If a doctor told me I needed to be a couch potato for a few days to recuperate, I would probably ask, “Only a few?” I can do couch potato. I could raise couch potatoing to an art form.
My father was instructed to be a couch potato for a few days, and he really can’t. He gets cabin fever. He gets antsy. Every time one of us checks in he’s doing “not much” but not nothing.
He’s a bad patient.
So I’m working from their house tomorrow, so I can be here to remind him that he’s supposed to be a couch potato for a few days. Explain to him in more clarity what depths of couch-potatoism are possible, because he clearly doesn’t get it. And try to give him – stubborn thing! – a little perspective on how he’d be reacting if one of us was sick and wasn’t (in his opinion) taking the doctor’s instructions seriously enough.
And if that fails, so help me God, I will hide his shoes.