My father is on the phone screaming for me not to hang up. He says he is in a Hollywood, Florida hospital where he\u2019s been taken against his will. The reason, I come to understand: He was sitting on a bench in front of his church when some well-meaning Samaritan spotted him looking old and lost, fragile and small, and called 911. When the local Fire Department arrived, despite protestations and sputtered explanations, he was strapped to a gurney, wheeled into\na van, and whisked off to the ER.\n\n\n\n\n\n
I was waiting for mass, he tells me, voice rising somewhere between panic and rage. I forgot to change the clock, to spring forward\u2026 That\u2019s why I was sitting there\u2026 But nobody will listen\u2026 Now they want to do a CAT-scan\u2026 They won\u2019t let me go home\u2026 I was just waiting for the next mass\u2026 I forgot Daylight Savings Time\u2026 This is shit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n
My father is 98 years old. He is stooped over like half a\nhorseshoe, his skin so thin it seems to rip in the wind, skeletal arms\nsplotched with purple and wrapped in gauze bandages which look as if they date\nto the Crimean War. Sometimes he reminds me of friends who died in the plague\nof the 80\u2019s covered with KS, what they might be like today if they\u2019d lived to\nbe ancient, un-lapsed their Catholicism, and took up competitive Bridge.\nSometimes he reminds me of a leopard poised to leap for the jugular. But that,\nI remind myself, is the father of my childhood, not the shrunken nanogenarian\non the phone.\n\n\n\n\n\n
A nurse gets on an extension, briskly introduces herself as\nAudrey, then tells my father she wants to talk with me privately for a moment. We\u2019ll\nget right back to you, I assure him. Scout\u2019s honor, Dad.\n\n\n\n\n\nScout\u2019s honor?\n\n\n\n\n\n
It\u2019s an old joke between us, the Boy Scouts being one of a\nlong list of failed attempts to win his approval when I was a kid.\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\nScout\u2019s honor.\n\n\n\n\n\nHe\u2019s leery but he complies.\n\n\n\n\n
Now what seems to be the problem, I ask the nurse after he\u2019s\nclicked off. As far as I can tell, this all seems to be an unfortunate mistake.\nSo what\u2019s he still doing in the hospital? Why hasn\u2019t he been sent home?\n\n\n\n\n\n
Because his blood levels aren\u2019t normal, she replies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Normal? I just can\u2019t help wondering what constitutes\n\u201cnormal\u201d for a 98 year old. Nonetheless, from recent examinations, I know that\nmy father is fading and his kidneys are starting to give out. I also know that\nhe has said many, many times that he does not want to die in Florida. Dying in\ngeneral doesn\u2019t seem to bother him, just dying in Florida. He\u2019s scheduled to\nreturn to Long Island in a week and a half and unless there is a critical issue\nat this very moment I swear on a stack of Baltimore\nCatechisms<\/em> that I\u2019ll be sure he sees his primary care physician the minute\nhe\u2019s back in New York. Frankly, I tell her, keeping him in the hospital would kill\nhim.\n\n\n\n\n\n This does not sit well. Not at all. I\u2019m sorry to be the\nbearer of bad news, she counters, but there are issues besides the blood work. Namely,\ndementia. We\u2019re almost certain he is suffering from dementia.\n\n\n\n\n\n Dementia?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Yes, dementia, she says firmly. A chronic or persistent\ndisorder of the mental processes\u2026\n\n\n\n\n\n Hold on, I manage to interject. Just hold on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Slowly (I think) and politely (I hope), I explain that I\nhave just returned to New York from Florida and when I saw him a few days\nearlier he seemed fine – as fine as one can expect of anyone at his age, as\nfine as he ever was, for that matter. Terrible flirt with waitresses. Lousy\ntipper. Congenitally suspicious of new foods and people. But at the same time,\na man who devours The Times<\/em> every\nmorning, cooks and cleans for himself, tools around in a sixteen year old Buick\nwithout mishap, and plays serious Bridge with a \u201cfavorite partner\u201d twice a week.\nWe\u2019re just friends, he assured me over osso bucco<\/em>\nlast week, nothing romantic. Having outlived two wives, he isn\u2019t quite ready\nfor a third.\n\n\n\n\n\n But he can\u2019t answer our questions correctly, Audrey retorts.\nThey\u2019re very basic questions and if he can\u2019t answer them correctly, we have no\nchoice but to admit him for further observation.\n\n\n\n\n\n He\u2019s very hard of hearing, I explain. Practically deaf. And\nhe\u2019s a real Depression baby, insists on buying cheap knock-off batteries for\nhis hearing aids\u2026\n\n\n\n\n\n That may be the case but\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n Try again. Please try again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Okay. Mr. Gee-niger. Mr. Gee-niger! Get back on the phone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Genega! I scream. Guh-negg-uh!<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s scraping and static as my father hurries back on the\nline.\n\n\n\n\n\nYou there? He asks warily.\n\n\n\n\n\n Yes, I\u2019m here, Dad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They took my cell, you know. That\u2019s why I\u2019m on this God damn\nhospital phone. Someone stole my cell.\n\n\n\n\n\n We\u2019ll find your cellphone later. Don\u2019t worry about it. Listen\nto the nurse now.\n\n\n\n\n\n I\u2019m trying to sound calm and nonchalant but truth is rage\nand panic are beginning to bubble up in me also.\n\n\n\n\n\n Okay, Mr. Gee-knee-guh. I want to ask you a few basic\nquestions.\n\n\n\n\n\n This is shit, my father replies. Shit\u2026 shit\u2026 shit\u2026 shit\u2026\nshit\u2026\n\n\n\n\n\n First off, where do you live?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Long pause.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Where do I live? You want to know where I live? I can hear\nthe frustration and disdain in his voice.\n\n\n\n\n\n Yes, where\u2026 do\u2026 you\u2026 live? Tell\u2026 me\u2026 where\u2026 you\u2026 live.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I live in Massapequa Park. On Long Island. Next door to\nBarbara and Martin.\n\n\n\n\n\n See, what I mean, he doesn\u2019t even know he lives in Florida.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But for most of the year, he does live on Long Island. Barbara\nand Martin are his step-daughter and her husband. They live next door. Surely\nshe has heard of snowbirds\u2026\n\n\n\n\n\n Let\u2019s continue. Okay, Mr. Gen-eager. Where are you?