Tag Archives: Humor

Did We Actually Teach, Teach Them Well?

I have to say, we Baby Boomers can be a self-satisfied lot. There are all kinds of posts out there about how we did just fine with spankings, wooden toys that didn’t do anything, no car seats or even seat belts for that matter. Bad TV, bad diets, flammable pajamas, DDT, baby oil instead of sunscreen, none of that had a deleterious effect on us, right? We’re just fine, you young whippersnappers.

And if you Millennials had had it a bit harder like we did, walking uphill in the snow to school both ways, you wouldn’t be so lazy, entitled and clueless.

But take a second look, my friends. Our blessed Millennials may be gurus you will want to be looking to in the future. Here are my top six reasons why:

  1. Millennials don’t work at a job for 30 years that they hate. They don’t even do it for 20 years, 10 years, or even 5 years. They know that’s stupid. If you have to work for that many years, you might as well try and be happy about going to work.

    They know what to do with this!
  2. They are saving more money than we ever did.   According to The Christian Science Monitor, they are better at saving and wiser about it. Money magazine agrees. You think you’re so smart? You will be happy when your Millennials can throw a few bucks to your home-health aide to keep you out of a nursing home because you didn’t save any money.  They will be too, because they don’t want to be your home-health aide.
  3. Our kids work pretty darn hard, harder than we did. According to the Boston Globe, Millennials are workaholics, probably because they are in jobs that they like. Since they are not willing to stay in a job that makes them miserable, they work harder when they find jobs they like. And they keep looking. So maybe that search for happiness isn’t so selfish after all.

    They really like babies!
  4. Millennials actually value their work-life balance, according to Forbes. Even though they may be workaholics on one hand, on the other hand, they are known for taking pay cuts to have a work life balance. When they have families they want to be with them. This is a big plus, especially since they are saving more than any other generation before them.
  5. They do and know how to embrace technologyAdweek tells us that they are ever-willing to learn new things. As technology is speeding us up every day, we better have someone to help us with it. I don’t know about you, but I try and find a 12-year-old every time a new app comes out or I can’t figure out how to use my iPhone.
  6. They’re pretty freakin’ smart. Even as we have bogged them down with unimaginable student debt, they listened to us about education. They are the most educated generation ever.  I like being surrounded by smart young people. Although just this week my daughter chastised me for ‘mansplaining’ something to her. I corrected her immediately: “I’m not mansplaing, I’m MOMSPLAINING.” That’s always acceptable.

So stop bad-mouthing Millennials. First of all, you raised them. Aren’t you proud of anything they’re doing? Secondly, look closer, they actually have their shit together. In many ways, much more than Baby Boomers. Finally, respect, people. Remember when you were 25 and your parents wondered if you had listened to anything they said? Millennials listened alright, and they took what they needed and left out the bad advice.

To Millennials:  We’re still your parents, don’t get all up in our grills, either.

“You Just have to Laugh……”

©2017 CathySikorski

 

Fun and Games with Lisa………..

What better time to try and laugh than now? I’m trying….really, I am.

My mom provides me with great material, although I don’t think she means to, and I don’t think she’s always happy to be the topic of a humor blog on a regular basis.

My friend, Lisa on the other hand,  LOVES being my topic. I was thinking of her today and all the antics we’ve been through in the last seven years since she fell down a flight of stairs and suffered a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI). I know, I know, it doesn’t sound funny, but we became the Lucy and Ethel of healthcare.

  1.  There was the time I dropped her off with our best friend, Terri to walk a few blocks to the hospital for a check-up because there was a water main break and traffic was horrendous. I thought it would take me hours to navigate the streets and park. As Lisa and Terri literally waded through the streets of Philly, I found a parking spot in 5 minutes right in front of the hospital.
  2. Then the neurologist wanted to do a stay-at-home brain scan. This is where they  wrap your head like a mummy and put some electrodes in there and record you for three days. After they wrapped her head, we decided to go to Marshall’s to look for a hat to cover her mummy-head. Not one hat would go over the wrappings, no wonder the Mummy was so mad, not a fashion was made for him. From Marshall’s we went to the park to do a photo-shoot. Yeah, I just couldn’t pass up that opportunity.
    Fun with my Mummy!

