by Becky Lane

Created on: September 30, 2008

When it comes to pain tolerance, my parents are at opposite ends of the spectrum. My father is your classic stoic. He has a serious blood disorder requiring weekly transfusions, but refuses to give in to it. Mom, on the other hand, is what you might call hypersensitive. One time a waitress was handing our plates across to us, using her bare hands. "Is that plate very hot?" Mom asked. "No ma'am, it's fine," the waitress replied. Mom reached for the plate, then let out an ear-piercing shriek. Eyes rolling, I said, "Oh, give me that!" and set it down before her with no trouble whatsoever. This hypersensitivity eventually grew into full-blown hypochondria, especially after Dad lost his business, and Mom realized that the things he had promised her were never going to come true.

The folks don't really travel anymore, but they are eager to see our place just this once, so I invited everyone for Thanksgiving. A few days ago, as I headed to the grocery store to buy all the fixings, it occurred to me that I should call, just to make sure they haven't changed their minds. My sister Carolyn laughingly told me about their visit to the doctor the previous day. When he asked Mom what their Thanksgiving plans were, she replied "Well, we were supposed to go to my daughter's house in the Hill Country, but I'm just too sick. I suppose we'll have to stay here by ourselves." He stared at her for a moment, then said, "That's a bunch of bull. You are healthier than 90% of my patients." I would give anything to have seen her face just then! As they were preparing to leave, he continued, "As a matter of fact, Kathryn, I insist that you go. It's doctor's orders!" Once they were home, Dad began to tell Carolyn what had occurred. Mom interjected "He only said that because I didn't tell him everything that was in my head!" (A Freudian slip perhaps?) At first she was in a snit, but after a while she became almost cheerful. "Oh well, if the doctor says I have to go, I guess I have to go!"
Tomorrow is the big day. I always go through several distinct stages during the holidays. When they are still a month or two away, I'm completely laid back and enthusiastic, but as the time draws closer, I start thinking about all that needs to be done, and a slight sense of unease begins to creep in. That's when I start making lists. Lots and lots of lists. My husband likes to tell people that I make lists of all the lists I'm going to make, but he exaggerates. When I feel satisfied that I have everything

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