My Dad Confesses

I haven't heard from my parents in weeks. I hadn't really thought about it too much. Usually, they only call if they want to dispense advice or to brag about the advice dispensing they've done or, and this is the best part, to complain about the audacity of my other family members attempts to dispense advice to them. But my dad calls last night to tell me about the trip they took to the William Jennings Bryan home and how there was a note on the door that said "We'll resume our regular hours after Christmas" and how he and Mom sat around having a good laugh trying to figure out just how long Christmas was in the William Jennings Bryan household. And then he lets it slip, "But I still had to stop a couple of times to pee on the way down. I know the doctor said it would take up to a year to fix, but it's still aggravating." "What would take up to a year to fix?" "Oh, I told you how my doctor thought I might have prostate cancer and so he ran all these tests, because he didn't want to screw up again like he did on my ankle." "You're still going to the doctor who thought you had gout when you had snapped your Achilles' tendon?" "He says that's a great teaching moment for him in his classes." "I bet. And so for how long have you been running around worried that you might have prostate cancer and not telling anyone?" "I wasn't deliberately not telling you. It just slipped my mind." "I bet." "Anyway, it's just enlarged, but medicine will fix it." "Like the medicine fixed your 'gout?'" "B., except for that one mistake, he's a fine doctor."