White Trash University and a MIL update
And so what if their one eyed bassett hound lolligags on the only relatively clean recliner? Some people treat their dogs like people, that's all.
I have to draw conclusions, however, when I am confronted with the following situations:
- Three broken sets of dentures floating in a mason jar on the kitchen table.
- Wads of toilet paper decorating the floor while the waste basket remains empty.
- Said bassett hound dry humps a physical therapist's leg to the delight of all five children AND patient's spouse.
- A dismantled CB radio sits near the rabbit ear antenna for the 1981 52 inch projection TV.
- Wedding pictures adorning the wall have the same background AND baby blue tuxedo for each groom. Each bride's vacant stare at the camera distracts you from the same keg of beer to the right of the matron of honor.
- On the walnut-veneer mantle, a can of Billy Beer is showcased next to three photos of dead deer being gutted by one of the shirtless children, beginning at ages 2 and up.
Now I realize there isn't a White Trash certification, but if there were, this ONE home would qualify for the highest degree - A PhD in reneck.
The shirtless children surrounded me as I tested Momma's leg strength and for a moment, I thought I heard the song from Deliverance coming from one of the three bedrooms. The youngest child, a barrel chested four year old, took a shine to my goniometer (a plastic device used to measure a patient's range of motion). When I say a shine, of course I mean taste it for five minutes. Uh, you can keep that son, I won't need that back.
Momma, mother of ten children and grandmother to about twenty or so ("I don't count 'em no more") swatted at the shirtless children with an decorated flyswatter. She confided in me that her youngest son, Dwendil or something like that (without teeth, it was hard to decipher), was looking for a good woman. She eyed my wedding ring and licked her gums for a moment.
"You know, a woman like you could do right with my Dwendil. He's got a full head of hair AND is real manly." The photo of Dwendil doesn't do him justice. Think Harry and the Hendersons and Alfred E. Neuman and you might capture the essence of Dwendil. I am confident when he is released from Rehab, I will have more stories of him and why he has eleven fingers.
Thanks to all of you for your support and encouragement with my MIL's hospitalization. She has spoken to the nursing coordinator as well as filed a grievance regarding the nurse. We still have no answers as to why her potassium is low after a week of IV potassium, or where she is bleeding internally but for the moment, it is under control. My MIL is one tough cookie, that lady. She thanks all of you for your thoughts and prayers. And so do I. The blog world is not an empty space filled with words and jokes, but a circle of friends, laughter, tears, and love. Thanks to all of you.