Another Blog?

My Mother was an excellent cook. It took me a decade to _approximate_ her spaghetti sauce. That my dad and mom loved one another, I have no doubt. The day she died, he lost his best friend. My Mother cooked my Father his favorite meal-well, second favorite meal for his birthday: liver and onions. Yes, I know, all of you (me included) are thinking "EEEEAAAWWW"! Don't lie.
. She wouldn't eat it,either. Hated it, in fact. But she loved him so much, she made it just for him. That and a maple walnut layer cake.
My Mother told me one time that,"Everyone's entitled to their little quirks. Well your Father is mine." Now the 'backdrop' is set.
. Sunday dinner at our house was special. My younger brother, Joe and I would go to Mass with our Father. Mom would stay home and cook.(Mom apparently had a falling out with the Pope, or God and she was determined to wait Them out. Thats a whole other post.) We'd get home, famished, at 2 p.m. and still have an hour before dinner. We sit down and eat, then Dad takes his afternoon nap. He's got a cold and he's snoring. Loudly. Here is where the "fun" starts...
.My Father had a 'partial' set of false teeth - a few molars on top, with barbs on each end to hold them to the other teeth. They were old and loose. Well, he snored so loudly, the teeth became dislodged and fell to the back of his throat at which point he swallowed them! Of course he woke up at this point, confused, I'm sure, and went into the bathroom to try to "bring them up." Well! That didn't work, and my Mom and Dad sat around discussing what he should do. They finally decided that he should go to the hospital because there was no way that they would come out on their own. So he drives himself to the hospital (the incident not being a bonafide emergency, - no blood was coming out of any place it shouldn't-) and the rest of us begin our normal nitetime rituals, this being around 5p.m.
Around 7p.m. the phone rings. It's my Dad. He wants Mom on the phone. She talks to him a half a minute or less, hangs up, tells me to watch my brother,put him to bed, and is gone!
To the hospital! Around 7:30 my Aunt Dee calls ( this is a daily thing. My Mom and Aunt Dee are sisters,and very close.) She asked where my parents were, I told her that daddy had swallowed his plate. She laughed and told me to stop lying, that no one could do that. When it dawned on her that it was his partial, she laughed even harder. So, 9:30p.m. rolls around, I've not heard from my parents, my Aunt calls back,truly concerned now. I leave a note for my parents to call my Aunt no matter what time it is and I go to bed, secure in the knowledge that my Mom is" in charge " at the Emergency Room, and nothing 'bad' can happen.
. Boy, was I wrong!
My Mom comes in around 3 a.m. I hear her talking on the phone to my Aunt. The doctors at the e.r. tried to extract the partial. They tried pulling them up,they pushed them back down. Several times.They finally decided to let my Dad rest. He'd been through enough for one day.
.
So in the next two days he went through several procedures to try and remove the errant teeth... awake and under general anethsesia, none of which were successful. The good doctors at BMMC (then BMH) were stumped. They even called Bellvue, a hospital at that time, run by the City of New York. Bellvues patients were mainly indigent.Drug addicts and drunks made up a large part of its 'clients'. Drunks have been known to swallow their false teeth. Nope, no luck there.
Well, with all of the pushing and pulling of the teeth, the doctors had left small holes in both esophogus and trachea, which led to peritonitis- an infection in the abdominal cavity. Very nasty, and hard to cure. They finally realized the only way to get the teeth out was to do a reversable colostomy, after they took care of the peritonitis. They put drains in his chest and back, to allow fluid to exit his chest and waited until he was strong enough for the ostomy surgery.
Because of the infection, they had to feed him I.V. _nothing_ by mouth, until the infection was gone and the teeth were out.
Did I mention that my Dad loved to eat?
.
.Well,my parents argued with the Docs, they let him go back on solid food after the infection cleared up and the teeth were out. And let him come home to regain his strength before reversing the colostomy. Once again to the hospital, post op recovery and such. When he was finally released from the doctors care my Mom brought him home and laid on a meal usually reserved for major holidays! I can still see him sitting at the dining room table, as my Mom pulls a surprise from her pocketbook. It was his partial! She started laughing as he fondled the now unusable plate, and put a set of chattering teeth on the table,too aiming them straight for him!
His only response was,"Frances, I am not amused." Totally deadpan. This,of course, made my Mom laugh even harder, and she had to go pee...