It's Hell To Get Old

“I think my fever is worse,” I moaned, snatching another Kleenex from the box and shoving the corner of it up my clogged nostril. “I can’t breathe!” As I exhaled, the tissue fluttered upward then drifted down to land gently on my newly Vicks chest.
My wife stared and me and tried not to laugh. “Maybe if you took the Kleenex out…”
I coughed suddenly, simultaneously blowing out my Kleenex and scratching my raw throat. I grimaced and groaned out loud. “Soup,” I managed to croak. “I need chicken soup.”
She pressed her cold hand against my forehead and I flinched. “No fever,” she informed me with a quick kiss where her hand had laid. “I think you’re going to live.”
I whimpered, shook my head and tried to speak. “No, no cold has ever been this bad. In the history of colds, this is the worst ever.”
She turned and gave me a sympathetic smile. “All right, I get it; you don’t have to do yard work. I want you to stay in bed today and I’m going to put a sock around your neck.”
My smile at being able to stay in bed all day faded as I heard the dreaded words, sock and neck. I shook my head. “No! I hate that."
"Why?"
"Because! I feel so stupid….What if someone sees me?”
She rolled her eyes at me and then turned to hunt through my sock drawer. “No one is going to see you and the warmth will help heal your throat.” Before she could find the right size sock to fit around my swollen neck, the phone thankfully rang.
Saved by the bell. I sighed and laid back against the pillows, and closed my eyes. She was talking to her mom, a conversation that could last all afternoon. I feebly looked around the room, wondering two things; where was my portable play station and once I found it did I have enough strength to push the buttons.
Julie came back sometime later and leaned me forward as she began fluffing my pillows. The jostling against my sore body made me moan.
“I heard you talking about their computer.” I whispered, holding my hand protectively against my throat. “What’s wrong?”
She started at me, dumbfounded. “You didn’t hear me ask you three times what kind of chicken soup you wanted, nor did you answer me when I asked you if you’d seen the Vicks, but you did manage to hear a one sided conversation about their computer? Why is it that life comes to a halt for you when there is any kind of technical emergency? It’s like trying to keep a fireman away from a burning building with people still trapped inside.”
“What’s wrong with their computer?” I asked again. “Can your dad get his e-mail, or is he having trouble with moving the mouse again?” My voice was squeaky and I coughed, trying not to grimace.
She ignored my pain. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”
I shook my head and attempted to breath through my mouth, trying not to whine. “I can tell, there was distress in your voice. Tell me, Jules, I need to know!”
She stopped fussing over the bed and stared at me, a slight smile on her face, then gave a slight shrug. “My dad pushed a button and something happened to the captions on their T.V. I’m going to get you some tea.”
“Ah, a TV problem,” I wheezed, brightening.
“See,” she said over her shoulder, “I told you there wasn’t a computer problem.”
She came back with a steaming mug, and handed me a tea bag. I studied the Lipton packet with suspicion, examining it from front to back. “I hate tea,” I mumbled.
She ignored me and dunked the bag into my cup. “Just let it steep a while,” she said, “It will feel good on your throat. Now what was I doing?” She asked me thoughtfully.
I remembered the dreaded sock and remained silent. I swallowed against my will and grimaced as the tea oozed slowly through the steaming liquid.
“Tell me about their TV, ” I whispered, hoping to distract her. “Did he find the menu?”
“Menu?”
“On the TV.” I sniffed deeply and wisely dropped my gaze to the darkening liquid.
She handed me the sugar bowl. “Mom told him to find the menu button, but he hit something else and now there are two pictures on the screen.”
“Oh, no” I moaned,” rubbing my palm deep into my throbbing left eye. “He got picture and picture. He’ll never get that off.” I set my cup down on the table and tried to push myself from the bed as my wife watched me with annoyance.
“The ole dreaded picture and picture,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “They didn’t ask for your help, Kyle.
“They never do.” I gasped, struggling to find a shirt.
“I thought you were too sick to do yard work and wanted to stay in bed.”
