Tuesday, September 29, 2015

In which Sly does not die in surgery, as I knew he would not

1. Doris gets to start physical therapy. That means medicare will pay for the nursing home, which will make Sly happy.

2. Sly survived the surgery.

Me: Did the doctor suggest that your dad should not be drinking five ounces of booze a day?

Primo: I don't think he knows about that. Any time my mom and dad have to answer questions about their drinking, they say they are "moderate" drinkers.

Me: They go through 1.75 liters of bourbon, a liter of brandy, and wine and beer every week. That is not moderate.

Primo: They think it is normal.

Me: If that is normal drinking, then I am Cindy Crawford.

Note: I am NOT Cindy Crawford. Nobody would ever mistake the 5'5" 142-lb me for a supermodel. Even if I were taller and thinner, nobody would mistake me for a model.

Primo: People think what they do is normal.

Me: It is not.

Primo: Sometimes I have that much in a day.

Me: You do not drink that much every. single. day. They get drunk. Every. single. day.

Primo: My dad doesn't appear drunk.

Me: Yeah. "Appear." So when he makes your mom cry with his meanness, he's doing that sober?

Primo: Hey. He has just had cancer surgery. It's not time to focus on his meanness.

Me: Cancer is not a get out of jail free card. It does not excuse being a jerk.


  1. Doctors are well aware that people under-report their indulgences. A retired doctor and nurse couple I know tell me that they automatically doubled whatever estimate people gave them. Still, in this case that might not be enough.

    1. For Sly and Doris, they would need to think in logarithms.


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