Reason #423: I’m insensitive.
We've already established that I'm a liar, so I'm comfortable in sharing the deception in my post's title. It wasn't a bar. It was an ICU. Though, to be fair, there might have been a jukebox in the hospital waiting room.
It was several years ago, and my mother was fighting for her life. It started with a spider bite, we think. Though, rather than giving my mom super powers, this bite led to a hospital visit. (Worst superhero movie ever. Get a better origin story, Mom.)
The pre-story includes an out-of-town trip and some John Denver music*. And, I wasn't there, so who really knows. Point is, mom got that flesh-eating bacteria. You know, the one that makes local news reporters pump their fist and shout, "Yes!". (*To be clear, I'm not blaming John Denver here.)
It had already cost her multiple surgeries and the doctors were trying to determine if saving her leg would cost her her life. She was in and out of consciousness and her temperature had risen so high, so fast, that we were considering calling Al Gore to make a movie.
That's when the nun came in. I didn't realize that she was a nun at first. Just to be in the room, we all (my sister, brother, the doc and the nun) were dressed like government workers in a bad CDC-based disaster movie: masks, gloves, gowns. Head-to-toe coverage. I half expected Jeff Goldblum to walk in. "Oh, my. It appears we... might have... a... situation." (I'm not exactly sure why Jeff Goldblum jumps into my brain here, but, he did. So, deal with it.)
Instead of Jeff Goldblum, we got a nun. Sister Somethingoranother. I can't remember her name.
Sister Somethingoranother was here for my mom to sign power of attorney papers. I knew immediately what would come next: my mom would have to choose one, and ONLY one, of her children. I also immediately knew something else: she would choose me. (There were obvious logistical reasons for the choice, but, since they don't support my inner narrative that I'm the favorite... we'll leave them out of this particular story.)
Of course, my inner comedian sprang to life, and I quickly prepared my reaction.
NUN: So, who would you like to designate as power of attorney?
MOM: (half out of it) Um. I guess, Paul.
ME: (Pumps fist hard in celebration.) Yes! (Leans in slightly) I knew I was your favorite.
The poor nun was horrified. "No, that doesn't mean -- "
I didn't hear the rest. Because, I didn't care. My line was for one person, and one person only.
My mom rolled her eyes and tried to hide the smile. But, I saw it.
Yes, I got labeled: the insensitive one. I bet Sister Somethingoranother still prays for me. I'm good with that, though.
Mom got the joke.
(Just so you know I'm not completely insensitive in telling this story: Mom's fine now. But, just to be safe, I've stolen all of her John Denver music.)