Josh Arakes 12 March 2021 Share Josh Arakes
My mom turns 70 this year. Now, it may be unpolite to share a lady’s age in public, but I’m writing under a pseudonym so it’s cool. She’s a tremendously kind and loving person, provided you don’t cross her. I have vivid memories of her chasing a teenaged brother down the hall, tackling and placing him in a headlock before applying knuckle noogies with what appeared to be no small amount of force. It was hysterical.
I still laugh remembering mom going ballistic on a doctor for brushing her off and not providing the care another sibling required. Years later, my own wife would apply this same tactic, stalking down the corridor after the doctor who dismissed her concerns about a lump in her neck. “Look at the MRI again, I can feel the lump right here!” Less than two months later, a surgeon pulled an olive-sized tumor out of the location my wife indicated.