Rise Up!

JoeWe’ve been having Joe take a nap after lunch lately because he just gets so worn out during the day.  Today he’s been acting super restless so I asked him if he wanted to get back up.

Joe:  “Sure, I’ll get up.”

Me:  “Okay, sit up on the edge of your bed and then Dot and I will help you to stand up.”

Joe:  “Okay.”

He didn’t budge.

Dot:  “Joe, do you want to get up or not?”

Joe:  “Sure, I’ll get up.”

Dot:  “Okay, get up then!”

He continued to lay there.

Dot:  “You keep saying that you wanna do something, but you can’t do anything until you get up from this bed!”

Joe:  “Alright, I’ll get up now.”


Dot looked at me and said:  “Here, you pull on his left arm and I’ll pull on the right.”

Joe grabbed hold of both of our hands, but instead of letting us help him he was pulling away from us.

Dot:  “How are we supposed to help you up if you pull away?”

Joe:  “I’m not pulling away.”

Dot:  “What are you doing then?”

Joe:  “I’m refusing to rise.”

Dot:  “How is that different from pulling away?”

Joe:  “It’s not.”

Dot:  “Oh Joe, you’re just impossible sometimes!”

Dot stormed out of the bedroom.  Joe looked at me, grinned from ear to ear, and then shrugged apologetically.

Joe:  “She wanted me to rise up, but I didn’t rise up.”

Me:  “I saw that.”

Joe:  “It’s just the way it goes sometimes, I guess.”


JoeI got Joe all tucked into bed the other night and he started snoring almost instantly.  Five minutes later, Dot and I were watching TV in the living room and we heard a giant THUD!  

Joe had climbed out of bed (over his bed-rail) and hobbled into the bathroom where he did a complete face-plant on the linoleum floor.  When I found him he was unconscious and non-responsive, so I asked Dot to call 911 while I checked to make sure that he was still alive.

While I was checking for a heartbeat, Joe came to and started laughing.

Joe:  “What the HELL am I doing on the floor?!”

Me:  “Dot, tell the operator that he’s talking!”

Joe:  “Who’s talking?”

Me:  “You are.”

Joe:  “I am?!”

I got up and grabbed the phone from Dot so that I could tell the 911 dispatcher what was going on.  She told me that paramedics were on their way and that I shouldn’t let Joe move.  

I hung up the phone and went back into the bathroom with Joe.  He was already trying to get up.

Me:  “Joe, don’t move okay?  Just stay right where you are.”

Joe:  “Well okay, but I’m on the floor.  How the HELL did I end up on the floor?”

Dot:  “You fell down Joe, and the ambulance is on its way now.”

Joe:  “Who fell down?”

Dot:  “You did!”

Joe laughed:  “Oh I never fell down.”

Dot:  “Then why are you on the floor?”

Joe:  “Because it looked comfortable!”

Joe tried to move again.

Me:  “Joe, just stay where you are okay?  The paramedics will be here any minute…”

Joe:  “Paramedics?  Why are they coming here?”

Me:  “They just need to check you over to make sure that you’re healthy.”

Joe:  “Oh I’m healthy.  I eat all of my vegetables, don’t I Dot?”

Dot:  “Not that kind of healthy.  They need to check your bones.”

Joe:  “My BONES?  What the hell do my bones have to do with anything?”

By then the paramedics had arrived on the scene.  They all know Joe because Joe used to be a volunteer fireman.  I spoke to the man in charge to explain what had happened, and the other guys went right to work.

Fireman:  “Hi there Joe!”

Joe turned his head so that he could see the man kneeling at his side.

Joe:  “Hello.”

Fireman:  “What seems to be the trouble?”

Joe:  “Nothin.”

Fireman:  “Well it looks like you had a pretty bad fall, and you’re banged up pretty bad.”

Joe:  “Is that right?”

Fireman:  “Yep.  We’re going to get you loaded up and head on over to the hospital okay?”

