Overmedicated

The latest in the Daddy Chronicles. Last night crazy Nancy called me. "Your Dad is acting really weird, and talking to people who aren't there. Blah, blah, blah" Oh, okay, I'll come see whats up.

I got to his house, and he was completely disoriented. He demanded me to tell him why all these people are in his house. "But Dad, nobody is here." "No, they're here for the dance." Oh, okay. No, you're making them up, Dad, nobody is here. So he looks around, then looks at me. "You're right, they're not here." So I hung out awhile, and did a recon mission of his house looking for drugs. I found 4 different prescriptions dating from 1999 to the present. They're all home with me now.
Meanwhile, he's sleeping in his chair. At some part of the evening, he says to me, "Hey! Do you have a boyfriend yet?" "No Dad, why?" "Well why not?" "Um. Too much trouble? I don't know."
"Oh okay" and he goes back to sleep.

Today I took him to the doc, who was less concerned that he's having imaginary dances in his living room than the fact he's in pain. I don't quite understand it. But at any rate, I've got all the pills. And he's getting an MRI next week.

The Patient is very worried that Dad might not be well enough to vote. He said he has to get better, that Boooosh needs all the Repubs behind him. Oh stop!!!