Dad has become a bit of a doolally tap, a term I once heard my English colleague and friend use in reference to her mother-in-law. It means to be mad, or very eccentric. I’m not sure if this was her intent, but I’m using the term with a whole lot of love and affection laced with some serious irritation. When I returned from beloved isolation at my own residence yesterday, he announced quite crankily that someone (meaning me), had messed with his laptop, disconnecting some cords and now it’s not working. “Because of this,” he says, “I don’t want anyone (a.k.a. mainly me), messing with my stuff anymore.” I literally forced something across my lips and hoped it was a smile and not the frown I was feeling on the inside, and said through clinched teeth. “Dad, I did not touch your laptop and I don’t know who did.” Although I suspect that whatever happened to dad’s laptop had a lot to do with the tinkering he was doing on it last Thursday when we thought the Internet connection was lost, but I wasn’t about to voice that thought. I’d noticed he was a tad irritated when I’d called on my way back to the house to tell him I was on my way. He’d called me earlier in the day to see when I was coming back so I could help him change the wafer that the colostomy bag connects to, and I told him I’d be back late evening. He said that’d be fine. So when I came in the door at around 8:45 pm I asked, “Are you going to shower so we can change the wafer?” His reply was a bit on the snippy side. “I didn’t know if you were even going to show up so I just did it myself.” Whoa. I show up every Sunday.
As I was going upstairs he continued on, “I asked Jean if she did it. Of course, she said no.” I can hear the click, click of his cane as he slowly makes it from the living room to the family room. “I asked Tony if he did it, and he said no. Nobody touched my computer and yet it’s not working.” Still about the damn laptop? At around 11:30 p.m. I decided sneak into his office to use his desktop to write in my blog, which I'd been preauthorized to do by the way, but the door to his office was locked. Yeah. Nothing says I love and appreciate you like distrust.
To be fair, Dad’s probably on edge because he has an appointment today for an ex-ray, and he has every right to be. He got the results back last Wednesday from a scan he took a week or so ago and they found a spot. The ex-ray will determine whether it’s more cancer or scar tissue from his surgery. I pray it's the latter.
He’s been through a helluva lot over the past few months so he’s certainly entitled to be a bit irritable from time to time. Although I have to add Dad could fry a last nerve before surgery. Whatever. He’s dad and we love him. But some days…oh Lordy.
Please God, let it be scar tissue.
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