“I have to go to them,” I gave a hoarse whisper, cutting her off, my muted voice cracking with strain. “They need me.”
“Oh brother,” she rolled her eyes. “This must be what Lois Lane feels like.”
“They’re just up the street,” I said, ignoring her irritation and putting on my coat. “I’ll be right back.”
“I can do it!” She said reluctantly, grabbing her purse. “I want you to get back into bed. I think I remember how you showed me to do it.” I suddenly choked, and felt myself begin to panic. “That’s okay, sweetheart.” I said taking in gulps of air through my open mouth. “It will be faster if I go.” Inside, I was cringing as I remembered her one and only attempt to program our VCR. She had called me at the office, wondering which controller to use. As I had tried to talk her through it, there had been the ten minutes of swearing, words I never even found use for in the Marine Corp, and I still don’t understand how the TV was smoking when I got home.
I opened the front door and without turning I said, “Call your mom; let her know I’m on my way.” I closed the door before she could argue further.

Even with losing her eye sight, my mother-in-law saw that I was in no condition to be out of bed. For that, I loved her even more. “Oh honey,” she said, gently patting my burning cheek, “You didn’t have to come. Good honk, for years we didn’t even have TV. We just sat around and talked or listened to the radio. God forbid we have a conversation these days. Norm!” she shouted to my deaf father-in-law from two rooms away, “Kyle is here to fix the set!”
After being called several more times, my father-in-law shuffled up behind her with a smile on his face and laid his gnarled hands gently on her shoulders. “Hi Kyle,” he yelled over the barking dog at my feet. The high ceiling in the entry way caused the bark to reverberate and my head began to pound.
“Right Norm?” she asked her husband of 60 years, “We could just talk.”
He leaned into her. “Hm, pardon me?”
She sighed. “I said we could just talk.” Then she turned to the dog and snapped her fingers, “Heidi,” she said loudly, “That’s just Kyle. Now you shush!” As always, Heidi ignored her and continued to bark.
Norman gave Dorothy a puzzled look. “Are you talking to the dog or me?”
She waved him away in playful aggravation. “Oh, never mind. Kyle is here to fix the TV.”
“Hm?” He asked again.
“The set.” She yelled over the still barking dog. He looked at both of us with a blank look. She rolled her eyes and sighed, then said loudly. “For God sakes, Norm, you knew Kyle was coming, why didn’t you put in your hearing aid?” When he still didn’t respond, I grimaced against the reverberation as she shouted again only more slowly, “He’s here to fix the set.”
“Oh!” he replied turning to me. “Hey, I thought you were sick?”
“I am,” I said, the words seemingly forced out through my clogged nose. Usually I had no problem communicating with him, as long as I could speak at full volume, but now I couldn’t raise my voice loud enough for him to hear. He shot me another blank look. My ears were stuffed; my throat was on fire. I suddenly had this image of the three monkeys, hear no evil, see no evil and speak no evil. We were in a world of trouble.
“He’s got a bad sore throat, honey,” My mother-in-law explained, rubbing his arm, “don’t make him talk.” She then turned her attention to me, squinting up at me to see my face, before touching my cheek with loving, cool hand. “You need a sock around your throat.”
I cringed and put my hand against my Adams Apple and patting Norman’s arm to get his attention, then managed a hoarse, “I’m having a problem talking.”
My mother-in-law laughed, “Oh, you’ll fit right in here Kyle, with Norm hard of hearing and with me blind as a bat.” She shooed the dog away and began to rub my back. “You don’t have to putter around with the TV today, honey. You go home and go to bed. Or maybe you can tell me what to do and I’ll try to fix it.”
I gave her a slight smile and shook my head as I made my way into the living room. My father-in-law followed slowly behind me.
“I don’t know what I pressed.” He said as he picked up the remote control, and stared at it as though it were a foreign object. “But somehow or other, I got another channel on the screen over here in the upper corner,” he laughed. “I can’t tell what I’m watching anymore, or what to pay attention to. It’s very confusing.” He handed me the remote with a gentle smile before adding, “Or at least to me it is.”
