These phone calls to us are from my dad. He calls to say Hi. At odd times. Gradually working his way around to the topic at hand, which gives me time (if we’re home) to connect to his computer to figure out what went wrong this time. But sometimes he starts talking about the aquarium fish.
Dad, you don’t have fish anymore.
The ones in which waiting room?
Why are you at the hospital?
Which hip did Mom pop? [THIS time]
Do you have her room number yet?
No, it’s not a bother, just call. No, Dad, don’t text! A call is fine! [Dad has not figured out how to thwart auto-correct.]