So I get the call around 3:30 this morning that my Dad is back in the hospital with pneumonia. This time it doesn’t sound so good. It all started happening back in 2008 when it was discovered he had a double-lung infection. And ever since, he’s ended up in the hospital at least two times annually. Every time this happens I gird the ‘ol loins and prepare for the worst and every time so far, the worst has not occurred. I know this winning streak will end at some point and another wonderful human being will move on to the “next level” as the gamers call it. So where is the humor in all of this? Surely, laughter cannot be found in watching someone you love so dearly suffer through an insidious disease. Or can it? Hospitals aren’t exactly comedy clubs. At least at a comedy club you can die onstage and live to tell about it.
So I ask again…where is the humor?
It’s in the memories.
Every time Dad has gone into the hospital memories of a healthier Dad come flooding in as if to balance the less desirable reality before my eyes. Like the time we were all coming back from my uncle’s house and Dad had to go to the bathroom so bad that, upon arriving home and discovering the house key was lost, he grabbed a crow bar and literally ripped the molding off the door to get in. He looked like a member of a S.W.A.T. team as he busted through the door. To this day, that very molding remains, crack still evident, much like that of the Liberty Bell. Yes, he was liberated that day… from a couple servings of sausage and peppers.
I also remember the time Dad and my brother decided to rebuild the old picnic table. When it was finished they both sat down and discovered that the table was at chin height. Something to do with putting the legs on upside down.
Of course, I had my own building story with Dad. He and my Mom wanted to put up one of those aluminum pre-fab storage sheds. The optimistic part of me told them that I could get it done in a day. Of course, the day I picked was ridiculously windy and it wasn’t until I nearly had my head sliced off by aluminum panel #2 that I read the instructions that clearly stated “Do not assemble in windy conditions.” By the way, it took two days to complete the job. Thank God my wife was there with her little hands. There was no way any adult male could have gotten those tiny screws in those little crevices. The thing was obviously designed by elves. That explains my wife’s pointy ears.
I could go on and on with memories like these. There are so many. And thank God I have them. They take the sting out of difficult circumstances and allow me to stare adversity in the face with a grin that would make the Cheshire cat jealous.
handyhumor 