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Another long pause.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Huh?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Simple question. Tell us where you are.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A low moan escapes his lips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Where are you? Tell us where you are.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\nIn the place to which I have been abducted, he finally\ngrowls.\n\n\n\n\n See, Audrey booms, triumphantly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n Did you hear him say hospital? I didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n Okay, one more. Who is the President of the United Sates,\nMr. Gen-gah? Who is the President?\n\n\n\n\n\n Shit, he replies, worn down to a whisper. This is shit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I know he\u2019s not doing himself any favors stonewalling\nAudrey\u2019s interrogation but at the same time, I am kind of proud of him for\nresisting.\n\n\n\n\n\n I repeat. Who is the President?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Now my father has been a loyal supporter of the Republican\nParty in suburban Nassau County for his entire life. He is not a ticket\nsplitter and has never voted for a Democrat for President \u2013 never, including\n2016, when he decided his best option was to sit out the election.\n\n <\/p>\n\n Who is the current President of the United States of America?<\/p>\n\n\n\n That man from New York everyone hates, he finally replies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t ask your opinion, Mr. Gen-guh. Audrey seems\ngenuinely miffed now. Just tell me the name.\n\n\n\n\n\n But my father refuses to utter the name of a man he finds loathsome\nand detestable. A thug and a thief. A braggart and a bully. Not a real\nRepublican.\n\n\n\n\n\n If he can\u2019t answer the questions correctly, he can\u2019t be released.\nIt\u2019s simple as that.\n\n\n\n\n\n This is shit, he says again. Get me the hell out of here.\nGet me home.\n\n\n\n\n\n Don\u2019t worry, Dad, I assure him. Just give me a little time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And then the line goes dead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Two and a half hours and six phone calls later, I finally\nget through to a supervising physician who spends considerable time listening\nto my take on the situation and finally agrees that although he\u2019d like to run a\nseries of further tests there is no justifiable reason to hold my father against\nhis wishes. Someone from the hospital eventually drives him back to the Church\nof the Little Flower where his car is parked and he drives himself home.\n\n\n\n\n\n We talk that evening and although frazzled, he seems\ngenuinely relieved to be in the safety of his tiny condo, stretched out on his\nLa-Z-Boy with a stack of library DVDs.\n\n\n\n\n\n I am finally ready to exhale as well, so I pour myself a\nscotch, kick back wondering if there is anything to glean from the day\u2019s frazzled\ntheatrics. Well, yeah, I conclude, the first being that it\u2019s obvious that\nalmost no one \u2013 including me \u2013 has figured out how to deal with people living\nwell into their nineties, many pushing to the one hundred mark and beyond. How\nmuch supervision do they need? How do we respect and preserve their\nindependence while making sure they aren\u2019t a danger to themselves or others? What\nmedical interventions are appropriate at their age? In essence, what do you do\nwith a 98 year old who is not confined to a nursing home or assisted living\nfacility and won\u2019t give up his Buick? How does he get the world to see him for\nwho he really is, not some profile concocted from a series of research studies? That\u2019s one line of thought.\n\n\n\n\n\n The second is darker, my father\u2019s story underscoring \u2013 again\n– how little it takes to be suddenly enmeshed in a vast, impersonal bureaucracy\nwith a rigid set of rights and wrongs and little interest in who you are or\nwhat you have to say. One minute you are waiting for mass in front of your\nchurch, the next you are in a large urban hospital being declared mentally incompetent.\nOne minute you are cooking breakfast for your kids, the next you\u2019re in federal\ncustody awaiting deportation. One minute you are someone, the next just another\none of \u201cthem.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n I\u2019m sure there\u2019s more to be learned from this Florida fiasco\nbut I conclude that my ultimate takeaway is basic and frighteningly familiar: a\nreminder that in this fissured age of Red state \/ Blue state, everything has\nbecome political. Daylight Savings Time. Good Samaritans. Emergency Rooms. Everything.\n\n\n\n\n\n Even an old man sitting on a park bench.<\/p>\n\n\n\n His curses and his prayers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n God help us, even that.<\/p>\n \n\n \n\n My father is on the phone screaming for me not to hang up. He says he is in a Hollywood, Florida hospital where he\u2019s been taken against his will. The reason, I come to understand: He was sitting on a bench in front of his church when some well-meaning Samaritan spotted him looking old and [&hellip<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":6215,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6208","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-creative-nonfictionmemoir"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6208","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6208"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6208\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6444,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6208\/revisions\/6444"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/6215"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6208"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6208"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/narrativenortheast.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6208"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n\nPaul\nGenega\u2019s poems appeared most recently in This\nBroken Shore, Off the Coast, <\/em>and Tifert\nMagazine\u2019s <\/em>\u201cborder\u201d issue. A chapbook of recent poems, Moordener Kill<\/em>, is scheduled for early 2020 by Finishing Line\nPress. Among his many awards are the Charles Angoff Award from The Literary Review <\/em>and an individual\nfellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts.\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"