CONTENT WARNING: Mention of cancer and dark humor

My mom’s 50th high school reunion is coming up soon. She also recently got diagnosed with cancer. Thankfully, it was caught early, and she had surgery to remove it and should just need radiation, no chemo. For various reasons, she’s been taking her time informing people and isn’t posting about it on social media or anything, so while several people know, plenty are still finding out.

She’s in good health and spirits and still looking forward to the reunion. One of her good friends didn’t plan to attend, though. She didn’t have any bad experiences or grudges or anything; she just thought it’d be a bit boring since it would largely have people just catching up about life and grandkids and jobs and all that. In her words, it’d basically be having the same conversation forty times. 

So, my mom calls her up to tell her the news about the diagnosis, and then:

Mom: “I’m pulling the cancer card.”

They talk about the reunion. To every objection:

Mom: “Cancer card!”

Then at one point:

Mom: “Cancer widow card!”

Friend: *Laughing.* “Dang it, now I can’t even pull out my widow card!”

Her friend laughed and took it all in good humor, and agreed to go to the reunion after all.

Annual stock-taking in our factory is a feared event. It includes everyone; no one quite understands the rules and procedures which, I have to say, vary from year to year.

Two days before the start, we gather, all two hundred employees, in the main hall around one of the managers, who explains the procedure for this year. How to fill in the cards, what to do with them, what to do with mistakes, etc.

[Manager] has a very soft, quiet voice. The hall is deeply silent, as everyone is trying to gather what he’s saying. You would literally hear a pin drop. As he finishes, and we disperse, I walk beside one of our elder colleagues, who sighs:

Colleague: “Had Adolf Hitler had [Manager]’s voice, Nazism would never have taken hold in Europe…”

I’m a first responder. I want to preface this story by stating that the patient is fine and has since made a full recovery. We were called to their home as they were in medical distress. By the time we arrived and forced our way in, they were on the floor and in need of urgent medical attention, including compressions.

It was during this time that the patient’s Roomba wandered into the room and started circling the body and bumping into it while I was doing compressions…

It was just my partner doing the bagging while I did compressions, so we had to awkwardly deal with that Roomba until backup showed up and… I guess… escorted it out of the room?

We all laughed about it after the event, and when we were told later in the hospital that the patient was fine and would be fine, we paid them a visit and told them about their diligent little Roomba.

Patient: “At least I’ll know I’ll be going home to clean floors!”

Sometimes a situation presents itself that’s so bizarre/surreal you just have to laugh.

I submitted this story about my seventy-year-old gamer mother playing online games with my teenage son. I feel I need to reiterate that they have a very loving relationship, and all the trash talk is done in jest. No one’s feelings are getting hurt.

They’re having another round of some shooting game I can’t identify. They’re playing with other people, who are cracking up at the creative insults coming from this clearly skilled older gamer… and her vulgar mouth.

Son: *Dies.*

Grandma: “Do you aim for the bullets on purpose or are you just that special?”

Son: “I just figured since you’re so much closer to death than I am, I would get in his way for you sometimes.”

Grandma: “It’s easy to be cute when I’m carrying the whole team, which is also easy by the way.”

A few minutes later, someone actually takes Grandma out.

Grandma: “Revive me.”

Son: “I thought you said carrying the team was easy?”

Grandma: “It is. Carrying you isn’t.”

Son: “Mom is the one that carried me, and she said I was a breeze compared to my brothers.”

Grandma: “She lied. Your aim was so bad even back then you almost birthed out of her a**.”

Son: “Does your mouth ever get tired having to talk so much s*** with dentures?”

Grandma: “Too bad your mom’s mouth was tired that night…”

My eavesdropping was made obvious by my spluttered laughter, which was mirrored by the similar laughing sounds coming from the rest of the squad mates.

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I love my grandmother, but she has some dark humor and has aged into that ‘no filter’ stage of her life, so it’s probably good that she doesn’t go out much anymore (she literally lives in the basement).

She wanders upstairs to the main kitchen, where I am sitting.

Grandma: “Ran out of milk downstairs.”

She opens the fridge and gets out one of the milks from the back.

Me: “Oh, I didn’t see that one back there. I think that might be expired.”

She opens the top and has a sniff. She gets a disgusted look on her face.

Grandma: “Lord have Mercy! How long has that been in there?! By now, the missing child on the carton must be old enough to have missing children of their own!”