dad's punishment #1

my dad is not very good at lying. i say this because he tries way more often than he should in light of this fact. he must be aware of it. he always gets caught. i suspect i have inherited my poor lying skills from him and that's fine with me since i'd never remember the intricacies of telling a lie. but then, neither does my dad. but he plows on anyway.

most of the time these "misunderstandings" (a term i'm sure he would use) or sins of omission (my own more accurate term) center around his own health. for instance, when my dad had cancer. cancer is not a thing you "forget". oops. it slipped my mind. i forgot to tell you about my cancer. yeah, right. because i live half a country away, i depend on the accuracy of phone and email communication to know what's going on back in the homeland. and my dad managed to not realize he hadn't mentioned cancer for quite some time. i found out when my mom said something about after his treatment. treatment? i was scanning my brain. had i forgotten a surgery my dad was having? it's always a possibility. i played along. i played along until it was pretty obvious this wasn't a little surgery to remove a mole but was something a little more substantial that had involved time. time my dad had used to talk to me about all sorts of stuff that didn't include cancer. so he got in trouble. and my mom, too, although it's difficult to punish your parents from so far away. but this is what he does. "forgets".

he also reinterprets events. for instance, he had a boat. i say had because he sold it this week. his take on why he sold it is this: "your sister (that's my sister, his middle child) won't let me take the grandson out in the boat anymore so i'm going to sell it." now, while it's true this sister can be a formidable adversary, she doesn't just make up random rules and she's pretty good about letting her kid experience lots in the world. the child was allowed to set off fireworks on the fourth of july as soon as he was old enough to hold his hand steady to light. so i pushed. no, he said. that's it. she just won't let me. so i talked to mom. dad and the nephew (his grandson, you know) take this boat out on a friend's lake. it's a small lake, pond-like. the child is nearly eight and knows how to dial 911 on a cell phone (which his mother taught him because she knows her father). she knows she has to tell dad the rules (don't let the child get in the lake because he has an ear infection) and then she reminds the child. she tells them in front of each other so they'll both know the score. they'll know she knows they both know. so when she picks up the child later and he's not quite dry she asks, "what happened. did he dangle you by your feet over the side of the boat?" the child's eyes get huge. he did. how did she know? she knows her dad. and he got in trouble. and she suggested that if the two of them couldn't stick to really simple rules that kept the kid healthy, they couldn't play together on the boat. so all dad would have to do is promise to follow the rules and then he'd have to do it. he'd rather sell his boat.

he is a stubborn man with a set of internal rules nobody can understand. he will not deviate. in his sixties, he chooses to mow the lawn between noon and two regularly, without anything to drink, with no sunscreen, in 90+ degree weather. did i mention regularly? why? it's 20 degrees cooler in the morning. yes, but that's when there's dew on the ground. you can't mow wet grass? really? it will clump. holy cow! really? clumped grass is horrible. it's terrible. it's definitely worse than DYING FROM A HEART ATTACK BECAUSE YOU'RE MOWING THE LAWN WHEN THE TV AND RADIO ARE SCREAMING ABOUT HEAT ADVISORY AND TO STAY INDOORS!!!!!

so let's go back to the health thing. my dad has always been annoyingly healthy. he smoked cigarettes during my entire childhood and when he quit, his smoke and tar clogged lungs went right back to being pink and healthy and fit. and although when he quit smoking he took up aggressive eating and gained weight, his cholesterol and blood pressure have stayed right where they should be for years. through bacon and eggs at least once a day. through absolute inactivity and tv watching. through four popsicles and two fudgesicles a day. until recently.

the other day i was on the phone with him and i heard my mom in the background (a woman who, in her sixties, has broken every large bone in her body in the last few years and still refuses to take calcium supplements "i don't have osteoperosis!") yelling, "tell her about your lab tests!" and he did. honestly, they weren't what you'd think they'd be for a man who makes the choices he does. most folks who make his choices have been dead for years. he mentioned high blood sugar levels and a mild concern he'd become diabetic if he didn't change things. duh! probably. so i suggested some very simple, non-threatening things he might do. cut back to one popsicle a day. walk around when he goes to the mall instead of just sitting in the food court for hours on end. get a two egg omelet instead of a three egg one. nothing huge. nothing about cutting out all popsicles.

then, in a different call, i mentioned the conversation to mom. did i mention she's an instigator. come on. where do you think i get it? when he came home from golf/the mall/wherever, she yelled at him. and he called me. and here's what he said: i never told you anything like that. right. he was steadfast. i never told you anything like that. don't worry. i'm healthy. but then he called my sister. not the formidable one. not even he is up to a confrontation with her. he called the baby. the baby sister is the mother of the new supernatural child and i think he must have been counting on new motherhood to addle her brain. he accused her of telling me about his tests. motherhood has not addled her brain and she let him know. so he demanded to know how i'd found out. which is when she cornered him. she told him he must have told me (duh!) and then said, "so your blood sugar was high." and he was caught.

my next phone call involved dad doing a lot of backpedaling and speculation about who might have said what. i'm sure he thinks his health is his own business and not mine. well, he's wrong. although i will not have to choose a hospital or nursing home for him if he stops taking care of himself (that pleasure goes to the formidable sister) i will have to go to his funeral. or maybe i will have to make a new rule that sits next to that "i do not go to funerals for drug dealers or gang members" rule. it will be "i do not go to funerals for people who eat four popsicles a day and complain that they can't get their blood sugar lowered without medication".