little chickens…

Last week, i took a day off work to haul Mom in to see her magically delicious competent and caring cardiologist, Dr. M*.  She’s looking marvelous, bright of eye, bushy of tail. She’s in great spirits, with blush in her cheeks and spring in her step. 

Mom is doing well, too, considering it’s been two months since her bypass surgery.

After an echo-cardiogram to assess heart function, we reviewed the results with doc, and she declared Mom healthy and on the road to a bright tomorrow!  Still a bit weak, but as long as Mom keeps up the daily walks, stays away from the smokes and continues to take care of herself, the doc will consider the bypass a complete success.

Mom was relieved – mostly that her heart isn’t going to fall out of her chest into her bacon and eggs** – and we left to run a few errands while i was in The Park.  Off to the pharmacy, grocery store with a final stop at the bank. 

Mom was insistent on meeting with the bank manager to verify that all of her deposits were fully insured to protect her from the looming catastrophic banking crisis that is perhaps only hours away.  Trying to calm her down, i reminded her that the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation (FDIC) covers all assets up to $100,000 – even more depending on how the accounts are structured.  i also pointed out that much of the hype about this was purely alarmist media horseshit, designed to jack up television viewership.

Mom was having none of this, so we patiently waited for the next available bank manager.  After about 15 minutes, a manager appeared, escorting an elderly gentleman from her cubicle.  As we settled in, she patiently waited for Mom to explain the purpose of our visit.  The manager was reassuring as she walked Mom through the levels of safety employed by the institution.

As i sat there, lulled to sleep by the warm and comforting tones of the manager, i noticed another manager escorting an elderly woman from the adjacent cube.  And then collecting another senior citizen from the waiting area in the lobby.  Our manager prepared a detailed report on Mom’s account structures, and used the FDIC website to capture a snapshot of fiscal security.

And in the lobby?  Two more elder statesmen had arrived, and were waiting on deck…

As we left, we both thanked the manager.  i asked her politely – “Guess you’re seeing quite a few anxious investors these days, eh?”  As she smiled sweetly – not quite through gritted teeth but perhaps with the hint of a snarl forming around her perfectly painted lips – “Oh, it’s understandable with all of the media attention these days…”.

She’s a saint.  It’s only a matter of time before some addled bank manager storms off to a local news station and starts whacking on-air personalities*** with potted plants, and piercing their temples with bank pens, still attached to security chains.  i guess hyping economic catastrophe is what tides the bag-o’-shit media outlets over between the “frozen highways of death” season and the “hurricanes obliterating humanity – probably due to global warming” late summer season. 

Lurking in the back of my head is a touch of conspiracy theory – perhaps these fear-mongering media motherfuckers drive elderfolk to stash cash in their mattresses.  Then spend their weekends buying stained, flattened beds at estate sales looking for treasure…

* Got me a bit of a harmless “girl crush” on Dr. M – in the footnote here.  As much as i’m tempted to think it’s just wishful thinking on my part?  She does seem to enjoy engaging me in conversation, asks how “single life” is treating me and tells me i’m looking good.  Could it be… dare i say it… “mutual”?

** Mom had a bit of the irrational “my parts is gonna fall out” fears post-surgery.  i could empathize… after two c-sections to deliver my industrial sized offspring, i was freaked out about things coming undone.  Still can’t watch “Alien” – or even “Spaceballs” – without a twinge…

*** Not to be confused with “journalists”, or even “reporters”… that would require brain cells.