To my son Tommy,
I looked over at your mom yesterday as we left the emergency room for the 3rd time in about a week and said, "We got to work on our date nights...they suck."
She laughed a much needed laugh and added, "I know. The $100 copay doesn't even get us dinner."
We were tired and beat and frustrated and worried and feeling every other emotion that goes with dealing with doctors and emergency rooms and health issues and such, but here we were joking about it. A joke won't lessen the gravity of a situation, but it made us chuckle. A good laugh can be just the thing. Your mom and I continued joking suggesting that we should bring candles and some of your play dishes and use the hospital gown as a table cloth over the bed pan and put out her medicines on each dish like a five course candlelight dinner.
Remember son, sometimes when you just can't complain or cry about it any more, you might as well laugh about it. Make me a promise after you read this, when I am on my death bed (hopefully many many many years from now) and everyone is so somber and gloomy, go out and get me a whoopee cushion or pair of those funky glasses with the big nose and bushy eyebrows and mustache.
Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo
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