TMI

One of the too numerous to count things I do to make Wifey's life better is fielding nightly calls from her mother.  The old lady is deaf, and uses a CapTell phone -- she can't hear the voice of the caller on the line, but reads a printout of what they say. So once I tell my suegra it is her daughter, she chats away -- and I have a better sense of humor and more patience dealing with her.

Wifey loves her mother, of course, and is dedicated to caring for her until the end, but the old woman is awful.  She's stubborn, and a know it all, and plays the victim card better than any poker champ plays Texas Hold 'Em.

I have taken to giving her over the top complements, and always telling her she is correct, no matter how clearly wrongheaded her statements are.  I mollify and patronize her. She loves it.  Wifey is too honest -- she calls the old woman on all of her BS. I don't -- and it makes for more pleasant evenings around Villa Wifey.

Well last night I paid for my favor.  While we were on, the old woman had her gall bladder removed. She did fine -- I joked that she only had 2 of the "4 Fs." My doctor friends always told me that a typical gallbladder patient was fat, female, fertile, and forty.  My suegra is only the first two, as far as I know. Then again, maybe she's still fertile...

She recovered completely, except for some lingering pain, and the doc gave her a narcotic. She told me seriously that she had to be careful -- "de stuff is ADDICTIVE." I told her that if I made it to nearly 92, I think I 'd do every single drug there is. I might even take up smoking...She didn't hear me, of course, and seriously is worried about becoming the world's oldest pill addict.

Anyway, of course a known side effect of narcotics is that they constipate. So last night, the old woman called, as I returned from the Canes loss to the Tar Heels. I fielded the call, and told her how I (Wifey) couldn't wait to see her tomorrow, to take her for a late lunch.

"Oy -- I don't know. I have to vait until I have a bowl movement -- if not, I cannot leave condo." She pronounced bowel movement "bowl" and the then went into a lot of detail. Ugh. Hoist on my own petard!

I told Wifey that conversation exceeds my pay grade. I'll flatter and charm the old woman, but will NOT be a party to details about nearly 92 year old bodily functions.  Wifey may actually have to field the calls herself...