Thursday, June 18, 2015

A Post About My Mom and a Humanoid Grasshopper

Hi there! Dave-El here and welcome to I'm So Glad My Suffering Amuses You, the blog that will not ask "Is it hot enough for you?" because I think most of us in the southern United States can answer, "It's too damn hot!"

In the environs surrounding my Fortress of Ineptitude, temperatures are in the 90's and threatening to stay there for awhile. You do realize that technically it's not summer yet, right? 

Well, what (beside the weather...which is too damn hot) is on my mind today? 

Here are a couple of pictures of yours truly.

Here I am with my mom in the house where I grew up. OK, the house where I got old enough to be legally called an adult then left. I don't think anyone can accuse me of growing up. 

As I've posted here before, my mom has been diagnosed with dementia. She's still well enough to keep living in her own home but as the saying goes, it takes a village to make that happen. A lot of people do way more than me for which I am very grateful but nonetheless I feel more than a bit guilty about. I do what I can from 3 hours away; mostly, I send money. 

My mom loves to talk but not just about the past as a lot people in her condition are want to do. She follows the news and sometimes our conversations turn towards current events. In the process, I make her laugh which is another thing I do for her, I guess. 

I do notice she lose her concentration a bit more than she used to, a bit more forgetful. Although her memory has never been a strong suit for her. When I was a kid, I would be in the back seat of the myself, mind you!...and my mom wanted to tell me something, she'd go, "Listen, Roger, Roy, Sammy, Leroy..." She would go through all the names of men in her family. 

"Bobo, Dusty..." Bobo was our dog, Dusty was our cat. 

"Richard, Gerald, Jimmy..." Great! She's naming off Presidents now! 

And after reciting a few sisters and aunts, she would finally land on my name. Really did wonders for my self-esteem.  

My mom has a lump in her breast that will need to come out. Its the size of an egg according to her family doctor. I wanted to ask if it was the size of an egg from a European swallow or an African swallow but I decided that was not the time or the place. Also nobody would get the joke. Although I bet my mom would've laughed at it.  

Her surgery is next week. I hope the medical staff are ready for her then. I was there in the room with her family doctor and my neice Julie when the appointment for the surgeon to meet with my mom was set, which was for June 17th. Julie gets her there only to be told, no, they don't have my mom down for an appointment. If this was a unique event, I suppose Julie would've been less frustrated. But this keeps happening! My mom is told to be a doctor's office at certain day and time, then she gets there and someone's say, "Duh, we don't have you down here at all." 

Thankfully the surgeon made room in her schedule and met with my mom. The doctor feels that she'll come out of it just fine, even in her current physical and mental health. Let's hope so. I want my mom to be around awhile.

I mean, nobody else laughs at my jokes.  

Hey, here's another picture of me, this time with a relative from my home planet.

OK, it's Guilford the Grasshopper, the mascot for the Greensboro Grasshoppers. I was there with the company I work for to take in a day game where it was (say it all together now!) TOO DAMN HOT! Thankfully my employer has a skybox. 

Now let me deal with the really burning question: what the hell is up with my beard? 

Believe it or not, there's only two week gap between those two photos. The batteries in my beard trimmer died and yes, I can afford new batteries, I just keep forgetting. Anyway, it's become almost a challenge to see how much further I can go before I can officially christen myself "crusty old miner" or "crusty old train engineer". 

The thing is no one has said anything. At all. I know people can be a bit antsy to comment on someone's appearance but damn! I'm heading for George R. R. Martin territory. You think that might be worthy of some comment. But so far, no.

It would be neat if I can grow my beard out enough to store small snacks for emergencies.  

Anyway, great day at the ball park. Despite the heat, it was actually quite pleasant on the skybox balcony. And the Grasshoppers won so that's always a good thing. 


That's all I have for today. Be back here tomorrow and see what nonsense I post next time. Until then, be good to one another. 

And dagnabbit, keep outta my silver mine!  

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