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The 47 Year Old and the Phone
By Frank Scoblete
She called 10 times that Sunday afternoon. She wanted to come over, show the "boys" - as their deceased mother called them - the tiles for the new bathroom for their sick father who would now have to live downstairs since he couldn't manage going up and down the staircase anymore.
There had been no answers to those phone calls. She left several messages.
She went over to leave the tiles and the "boys" were there and the father was there staring into nothing and the father's health aide was there.
"I called ten times," she said.
"He said we couldn't answer the phone," said the health aide.
"You couldn't answer the phone?" she asked.
"He doesn't want the phone answered," said the aide.
She looked around for him downstairs.
"He's in his room," said the older other brother.
"The phone has to be answered," she said. "This is Dad's house, there could be an emergency; the phone must always be answered."
He never came down from his room. He was 47 years old and doing something in his room.
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