Herding Snails and Taking Insults

This morning I'm up at 6:00. Today is podiatrist day for dad. The receptionist had called a few days earlier indicating that there had been an early morning cancellation, that I was able to pick up -- 8:30 to be exact -- which meant I'd have to get him up by 6:45 or 7:00, 1 to 2 hours earlier then his normal rising time. And when one, namely my dad, moves like a snail it was questionable if I could pull it off.

7:00 Am -- I turn on the CD player in the family room and set it to Pop's favorite soloist hoping that the sounds outside his door will alert him to the fact that activity is taking place in and about the house ... meaning it is time to rise and shine! No movement from his room, so I go and rap on his bedroom door and let myself in. He is snuggled in his bed, eyes closed and no indication that he has even considered emerging from his nest. I decide to try bribery. "Pop," I say softly. "We have to get up early this morning and go to an appointment. How about if I take you to get a quick bite of breakfast on the way?" Pulling the covers up around his face I get a very short and emphatic, "I'm still tired and I don't want to get up yet!"

Not wanting to mention the word "doctor" as this would send him into a tizzy, I try to talk around it and encourage him that he just has to get up earlier then usual because WE have an appointment to get to. When I realize that none of my approaches seem to be working, a tumble of words pour from my lips as I attempt to get the bad news out in the open as quickly as possible enabling me to leave the room before he has a chance to look daggers at me. I dumped the whole honest truth that he has an appointment with the podiatrist and we, have to get out the door pronto! Pop does not like wasting money on doctors and I knew this approach was not going to work well, but I was out of subtleties and out of the room.

Realizing the clock was ticking, I left him in his cozy, warm bed and enlisted my husband. Out of Pop's room came my husband with an air of accomplishment. When in doubt, let a more distant family member do the dirty work. Daddy was now in the bathroom. I felt like we were making progress. Asking my husband to go and check on him again, he returns with a frustrated look and informs me that my dad is back in bed.

This time I bribe him with tea. My offer went like this; if he'd get up and get ready to go I'd be out in the kitchen brewing a cup of tea. This temporarily softened his crusty, stubborn attitude. I found him in his jeans, sitting on the edge of the bed pulling on his socks.

By now it is exit time and he is in the bathroom beginning to shave. My exasperation level is rising and in like manner, so does the tone of my voice. I inform him that there is no time to shave. He stubbornly and obviously totally ignores me! In a bad show of temper, I reach over and unplug his shaver. He slams the shaver down. I raise my voice another decibel and in so doing seem to gain the upper hand. Soon we are walking out the door, carrying his hot cup of bribery in my hand.

At the doctors office Pop turns to me rubbing his chin. "I really need a shave," he says. I console him by saying it is not noticeable. Two minutes later he turns to me rubbing his chin, "I really need a shave." I reassure him with the same line. After three or four of these repeats I pretend that I am engrossed in my magazine and don't hear him. I notice a woman across the room smiling at me. She is probably thinking what a patient woman I am and admiring the way I am handling his constant repetitive questions. Little does she know that I nearly cold coked him in the bathroom about an hour previous.

Eventually we are ushered into the exam room and the doctor bursts in. I mentally nick name him Dr. Behind Schedule. Rushing through his litany of questions, barely looking at me, he proceeds to doctor my father's thin, white feet as I think to myself how thankful I am that it is him and not me handling my dad's feet and doing the doctoring. At one point in the questioning it becomes obvious that Dr. Behind Schedule believes that I am my father's wife rather then his daughter. Giving him a stony, raised eye brow stare, I make it quite clear he is doctoring my FATHER! At this point Dr. Behind Schedule is nick named Dr. Insultingly and/or Dr. Stupid!

Dr. Stupid rushes out of the room looking for his next patient to insult. Pop and I mosey out to the reception desk take care of the paper work and out the door into the bright sunny morning.

By now the mornings events, prying my dad from his bed, unplugging his shaver and forcing him out the door had been overshadowed by Dr. Stupid-Insulting's comment about my relationship to my father. Could this morning get any worse?