“It’s called picture and picture,” my mother-in-law said to him loudly.
He was very thoughtful for a time as we all stared at him and I felt as though he finally understood. After a moment, he leaned down to her. “Hm?”
Dorothy took a deep breath and said again slowly and much more loudly, which I know the people who live above them must love, “Picture and picture,” she shouted. It’s where you can watch two channels at once.” After a moment of silence, she sighed and commanded, “For God sakes, Norm, go put in your hearing aid! Good Lord, I’m surprised the neighbors down the block haven’t come to fix the TV,” she laughed, “with me yelling to him all afternoon about picture and picture.” Norman narrowed his blue eyes in concentration as he stared at her, then finally turned to me and shrugged his shoulders with a grin and the ever present twinkle in his eyes.
“I’d better go put in my hearing aid so I can hear you better.” He turned and began shuffling out of the room. Norman had been increasingly deaf for the last ten years. He had had trouble ever since his ear drum blew out while he was serving as a pilot in World War 11. He’s had an operation after the war, but the surgeon had hit a nerve and ever since then he’s suffered from Tinnitus. To put up with decades of the constant ringing in his head, and to still be as calm as he was, amazed me. He was truly a special person. “I’ll be right back Kyle,” he said to me over his shoulder, “and then I’ll help you.”
I chuckled to myself and appreciated the sentiment of him as I removed the extra picture and returned the captions to the screen.
“How do you do that so fast, Kyle?” Dorothy asked me.
“Just go to the menu,” showing her as I went along “then drop down to captions and click the ‘On’ button.”
She leaned closely to the 40-inch TV screen before her and squinted. After a moment she said, “If I could only see, I know I could do it. You just take care of everything so fast.” She turned to me and gave a concerned smile. “You can show us another time. You go home now, get well. And don’t forget the sock.”
“I have to show you how to operate the remote control.” I gave a harsh whisper. “And then I’ll go.”
Norman came back slowly into the room, testing the hearing aids by covering up one ear, then the other. “Okay, now I can hear you!” Seeing the screen normal again, he smiled brightly and gave me a pat on the back. “Hey, that was fast. I feel so stupid. I don’t understand these things at all. What did you do?”
I handed him the remote control, then said as loudly as I could, trying to ignore the pain. “Okay, sir, this button here is picture and picture. If you push it,” I said demonstrating, “another picture will appear.”
He stared at me blankly for a moment, blinking twice. “Hm?” He glanced back and forth between myself and his wife. “Oh, he exclaimed, suddenly understanding, “But I don’t want it activated,” he stated, “I wanted it off.”
Dorothy thankfully answered for me, “He’s showing you what you pressed. Turn it off, Kyle and he’ll see.”
I turned off the feature and he gave a surprised look. “Now it’s gone. How did you do that?”
I stood beside him and showed him the remote and pointed to the feature. “It’s this button here…”I yelled as loudly as I could.
“Hm?” he said.
I smiled at this point, trying not to laugh. I turned to my mother-in-law. She would have to be my voice.
“I know how to do it” she said with confidence, “but I don’t think I’ll remember how to explain it.”
I had an idea I was sure was going to help us all out. I left the room and came back a moment later with hand-written detailed instructions. It fully explained the caption button and how to remove the picture and picture, just in case the problem ever arose again. I swallowed against the rawness in my throat and tried again to speak as loud as I could into Norman’s ear as I handed him the sheet of paper. “Why don’t you try doing this while I’m here.” My change in voice volume was a little more than a screech and made my eyes water and I turned my head to cough. “Then if you have questions, I can help you.”
He squinted, and held the paper away from him, and frowned, then pulled it close to his eyes, then after a moment, his frown faded. “Hm,” he chuckled, his face red with embarrassment, “I can’t read it. Dorth, will you hand me my glasses?”
She was intent on watching the television and didn’t seem to be listening. He asked her again, this time a little louder. Suddenly she turned to us, startled, looking first at him, then at me before saying, “Hm?”