Primo: My dad fell out of bed again.
Primo: This has happened at least three or four times in the past year.
Me: That’s awful! What’s going on?
Primo: I think alcohol is involved.
Me: I’m. Shocked.
Primo: He falls and my mom can’t lift him up.
Me: Nope. Your dad weighs what – 260? – and your mom, as she tells me, is only 119.
Primo: So they have to call the paramedics.
Me: They call an ambulance to pick your drunk dad up?
Primo: How else is he supposed to get up?
Me: I don’t know! Are they at least paying the ambulance bill?
Primo: I didn’t ask. Doesn’t Medicare pay for that?
Me: If they do, they should put in an exclusion that they won’t pay for drunk falls.
Primo: He is going to ask his doctor to write him a prescription for a hospital bed.
Me: You can’t buy one without a prescription? It’s just a bed with rails on the side, right? Let me look – yeah, you can find them on craigslist. I don’t think you need a prescription to buy one.
Primo: But if he gets a prescription, Medicare will pay for it.
Me: I don’t understand. Your parents can afford this kind of thing. It’s not even that expensive.
Primo: My dad thinks that if he pays his premiums, he should get any benefits coming to him.
Me: He has money for booze, for cable, for internet, for a gardener, and for a maid – but he won’t pay for a solution to a problem he has created himself?
Primo: That’s my dad.