Grandpa: We got a call yesterday right at the tail end of dinner. Mrs. Magill, Fang, and I had just finished up; Spike and Squeaky were the stragglers. My Mother in Law was calling, quietly freaking out. It seems my Father in Law had gone to get a physical. He was sent immediately to a cardiologist. That’s never a good sign. They spent the rest of the afternoon running tests on him. The end result: He now has to take a handfull of pills everyday, he has to carry nitro pills on his person at all times, and he’s no longer allowed to mow the lawn.
Things I thought, but (thanks to my self-survival instinct) I didn’t say:
[ul][li]Sounds like my Grandaddy. (He died when I was twelve.)[/li][li]Crap, I guess that means I now have two lawns to mow.[/li][li]He travels for a living: Will the TSA allow him to bring nitro pills on the plane?[/ul][/li]
Granddaddy: Fang is going up to Raleigh to spend next week at Camp Grandparents. Included with this is a trip to Busch Gardens with my sister to ride roller coasters. They all love roller coasters, and Fang has been looking forward to this. After everyone was in bed, my father calls. It seems he was peeing blood this morning. His urologist thinks it may just be a varicose vein bursting in his prostate. He’s going for more tests on Tuesday. The doctor told him that he may come to Charlotte this weekend to pick up Fang, and they may go to Williamsburg, but if he pees blood again, he must go to the nearest hospital immediately. He’s also been forbidden from riding roller coasters. On the other hand he agrees with my theory regarding Valinor.
Mortality sucks.