Wednesday, September 28, 2005

The Open Face Sandwich Generation

I always thought I would be able to blame my gray hair on Pink Ninja, or Dash, or Dear Husbands deployments.

However, I think I will say at least 5 of my gray hairs (all of which are colored) are due to my Dear Parents. I have mentioned my Mother in previous posts, she battled Colon cancer for 2 1/2 years, the cancer eventually metastisized to her brain and she lost her battle. My Father has been diagnosed with heart disease since he was 47. Which has meant that I am "always, prepared for a weird phonecall re: his heart health". My Dad is STUBBORN, he also thinks being stubborn is "cute". He had the stint put in the other day, and got to go home about 16 hours later. Mind you I am about a 15 hour drive away, so I cannot enforce "rules". This is where his girlfriend has been taking over. Poor Thing.

My Father is 64, and should know better than to be such a Wisenheimer, Hanyach. (Weird jibberish my Mom used to call us. I know not what a Hanyach is-don't ask) He has threated to do something to violate his Drs. orders almost everyday. He he threatened to go back to work. Which wouldn't bother me, but he hates his factory job, works 12 hour shifts in a hot and humid building, and frankly after working the same job for 48 years and never using sick time allows you to recover from heart surgery. He has threatened to mow his manicured 1 1/4 acre lawn. He also has made it out of doors to chase some lowly group of moles that have infiltrated said lawn. He runs around with a pitchfork, and pokes it in their tunnels until he stabs them. I think this technique sounds cumbersome, but he is quick to remind me, he has "killed 8 of the son's of bitches this summer".

I have pleaded with him in several phonecalls this week. I finally reminded him of a story this week.......

When my Grandfather was about 83 years old, he spent a Fourth of July Day on the roof of his home replacing shingles. I would have been about 8 at the time. I remember we were eating dinner that night, and my Dad got one of those weird phonecalls, that left him drained looking. His stubborn Father was in the hospital with a nasty case of heat stroke. I remember my Dad being sick over it, and just plain mad. Where was his Father's common sense at? Why would an 83 year old man be on the roof on one of the hottest days of the year? (On a good note Grandpa recovered from his little incident)

Anyway, I reminded my Dad of this little gem of a story. I also threw in this little needle. "Your being stubborn just like your Dad".

He got quiet, and I think I bought myself 72 hours of my Dad lying low, or him sneaking around and doing crazy shit behind my back.

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