At the VA yesterday

2 Nov

The quintessential white trash family was present in the same waiting room. Let me paint you a picture of what I endured yesterday at the Leavenworth VA hospital while the mister was having some testing done.

A young mother, maybe 22, comes in with her two sons of approximately one and two (Irish twins for sure), and an older couple. The mother was fat, ill dressed, and her insulin pump was hanging out of her stretch pants. Seriously. The boys had blonde, matted hair; they resembled poorly cared for yorkies from an Amish puppy mill. One of the boys managed to have clothes on, the other wore dirty footie pajamas.

Grandma and Grandpa looked at least 30 years older than they actually were due to hard living, Pall Malls, Natural Light, and Ten High. Grandpa had an appointment regarding his Agent Orange exposure. Super, glad he was getting proper help. What was not super? Let me break this down for you.

The two boys were climbing on the furniture. I mean not just the chairs, but the side tables as well. They were sitting and standing on the tables. They were destroying the magazines and newspapers on the tables. Their mother was sitting on her fat ass completely ignoring them. The children started getting loud with absurd noises. Grandma and Grandpa would just pick them up and snuggle and coddle them instead of beating their asses. Oh, Grandma’s darling text tone on her phone was the line “I’m a little drunk and I need you now,” from Lady Antebellum. It kept going off and that’s not even the worst part; it was a flip phone!

Now, sometime around the one hour mark, the younger of the two boys shit his pants. It was evident. The diaper sagged and the waiting area stunk up like well, shit. No one budged to change this kids pants. All the while the boys were being unruly, mom was sitting on her fat ass, and Grandpa and Grandma kept going outside for what I can only assume to be smoke breaks. No one changed this child’s ass.

Repeatedly, I gave the mother the “face.” She apparently didn’t know what that meant. I should have translated for her, “I’m going to throat punch you if you don’t control your heathenistic spawn, I am going to do it for you, and then I will rip out your insulin pump and beat you with my husband’s combat boot.”

Finally, I told the mister I was going to go walk around before I got kicked out of the VA. He nodded in agreement and off I wandered. Thankfully and by glorious design, well mid-nineties design, I found another waiting area. It was occupied only by a couple around our age with a sleeping infant. A sleeping infant is a quiet infant, and she had clothes on. Score!

I went back, grabbed the mister and we moved. Ah, bliss! Their baby didn’t smell either.

Oh, we were at the VA because the mister had to eat radioactive eggs. Yes, radioactive eggs.

But his shit isn’t glowing today and I didn’t get kicked out of the VA for unladylike behavior. Win!


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