Piano playing cat drops ball on crumbled iPhone car
It was a week that began with a numb sense of helplessness and dread. Nevertheless, I viewed the forthcoming challenge with calm, steady bravery. Nazy was also very helpful:
“You are just going to the doctor, Dan.”
“He’s going to poke…”
“Dan!”
“ …. and probe. He’s going to ask questions.”
“Everyone does it Dan. It’s not so bad.”
“Everyone dies, Nazy. That’s bad.”
“Would you like me to go along and hold your hand?”
The session began with a long series of questions. At the beginning, Dr. Bernstein explained a Medicare Requirement..
“I have to check your memory. So I will say three words. About five minutes later, after we’ve talked about other things, I’ll ask if you remember the words.”
“Got it.”
“The three words are: ‘Ball, Cat and Piano’. Remember those words.”
“That’s four words.” I replied.
“Don’t remember ‘and’,” Dr. Bernstein huffed.
Luckily, my doctor in Zurich was ‘Dr. Huff’, so I had a hook to hang onto the requisite words. Meanwhile Dr. Bernstein asked a bunch of standard questions. Luckily, I had prepared for this examination. I knew that the desired answer was ‘No’.
After about five minutes during which Dr. Bernstein ascertained that I had no chest pains, no joint pain, no headaches, no leaking of bodily fluids, no shortness of breath and so on, he jumped back to the beginning.
“Do you remember the three words?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“What were they?”
“You didn’t tell me that you were going to ask what they were, you simply said that you’s ask if I remembered them.” I replied. Accurately.
Dr. Bernstein just stared.
“Oh, well,” I replied. “Ball, Cat, Piano”.
“Now I have to ask you to draw a picture of a clock with the time of 10:15.” He said
“That sounds easy enough,” I replied.
“What’s that?” Dr. Bernstein asked.
“A digital clock,” I replied.
“Can you do an analogue clock? One with hands and numbers.”
“My clock has numbers,” I thought. “Of course,” I said. “What will you guys do when the nest generation doesn’t understand ‘a clock with hands’?”
My ‘clock’ wasn’t a work of art, but it did depict the time correctly. The examination continued as verbiage gave way to poking. It finally ended.
“You need to lose..”
“Here it comes,” I thought.
“Three pounds.”
“Three pounds?” I replied. Incredulous.
“Come back in six months. And wait here for your annual flu shot.”
Back at home, Nazy asked about the results of the exam.
“He wants me to lose three pounds,” I replied.
“We can eliminate desserts,” Nazy replied.
“I’ve got a better idea,” I replied. Aghast. “I’ll just take the change out of my pocket and wear a lighter belt and shoes next time.”
I have a bigger problem. I can’t get the three stupid words out of mind. It’s like a tune stuck in my head. I tried replacing the words, but now ‘sphere, feline and harpsichord’ are banging around. It’s a difficult situation.
This week I also took the car to the bodyshop. This meant that I’d have to pick up the Grand(est)son from Montessori school in a beige, four door, rental Dodge instead of the two door, red sporty BMW. He was not happy.
“Dan’s car broke!” He shouted while refusing to get into the car seat.
I showed him where I would sit to drive the Dodge and, at his insistence, left the driver’s door open while I placed him in the car seat. I showed him that the Dodge had a back window that came up and down. The first thing he said when we go to lunch with Melika and Nazy was..
“Dan’s car broke!”
I have tried to explain that an Uber driver ran into my car, but I think he believes that it was all my fault. He has a matchbox car that looks like our car and he keeps checking to see if ‘his’ BMW has a large and ugly scratch along the side.
“Maybe I should get him an Uber Prius,” I thought. “And then arrange a collision.”
This week, Mitra drove up from Los Angeles for a visit. She spent a lot of time with young Tiger, the Grand(est)son.
She took him for a walk through the nooks and crannies around Melika’s house. (And, as you can see, he liked showing him the nooks, crannies, rocks and leaves.)
This week Nazy also had an iPhone disaster.
“I can’t take any photos or videos,” Nazy explained. “My storage is full.”
I told her that I could solve the problem by transferring her photo album to my laptop. I did that and then began deleting videos from her phone.
“Don’t do that!” Nazy complained when she saw what I was doing.
“You said you wanted to be able to take new pictures. Don’t worry, everything is stored on my disk.”
“But nobody can see them there. If you take them off of my phone, they’ll be gone.”
“No, they’ll be on my hard disk.”
“But I can’t see them. They’ll be hidden on your computer.”
“It’s a removable disk, so you can put it on your computer.”
“I won’t be able to find them.”
“They’re in a folder called “photos from Nazy’s iPhone’. You can find them.”
“But I can’t carry my computer in my purse. You’re messing everything up. Don’t delete anything.”
“If don’t delete anything, you can’t take any new pictures.”
“You don’t do anything right Dan.” Nazy claimed.
