I learned a lot from my dad in the last two months. I have so much to tell I am breaking it out into two posts so readers don’t feel overwhelmed. I promise it’s light and funny.
“Como Estas?” What? “COMO ESTAS,” my dad shouted. Ahh, “Bien Gracias y tu?” My dad asked me how I was doing in Spanish and I told him I was fine thanks, and you? (An automatic response from high school conversational Spanish.) This was my greeting when I first saw him in a Colorado hospital about a month ago. He went in for one disorder and came out with a dozen, thus leading to heaven one month later.My dad took some Spanish in his 70s. He decided, hey, no time like the present to use what I got at age 86. He shocked us all. He was completing a mini-bucket list and we, my six siblings and I, were along for the ride. We didn’t know it yet.
This Spanish thing came out of nowhere. This is the guy who asked me, “ What the heck will you do with Spanish if you take more beyond high school?” Now here he is, living out his final days and doing his best to mess with the docs, nurses, and his mostly monolingual family. The funniest was a doc or a nurse that took one look at my old, old, super American white-guy dad and couldn’t figure out what he was saying. Even the word “Si.” This was a fantastic highlight of being with my dad in the hospital. No medical school can prepare you for this one. It was a riot.
“Mas Ariba!” My younger brother got the gist of this one, “more up”. My dad wanted to sit up and needed help pushing the button on his hospital bed. My brother used to be a policeman when he lived in Albuquerque. He knows “Manos Ariba” or “Hands Up” and took it from there. It wasn’t your usual caring for the sick kind of deal; it was like a test or Spanish re-fresh. Damn my dad is smart and a smart aleck. He was having a blast keeping us on our toes.
He skipped the Spanish on my Chinese mother-in-law who came to visit. They both spoke bits of English to each other. And somehow, my five-foot nothing mother-in-law knew just how to care for this feisty trickster. She immediately kissed his forehead and stroked his shoulder, explaining she would take care of him. He quieted down like a kitty cat lying in the sun. It was sweet.
And when she got ready to depart, no “adios” came from my dad. He held up his hand and a few of his fingers, signing “I Love You.” My sister-in-law was there too; she translated the sign for us. Where did he pick this up? My mother-in-law didn’t miss a beat, she signed him back, “I Love You.” I guess my dad is trilingual. Man, do you laugh or cry over this one?
“Que es?” He was asking what was in the covered bowl on his lunch tray. He didn’t eat much because everything was bland. With kidney issues, he
I Love You!
couldn’t eat salt or beef. And if he didn’t like something, he scowled like a little kid eating spinach and pushed the dish away, common with hospital food. “I just want a Burger King Whopper Junior and a glass of milk. Then I want to go to bed.” He was pining away for his simple days at home.
We were never quite sure where this alter-ego of my dad came from and if he was fully aware. Some of the nurses were on to him. The nurses checked in daily to see how lucid the patient was by asking the date or his birthdate. I find this amusing because if you asked anyone the date, most couldn’t answer immediately. All of us need medical attention if this is the test. In the hospital, this is a bad sign. But if the patient is smart, or smart-aleck like my dad, he will look at the crossed-out calendar at the foot of the bed that shows exactly what day it is in the month of May. Who’s the “crazy” one here?
As for his birthdate, why not mess with them and say, “1894.” Even I fell for this one. I thought he was talking about his own dad. This savvy nurse said he was playing with her. “Come on Frank, we talked about this. You were born the same year as my dad.” He relented, “1925.”
Continue with Mini Bucket List Part 2.
Share on Facebook
Your dad is teaching us all how to live and celebrate life! What an amazing guy!