There are a myriad of problems that arise from being the only child to a pair of aging parents:
1. It will be my sole responsibility to properly care for them when they finally teeter onto the inevitable downward spiral that is senility.
2. My parents are so old they don't own or know how to utilize even the most primitive forms of technology, namely, a cellular phone.
Two weekends ago I developed a near-fatal rash thanks to a side effect of the mood stabilizer known as Lamotrigine, a medication for those who happen to be blessed with either manic-depressive illness OR epilepsy. Before writing the script for this medication, my psychiatrist issued a warning that if I were to break out into any sort of abnormal skin condition, to rush to an Emergency Room ASAP. My parents being the compulsive gamblers that they are, assumed I would fare okay and took off to their Home Away From Home, The Fallsview Casino in Niagara Falls, Ontario.
As there is no way to reach my family when they are immersed in slot machine culture, I had to call my friends who serve as my surrogate parents when things became dire and the rash spread from my thighs to my stomach to my back and all the way up my arms in disgusting, welt-like blobs and my breathing became shallow and panicked and I was forced to mull over which songs I would like to have played at my pending funeral procession.
Instead of investing in a cell phone as a cautionary procedure after my Near Death Experience, like every other consumer of the 21st century, my parents graciously left me the toll-free number of their hotel (sans room number) to contact them in case of further emergency. Thanks, guys. Love you, too.
