Tales of my saint-like endurance of quality time with my 79-year-old grandma.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Episode #9 First Aid
A few weeks ago, my husband and I met at my dad's house to have lunch with the Gan. Brad and my dad found something entertaining on TV in the living room and I was trying to make conversation with Gan at the kitchen table. The living and dining area at my dad's are conjoined, so we were all within earshot of one another.
I asked Ganny how her arm was healing - she had recently bumped her forearm into a doorknob and instead of developing a minor bruise, she sustained a ghastly wound that tore her skin. (Apparently when you approach the centennial mark, your skin begins to take on the fragile qualities of tissue paper.) She told me that behind the large square bandage it was getting better. I asked her if she had put Neosporin on it. "Yes," she said, "and Campho-Phenique. I rubbed that all over it," and she gestured with her bony little hand. "Campho-Phenique?" I repeated, shocked to hear the term. I vaguely remember her "doctoring" my injuries with this substance as a kid, but had long forgotten about it. I thought the others would get a kick out of hearing about the archaic cure-all too.
Amused, I yelled over the sound of the TV to Brad and my dad, "Guess what Ganny put on her arm?" fully intending for her to talk about the Campho-Phenique and everyone to have a good laugh about this medical equivalent to a rotary phone. "Neosperm" she responded on cue, matter-of-factly. There was a slight pause - on my part because she didn't say Campho-Phenique, on the part of my husband and my dad because they had no idea what we were talking about. Brad and I made eye contact and I could see the understanding pass over his face. He had at least heard about the arm injury before now and made the connection to the intended meaning. He giggled with me. I quickly added context to help my dad. "She put 'Neosperm' and Campho-Phenique on her arm where she hurt it," and I pointed at her bandage. At this point everyone began to snicker a bit but Ganny didn't seem to realize her error. We quickly moved on to joke about the Campho-Phenique because no one could bear to address the awkward, unintentionally - inappropriate reference.
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My best friend's grandma thinks Campho-Phenique is a cure all for everything, too; my grams didn't though. She was more of a peroxide, rubbing alcohol, monkey blood (aka iodine) kind of gal.
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