    Before and After Photo Shoot. Lisa really is quite lovely!
  3. We had to drive an hour into Philadelphia every time she needed to see her eye specialists, which was a lot.  It took us at least 10 trips before we figured out that cheap parking was right in front of the hospital and easier to get to.
  4. Then there was the time they changed the procedure to check-in to the eye clinic. They decided that people could check themselves in, using computers. The computers were tightly packed into an area where you had to stand up to use them. This doesn’t seem weird, but a lot of the people in this eye clinic use walkers and wheelchairs. They can’t fit into the space where the computer is located and if they’re in a wheelchair, they can’t reach the computer. AND remember this is an eye clinic. All of the patients are having trouble seeing. We practically peed ourselves trying to figure out how this is a good idea.
  5. Then I took her for surgery and she had to be back in the hospital at 6:00 AM the next morning. It was a long day and a quick night, so we stayed at a hotel right across the street from the hospital. I forgot we were parked in a parking garage between two big cement barriers and ripped my side-view mirror right out of its socket. It dangled from its electrical cord attached to the car. After having it bang against the door for five blocks, I folded the mirror into the car, had to keep the window open for the 50-mile drive home in February snow, and the hi-tech mirror blinked right into my face every time I needed to change lanes or turn left.
For insurance purposes only, not to remind myself how dumb I am.
Wounded in the line of duty.

 

And you thought dealing with health issues wasn’t any fun!

“You Just have to Laugh……………”

©2017 Cathy Sikorski

 

Having Fun is Hard……

I have been working diligently on my new website as well as doing a wonderful amount of speaking engagements for the last three months. I am so happy with my work right now.  I think I forgot how old I am, having fun is hard.

I was fortunate to get a free pass to the party of the season, the Kentucky Derby, two weeks ago. This was between some intense prep for speaking and trying to work on two online classes I’m taking to be a better speaker, a booked speaker and an entertaining speaker. Steve Martin is one of my teachers. I got an email from Steve today asking me where the hell have I been? How do you expect to be funny if you don’t show up for Steve’s class? I was working on it while having fun. I did my best at the Kentucky Derby to be hilarious. Just ask my friend Jim, who saw me trip in front of 158,000 people and still keep my hat on.

 

See, Steve. Jim is laughing.

Last night at a dinner party, I was doing my best to wow the crowd with the antics of my mother and her kleptomania.

You can’t be trying out new material while taking a class, Steve.

I’m procrastinating right this minute as  I’m supposed to be practicing my talk for tonight. In an effort to ramp up my hilarity, I have changed my talk completely, added props and new stories, mostly because the venue doesn’t have PowerPoint capability so I had to come up with some new crutches. Since Steve is my mentor now, I thought emulating him would be my best effort.

I don’t know how to make balloon animals and I didn’t have time to go find an arrow like Steve’s but these turkey legs were just hanging around my house. I hope I can find just the right words to integrate this into a talk about the legal and practical issues confronting caregivers.

Never be chicken to laugh at yourself!

Perhaps it will be funny enough that I will bring a free package of Depends as a door prize for the participant who laughs the hardest.

See why I’m tired? Having fun is really hard.

By the way, that picture is with Jim’s mom. At least I have two fans!

“You Just have to Laugh…..”

©2017 Cathy Sikorski

The Fountain of Youth Sucks

I have found the fountain of youth. And it just may kill you. I now know how to turn a 60-year-old into a 22-year-old.

I crashed my website. On purpose. It looks somewhat the same to you, but trust me, all this recreation makes me think I understand what God did in seven days. As so many are finding out, things we’be never done before, “are much more complicated than I thought.”

I also added a new page to my web address, with an additional WordPress Theme, new widgets, videos, photos, icons and things I don’t even know what they’re called.

I’ve had to contact my hosting company forty thousand times. By telephone. Which freaks them out because no one in this age group solves problems on the phone IRL (In Real LIfe…which also took some critical thinking time to figure out IRL).

Each time I call these poor guys, I explain to them that I am a Baby Boomer with no real skills.This conversation should be explaining how you’re going to teach a 5-year-old to do this. I don’t get a chuckle, a soothing response or an ‘atta’ girl’. They just jump right in going to

What I’m doing…

dashboards and domain thingies, and install buttons……. oh, good lord. And even when I have done every single thing they’ve told me to do, step-by-step, the problem we are trying to fix persists. In the meantime, I myself have figured out the following:

I have actually written HTML code with some help from my millennial kid to get cute icon doohickeys on my new web page.

After fighting with a widget for three hours, I just got ballsy and created my own custom widget that actually worked better.

Then, because either I think I’m invincible now, or I’m a glutton for punishment, I decided to try and create a 2-minute video for this website from an app I put on my iPad. It took me three hours to figure out that I couldn’t keep two minutes, I had to delete 58 minutes.

