And now, the first installment of The Adventures of the Very Immature Chase Sisters

My sister Beth and I have never been very mature. Even as she approaches 60 years old, and I a much younger 52, we have never mastered the art of decorum necessary in social situations. In some cases we giggle from a case of nervous laughter. Other times we laugh because something is downright funny; at least to us. The following falls under the category of Things That are Funny to the Very Immature Chase sisters:

Beth fell last week on her way into Highland Park High School and tore the tricep tendon off the bone in her left arm. That’s not the funny part. I went to visit her yesterday in the holding area right before she was taken in for surgery to re-attach it. I played with her little toes in their little hospital socks to distract her while she was receiving her IV,  but the nurse was so good Beth didn’t even flinch.

So, we were just hanging out, waiting for the anesthesiologist to come in to talk to her when the man across the room from Beth let fly a fart so loud and so long that everyone in the room stopped what he or she was doing. It was impressive both in tone and duration. And it is one of the things that absolutely cracks Beth and me up, especially when we’re together. I know for a fact that neither one of us has the ability to refrain from laughing at such things when we’re by ourselves; but when we’re together the immaturity factor takes over and we become 4-year-olds.

The silence was deafening as the entire room froze at the force of the wind expelled by this gentleman. A minute later, when he had finished his sphincter symphony Beth and I dared to look at each other. Big mistake. I laughed until I peed myself. She laughed until an attack of asthma caused a fierce coughing fit. I bid her good luck with the surgery and made a hasty exit toward the waiting room, laughing all the way down the long hall where my parents and my son Lucas were waiting. I could hear Beth laughing and coughing but knew if I had stayed with her the laughter and coughing would only get worse and her surgery might have been postponed due to her inability to breathe.

An hour later she was in the recovery room. Her surgery was quick and successful. When she was finally being wheeled on a gurney into the hallway to go back to a room I asked her if she remembered seeing me before the surgery. She said , “yes.” I asked her if she remembered what happened in the holding area. She thought for a moment and then burst out laughing. “Ok,” I said. “Gotta go.” I heard her laughing as the nurse pushed her gurney down the hall to her room. I’m hoping she doesn’t remember much about the surgery or the pain she was in, but I’m glad she remembered old Trumpet Trousers from the holding area.

I’m not proud of our behavior, but it sure made for a better memory than the fact that her arm was basically not attached to the rest of her body. And, it’s not like we laughed in the guy’s face, or anything. I made up something about a joke she had  supposedly just told me and we pretended to be laughing about that. Besides, Mr. Windy didn’t even look at us. He was probably feeling pretty happy from the pre-surgery anesthesia he had received and wouldn’t care that he had performed an oboe concerto from under his blankets. Heck, he probably didn’t even notice.

Of course, no one else seemed to find it funny. Beth and I were the only people laughing in the entire room. But, we’re used to that. After all, the last time Beth was in the hospital for surgery, the nurse asked her if she was allergic to any antibiotics. She thought for a moment and then said, “Yes. Chlamydia.” She meant Clindamycin, but it didn’t matter. The entire pre-op area was in stitches over her answer.That’s just the way we roll.

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