For The Record

Yesterday Morning

 
My wife to my father: "Tomorrow you have a doctor's appointment."

     My father to my wife: "Who has a doctor's appointment?"
     "You have a doctor's appointment."
     "I have a doctor's appointment?"
     "Yes, you have a doctor's appointment."
     "Why?"
     "It's your yearly check-up."
     "My what?"
     "Your yearly check-up."
     "There something wrong with me?"
     "No, it's just your yearly check-up."
     "My yearly check-up?"
     "Yes, your yearly check-up."
     "Then there's nothing wrong with me?"
     "No, Dad. there's nothing wrong with you."
     "If there's nothing wrong with me, then why do I have to go to the doctor? I don't trust that character."
     "It's just a check-up, Dad."
     "Yes... but a check-up for what?"
     My wife goes through another fifteen minutes of verbal ping-pong before my father finally walks away, shaking his head and mumbling, "Yeah, but a check-up for what?"
 

This Morning
 


     My father strolls into the house the next morning wearing an old t-shirt, shorts, white knee socks, and white walking shoes. Your standard issue senior citizen outfit. By the look on his face, he didn't have a care in the world.
     I chuckled to myself. I knew he had forgotten that he had a doctor's appointment.
     Me to my father: "Dad, are you ready for your doctor's appointment?"
     My father to me: "What? You have a doctor's appointment?"
     "No. I don't have a doctor's appointment. You have a doctor's appointment."
     "Who has a doctor's appointment?"
     "You have a doctor's appointment?"
     "I have a doctor's appointment?"
     "Yes, you have a doctor's appointment.
     "Why do I have a doctor's appointment?"
     "It's just a check-up"
     "A check-up? But there's nothing wrong with me. Why do I have to go to the doctor if there's nothing wrong with me?"
     "It's just a check-up, Dad."
     "But I don't trust that guy. He doesn't know what he's doing."
     "You have to go, Dad. It's the law. Obama says so."
     "Ahhh... uhhh... wellllll..." Smack! Smack! Smack! "A check-up for what?"
     "For you."
     "For me?"
     "For you."
     "But I'm not sick."
     "It's just a check-up, Dad."
     "It's just a check-up. It's just a check-up. Why didn't anyone tell me yesterday that I had a doctor's appointment?"
 

A Few Minutes Later

 

     My wife walks in.
     I walk away.
     She looks at what my father is wearing.
     "Dad," she tells him, "did you forget you have a doctor's appointment?"
     "I don't have a doctor's appointment." he tells her.
     "Yes, you do."
     "No, I don't."
     "Yes, you do."
     "Are you sure?"
     "Yes, I am."
     "But I feel good."
     "Are you going to change?"
     "Change what?"
     "Your clothes."
     "My clothes? Why would I want to change my clothes. This is what I want to wear."
     "That's what you want to wear?"
     "Yeah, what's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
     "Why don't you put on that nice shirt that I bought you."
     "Which one?"
     "The white one."
     "You bought me a white shirt? When did you buy me a white shirt? I don't remember you buying me a white shirt." (Of course he doesn't remember the white shirt. I paid for it. Anyway, he goes on,) "Why do you want me to change clothes?"
 

Twenty Minutes After That

 
     Twenty minutes later, he finally goes back to his room to change. My wife tells him to wear a nice shirt.
     "The white one?" he asks her.
     "That would be nice," my wife answers.
     A few minutes later, my father walks back into the house wearing a multi-colored shirt. Blue, white, red, and some colors that I didn't even know existed in the color spectrum. He's got on plaid shorts over his skinny legs, black ankle socks stretched into knee socks over his skinny calves, and pre-1941 black military dress shoes.
     I look at my wife and smile.
     She turns her head away from me because she doesn't want to make eye contact.
     Deep down, I know she's laughing.
 

For The Record

 

     For the record, we never get to any of my Dad's doctor appointments on time.
 
 

Raising My Father

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