BLOBBY'S BLOG

Growing Up

This morning the phone rings at 7:00a. It's Sunday. I see almost no scenario where this can be good news. No one is calling to arrange dinner at 7:00a. ....and it wasn't.

My father was being taken by squad to the emergency department w/chest pain. The call was from one of my sisters. He had been working alone doing some water plant business. Physical work. Way too physical for an 85+ yo man. He knew enough to get home, take aspirin as if he was having a heart attack. And both he and my mother were smart enough to call 9-1-1 and not try to navigate the hospital transport on their own.

As it turns out the docs ruled out an MI, but they're keeping him overnight....at least one night. The staff was great - much better than @ my hospital.

Nothing makes you feel more grown-up than taking care of your parents to whatever degree. A car, house and job don't do that. Making your own will, becoming your parent's power of attorney or navigating them through the healthcare system thrusts you into immediate adulthood. Anyone who knows me will easily admit that I am grounded in my adolescence.

In the last few months, as morbid as it sounds, I've envisioned the situation where I'd be the one who would have to deliver a eulogy at the funeral or either of my parents. Not only do not think my sisters wouldn't do it - I don't think they could. Of course, this would go along w/having to make all the arrangements. I'm a realist this way: my parents are in their late 70s and mid-80s. Time is precious - yet limited. Something my sisters have trouble realizing and struggle with. Even if my parents live to 100, I swear my sisters will have never seen it coming. (a somewhat funny side note: I had no desire to call my other siblings to fill them in - but promised my mother I would. I attempted to get my younger sister to call one an older one - which nobody would want to do. I told her I'd pay her a dollar. Her response was, "sure. times one million!" I made the call.)

I've had this conversation before - but how did the seemingly 'black sheep' of the family become the responsible one? Maybe I seemingly deal with these things ok (maybe not - we really don't know yet, do we?). Maybe it is my work background. Maybe it is because I'm a realist.

....or maybe I'm just finally an adult.