visiting the parents

This is what the last couple of days have been like.

Assure parents before leaving that I will be fine driving down in the rain. Yes, my windshield wipers are in good shape. Yes, I have plenty of gas in the car. Yes, my phone is fully charged in the event that all my years of driving practice suddenly fail me and I find myself careening over the side of the mountain and have to call for help.

Arrive at the parents, after a rain-free trip.

Listen to my father complain that my mother can’t remember anything for five minutes. Listen to my father complain that my mother repeats herself constantly. Listen to my father repeat that my mother can’t remember anything for five minutes. And that she repeats herself constantly.

Sneak a look at my watch.

Go out for dinner to the barbeque place. Gently suggest that given my father’s recent triple bypass operation, perhaps a salad would be a better choice than pork barbeque with french fries. Be reminded that neither of them can have greenery since they both are taking a blood thinner now. Question that, as that’s NOT what everything I’ve read about the blood thinner says. Question falls on two sets of deaf ears, as it has every time it has been raised. By me, by my brother, by my sister-in-law. Think, FINE, DON’T LISTEN TO US, KEEP EATING CRAP, HAVE ANOTHER HEART ATTACK, WHATEVER!!!!! But do not vocalize. Sneak look at watch.

Go back home, watch the local news, watch the national news, watch PBS. Inquire as to whether they are getting any use at all out of the satellite dish my brother ordered for them, as they are watching the same two channels they’ve watched for the last twenty years. Well, at least the reception is good now. Sneak a look at watch. Wonder (silently) if we have in fact been frozen in time.

Pretend at 10:30 to be terribly tired. Go to room, after sneaking out of freezer huge enormous Shakespeare Stout beer that was snuck in earlier in the evening. Huge enormous Shakespeare Stout is only a tad cool. Consider telling them that their freezer does not seem to be in top working order, as my freezer freezes a beer in about five minutes whereas the beer I stuck in THEIR freezer half an hour ago is barely cool. Decide not to bring it up. Take warm beer into bedroom, spend the rest of evening writing and drinking brackish Shakespeare Stout. Which is still very very good.

Fall asleep, and dream that parents’ refrigerator is completely packed with white styrofoam to-go boxes full of leftovers. Dream is not that far removed from reality.

Get up as late as possible next morning. Vacuum, mop, dust, clean out hummingbird feeders and put new sugar syrup in. Put flea stuff on two Inside Cats. Feed two Outside Cats and try not to laugh at father who is very pleased that latest Outside Cat has started letting father pet him. Father has insisted for my entire life that he hates cats. Father now dotes on the two inside cats AND the two outside cats. Decide not to pursue that. Do dishes, tackle Mountain O’ Bills And Assorted Weird Crap, write checks, get mother to sign them. Remind mother fifteen times what she’s doing and why she’s signing checks. Try to make sense out of father’s method of filing paperwork, but quickly give up. Sneak look at watch.

Am very pleased to see that it’s raining, as rain is DANGEROUS and causes parents to worry that I will lose the ability to drive and that I will meet fog on mountains and they agree that I better not stay much longer. Go out to eat AGAIN, for lunch. Everyone has a Ruben. Mother, who is too skinny, eats a tiny bit of hers. Father, who is not skinny enough and had a heart attack in March, eats all of his. And the chips.

Bring up (with some trepidation) that mother has an appointment at the Memory Clinic in two weeks. Don’t make obvious joke that the first test the Memory Clinic runs is to see if anyone can remember the Memory Clinic appointment. Notice that it’s not on the calendar. Write it on the calendar. Tell mother that I am writing her appointment for the Memory Clinic on the calendar. Tell her that it is August 11. Tell father than he has a dentist appointment that day also. Tell them the Memory Clinic is at 9. Tell them the dentist is at 11. The Memory Clinic is at 9. The dentist is at 11. No, the dentist is for father. The memory clinic is for mother. No, the dentist is not at 9. It’s at 11. No, the memory clinic is 9, not 11. Sneak look at watch. The appointment at 11 is for the Memory Clinic. Yes, it’s at 11. No, the dentist is at 9.

Finally, finally, FINALLY leave. Finally. Go to Starbucks and buy largest Mocha possible. Lots and lots and lots of caffeine. Drive back home at top speed. Feel guilty, feel sad, feel guilty, feel sad, feel glee at going home, feel overcome with freedom, feel sad. Sad, sad, sad.