Lessons learned from my father: Mortification

My dad. *sigh* I can’t even say the word dad these days without sighing.  It’s a reflux.  At some point, I need to write it all down, vent… share… laugh so that my future generations can be like, “SHUT UP, our great great grandfather made my great grandma drive his trash in the passenger seat of her car all the way home, because his trash day was still three days away.  That doesn’t make sense!  I know future posterity, I know. Save yourself a fortune in therapy and just don’t try to make sense of it all.

 My Dad went from grieving widow to single man on the prowl in about 60 seconds (or six weeks).  It threw me for a loop, a big one, I mean… a really, really big one.  Now, after some time, therapy, lots of tears and laughter, I get it.  I mean, I don’t like it, I don't approve, but I understand to a degree.  In his engineer brain, he is like, “Problem:  No spouse and excess loneliness.  Solution: Find new Spouse on Internet.  If you don’t at first succeed, try try again. “ 

And as for “Try Try Again” my Dad is trying really hard to get married, the problem is he is good looking, financially stable, and has all his hair.  In other words, the more mature crowd finds my dad to be a catch.  The craziest of the ladies seem to be the most aggressive and eager to get the golden ring.   It’s a roller coaster and every lady seems to have a need of some sort.  For example: A green card, money to pay off a mountain of debt, a place to live. 

Unfortunately, his marriage obsession has made our relationship a little bit rocky.  I didn’t expect he would be ready to get his dance card punched six weeks after my mom’s passing.  We are working on this, but essentially my dad keeps referring to my “mental state!”.  “I’m very concerned about your mental state!”  “What does Mr. Man think of your mental state!?”  “You are in a mental state! I have never heard you so upset.”

Whew.. all this is leading up to something, but wow, I just had to let that all out.  Now for the lesson I learned from my dad. 

 My dad was obsessed with Dr. Laura, and when her radio show went off the air, he was devastated.  Thanks to Oprah and daytime television, now my dad has found a new replacement for his devotion in the form of Dr. Oz.  Now Dr. Oz, is nice and all, but his ratings are in the tank, which means his topics are meant to sensationalize and draw in the mostly female TV audience.  Dr. Oz is always talking about Women’s health, couple that with my mental state! And it results in my dad obsessing about my health. 

The other day, my brother, dad, and I were sitting in an attorney’s office discussing my mother’s estate. This is not an attorney that knows our family beyond a few phone calls.  Mr. Attorney turned to type up some notes in his computer, and there is silence.

My dad turns to me and says, “Wendy, who is monitoring your health?  Is it your OB/GYN? Does he monitor your health monthly, annually? And is he aware of your mental state?  You aren’t taking any of those synthetic hormones, are you?  Dr. Oz says those will make you crazy.” 

At this point, I turned beet red and wonder if Dr. Oz ever did a show about people who actually died of embarrassment.  The attorney graciously ignores my dad’s outburst of concern for my health and carries on.  Since when has my dad been so concerned with woman’s health, especially my health?  It’s something we haven’t ever discussed.  This is the moment I learn you are never too old to be humiliated by your parents.