What I want to be doing….

Sixteen hours later, I called in the cavalry.

After crying to my daughters about the literal pain of technology (my headache was now slicing a rivulet through my cortex which met the pain searing down my neck and shoulders) they told me I was stupid. “Call your brother.  He does this for a living. He’s supposed to help you.” Which he did,  in no time. But I’m still taking credit for scrapping 58 minutes of unusable footage.

If I haven’t lost my mind by the end of this week, I’m sure I will live an earthly existence with all my marbles and some of other people’s marbles, too because I will know how to code them into my DNA.

I have not had one drink since I started because I have to create and finish a PowerPoint presentation for a client before I go to the Kentucky Derby.  If you watch the Kentucky Derby on TV, look for the red hat laying on the ground, I’ll be under it with a smile on my face and a mint julep in my hand returning to middle age with a big swig of gratitude.

Here’s the link if you want to see where all this has taken me…go ahead, you can be honest. In fact, send me an email from the “Contact” box, at least I’ll know it it’s working! You can’t say anything I haven’t already said to myself every single day.

www.cathysikorski.com/Speaker

“You Just have to Laugh…..”

©2017 Cathy Sikorski

One Man’s Trash…is a Girl’s Night Out!

When you spend a good part of your time or life as a caregiver you find forgetting to be a common occurrence. I have classic tales about my Nana forgetting where she put her shoes, her wallet and most disturbingly…her teeth.

My mother-in-law would hide her “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” button in ‘safe’ places. Every time we went to the assisted living facility we would be ready for a game of hide-n-seek with the magic button, a button she would never push anyway.

My brother-in-law would forget where he put bills, checks and insurance papers all the time. He was actually happy when I agreed to clean up all his paperwork and just take over.

Eventually, with all this stress, the caregiver starts to be the one to forget. We all experience this as we get older. I’ll admit, it makes me panic a little. When you are too close to forgetfulness you start to think it’s a bad omen if it becomes a part of your day.

Since my caregiving has dwindled quite a bit in the last few years, I take bad memory very personally, like my brain is betraying me. I know it happens to all of us, and it is definitely a symptom of stress. But I have always known it’s a source of hilarity. And today was no exception.

As you may recall we have a very long driveway. So we put our trash cans and recycling in my SUV and drive it to the end of the driveway. A few months ago our new trash hauler required us to start using a large container for trash.

My husband’s pet peeve is that large, unsightly container defiling our cul-de-sac. So several yards before we get to the end of the driveway we pick up the large trash container,  which is tucked in the woods, and wheel it down to the end of the driveway. Then we take the trash out of my car and put it in the container.

As the SUV is my car, my husband said,

“Hey, I loaded the trash in your car. Drive me down to the bin on your way to your dinner with your girlfriends.”

“Okay,” I said.

The real culprit

I stop the SUV where the bin is tucked away. My husband gets out. And I drive away.

Down the driveway, past the mailbox, through the cul-de-sac, down the steep hill to the end of the street.

My car makes a few weird noises. Now, I’m mad because I just got new tires. And my car stinks. What’s that all about?

I turn the corner, go around the bend, there’s that noise again. I look in the rearview mirror

A fun place to take your trash!

and see the trash. I was taking the trash with me on a ‘girls night out.’

I found a driveway, turned around, went back up my street to the cul-de-sac, and I see my husband slowly walking back towards the house shaking his head in disbelief.

I’m laughing so hard, it’s silent. I can’t speak. He just looks at me.

“I was waving my hands and yelling, ” he said so plaintively. “I called your cell phone and you didn’t answer. I couldn’t believe in a nano second you forgot that you had the trash in the car and just drove away.”

He’s officially worried.

“You Just have to Laugh….”

©2017 Cathy Sikorski

 

 

 

Terrible 92’s………..

I have been steeped in getting out my book…which you will see below! And, okay, I took a vacation. But boy, do we need some laughter now, right? And it’s National Caregiver’s Month…so, you know…….the life of a caregiver never disappoints.

I was thinking about my mother-in-law the other day and how she was seemingly so content, no matter what was happening. She would read any book you gave her and would comment, “oh that was a nice book.” I used to say I think I’ll give her a copy of  “Mein Kampf” and see what she thinks. The point is that she saw the good in everything and was pretty content with her life wherever she was and whatever she was doing.

Except that one time.

