THE ANUS

Well, Big Daddy Rowe had the run of it this week. We ended up in the ER Wednesday. I've only once seen Poppo in such pain. It was awful. 

Then the best thing happened: Dad was stationed on one of those stupid gurneys in the hall because the geniuses at Mercy couldn't construct a facility large enough for this community's needs. It's not as if we don't pay those greasy corporate bastards enough as it is. But I digress.

Dad is on the mend. Just a horrible inflammation in his throat and sizable drugs.

The visit from Bob made the whole thing worth it. I don't know that Dad would agree, but as long as he is okay, I can tell the tale.

Bob is easily 1000 years old and deaf. Bless him.

They pull him next to Pops. A curtain separates them. That, and years and intellect. 

Dad looks at me in abject misery and just shakes his head, as Bob nearly screams, "I'm Bob! I'm German!"

A few moments later, the nurse came by the super-non-HIPPA-violating-gurney and asked this poor fella if he has pain in his male areas. He didn't understand. Then the nurse asked if he had pain in his anus.

Bob said "what's that?"

It was at that moment that my father, who could barely speak, beckoned me to his bedside and whispered, "he didn't know what an anus is."

And then I knew. The film crew is somewhere beneath the gurney. I hope.