Alan Fox

It is early Sunday evening. I’m at home sitting at my desk.  My father, who will be one hundred and three years old next month, is in the hospital.  He should be released tomorrow.

That’s the who, what, and when.  But there’s always more to the story.

Last Monday night my dad couldn’t sleep because of pain in his abdomen.  On Tuesday morning he asked to be taken to the hospital. He also asked that my son Steven, who is a doctor, take care of him.  Steven left work and we all met at the emergency room at the UCLA Medical Center in the early afternoon.

The problem was an inflamed gall bladder.  The best solution was to drain the excess fluid.  I won’t go into details.  There’s a reason I refused to become a doctor despite my parents’ strong suggestion that I should.  I was squeamish.  To some extent I still am.

On Thursday, after the medical procedure, when my dad was asked to describe his level of pain he said, “ten-plus.”

Even in the best hospitals you need an advocate, someone who will stay with you to check on everything and ask for help – loudly, if necessary. At one point the doctors ordered Tylenol and additional medication for pain but the nurse told us the chart reflected an order for “Aspirin,” and to discontinue all pain medication. Someone entered the information incorrectly.  There is many a slip twixt cup and lip.

My dad’s attitude toward death is impressive.  “Every day is a bonus,” he has told me many times.  In the hospital he said, “I don’t know if living past one hundred is a reward or a punishment.” His sense of humor is always welcome.

For many years I’ve lived with the possibility of my dad’s death. But the intellectual possibility and the immediate possibility, or probability, are like the difference between fearing you will lose your job, and being summoned to your supervisor’s office at 5pm on a Friday.

Dad was supposed to go home today but the doctors said, “tomorrow.”  Dad is fully aware of his situation and is upset about having to stay another day.

I’m sure you know the moral to this story even before I get to it.

Love your parents, your children, and your friends every day, and let them know it by both your words and actions.  Tomorrow is always tomorrow, never today.

Will Dad be home tomorrow?  Certainly. But just in case, Dad, always eat your dessert first.

Love,

Alan

Puck’s famous line in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream refers to the folly of humans.  Who am I to argue with Puck?

This statement popped into my head as Howard, a close friend, described an argument with his wife Nancy.

“Nancy is just plain wrong,” he said.

“About what?”

“About everything, especially Spain.  We just came back from a trip to Barcelona and while we were unpacking she told me she had a terrible time.  She didn’t like anything about it.  I spent a lot of time planning the trip, and I thought Spain was wonderful.”

“I suppose reasonable minds can differ.”

“No.  Spain is wonderful – the people, the culture, the food.  Absolutely wonderful.  Nancy is wrong.”

“So at the end of your ‘discussion’ she agreed with you?”

“No.  Not at all.  When I left she was madder than when we started.”

“Did anyone win the argument?”

“I will.  It’s just going to take time.”

Oh, my.  Rule number one of any argument is that unless you eventually reach a win-win you will be permanently stuck in a lose-lose.

Why is this?

1. Opinions are a matter of taste. Howard might enjoy Barcelona and Nancy might hate it.  You might enjoy oysters and I might prefer steak.  There is no right and wrong here, just a difference of opinion.
2. An argument is often a battle for either supremacy or validation. The problem is that if you end up “winning,” I will probably withdraw in anger.  Of course, if you “lose” and I “win” you will probably stay angry with me.
3. Everyone is different and experiences life in their own way. I’ve seen movies that I thought should not have been made.  Several of them won an Academy Award for Best Picture.  (My favorite line from Shakespeare is in Hamlet – “There is nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so.”)

So both parties to an argument (a fight, if you prefer) are losers unless both sides are winners.  To create a win-win I suggest:

1. What is the real issue?  In this case Howard might have wanted Nancy just to thank him for planning what he hoped would be a great trip.  He could have asked her for appreciation, or Nancy could have said, “I really appreciate all of the time and thought you put into our trip, and I’m sorry that Barcelona wasn’t my cup of tea.”
2. Decide in advance what you want. It might be as simple as sympathy.  Maybe you just want someone to listen.  Years ago Ben and I had an argument every evening as we left work.  He would complain about his problems in the office and I would offer many solutions.  Ben always disagreed with my advice. After more than a year he finally said, “Alan, I don’t want your suggestions.  I just want to complain.”  From that day on I just listened to Ben complain while I offered sympathy.  We never again disagreed.  That was a win-win.
3. Let it go. Is your need to be appreciated or to be right really that important?  If it is, just say, “I’ve had a bad day and I need your support.” If not, let it go.

As far as I know, Howard has never planned another vacation.

Life is short.  After dinner let’s each enjoy a double scoop of chocolate ice cream.  Or strawberry, if you prefer.

Alan

Today I joined a group of tourists in Xien, China to visit the extraordinary Terra Cotta Warriors, one of the nation’s three wonders.  Another is the Potala Palace in Tibet, built beginning in the 7^th century, that I visited yesterday by climbing at least five million steps while consistently out of breath (at an altitude of 12,000 feet) and nursing a sore back.  The third wonder is the Great Wall of China that is on our schedule for the day after tomorrow.

Joshua, our guide, recommended that I use a wheelchair for our three-hour walk through the vast Warriors exhibition. Discretion being the better part of cowardice, I accepted.

As soon as I descended from the bus, Joshua pointed me to a wheelchair and introduced me to Yen Dong Mang, the man Joshua hired to push the wheelchair. Mang did not speak English, but after our whirlwind tour I hereby nominate Mang as the fourth wonder of China.

I sat in the chair, Mang man-handled the foot rests into place, and we were off and running, leading the rest of our group across a wide highway with Mang assuming that cars and busses would screech to a halt before they hit us.

I was both embarrassed, and having fun.  This was better than Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride at Disneyland.  It was much faster.  The air was still and cool as I relished a stiff breeze on my face.

I’m pretty good at slipping through a crowd sideways, but Mang’s full frontal attack put my technique to shame.

When he cleared his throat Mang was actually warning whoever stood in front of us that they were in peril.  He bumped the ankle of a woman who didn’t leap to the side soon enough.  A tirade of recrimination followed from her party of five or six.  Mang responded in unkind.  I was a by-sitter, but if I were an umpire I would call it a home run for Mang.

Today was the first day of a three day national holiday, and the throng in front of every exhibit was five or six people deep.  No problem.  Mang didn’t wait for the crowd to complete its gawking and photo op.  He cleared his throat once.  If that didn’t work he announced something in Chinese which was as effective as vanishing cream on whatever it causes to vanish.  I felt like a Chinese emperor as our path immediately cleared.  Indeed, my way was the highway.

I took very few pictures because Mang grabbed my iPhone from my hand and did it for me.  Who was I to argue with the fourth wonder of China?  Though the Chinese people seem deferential to their elders (that would be me), their look of esteem instantly morphed into a look of alarm.  I was glad there was no license plate number for them to write down.

Back at the bus, Mang helped me to my feet.  At that point I actually felt I needed his assistance.  I realized that being an Emperor could become an addiction.

I extracted my wad of U.S. currency and paid him.  Mang pointed to an additional twenty dollar bill.  I handed it to him before he had a chance to clear his throat.

It was a wild and wonderful ride through an astonishing exhibit.

I wonder if they will have a wheelchair for me at the Great Wall.

Alan