Joe:  “I guess that’s alright.  Are we going in the fire truck?”

Fireman:  “We’re going to load you up in the ambulance actually.”

Joe:  “Oh yeah, okay.  Well if you need any help just let me know.  I can help you load up the hay barrels.”

Fireman:  “Okay Joe, we’ll let you know if we need a hand.”

Dot stayed at the house while Mike (Joe and Dot’s son) and I followed behind the ambulance.  Thankfully it was a slow night at the ER so Joe was seen by a doctor right away.

Doc:  “Hi there, Joe.  How are you feeling tonight?”

Joe:  “Not too bad.”

Doc:  “I’m going to check you over okay?”

Joe:  “I guess that’s alright.”

The doctor started at the back of Joe’s neck and worked his way down the spine, asking Joe at various times if he felt any pain.

Doc:  “Does it hurt here?”

Joe:  “Nope.”

Doc:  “How about here?”

Joe:  “Here what?”

Doc:  “Does it hurt when I touch your back here?”

Joe:  “Oh.  Nope.”

Doc:  “Does it hurt here?”

Joe:  “Boy, you sure do ask a lot of questions.”

The doctor smiled:  “I’m just trying to figure out if you have any injuries.”

Mike (Joe’s son):  “Dad, you had a bad fall tonight.  The doctor just wants to make sure that you’re okay.”

Joe:  “Well…I guess that’s alright.”

Doc:  “It actually seems like you’re doing pretty well Joe.  Do you have any pain anywhere?”

Joe:  “Well, now that you mention it, my knee is a little sore…”

Doc:  “I will have the nurse take you back for an X-ray.  Anything else?”

Joe:  “My ass feels kind of funny.”

Doc:  “Do you mind if I take a look?”

Joe:  “Well you can take a look if you want, but it’s not going to be a pretty picture.”

The doctor laughed:  “I think I can handle it.”

Joe:  “I will tell you what you’ll find if you look back there.”

Doc:  “What will I find?”

Joe:  “A pile of shit.”

Mike:  “Dad!”

Joe:  “Well?  He asked!”

Doc:  “I will have the nurse get you cleaned up.”

The doctor wrote down a few notes, smiled at all of us and left the room.

Joe:  “Boy, we sure had to go through a lot of trouble to get some clean pants!”

Joe was discharged from the hospital with a minor knee sprain, a few bumps and bruises, and a clean pair of pants.  While we were driving back to the house Mike patted Joe on the leg and said:  “I’m just so glad that you’re ok, Dad.  

Joe:  “Of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?”

Mike:  “You had a pretty bad fall tonight, Dad.”

Joe laughed:  “Not me.  I never fell.”

Mike looked at me in the rear-view mirror and shook his head:  “You’re a pretty tough old bird, you know that?”

Joe smiled:  “Damned right!  

A few minutes later he looked back at me:  “Now, what’s for supper?”

It was 1AM.


JoeJoe and Dot ate the last of the crab that their son brought home from the Oregon Coast for lunch today.  When lunch was over, Dot told Joe to go wash his hands.

Joe:  “I don’t need to wash ’em.  They’re already clean!”

Dot:  “How could they be clean?  They have crab juice all over them!”

Joe:  “I washed them already.”

Dot:  “No you didn’t!  I was sitting right here.  I would know if you went to the sink and washed your hands.”

Joe:  “I didn’t go to the sink.”

Dot:  “I know you didn’t!  You need to go wash your hands at the sink now.  Go!”

Joe:  “I don’t need to go to the sink.  I washed my hands already.”

Dot:  “Oh yeah?  What’d you wash them with?”

Joe:  “I licked my fingers.”

Dot:  “You can’t just lick your fingers.  That’s not the same as washing them in the sink.”

Joe held up his hands:  “Look at my hands.  Do they look dirty to you?”

Dot:  “They don’t have to LOOK dirty to BE dirty.”

Joe cracked up:  “Shows how much you know.”

