Welcome to another edition of Wacky Wednesday folks. Today you are fortunate enough to read another chapter about my wacky, dysfunctional parents. Remember that catchy little jingle back in the day about conjunctions from School House Rock? I modified it so now it is my family theme song: "Dysfunction junction, what's your function". Seriously, it's amazing I turned out 1/2 way normal given the copious amount of dysfunction seeping from the pores of my ancestors. Notice I said 1/2 way normal. I never claimed to be sane, but I know I ain't near as wacky as my kin folk.
So in case you missed the first installment, you can read about it Here where my parents lost their home and their every last dime to a gambling addiction. Sad really, but they refuse to accept they have a problem. Until you are willing to make a real change, any amount of outside help ain't worth a hill of beans.
Anyway, just hours before the sheriff is to come lock them outta their house and put their ass on the street, my Dad passes out at a restaurant. An ambulance comes to take him to the ER. Since I live 8 hours from my parental units, and I'm an only child, I receive a voice mail from my Mom that says, "Dad is in the hospital, I don't know what's wrong with him, and I don't have no phone". Excellent command of the English language there hey?
Believe me when I tell ya, the Bundy family has more on the ball than my folks. Long story short, my Dad is admitted to the hospital, has been there 6 days, and insists he has no idea what is wrong with him other than he needs a pacemaker but he can't get one for some reason. HIPPA laws prevent me from receiving his health care information. I can't get in touch with my Mom 'cause she don't have no phone. My Dad can't hear the phone ringing in his hospital room 'cause he's hard of hearing, so when I call to check on him, the poor nurses have to go down to his room and yell at him to pick up the phone. He is also so obnoxious that one of the nurses has nicknamed him "loudmouth". Other relatives have told me they can find my Dad's room as soon as the elevator doors open 'cause they hear him burping and farting all the way down the hall. My bet is those hospital employees can't wait until the day my Dad is discharged, so they can have a fond farewell PAR-TAY in his honor when they wheel him away.
Good news is the moving van came in the nick of time and moved some items outta the house for my Mom into an apartment. When I asked my Mom if she will have the same phone number, she replied "yes because I have a portable phone". As I was banging my head against the wall, I explained that she needed to call the phone company to get a land line hooked up. Hence the reason she still don't have no phone. Shockingly, her TV "don't work" either. Yep, you guessed it. Ya can't just move into a new joint, plug in the TV and expect the cable to magically appear. My brain is now swollen from hitting my head so many times against the wall.
Honestly I thought raising two teenage boys was rough, but that is a walk in the park in comparison to parenting parents who are freakin' clueless about life. The only comic relief came from my 87 year old Grandmother who told me, "I want to kick your Mom and Dad in the ass because of their stupid gambling but my arthritic leg won't let me". Rock on Grandma!!!!!
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