A day in The Park

I took the day off work, and went to The Park to take Mom to visit her cardiologist.  A few vignettes from the day…

     – when i arrived to pick her up, she was having breakfast on the couch.  coffee and potato chips.   she then tells me the story of DQ, Jr (12 years old) and a friend getting arrested at a movie theater for taking video for the last few minutes of the Hanna Montana movie.  No charges filed, but damn good drama all around…

     – the doctor asks many questions, including “how are you doing with your sodium?”  Mom answers the question, saying she has switched to sea salt, and thinks she’s doing ok.  i wait… until i can’t stand it any longer and casually mention her daily breakfast of potato chips and the fact that she unloads at least a half shaker of salt on everything (including her coffee) prior to tasting it.  65 years of smoking will do that to your tastebuds, i suppose.

     – Mom’s blood pressure is high (170/60) and her pulse is low (55).  Time to change her meds!  she tells the doc that it’s been like this for a few months – and that there was one night in December her pulse was 48.  doc is concerned.  i am concerned – and frustrated, because this is the first i’ve heard of this.  remember that little surprise we dropped on her a few weeks ago?  it really could have caused a stroke…

     – driving from the doctors office, she finished her cigarette in my car.  picking her up in front of the cardiology building while she’s blowing smoke rings out her nose? doesn’t really phase me much anymore.  i don’t care for smoking in the car, but it’s not like smoke will make the shitmobile smell worse.   on the highway, she mentions that she isn’t sure the cigarette went out the window.  it didn’t.  i managed a quick recovery of a smouldering butt from the back seat, while driving 70 mph leaving only a small flesh wound in the upholstery.  good thing i don’t care…

     – at the house, DQ (niece next door) comes over to review the medical info.  DQ, Jr. is asked to take the 5 month old baby, DQ, III, into the other room so Mom and DQ can smoke.  I’m encouraged that they are at least not trying to smoke near the infant.  As DQ lights up and blows a big ol’ cloud of smoke toward me, she informs me she’s pregnant again.  That it was an accident – “…we were being careful…”.  What?  By only screwing on days that end in “Y”?

As far as these things usually go, it really wasn’t bad.  Just another day in The Park…