she goes into length about my dad's symptoms and her diagnosis. (She's a former ped's nurse.) She then hands me to dad. I ask how he feels which he replies in short remarks before hanging up. I contact R. who gives advice: basically, call their primary physician who's on-call staff will speak and advise my dad. I call mom who says they'll consider it.

I then get a second call. The parents went to the ER and confirmed that he's just suffering the side-effects of the meds. Now reassured, they say they'll rest.

I get another call the next day. Mom wants to speak with R. who is still on-call and not available. (Many hospitals ban cell phone use.) Dad's still suffering some of the side-effects even though he's not taking the meds. With further probing, I realize the med giving prob was to help his cold. Now without it, he's suffering a cold. I point this out to mom who promptly gives me to dad who politely listens and hangs up (politely.) I haven't heard from them but I suspect I'll be hearing about their second trip to the ER tomorrow.

Why did they call, especially after I relayed R.'s advice? More importantly, why involve me when they can take care of themselves? Mom's a nurse: she knows all the proper procedures. R. says it's the fear of death, that the older one gets the longer the paranoia of their illness being their last. All the news has basically heightened it.

Sigh. I love my parents. There are situ's like this, though, I wonder if I'm the parent and they're the kids.

In a related topic, I use my scythe as the Grim Reaper of Words, Weights, Whatever (WWW) and culled a goodly number of blogs (see right.) I already stopped posting at my other two blogs and transferred my regular reads from them to WWW. I wanted to give more attention to those who not only regularly post (for me, at least once a week) but who make the time and effort to read my blog. A little bit of thanks in a thanksless world.

And on that note, back to remodeling my house. Pics to be developed this week!