She had left her stove on in her apartment one too many times and the fire department started to know her by name like Norm in “CHEERS!”.  This was not a good thing.  We bit the bullet and started to look for assisted living quarters near our home, so we could go see her on a regular basis. She lived almost an hour away, so living within 10 or 15 minutes of us seemed like a dream come true for everyone.

We found a lovely place, which she approved, sold her condo, packed up all her things, and moved all her own furniture into her new assisted living apartment.  I really hoped it felt like home. Plus, now it was so convenient I could visit her every day, my mom could visit, and my mom could bring some of her friends to visit. Plus, my mother-in-law would now be around lots of people on a daily basis and not feel so isolated.

The day came to move her in, and for the first time in the 25 years I’d been her daughter-in-law, she threw a tantrum.

“I’m not going!” she said.

“Mom,” I reasoned, “you like it there. We went lots of times and you liked your apartment, the food, the people….remember?”

“Why can’t I stay here with you?” she countered.

Indeed, why can’t she?  I don’t have any bedrooms or shower facilities on the first floor and steps were becoming impossible for this 92-year-old.

“Mom, you can see, I don’t have a bedroom or bathroom down here on the first floor.”

“Well, I could go live with your mother. She has lots of room and she could use the help.”

Use the help? Not use the ‘company.’ Use the help. What’s she going to do, be my 80-year-old Mom’s washer woman and cleaning lady?  This was not going well. Next, she may tell me she is going to get a job and her own apartment.

“Mom…..” I was stuck, I didn’t know what to say.

“I’m not going. I’m just not going, ” she pouted, and….not kidding….she stomped her foot like a toddler who doesn’t want to take a nap.

I took my only recourse.

“Get your coat. We’re leaving now. And no more shenanigans.”

Sometimes everyone responds to MOM.

The next day I went to visit. She told me I had to leave because it was lunch time and there was no room for me at her table.

“You Just Have to Laugh…..”

Cover by Dwayne Booth!!
Cover by Dwayne Booth!!

©2016 Cathy Sikorski

 

I like coffee because it gives me the illusion that I might be awake… Lewis Black

My friend needed a companion to take her for eye surgery in the city.  It necessitated an overnight stay at the Sheraton because she had to return early the next day for a post-surgical check.

I slept on her very comfortable sofa the night before as we had a 4:00 AM alarm. As is the custom, no one really slept the night before, in spite of a few glasses of wine, for fear that we would miss our window of opportunity to get into the city by 6:00 AM.

The surgical waiting area was a beehive of activity. They took my friend back to ‘get ready’ 2 hours later. This was the Ford factory of eye surgery. Without coffee.

Yes. I said without coffee.

This place had at least 25 people waiting when we arrived before 6:00 AM. These numbers kept multiplying like rabbits every five minutes. Half of us were not having surgery, didn’t need to be fasting, and there wasn’t even a waft of coffee in this hospital.

Since none of the patients could eat or drink since midnight, I didn’t want to start a lack-of-food-fight, so I waited until my patient went back to the mysterious green room of surgery and politely asked,

“Um… is there some place I can get coffee?”

Which probably sounded like: “Um…s’ere smplc ickan goot COFFEE?” as I was stuffing a power bar in my mouth that I found in the bottom of my purse and waited two hours to eat so as not to offend my friend. I was done worrying about these other starving people.

“Coffee?” said the attendant.

“Oh yeah, go back down through the maze and walk about 5 miles through the next two buildings to the cafeteria. She really, truly said “5 miles.”  I don’t know if she wanted to save all the coffee for herself, but 5 miles would not daunt me.

As I turned the 13th corner and saw the Starbucks sign greeting all who entered the cafeteria, it was just like in the movies. Angels were singing, everyone around was smiling, a welcoming white light beckoned all to the green mermaid.

As it turned out, I waited another 3 hours for my friend to be finished, so that one Venti barely covered the trek.

We were both exhausted by the time we checked into the Sheraton. We decadently ordered room service of  Greek omelets and fruit salad which were only $7.95 each. We didn’t have high hopes for cheap room service but we were too pooped to venture out. My power bar had long worn off and my surgical companion was starving by now. Surprisingly, our meals were pretty magnificent. Yay, Sheraton Hotels!

And then we slept like the dead.

The ordeal was more draining than we realized. Since room service was so cheap we sprung for a movie…not cheap…and watched Birdman. Yowsa! That film had us talking for hours, so much so that we just went back to sleep early.