Dot:  “I know plenty about it.”

Joe:  “Okay then, it’s all settled.”

Dot:  “Yep, it will be all settled once you go to the sink and wash your hands!”

Joe:  “I don’t need to wash my hands.  I already licked ’em!”

2 out of 3.

joe_dotI just tucked Joe into bed for the night.  Dot likes to sit with him until he falls asleep, so I came back to the living room to give them some privacy.  Dot had turned the TV off, so unfortunately I did not have any noise to distract me from hearing their conversation.

Joe:  “You’re going to stay in here with me?”

Dot:  “Yes, is that okay with you?”

Joe:  “Well sure it’s okay!  Why don’t you close the door and come lay here beside me…”

Dot:  “Oh Joe, we’re too old for all that!”

Joe:  “Too old for what?”

Dot:  “We’re too old for THAT.”

Joe:  “Who’s too old?”

Dot:  “WE ARE!”

Joe:  “Speak for yourself!  I’m not too old!”

Dot:  “Oh you are too!”

Joe:  “I’m only 90.”

Dot:  “You’re 93.”

Joe:  “So what?”

Dot:  “So you’re too old.”

Joe:  “Why don’t you give me a chance to prove it to ya…”

Dot:  “That’s what you said the last time, so I gave you a chance and you didn’t do anything.”

Joe:  “When was that?”

Dot:  “Oh I don’t remember.  It’s was a while back.”

Joe:  “Well don’t you think it’s about time that we tried again?”

Dot:  “No.”

Joe:  “Can’t we try for 2 out of 3?”

Dot:  “No.”

Joe:  “Well you can’t say that I’m too old if you don’t even give me a chance to prove it to ya!”

Dot:  “Okay you’re not too old.”

Joe:  “That’s what I said!”

Dot:  “Goodnight Joe.”

Joe grinned:  “Goodnight Dot.”

Alcohol Content.

JoeWhile we were sitting at the table eating lunch today, I was telling Joe and Dot about meeting my friend Faith at Portland’s Bridgeport Brewery on Saturday for dinner.  Their son had brought them home some fresh crab from the Oregon Coast so Joe and Dot were both busy using a wrench to break open their crab legs while I was telling my story.

Me:  “They had the BEST beer there too!  It was called ‘Stumptown Tart’ and it’s a beer brewed with raspberries, blackberries and blueberries.”

Joe:  “What the hell is this?!”

Dot:  “It’s crab.  It’s good.  Eat it!”

Joe:  “Okay.”

Dot:  “Did the beer taste like fruit?”

Me:  “Well kind of.  I mean, I could taste the fruit but it wasn’t a sweet beer.”

Joe:  “Is this a rock?  Why are there rocks on my plate?!”

Dot:  “It’s not a rock.  It’s a crab.  It’s good.  Eat it.”

Joe:  “Oh crab, okay then.”

Dot:  “I’ve never had a fruity beer.”

Me:  “Oh it’s good, I’m sure you’d love it.”

Dot:  “We usually drink beer with our crab.”

Me:  “I think you’ve got some beer downstairs, would you like me to get one for you two to share?”

Dot:  “No, not now.  Maybe with dinner.”

Joe:  “Are we having rocks for dinner too?!”

Dot:  “No, we’re having beer.  And that’s not a ROCK!  It’s a crab.  It’s good.  Eat it!”

Joe:  “Oh yeah, crab…”

Me:  “So yeah, it was pretty much the best beer I’ve ever had.”

Joe looked at me:  “What’s the alcohol content in it?”

Me:  “Alcohol content?  Oh, I think it was 7 percent or so.”

Joe:  “So like a beer then.”

Me:  “Yep, exactly like a beer.”

Joe:  “It’s easier to get drunk off of beer if you like the taste of it.”

Me:  “That’s very true, Joe.”

Joe:  “I mean, you can get drunk off of regular beer too, but it’s more fun to get drunk off of beer that tastes good.”

