When you’re all old and grey and in need of medical attention and are told that Medicaid/Medicare has gone belly up. Bankrupt. No mas dinero. That will be my mother’s fault. The world’s biggest hypochondriac. Ever! She’s the woman that views injuries/illnesses as a competition. If you tell her you have a cold, well she has pneumonia. If you tell her you sprained your ankle, well she tore ligaments in her whatchamacallit. She always has to ‘outdo’ you so she can get the lion’s share of the sympathy. She has yet to figure out that this doesn’t work. She has also made going to the doctor, the emergency room, the therapist (physical and psychological), the pharmacy, the herbalist, the specialist & the surgeon a competitive sport.
She just sent me an e mail with a photo attached of a very sterile looking room with a bed in it. If you all recall, mom’s got some creepy ideas about dating, so I just figured this was her latest hook up’s boudoir in some sort of trailer park. Nope, I was wrong. It’s the room for the sleep study that she is having done tonight. Why? Why not I guess. Maybe the ones she had done last year and the year before have expired? Maybe she needed a change of scenery? Who knows.
The woman already thinks she has sleep apnea (she doesn’t), but still sleeps with that aardvark looking device strapped to her face each night. Here’s the thing she doesn’t realize. Uh, she’s a restless sleeper. Everyone in the family is. Duh, now pay me $400 lady!
So anyway she sends me this picture of her sterile room with the subject line ‘participating in sleep study’ with the text of the message stating ‘wish me luck’. Of course, being the good daughter that I am, I couldn’t not respond (double negatives be damned). I sent a very sincere and heart-felt, ‘I don’t see any mints on your pillow, I wouldn’t stay in that hotel again’. 🙂 See? I’m not just a bitch to my dates…………..