My friend slept well, but me, not so much. Again, I was worried that we would miss our appointment, even though we were 2 minutes away. The weather people were calling for possible snow, and I wanted to get her home safe and sound, with attendant groceries in case she would be snowed in for a few days.

I guess I was tired. I’m sure I was distracted. I am absolutely certain coffee deprivation was to blame.

I was so pleased with our ability to get packed and check out and be on our way. The weather system wasn’t going to happen at least until the afternoon and we were rocking our schedule. We hopped into my car in the parking garage. The place was almost empty of cars, which was the opposite of when we had parked the afternoon before.

I got my eye-patched friend situated in the car, threw my bags in, got out my parking pass, and promptly backed out so close to the cement column that the crushing sound of my side view mirror against my door reminded me of the trash compactors of old. I could only pull forward to stop the insanity. There dangled my mirror, limp, lifeless, devoid of plastic protection, crushed.

Wounded  because of coffee
Wounded because of coffee

At the hospital, my friend asked for extra surgical tape to help her driver  fashion a splint for my crushed mirror. I devised a solution that angled the mirror into the driver’s side window so it wouldn’t bang against the door. We drove home in 28 degree weather on the expressway with our hats and gloves on, and the window open.

The high tech side view mirror flashed a big yellow blinker right in my face every time I wanted to turn left or merge. I was blinded by the flash as well as  by the fact that I didn’t realize how highly trained I was to use that mirror to merge. It was scary, dangerous driving.

My friend sat next to me with her big, huge surgical sunglasses on, trying to help so that we didn’t have yet another accident and said:

“Wow, this is the blind leading the blind.”

“You just have to Laugh….”

©2015 Cathy Sikorski

Ugh….Comcast….or common sense?

“I’m pretty sure I have a brain injury.”

You wouldn’t think this would send me and my friend into gales of laughter because she does have a brain injury. And she is a walking miracle. So whenever anything goes awry, this is her go-to phrase. Five years ago, she fell down a flight of stairs to a concrete floor and her injuries were life-threatening. After the initial trauma with extensive treatment and still later, after she was further misdiagnosed and needed emergency brain surgery to place 40 platinum coils in her brain to stop bleeding, she recovered.

Although disabled, and under constant threat of possible seizure, she lives on her own. She has successfully navigated these treacherous waters and her band of supporters are actually the beneficiaries of her hard work, as she has reclaimed her independence as much as possible.

But every once in a while………..

Her cable and internet died for no discernible reason. She called Comcast, put up with their shenanigans for hours on the phone, and then emailed me the written confirmation of their repair plan. Not only were they going to charge her $50 to come out, but they were not going to come out for a week.

I told her this was unacceptable (okay I said bullshit). She called Comcast again the next day, wasted a few more hours of her precious time and was assured that someone would be at her apartment at no charge the next day.

“You’re not going to believe what I did,” she said to me.

“Oh, you didn’t forget Comcast was coming, or miss them or fall asleep, did you?” I asked.

“Nope, you’re just not gonna’ believe it…….”

This really nice repair guy shows up. He’s young and handsome and very charming.

“Uh ma’am,” Mr. Handsome Repair says, “you’re green light isn’t on. The TV is not on.”

“I noticed that when they were trying to send the signal to repair it from afar, but it didn’t respond to the signal, so I didn’t know what to do,” my friend said in a bit of confusion.

“Okay, no worries, let me see what I can do.”

He goes around the back of the 50 inch TV, he shuffles among the wires and all the components, and he too appears flummoxed. She knows this because he just keeps muttering, “hm……………..hm……………………hm.”

He stands up and looks around her teeny, tiny apartment. His eyes light up. He looks at my dear friend, with a bit of pity, no doubt, walks over to the door, as if to leave and reaches up to the door jamb.

“Are you going to get something out of your truck?” She was afraid he was just going to go without explanation.

“No, ma’am.” And with that, he flips the light switch next to her front door and everything churns and sputters to life.

“All your components are plugged into the plug that is operated by this switch. So you might never use it, but someone flipped the switch on you and cut off the power to everything. That was your problem.”

She likes to sheepishly say in these kinds of cases……”Sooowwweeee.”

I assured her, this is not a brain injury this is an old lady affliction.  Our ego, our common sense, our thinking outside the box appears to degrade with our eyesight, gravity ridden faces, and loss of car keys. Not only did she navigate Comcast twice without losing her mind, but she got a chance to spend time with Mr. Handsome Repair Guy.

After a certain age that’s a win-win.

“You just have to Laugh…..”

