You’re sick? Take a pill
by Steele Coddington | July 1, 2009
If you are like most grandparents, you love thinking about your grandkids. But, more often than not, you are probably thinking about your next pill and not loving the thought.
Especially if you need to take five or ten of the big ugly ones that are hard to swallow. Or are green! Green pills are really ugly. They’re the kind my grandfather calls “chokers,” and my grandmother calls “gaggers.” “Sort of like grandfather’s jokes,” she loves to say when he isn’t wearing his hearing aids.
Thinking about pills always reminds me of a really hot chick I once dated in high school. Not that I think about her with every pill I take. Only once or twice on bad days, because as I recall, the prospect of a date with this particular girl was contemplated with high anxiety and raging hormones. Unfortunately she was extremely intelligent and turned out to be the class valedictorian with honors in math and ornithology or some other goofy subject. Needless to say, she turned a deaf ear to my phony invitations to jump in the back seat of my old man’s car where it was more comfortable. Warmer? Colder? Anything? Nope! She was a pill and only wanted to talk about algebraic equations and birds of North America in the front seat.
Well, God bless her. She was probably just listening to her father’s warnings about boys and what’s really on their minds 24 hours a day. I certainly clued my daughters in on the dirty old men dressed in young guys’ clothes who dared to date my angels. I think my lectures on “no back seats” were very educational. The only reason my daughters were embarrassed was because of the shotgun I had tucked under my right arm as I escorted them to the front door and said, “Remember what I told you about guys like this, dear.”
Wow, it’s amazing what the subject of pills can do to your mind. We have become a nation of pill eaters. Everything wrong with your body or mind or that you think is wrong, is curable with a pill. That is the new mandate for seniors under any version of socialized medicine contemplated by our leaders in D.C. Pills will become your treatment and your doctor. Every morning you will be required to raise a red, white and blue pill on a flagstaff while your cell phone plays the National Anthem and you salute Sir Pill as it rises. When you visit the ACORN clinic to renew your prescriptions, get examined and register to vote again, you get to cup your outstretched hand as they dispense your pills as largess for still being alive.
But you will get a thorough exam, by government standards. “Mr. Patient, your exam sheet shows you need to cut your toe nails. They’re an inch beyond your toes.” “I know, I can’t reach down to cut them any more.” Response: “Here, we’ll give you a $5 discount coupon for a pedicure at a local salon owned by a Democrat.” “Oh thank you, exalted one.” “Don’t get smart, Mr. Patient or I’ll reduce it to a $2 coupon. And while you’re here Mr. Patient, I’m giving you next month’s treatment – a new pill considered a miracle medical development, guaranteed to fix all senior ills. In fact, these just arrived from the Obama Pharmaceutical Corporation.” “Gee thanks. How come it says ‘aspirin’ on the pill?”
She was in the bathroom, putting on her makeup, under the watchful eyes of her young granddaughter, as she'd done many times before. After she applied her lipstick and started to leave, the little one said, "But Gramma, you forgot to kiss the toilet paper good-bye!" I will probably never put lipstick on again without thinking about kissing the toilet paper good-bye ...
My young grandson called the other day to wish me Happy Birthday. He asked me how old I was, and I told him, 62. My grandson was quiet for a moment, and then he asked, "Did you start at 1?"
A little girl was diligently pounding away on her grandfather's word processor. She told him she was writing a story. "What's it about?" he asked. "I don't know," she replied. "I can't read."
After putting her grandchildren to bed, a grandmother changed into old slacks and a droopy blouse and proceeded to wash her hair. As she heard the children getting more and more rambunctious, her patience grew thin. Finally, she threw a towel around her head and stormed into their room, putting them back to bed with stern warnings. As she left the room, she heard the three-year-old say with a trembling voice, "Who was THAT?"
My grandson was visiting one day when he asked, "Grandma, do you know how you and God are alike?" I mentally polished my halo and I said, "No, how are we alike?'' "You're both old," he replied.
A grandmother was telling her little granddaughter what her own childhood was like: "We used to skate outside on a pond. I had a swing made from a tire; it hung from a tree in our front yard. We rode our pony. We picked wild raspberries in the woods." The little girl was wide-eyed, taking this all in. At last she said, "I sure wish I'd gotten to know you sooner!"
I didn't know if my granddaughter had learned her colors yet, so I decided to test her. I would point out something and ask what color it was. She would tell me and was always correct. It was fun for me, so I continued. At last, she headed for the door, saying, "Grandma, I think you should try to figure out some of these yourself!"