I came to Florida on business but decided at the last minute to visit my mother-in-law; she’s living in a full-care nursing home. That really means you are completely out of it, and need someone to feed you, change your diapers, and wash you. It’s the last stop before you move on to whatever comes when you pass from this life.
I haven’t seen her for five years. We sent her to Florida to my brother Chuck when we weren’t longer able to take care of her. The nursing homes are less expensive in Florida. I feel tremendous guilt about sending her there. But it all got to be just too much. So off she went on her permanent vacation to the Sunlit Village Home.
I’m bringing my mother- in- law a small dictionary, and a mask of a greyhound. She used to love crossword puzzles and bet on the greyhounds’ way back when. Needless to say, I realize soon enough she wouldn’t need any of these thoughtful gifts.
I admit I didn’t expect to find her playing Canasta, but I wasn’t prepared to see her tied into a giant high chair, with a bib around her neck either. I try having a conversation with her, but she doesn’t seem aware that I’m here. She talks, or perhaps yells, would be a better description. She screams over and over.” I want chocolate.” After about one hour of this, I pat her on her now white head, and say, “I love you, Mom. I hope you see Peter soon very soon.” Peter is her deceased husband.
That’s when I boogie out the door, never to return again. I decide to do something to lighten my mood. I see a sign that read, rent a boat, twenty dollars for half an hour. I decide to go for it. In hindsight, I should have checked the weather report, but that’s me act now think later.
Off I go rowing in the deep blue sea, I notice after about fifteen minutes, the water starts getting choppy, and the wind picks up. No prob. I can handle this. It turns out I can’t. The little boat starts a rocking, and I start upchucking my corned beef on rye with extra sauerkraut. Next thing you know, I’m way, way out, can’t see any land. I think I pass out for a while, or maybe my brain decides to take a little vacation of its own.
When I wake up, the boat is banging up against something. It turns out it’s an island. If you can call a clod of dirt, whose only inhabitant is a lone palm tree, an island. I pull the boat and myself onto the shore. And take a little look around. Takes about one minute to realize that I’m royally screwed. I think I guess this is payback for my bad karma with Mother-in-law.
I walk over to the tree, and at the very top, there’s a coconut. Using my amazing athletic ability, about one hour later, I find myself within one foot of said coconut. I start swinging one arm wildly and banging the trunk of the tree, low and behold I knock that sucker down.
That’s when I remember I’m terrified of heights. So, I stayed glued to that tree for another two hours before I gather the courage to climb down. Well, I climb halfway down, and slide the rest of the way, scraping most of the skin off my arms, and bare legs.
Once I arrive on the ground again, I take a look at my burning legs and arms, and start crying quietly, and then in earnest, reaching that level of crying known as the ugly cry. Glad no one is there to witness it, or even worse video it, and post it on YouTube.
I crack open the coconut with a nearby rock, and just like that, I have coconut milk, which I pour over raw, and burning skin. I go over to the mighty yacht and get the dictionary and tear out pages and stick them to my now oozing legs.
Just at this moment, I see a tourist boat floating by my little square foot of paradise. People are waving and taking pictures of me with their freaking cell phones. It’s at this moment that I put on the dog mask because by now, I not only feel like a dog but smell like one too.
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