Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Sore toe? Call a toe truck.

Okay, the weather turned to absolute crap here today and I had to take Dad (and Mom) to an appointment for a little procedure down at the hospital in Columbia. There's so many events that took place today, but one had me reduced to a pile of mirth at one point.

Just a refresher, my Dad is 80, sharp as a tack and a whole lot of fun to be with. He puts up with me real well and suffers being subjected to my experiments in "wit" like an old pro.

They had to put Pop under for 'bout 15 minutes today to do this little thing to him and while we're waiting in the communal pre-op ward for about an hour and a half, boredom set in eventually.

Dad's got a bad big toe on him, all knotted up with arthritis (this is not why he was there, this is just... eh, just read) and he's laying there on his gurney bed thing all covered up except his foot. He wanted it sticking out cause the sheet laying on it hurt it. So, if you're a nurse/anesthesiologist/ or doctor, that old wrinkly foot was like a bullseye target to walk in and squeeze reassuringly with a verbal greeting. Well, every time that happened Dad would just about butt walk right outta that bed. It happened so many times it became a comedy routine. And then... Dad just started blurting out to anyone that walked into his little curtain room. "DON'T TOUCH MY BIG TOE!". Started sounding like the old guy was a psycho of some sort, like that guy standing beside you on the street mumbling "Don't touch my eyes... I'm warning you, don't touch my eyes". Everytime he said it, I started laughing and he'd tell me again "Well I don't want 'em grabbing my damned toe!" And THAT would make me laugh.

I'm easily entertained.

So there was a break in the line of people wanting to come and squeeze Pop's toe and I said, for no reason in particular.

"I wish I had a ping pong ball to toss at your toe"

Dad "Why on earth would you want to do that?"

Me "I dunno, just something to do."

Dad "You Honyock"

I've been asked what the heck a Honyock is, I don't know. My Dad's called me one since I was little when I was being a bonehead... so I guess I'm one.

Me "Okay, I wanna try something with your toe"

Dad "Just don't touch it, I'm warning you!"

Me "I ain't gonna touch it, I wanna throw an imaginary ping pong ball at it"

Dad "You need to go get something to read"

Me "Nope, I'm gonna throw an imaginary ping pong ball at your big toe"

Dad "Shirley, make him stop it"

Mom *sitting there giggling*

So I hold my thumb and index finger apart, just about the right distance to be holding a ping pong ball and I move my hand back and forth real slow, one eye squeezed shut, like I'm taking careful aim. Dad is laying there trying to stare straight ahead.... and then... I throw the imaginary ping pong ball right at his big toe.

Dad flinches like someone just took a swing at him with a pole ax, and tries to get his foot under the sheet. My mom is cackling out loud now and I'm cracking up.

Dad "You crazy dang honyock... what's the matter with you anyhow?"

Me "I can't believe you jumped like that!" (but I kinda figured he would LOL)

At this point a nurse stuck her head in the curtain room, "Is everything all right in here?"

Dad *pointing at me* "He's not right"

Mom and I are both in tears and then the nurse tries to pat Dad on the foot! I almost slid outta my chair into the floor. LOL

Ah well, he had his procedure done and it looks like everything is alright with him, we'll get the results in about a week, but it looks like he's fine. We came home, he was still a little stoned from the anesthesia and pleasant to be with. :-)


Kim said...

"He's not right." Yep, dad's still sharp as a tack! LMAO!

Jerry said...

I'll bet you got a few spankings in your youth, Jace.

Or not......


Great story!

Vicky said...

You are SO bad! Poor Dad! Of course, he's probably used to you by now!

Happy all is okay with him. And that you got at least one good story out of the day! (Hugs)

Tigger said...

LOL...I just LOVE your parents. Thanks for the morning giggle! 8^)

Fletch said...

You know, I do sincerely hope you're stashing all these stories somewhere in hard copy and external cyber media. You have a very unique way of writing about your relationships with your folks, it would be very sad to lose them somewhere down the road, when your own grandchildren ask about your folks.

Doris said...

My Dad used the term "honyonker", never heard of anyone else using it before! Your parents are awesome, thanks for the laugh!

Anonymous said...

At least honyock leaves something to the imagination. Poopyhead doesn't.

BTW.....glad yer Dad's ok.

Bella@That damn expat said...

Ahahahaha I'm laughing out loud here.

Thanks for linking to this story!

Sally said...

I just did a wikipedia search on "honyock" and came up blank. What's your dad's ethnic background? Interesting that Doris' parents used the same word. (OK - I'll stop with the brain work. It hurts too much.)

I'm sure glad I didn't have you with me in recovery. It hurt too much to laugh!

Try not to kill anyone at work. 'Kay?