“Ball, cat, piano,” I replied pointlessly.
“You are just going to the doctor, Dan.”
“He’s going to poke…”
“Dan!”
“ …. and probe. He’s going to ask questions.”
“Everyone does it Dan. It’s not so bad.”
“Everyone dies, Nazy. That’s bad.”
“Would you like me to go along and hold your hand?”
The session began with a long series of questions. At the beginning, Dr. Bernstein explained a Medicare Requirement..
“I have to check your memory. So I will say three words. About five minutes later, after we’ve talked about other things, I’ll ask if you remember the words.”
“Got it.”
“The three words are: ‘Ball, Cat and Piano’. Remember those words.”
“That’s four words.” I replied.
“Don’t remember ‘and’,” Dr. Bernstein huffed.
Luckily, my doctor in Zurich was ‘Dr. Huff’, so I had a hook to hang onto the requisite words. Meanwhile Dr. Bernstein asked a bunch of standard questions. Luckily, I had prepared for this examination. I knew that the desired answer was ‘No’.
After about five minutes during which Dr. Bernstein ascertained that I had no chest pains, no joint pain, no headaches, no leaking of bodily fluids, no shortness of breath and so on, he jumped back to the beginning.
“Do you remember the three words?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“What were they?”
“You didn’t tell me that you were going to ask what they were, you simply said that you’s ask if I remembered them.” I replied. Accurately.
Dr. Bernstein just stared.
“Oh, well,” I replied. “Ball, Cat, Piano”.
“Now I have to ask you to draw a picture of a clock with the time of 10:15.” He said
“That sounds easy enough,” I replied.
“What’s that?” Dr. Bernstein asked.
“A digital clock,” I replied.
“Can you do an analogue clock? One with hands and numbers.”
“My clock has numbers,” I thought. “Of course,” I said. “What will you guys do when the nest generation doesn’t understand ‘a clock with hands’?”
My ‘clock’ wasn’t a work of art, but it did depict the time correctly. The examination continued as verbiage gave way to poking. It finally ended.
“You need to lose..”
“Here it comes,” I thought.
“Three pounds.”
“Three pounds?” I replied. Incredulous.
“Come back in six months. And wait here for your annual flu shot.”
Back at home, Nazy asked about the results of the exam.
“He wants me to lose three pounds,” I replied.
“We can eliminate desserts,” Nazy replied.
“I’ve got a better idea,” I replied. Aghast. “I’ll just take the change out of my pocket and wear a lighter belt and shoes next time.”
I have a bigger problem. I can’t get the three stupid words out of mind. It’s like a tune stuck in my head. I tried replacing the words, but now ‘sphere, feline and harpsichord’ are banging around. It’s a difficult situation.
This week I also took the car to the bodyshop. This meant that I’d have to pick up the Grand(est)son from Montessori school in a beige, four door, rental Dodge instead of the two door, red sporty BMW. He was not happy.
“Dan’s car broke!” He shouted while refusing to get into the car seat.
I showed him where I would sit to drive the Dodge and, at his insistence, left the driver’s door open while I placed him in the car seat. I showed him that the Dodge had a back window that came up and down. The first thing he said when we go to lunch with Melika and Nazy was..
“Dan’s car broke!”
I have tried to explain that an Uber driver ran into my car, but I think he believes that it was all my fault. He has a matchbox car that looks like our car and he keeps checking to see if ‘his’ BMW has a large and ugly scratch along the side.
“Maybe I should get him an Uber Prius,” I thought. “And then arrange a collision.”
This week, Mitra drove up from Los Angeles for a visit. She spent a lot of time with young Tiger, the Grand(est)son.
She took him for a walk through the nooks and crannies around Melika’s house. (And, as you can see, he liked showing him the nooks, crannies, rocks and leaves.)
This week Nazy also had an iPhone disaster.
“I can’t take any photos or videos,” Nazy explained. “My storage is full.”
I told her that I could solve the problem by transferring her photo album to my laptop. I did that and then began deleting videos from her phone.
“Don’t do that!” Nazy complained when she saw what I was doing.
“You said you wanted to be able to take new pictures. Don’t worry, everything is stored on my disk.”
“But nobody can see them there. If you take them off of my phone, they’ll be gone.”
“No, they’ll be on my hard disk.”
“But I can’t see them. They’ll be hidden on your computer.”
“It’s a removable disk, so you can put it on your computer.”
“I won’t be able to find them.”
“They’re in a folder called “photos from Nazy’s iPhone’. You can find them.”
“But I can’t carry my computer in my purse. You’re messing everything up. Don’t delete anything.”
“If don’t delete anything, you can’t take any new pictures.”
“You don’t do anything right Dan.” Nazy claimed.
“Ball, cat, piano,” I replied pointlessly.
For last week's letter, click here
Mitra and Tiger
We've also had some nice sunsets by the Mission
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