DAD

My dad was taken to the hospital with a urinary tract infection on Tuesday. I've been visiting each day. He is being operated on this morning. I trust everything will be fine.

Sunday, when I was talking to my mother, she told me that he was having problems with his bowels. She always goes to a whisper when she says things like that. I asked her if he had diarrhea or was constipated. She ignored my question, so I let it drop. When I met them at the hospital on Tuesday and found out what was wrong, I surmised that she was afraid to say either urinate or penis. Octogenarians don't mention those things, I guess.

Last night, when I got to the hospital, I discovered that she hadn't visited that day. I called her on my way home to give her my report and find out why she hadn't been there. She wanted to go but was afraid she didn't have enough gas to get to the hospital and back. At first, I thought she didn't have any money but that wasn't the case. She didn't know how to pump the gas. She has never done it. Dad always pumped the gas. I agreed to drive to her house at six a.m. to follow her to the gas station and pump the gas for her.