Photo by Francisca Ulloa

Happy birthday.  For your celebration, come in and get your boobs squished into a freezing cold vice.  We’ll tell you if you have cancer.

Free Mammogram

I got a birthday card in the mail.  It says, happy birthday, and contains information about receiving a free mammogram.  That is quite possibly the most unexpected birthday gift I’ve ever received.

Don’t get me wrong.  I know this is actually a valuable gift.  Prevention is good.  But really, my birthday is a downer.  I just paid my birthday tax.  The State of Georgia also says happy birthday.  For your birthday, you pay the property tax and tag fee on your car.  So this week I pay a tax and there is the free mammogram?

Ick.

Regifting

My birthday is Sunday, the fourth.  Generally it is best ignored.  Because receiving a regift wrapped in Christmas paper because that is what people can afford, is well – a card or simple happy birthday voice mail is much better.

Okay, so that’s my, please ignore me if you can’t say something nice on my birthday even if you are an institution rant.  Taxing me and offering a medical procedure is not included in “nice.”

Grandma Update

Grandma is herself mentally and linguistically.  I spent fifteen minutes telling her that DD had a playdate with her friend E.  Grandma was confused by the name, didn’t understand that E is a person.  Once that was settled, I spent several more minutes explaining that E is a girl and her brother G is a boy.  Clearly, names that are not gender specific are lost on Grandma.  It is not a trend that she likes.

Physically grandma is not the best. She claims she is well.  Because she is well in spirit (see above).  I can no longer call at any time of day or evening with any certain that I won’t wake her up.  The oxygen isn’t really working so well.  And she just doesn’t sound well (her voice, not what she says).

Grandma and her Male Suitors

Grandma went to a holiday party that the little greek man threw.  I said, “You rejected him, then went to his party?”

She said, “Well, lots of people were there.”

I said, “Grandma, you were there.”

Weirdly, she had no response to that.

Her old boyfriend, J, also called.  She said, oh, it’s nice that he called, I thought he might be dead.

I asked whatever happened to D, who stopped calling, so she thought he was dead.  She said, oh yes, definitely dead.  I asked how she found out.  She said she doesn’t remember, somebody must have called her back.

Poor guy, he even asked her to marry him one last time.  She said she could never marry an Italian-American man:  too possessive.

When I told her about the free mammogram she said, well, at least when you don’t call me back right away, I don’t think you’re dead.

Related posts:

• Senior Housing and the Little Greek Man
• White Guy

When somebody dies the administrator goes down the list calling to see who is still alive that still wants to live there. People who have changed their mind have usually moved into another senior complex, died, moved in with a relative, or gone to a nursing home.

In this case the resident who died most recently jumped out the window to his death. That is another thing about senior housing. If you’re mentally ill, or disabled, you don’t necessarily have to be old to qualify to live there. I don’t know this persons story. But it is assumed that persons who jump from windows are not mentally stable.

Grandma told me that the apartment is vacant in that way that says, I’m not superstitious, but that apartment is cursed.

I announced our arrival at the front door, to make sure I would be allowed to pass and not mistaken for the little Greek man. Fortunately, Grandma heard me. Because I forgot my key.

Related posts:

• Small Rays of Light
• You and Your Gay Men

Then we went to the amazingly slow Burger King in Dawsonville to get DD fries for the drive. I would have liked for her to eat something more substantial. But whatever, the kid eats a lot of fruit and vegetables. Fries for lunch today won’t kill her.

Then we began the 50 mile drive to Buckhead. Boring. I suggested to DD that she might want to sleep. Usually, she says she doesn’t want to sleep, then does so about three miles from arrival anywhere that we go. Today she stayed awake the entire drive to discuss motorcycles, ugly trucks and cars. The uglier the truck the more she likes it. She has a special love for very dirty, pollutant coughing, gardening trucks.

Grandma has perked up considerably since the little Greek man has begun his pursuit. When I told her that we are taking vacation the first week of August, she said “Your husband is crazy! August is the hottest month of the year!”

Yep, she’s feeling better.

DD said about five words while we were there. I think they were bonjour, au revoir, merci, oui and non. That is what she does. She doesn’t speak to people. Then after they leave she tells you all about them. I told Grandma not to be fooled; DD understands every word. Grandma said she knows and to prove it asked DD to do a bunch of little things, to which DD silently and correctly complied, carrying the book over to me and putting it in the bag, etc. We were not five feet out of Grandmas door when a stream of French and English came out of her mouth telling me all about how much she loves to visit.