Mom and I are in a different Italian hospital. This time, we’re here to pick up Dad. A figure in a fluorescent green lycra tracksuit wearing dark sunglasses approaches us. I take in this conspicuous character and mentally debate with myself whether he’s dodgy or cool. Stevie Wonder or Blues Brother? My indecision lasts for a split second when I realize it’s my father! What’s with this very shady look in broad daylight?
He was operated on his eye this morning to remove his cataract. It’s a standard procedure and was planned a while ago. The timing’s lousy but it didn’t make sense to cancel. He’ll have to take it easy and wear sunglasses for a month or so.
We walk with him into the day ward where a scene from the twilight zone awaits us. A row of grannies are seated in black reclining chairs, purses tightly clutched in hand and all wearing ultra funky sunglasses. The flashiest pairs are displayed from huge Pradas to sleek Ray bans! My imagination immediately goes off on a tangent. In my mind the grannies start swinging their heads from left to right in razor sharp dance moves, perfectly synchronized to the beat of the funkiest Jay Z hip hop tune. Mom and I glance at each other and stifle a giggle. I wonder where her fantasy took her.
While Dad struggles with his sight, Mar has trouble with her hearing. The infection in her ears has not yet subsided and it feels like she has cotton plugged in them.
Watching TV with my father and sister was often comical. On one side, Dad’s face would be glued to the screen to see, while on the other, Mar’s ears would be pressed against it to hear. Earlier this week in the hospital, when the doctors came in on their daily visit, she had to strain herself to hear. Professor Martelli doesn’t believe she’s deaf but rather concludes that she doesn’t understand Italian when spoken too fast. If ever you want to offend my sister, questioning her language skills would definitely be the way to go!
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