Thursday, April 27, 2006


This is why I had four daughters and no sons. A dear friend revealed that what she thought was the flu was causing more and more abdominal pain and distress, until she realized she had better get to a hospital.

It was late afternoon. Her husband was out of town, so she asked her 17-year-old son to take her. He was all sweaty from soccer practice and had algebra homework to do, but OK, Mom.

As she lay in the examining room feeling worse and worse, he worked on his algebra homework, and after a couple of hours, leaned in close to her and said, “You know, I haven’t eaten. . . .”

Is that a teenaged son, or what?

They had determined that it was appendicitis. She would need surgery once the doctors could all be lined up. She sent her son home with instructions to get fast food for himself, and to bring her back some things for an overnight stay. The drugs were really kicking in, so she must not have been too specific.

She realized just HOW unspecific she must have been an hour later when he brought back his sweaty soccer backpack, unzipped it, and out poured these important items he’d selected for her:

1) One embarrassingly skimpy pair of thong underwear.
2) One pair of mismatched pajamas she didn’t even remember she had.
3) Fifteen lipsticks.

The GOOD news is, he finished his algebra homework, and her operation was a complete success, with the medical team still raving about her gorgeous lipstick shade.

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