“If you
have an argument with an older person, you should listen to them. It doesn’t
mean they’re right. It means their wrongness is rooted in more information than
you have.”
Louis
C.K. Oh My God!
“Benjamin: Hey Rosie, am I doing anything right?
Rosie: You're handsomer than the other dads.
Lots of them don't have hair. So that's good.”
Matt
Damon and Maggie Elizabeth Jones. We Bought a Zoo.
“Susi: Dad, there’s
an old man down here who wants to sell us an 84 carat stone.
Doug the
Head: Where does he come from?
Susi: I don’t
know. Hard to tell. He’s got a thick Russian accent.”
Tina Collins and Mike Reid. Snatch.
The Autobiography of Ben and
Bob
Chapter 9: Grandfather of
the Bride
My parents just arrived last
night for a visit - in preparation for my daughter’s wedding next month. A
"visit" from the old country, in this case, qualifies for a minimum
one month stay given the trials and tribulations of cross-continental travel for
two septuagenarian cancer survivors.
It became
immediately obvious that my father had suffered a stroke about a year ago – and
that all of his many doctors had failed to diagnose this. Even his simplest
statements were clear indications of the symptoms commonly associated with
strokes: "The left half of my body has had no feeling since the accident"
and "I don't remember what happened. Suddenly I was on the ground with a
big gash on my forehead that required several stitches."
Okay, so right now you’re thinking
this is a story about bad medical practitioners in third world countries. But,
as originally promised, this is actually a story about the virtues and pitfalls
of stubbornness, the full extent of which will become obvious soon:
- Dad, how could all these doctors possibly not recognize
your symptoms?
- I agree… They’re useless.
- Did you tell anyone that the left half of your
body had no feeling?
- No, not exactly. Now that you mention
it, I don’t think I ever told the doctors about that.
Having forcibly removed my
jaw from the floor where it was now resting, I tried to explain to the old man
that he had to actually inform the doctors about his symptoms if he expected to
hold them accountable for the diagnosis. The concept seemed foreign to him. For
the rest of the day, I kept hearing the TV commercials constantly reminding you
to “tell your doctor about all your symptoms. Tell your doctor about all the
medications you’re taking”.
But wait a minute, dad. We've been talking on the phone every week. I keep asking you if you've been to the doctor and whether everything is okay. And you keep telling me you're in excellent shape, no problems, etc. How is that possible if you had this massive stroke and multiple stitches and hospital stays and …?
But wait a minute, dad. We've been talking on the phone every week. I keep asking you if you've been to the doctor and whether everything is okay. And you keep telling me you're in excellent shape, no problems, etc. How is that possible if you had this massive stroke and multiple stitches and hospital stays and …?
"It’s not
a big deal. I just fell down in the street, broke my arm, and required several
stitches to my forehead. We didn't want you to worry, so we said everything was
okay.”
Sigh.
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