By Wayne Chan
Talking about someone collapsing to the ground probably isn’t the first thing that comes to mind if you’re thinking about something funny, but since it happened to me, I can do whatever I want.
Last week, after playing two hard sets of tennis on a warm day, I walked over to take a quick break before playing a 3rd set, and I started feeling lightheaded and ended up falling to the ground and hitting my head.
OK, I realize none of that is funny. I haven’t gotten to that part yet. Bear with me.
Now, bottom line – I’m fine. I have a bump on my head but other than that, I’m fine. It’s what caused me to collapse and my family’s reaction to it that’s funny to me. More on that later.
But first, a genuine heartfelt thanks to my buddies who were playing with me that night. Two of them were doctors, and they rushed over right away to check on me. I was initially a little dazed and confused, but I could see my friends surrounding me, making sure I was OK. They said it would be a good idea for me to go to the emergency room, and my buddy Chris drove me there and stayed with me while I got checked out. My buddy Jay who is a medical specialist at a number of hospitals even called ahead to the emergency room to let them know what was going on and what to expect.
So, first and foremost, a huge thanks to Chris, Jay, Mike, Kurt, and Tom. Thank you for your friendship. I will never forget it.
When I got to the hospital, they did an X-ray and a CAT scan, and everything seemed normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Right around that time, Jay called to check up on me and asked Chris to check on something. He asked Chris to look into my tennis bag and check out my water bottle.
Chris did, and he told Jay, “Huh. It’s full of water.”
That means that I played tennis for two hours on a hot August night, and apparently, I hadn’t drunk any water. The emergency doctor nodded her head – “That would explain everything, she said. “You collapsed because you were extremely dehydrated.”.
As I continued listening to the doctor about what to expect with the huge bump on my head, my mind turned to a more pressing issue. Here’s where the funny part starts, if you were still wondering.
I didn’t much care about the pain I was still experiencing from this peach-sized bump on my head. I was much more concerned about what my family would say when they found out what happened.
You see, I know my wife loves me. I know my family loves me. There’s no doubt about that. But they’re Chinese, and from what I can tell, the first rule for a Chinese family when something like this happens is number one – deal with the stupidity first, sympathy second.
Strike that – actually, it’s dealing with the stupidity first, and the sympathy is like 4th or 5th on the list, after they address 2) taking responsibility, 3) being reckless, and then coming back around to stupidity again.
And it started straight away when my eldest son rushed over to the hospital to meet me.
He asked me, “Aren’t you a little younger than all your buddies? Do they let these things happen to them too? You’re 60 years old, not 6, you know.”
And I knew his reaction would be the most subdued, given the father/son dynamic. It was only going to get worse from here, which, unfortunately, it did.
When I first saw my wife, Maya, she had me sit down and the way she looked at me – the bump on my head started throbbing again in anticipation.
In the interest of saving time, I’m not going to recite everything she said, but several words that stood out to me were “Ridiculous! Childish! Irresponsible!”.
But the worst part was when she said, “You can expect a call from Auntie Lucy.”
I said, in exasperation, “You called Auntie Lucy? Really?”. “Yup”, Maya replied. “I told her everything. You’re in for it now.”
Auntie Lucy is like my second mother. Especially after my own mom passed, Auntie Lucy has stepped into her role as the one who will set me straight when I go off track.
Auntie Lucy is well into her eighties now, but whenever she calls, I feel like a kid again, usually in a good way. Not this time.
As scheduled, the phone rings. It’s her.
“What do you think you’re doing! You can’t do these kinds of things anymore! What is wrong with you! If you do this again…I’m going to come down there!!!”. My bump was starting to throb again. It doesn’t matter that I’m 60 and she’s in her eighties. The fear is still real.
“You’re 60 years old, not 6, you know”, she yells.
I think I’ve heard that somewhere.
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