The junior nurse was starting to panic.
She couldn't rouse my Dad. He was sitting up with his eyes shut, as if he was sleeping. He wouldn't respond to her calls, nor to her shaking him by the arm.
Mum was wise to his ways. She calmly told the nurse to take his vital signs -- pulse rate, blood pressure, oxygen level, temperature was all good.
He had done this before. Unused to not having his way, he retreated into a major sulk and pretended basically, to play dead.
The first time he did that, she went into a panic. Now, at the third time, she was an old hand.
But it freaked the junior nurse out, not surprisingly, and she had to fetch the staff nurse. Who was just as experienced as Mum.
"Uncle, would you like an ice cube?" she wheedled.
Immediately, his eyes flew open.
I love my Dad and feel for him, for all that he is going through, all the frustration, all the helplessness. But he is still a blooming butthole.
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