Sugar Bowl

Dad's in the hospital. He fell this past week, fractured his left femur. Surgery was yesterday. Most, if not all of you, are well aware of the risks associated with ninetysomething year olds and major surgery. But, as we all hold our breath, attempt to focus on everyday tasks, all the while wondering if the phone is going to ring any second......leave it to my father to inject a bit of humor (albeit unconsciously) into an otherwise anxious situation.

So, as I said, Dad had surgery. Coming out of the anesthesia, he was apparently experiencing some confusion--not knowing exactly where he was, why he was, maybe if he was....

At any rate.......you know those white plastic containers the nurses use in hospitals for collecting and measuring urine? They have a plastic top? When the top is on the container the whole receptacle looks like a plastic casserole dish? Well, Dad calls them Honey Pots. I remember Dad used to always ask me in the mornings, "Did you empty Mom's honey pot?"

Honey pot. Except......remember Dad's recovering from major surgery, and general anesthesia, so his brain is doing some weird juxtapositioning and instead of referring to the Honey Pot, he's calling it a Sugar Bowl.

It's crucial to understand here that the nurses caring for my dad are familiar with the term Honey Pot.

Sugar Bowl? Not so much.

And I guess Dad, in his muddied mental state, has been asking for.....well, actually more like demanding......and not in a charming way.......the Sugar Bowl.........a lot.

So imagine my brother arriving at the hospital to see Dad, walking up to the nurse's station to check on any updates, and before he can get two words out, the nurses, in unison, ask with a certain professional desperation in their voices, "WHY DOES YOUR FATHER KEEP ASKING FOR THE SUGAR BOWL?!!!"