Under the Mountain

I called Grandpa. He couldn’t hear me. I called back. He couldn’t hear who I was but asked me to call back in ten minutes. Nine minutes later, Mom called.

Mom: Dad just called me. Were you trying to talk to him?
Tata: I was! He couldn’t hear me. I standing in my office, shouting, “It’s me, your granddaughter Domy” but he couldn’t hear.
Mom: Nobody calls you “Domy.”
Tata: He has, all my life.
Mom: What?
Tata: What?

Seconds tick by.

Tata: He said he was waiting for a phone call?
Mom: Yes. He needs a prescription refilled, I think. He calls the VA in Providence, and they call the pharmacy in Hyannis.
Tata: You’re kidding!
Mom: The VA system is hard for him. I don’t know how they think 90-year-old World War II veterans, who have communication issues, are supposed to communicate with them through phone trees.
Tata: What? WHAT?
Mom: It’s a disaster.
Tata: That’s…not funny.
Mom: No kidding.

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