The Gropening

I forgot that I said I would write about being groped by the 88-year old man, so Gina, this one's just for you.

Let it not be said that a man in a power scooter is harmless.

One of the patients we see weekly is 88 years old. We'll call him Fred, because that's his name. Fred is a widower with 7 children, all of them older than me by 15 plus years. He's about five fee tall and 350 lbs. He looks a bit like The Penguin from Batman. Several health conditions prevent him from being able to walk, but he's like Speed Racer in that chair of his.

When I first met Fred, he did indeed seem harmless. Helpless even. He had been referred to us due to repeated falls and he needed therapy for strengthening and transfers*. He was very sweet when I first visited him, unable to even get himself out of bed, and very thankful for the concern. As the weeks went on he asked me more and more questions about my life, my kids, etc. We had some really funny conversations. He was surprised, and a little excited, to find out that I was single. Said he wanted to take me to the symphony. He has season tickets, you see. But I said no, it wouldn't be appropriate.

Soon enough he was making comments about my boobs. They started out very mild. I had to hunt him down one day for therapy and I found him in the dining room. He refers to us as 'the terrorists', so he's not always happy to see one of us coming for him. I asked if he would come to therapy and he said he would. I bet him $5 that he wouldn't show up. About an hour later, lo and behold, he came rolling into the clinic.

Fred: "Well, where's my five dollars?"
Me: "Aww, Fred, I don't have any money. But I've got a big smile for you!"
Fred: "That's not all you've got!"

You can imagine, it just got worse from there. He actually asked one of my co-workers how much they thought I might charge to let him see the boobs. Ack! lol.

We were talking about me being a comedian one day and he asked if I ever went onstage topless. I said no, of course not. He said he would buy season tickets to see that. Ha!

He didn't show up for therapy one day so I went up to check on him. He wasn't feeling well but was happy to see me. We talked for a few minutes and I told him I had to get back to work. He wanted a hug - yeah, I should have seen this coming, right? - so I obliged, and the next thing I know, he reached up with a pudgy hand and grabbed a handful of boob. Was I surprised? Not really. When you get to be 88 years old, you really don't have anything left to lose.

The moral of the story: No matter how old a man gets, or how bad his memory becomes -
Men never forget boobs.


(*Transfers = therapy lingo, meaning getting from the bed to the chair, from the chair to the toilet, etc.)