Is It Wrong That We Siblings Had a Blast Teleconferencing About Our Invalid Parents?

Ever ready at the mike, our New Jersey brother calls in to the 1st Annual (Weekly?) Brothers & Sisters Conference Call.

The purpose of our teleconference was to brainstorm ways to foist support and help upon our resistant parents, who prefer to think of 911 as their sole personal rescue plan.

The result, to my everlasting joy, was a hoot-filled laugh riot as Bob & Jeanne’s offspring called in from San Francisco, Chicago, New Jersey and Manhattan.

Ever the organizer, Hot Pants set up the call. I, boob that I am, agreed to a time during which I was getting my weekly hair shampoo & blow dry. What the boys were up to, I’m sure we’ll never know. Unfortunately, H.P. dialed some other number, where she found herself the only one in the “conference room.” “Hello? Hellooo? Anybody there?”

There's Hot Pants and our Chicago brother soaking up the suds in Arizona during more lighthearted times.

Finally, she found the rest of us as we shared our individual and combined efforts to impress upon our parents that a man with Parkinson’s Disease and a woman who’s an alumna of open heart surgery, diabetic, and, now, with growing memory issues, may not be giving each other the best home health care.

But the truly unexpected surprise and delight of the call was how easily we all fell back into a loving and laugh filled sibling experience. Suddenly the decades of going our separate ways disappeared and the closeness of our childhoods bloomed back into reality.

I doubt if Bob & Jeanne intended this result, but, oh, what a blast.

Imagine the hilarity that will ensue when we actually present them with our plans. Extra in home helpers! Eventual institutionalization! Woo-hoo!


3 responses to “Is It Wrong That We Siblings Had a Blast Teleconferencing About Our Invalid Parents?

  1. Wiggles, I have to agree that I, too, was oddly exhilarated after I finally joined our phone call! Maybe it was the feeling that we are not alone, after all, in having to confront the fading and decline of our parents. And that a group approach (er, attack?) is better than a lone plea to the occupants of THE APARTMENT THAT TIME FORGOT. I wouldn’t mind if it becomes a weekly event. It was almost like being at 810 Amaryllis Avenue, where we were all under one roof. Fun times. Or should I say, fun times that eventuially propelled me into therapy. Hee hee.

    • I think you look great! Really! Very sophisticated, wet hair nicely slicked back, black bathing suit chic.
      I, on the other hand, am forbidden by California statute to appear publicly in bathing attire in any of the 50 states.

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