Forgotten Names

Dad woke up alert and said, “I need to get ready for the doctors. I’m tired of them coming in and asking me those damned questions. Tell me what’s the date.”

“Hmmm. I can’t remember. Where’s that newspaper I had while ago?”

I find it – Monday, July 11^th.

“And Bush is the President?”

“Right,” I say.

“They always ask me three questions. What’s the other one?”

“Do you know where you are?”

“St. Francis Hospital.”

“Memorial, Dad. You’re in Greenville Memorial Hospital.”

OK, we’re ready for the day’s quiz.

Shortly afterward, Dr. Hogg came by. She seemed pleased that he was more alert than yesterday.

"What is today," she asked him.

Dad knew it was Monday, July 11^th. Hey – we’d studied for this!

"What year is it?"

"2005."

"Who is the President," she asked.

"Bush."

"Who was president before him?"

Dad hesitated, so she prodded, "His wife is named Hillary."

"Johnson."

Later on, however, another doctor or nurse had given Dad a similar test. "Do you know the day of the week?"

Dad did not. He could not venture a guess.

"Who is the president?"

"Wilson," Dad said with confidence.

"Do you know this fellow," he asked, pointing to me.

"My son," Dad said.

"What is his name?"

Dad looked at me in silence, and finally ventured, "Bush."

"Hey, don't insult me now," I smiled at Dad. "He asked for my name, not the president's."

Dad hesitated, and finally said saidly and strangely, "John, I can't remember your name."