T.M.I.

I went to my grandma’s house a few days ago (convenient – or is it??? – that she lives right next door to me). I barely had one foot inside the door before she starts in on her current plague of illness. Really…ONE FOOT.

“Oh, I tell you what…” Sentences that start out this way are never going to end well. Brace yourself.

“I have been so sick!” Another bad sign. I know I am about to get all the gory details, whether I want them or not.

“I have thrown up and up and up until it was green and slimy and then until there was nothing but spit.” Nice. But that’s not near enough description. More to follow.

“I’ve been carrying around this bucket…” (empty butter tub – a little trick my mom always did for us (guess you are more like her than you thought!))

“…because I can’t make it to the toilet in time.” Another superb mental picture.

“I tell you what…” Here we go again…

“It tastes so bitter and I brush my teeth and wrench my mouth out but it just doesn’t help.” Ugh. So gross. And there’s that “wrench” again. Just glad to know she finds it necessary to brush her teeth. You never can tell with old people. They take a bath once a week and wash their hair even less and think that ok. Even after mowing the lawn in 100 degree weather… but that’s another story for later.

“It’s so gross, Wendy. It’s just a puty ole green.” Official barf. I don’t know what “puty” is, but I don’t want my name referenced anywhere near it. Perhaps it is “putie”. I didn’t ask for a definition.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe it’s an ulcer or something.” That’s an improvement. She usually blames her maladies on a yet-to-be-discovered cancer. We are improving! Will it do me any good to assure her it’s just a little stomach bug? No. So I don’t speak at all, for fear that if I open my mouth, I’ll vomit.

“You can have that food you gave me back.” Following “puty green” I don’t think I want anything at this point, food or otherwise. I frequently take her a meal from whatever I cook for my family, but in no way do I “want it back” after this little demonstration. I will consider anything coming out of that house in the next 48 hours to be hte beginning of a hostile takeover, and will act accordingly.

So there’s round one. You ready for more?

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4 Responses to T.M.I.

  1. My grandma doesn’t talk about herself, she’s too busy talking about other people. Serously, if someone dies, moves, gets a new job, or just basically says “hi” to her, she tells anyone that will listen. When we go out to eat with her, we have to make sure that we have at least 2 hours because she litterally talks until we’re all done eating and then decides to start her meal.

    • Wendy says:

      Nice. Mine is always in a rush to get things over with… meals, shopping trips, life… 🙂 I bet you have some interesting conversations with yours. 🙂

  2. “wrench” — I love it. She could be in my family. LOL

  3. Wendy says:

    I think when people get past 70ish, they all become the same person with the same quirks. 😉

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