One should always be drunk. That’s all that matters… Charles Baudelaire

Saturday was my birthday. I wanted wine and song. My daughter called from Ireland to wish me a grand year, and suggested I check the internet machine for our local beloved troubadour to see where he was playing. Miraculously, he was playing at a WINERY from 2:00 to 5:00 in the afternoon. In twenty minutes, my husband and I were at a wine tasting bar listening to great music. Serendipity rocks.

For 10 bucks we could taste all 17 wines on the menu. A designated driver was named (not me) and I, the birthday girl went for it.  Now, Pennsylvania wines are usually quite awful, especially if you love wine. So we were pleasantly surprised when we enjoyed the flavor of some of these wines. The vintner was very proud. The chatter continued on in a  lively and humorous fashion. We were all having fun. It turns out that my husband and the vitner graduated from the same high school in the same year. They actually know each other, but the intervening 2 score years (nice way of preserving their dignity) changed their remembrance of one another.

Okay, so I’m tipsy, singing, meeting new people, drinking some not half-bad wine, and my phone jangles. Well, it’s my birthday, so people have been contacting me all day. I pick it up with a big ass wine smile and say:

“Hello!”

“Hello, is this Cathy?”

“Yep, it sure is…who is this?”

“This is the cardiologist from the hospital. I want to discuss your brother-in-law’s condition.”

Uh-oh.

Can I tell you, that it was the most lucid and coherent conversation I have ever had with a physician.

I answered all his questions, gave him a supremely detailed medical history, discussed current medication, the possibility of new medication, the long term effects of those new meds, and what the physician would require in the future in terms of follow up and testing. All while standing outside in a snowbank because of the music and raucous crowd in the winery.

I asked every freaking question that came to mind, I questioned the doctor’s  thought process concerning my brother-in-law’s medical history and future. I was rocking that conversation like I just graduated from medical school.

Clearly, I need to drink  more wine.

“You just have to Laugh……..”

©2015 Cathy Sikorski

I always tell the truth. Even when I lie……Al Pacino

There is a Medicare rule that requires your Part D (which is prescriptions only) provider to now call you before they send out your medications.

Many of these Part D providers also require, or at least push for you, the patient, to purchase your medications through the mail. The insurance provider wants you to have your doctor order these medications directly from them and then the magical pharmacy in the sky sends the medications to your home.

This process has its ups and downs. On the up side, your medications are delivered directly to your door. For many a senior, ill person, or caregiver, this is a blessing. Nothing is more delightful than not having to go to the pharmacy a million times a month for meds that run out at random intervals.

However, often our elder parents, aunts, and friends are frustrated by their inability to have that paper prescription in their hot little hands, take it to Phil, the Pharmacist, and go home knowing they have the correct meds as confirmed by Phil, and they don’t have to wait days or weeks to see the meds they need.

Now that Medicare has added this ‘protective’ provision that your insurance company must call you on the phone and confirm that you or your doctor ordered this medication, that you actually want the medication and that you wish it to be sent to you in a 90 day supply, another fun-filled element has been added to the mix.

So for me, it goes like this.

My brother-in-law struggles a bit with the phone, pays no attention to his meds anyway, and has for 5 years, relinquished any responsibility for anything. So, I leave a message at my brother-in-law’s doctor’s office requesting they order the medication.

I get 2 or 3 emails from the Part D insurance company confirming that a mysterious prescription has been ordered. They can’t put the name of the drug in the email, so I have to go to the Part D website to see if the correct drug has been ordered. My brother-in-law takes 40 pills a day. So I have to wade through the list to make sure all is correct.

Then Part D Insurance Company calls you on the phone. I never know when this call is coming. If I  miss the call, I put the process behind until I can respond. Now, for all of you who may need acting lessons in the future, I was a theater major in college for a bit, and I will be giving lessons. Now.

When the caller asks you if you are your brother-in-law, drop your voice three octaves and mumble a reply that sounds something like, “Yus.” You’re only talking to a machine, never a real person. Every other question, as his Power of Attorney, I have answered a million times, so I have the answers. But remember mumbling and voice alteration are your friends.

You will be pleased with the results when they conclude the call telling you your drugs are on the way! Just in case you don’t remember this conversation, they send you yet another 2 or 3 emails to confirm that the mysterious drugs, whose names shall not be mentioned in an email, will be delivered shortly.

You’re welcome, and remember all my caregiving thespians….

“You just have to Laugh…..” but don’t do it while mumbling and dropping your voice a few octaves.

©2014 Cathy Sikorski