“So, what did the doctor say about Dad?” I asked my mom over the phone.

“He has an incarcerated hernia,” she replied.

“INCARCERATED hernia?” I repeated.

Sign Up for E-News

“Yes.”

“Why is it incarcerated? Did it rob a bank?”

“What? No.”

“Unlawful entry? Obstruction? Insider trading?” I asked.

“No!”

“So, why are they sending it up the river?”

“They’re not,” she replied. “They’re doing laparoscopic surgery.”

“Why don’t they just give it time off for good behavior?” I asked.

“Why would they do that?”

“Because that’s what they do when you’re incarcerated.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“What does the doctor think?” I asked.

“He’s glad it’s not strangulated,” she said.

“STRANGULATED?” I repeated.

“Yes.”

“I guess he’s right.”

“Why?”

“It would probably be incarcerated longer if it strangled someone.”

“What?”

“The hernia?”

“There was no strangulation,” she insisted.

“That’s good,” I said. “You don’t want to add more time onto his incarceration.”

“I guess,” she said.

“So, how are you doing?”

“OK.”

“Just OK?”

“Well, all this stuff with your dad has given me an irritable colon.”

“An IRRITABLE colon?” I repeated.

“Yes,” she replied. “I have to go see a GI doctor.”

“Maybe you should go to a therapist instead,” I said.

“Why?”

“To find out what your colon is irritable about.”

“I don’t know why my colon is irritable,” she replied. “But I have a fairly good idea why I am.”

FYI, my dad is doing fine! For more Lost in Suburbia, visit my blog at lostinsuburbia.com.