Dot:  “Joe!  Eat your crab.  It’s good.  Eat it!”

Joe:  “Oh yeah, crab…”


imagesJust like every other American, we were glued to the television yesterday, and we were shocked and saddened by the tragic events that were unfolding at the Boston Marathon.

Even Joe was watching the news coverage in between catnaps.  At one point he woke up to see footage of the bombs going off at the finish line and it really startled him.

Joe:  “We’d better get out of here, Dot!”

Dot:  “Where do you want to go?”

Joe:  “Well it looks like we’d best be getting home because something bad is happening!”

Dot:  “We ARE home, Joe.”

Joe:  “OH NO!  OH NO!!”

I reached over and put my hand on his shoulder to make him feel safe.

Me:  “It’s okay Joe.  We are all safe at home.  No one is going to get hurt.”

Joe:  “Is that right?”

Dot:  “The bombing is happening in Boston, on the East Coast.”

Joe:  “Bombs??”

Me:  “Yes, but we are far away from it.”

Joe:  “Well that’s good!”

Me:  “Yes, it is good for us, but it’s definitely not good for the people in Boston.”

Joe:  “Well I guess I’d better go help out!  Dot, where is my uniform?”

Dot:  “You don’t have your uniform anymore.”

Joe:  “Oh yes I do!  It’s around here somewhere!”

Me:  “What uniform are you looking for, Joe?”

Joe:  “My fireman uniform.  I can’t help put out a fire without my uniform!”

Dot:  “You’ve retired from the fire department, Joe.”

Joe:  “I have not!”

Dot:  “Yes you have!  You’re too old to be a fireman.”

Joe:  “Too old MY ASS!  Now help me find my uniform so that I can go and help those people!!”

Clearly it was time for me to change the subject.

Me:  “Hey Joe, how about I go and fix you a snack?”

Joe’s eyes lit up:  “Well…I guess I could eat a little something.”

Me:  “How does ice cream sound?”

Joe just about jumped out of his chair he was so happy:  “ICE CREAM?!  Well I’d say that sounds pretty darned good!”

Me:  “Okay then, ice cream it is.”

Tall Trees and Shrubbery.

Lois the FinLois just shuffled past my bedroom and she was wearing her little T-shirt and her cozy, pink slippers, but nothing else.

Me: “Do you need help with anything, Lois?”

Lois: “I was just going to look for a little snack.”

Me: “How about I fix you a snack.”

Lois: “Oh, that would be wonderful. Now I’d better go look for Baby.”

She opened the back door and started to call out for the cat.

Me: “Lois, don’t you think you ought to put on some pants?”

Lois looked down: “Well for Pete’s sake! Where’d my pants go?”

Me: “My guess would be in your bedroom…”

Lois giggled: “I gave the neighbors quite a show huh?”

Me: “You sure did!”

Lois: “Now where was I? Oh yeah, I’d better look for Baby…”

Still naked from the waste down, she opens the back door: “BABY? BABY!!”

This must be why God created tall trees and shrubbery.


Lois the FinMy favorite is when my client, Lois, comes and sits by me on my bed and we have a whole conversation where she asks me 3 times who I am and I tell her my name, but she insists that I’m a lady with bad hips named Caroline who lives across the street with 3 kids (2 boys and 1 girl) and a black cat named Thomas.

As far as I know this person does not actually exist, but as long as she likes Caroline I’ll go along with it. Then after Lois and I (Caroline) have a few laughs, Lois gets up from my bed and farts like a revved up, long haul diesel truck engine for a full 60 seconds as she exits the room without so much as a “pardon me”.

Goodnight to you too, Lois.

Laundry 101.

Someone was truly a Brainiac today and accidentally threw a pair of Joe’s adult diapers in the washing machine. I thought I’d seen disgusting things before, but nothing compares to the gummy explosion of dirty Depends all over the “clean” sheets and towels. I’m still dry heaving just thinking about it.