Last night I posted a little story about an orgasm. It was a fun little moment and one I am, frankly, still thinking about. Of course, part of the joy in that yesterday was that it was a bit unexpected because, frankly, it’s just been one of those weeks where getting older yourself means you have to watch those you love get older too which, this week, made both Axel and myself confront a few things I am not sure either of us are ready to deal with.
First, Axel’s father was officially diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. This was not surprising news, but just enough to make the mood dour. Then, my mother who you have all sorta unofficially met fell and broke her shoulder which resulted in the need to have a full replacement surgery done earlier in the week. I was traveling and decided not to come home for this procedure as it was not technically anything dangerous aside from the typical anesthesia related troubles, so I spent my week glued to my iPhone and told anyone and everyone I was meeting with that I would be answering it or looking at texts as needed (my sister and Axel were with her and my Dad).
She did fine through the surgery, but when it was time to wake up, she didn’t at first. In fact, it took her almost eight hours to actually wake up and, when she did, she was extremely incoherent and really didn’t know what had happened or where she was. This signaled possible stroke which caused me to get a really early flight the next morning but, luckily, all of the tests for stroke, clots, and anything else bad came back negative. Our best guess is that she had a bad reaction to the anesthesia and was just going to take some time to get it out of her system (FYI – it’s now Sunday, she is home and is about 90% to the level she should be mentally).
So, when all the worry was over, we sat back and listened to her talk. Incessantly talk. It was about anything and everything which was sometimes fun because she once said she was “in a Mercedes surrounded by butterflies”, sometimes sweet – which is a quote I will close with, and sometimes just scary as she talked to the men in white robes standing in her room, talked to her dead father and complimented him on his new suit, and then said she saw demons who were eaten by the butterflies. Me being me, I wrote down almost everything I could. My sister being my sister, she talked to the invisible people with my Mom.
However, the real fun was about sex and, as Thumper said to me on the phone, “she is just just spilling her subconscious and you are really getting to see the inside of her head” which was very true. I was not at the hospital yet when my sister texted me to ask “Who is this guy in Minnesota that she keeps talking about? His name is Peter?” (fyi, my Mom knows nothing about Thumper being called Thumper, a rabbit, etc. She knows his real name which is NOT Peter -it’s Garrison Keiler, remember?- but I find it so so funny that she would pick a name out of the air of someone who just happened to have a Cottontail. She has that weird intuition like that). She continued, “She says he has a wife who has a beautiful soul because of what she lets him do”. Luckily, I was able to blow that off with a “Have no idea what she is saying. NONE” which was wonderful for me, but sad for my sister because it was around that point that she started discussing my father’s penis which is apparently not very long but very girthy and the fact that he likes women in short skirts. She was in hell and I was on a plane giggling about this.
From what I understand, the topic switched quickly to something of nonsense and that was that. I landed, picked up lunch for an army at Panera, and then went to the hospital, sent the sister home, sent my Dad to my car twenty different times for things I needed – one at a time – because he was all weepy and sad and irritating me, and I stayed and talked to my nonsensical mother for a few hours. I will spare you the story of how she was arrested – the night before – and was apparently talking to me from her jail cell when all of the sudden she said “you know, your father always likes to be hurt – down there. I never understood this, but I don’t mind” which was then followed by a story about a duck. A duck named Squiggles. Trying to get the topic back on hand because of my curiosity and the fact a duck should never be named Squiggles, I peppered her with questions and questions and got nothing right until she said “When your Dad had his man friend” and, if like there was a cue card guy in the hall prompting him, my Dad walked right in and she stopped. Just right fucking there. She stopped. For the next hour I tried to prompt it again, but it never happened.
So, what the fuck, huh?
Could my Dad have been the 1970’s Thumper? (I’m picturing a chastity device made of tin foil and wood). I have no idea and, honestly, not sure I want to know because I have woven a nice story in my mind already. I mean, we already know from other clues that my Dad most likely went outside the marriage at some point but, while he is alive, I am not sure she will ever admit it or tell me the things behind it. What I do love about that, even if Dad cheated, or if it was mutual, or if he was a kinky sadist or most likely a masochist, a bisexual with a boyfriend or just male tricks, the fact is that they have made it 56 years and still light up when they see each other, so that’s just happiness right there and I want to just use that story to say FUCK YOU to anyone who dares just any of us reading this.
As a final few things, I have to wonder why she is so fixated on Thumper and Belle from me just telling her that one story about him reading texts from his boyfriend in bed with her. She is highly intuitive and I bet she knows the boyfriend is me, but she is also now and has always been extremely accepting, loving and open, so maybe it’s just something that caught her attention because it’s not what the BUNCO crowd normally talks about. One day I am sure we will talk further, but, I am fine with how it is now too.
Finally, I told you I wrote down the crazy stories, but my favorite is this because it shows all the craziness in her head combined with how she thinks about me too:
“The staff in the women’s department at this hospital have just been lovely. Would you believe they have helped me pick out this wonderful gown and these leg warmers. Drew, Drew, you need to go to the men’s department. Just take my American Express and get yourself something in blue, cause your my boy. Get Axel something too. Blue. A good blue for his eyes”