The "YaYa Yeet and Pop Drop": Dumping The Elderly At The ER Is A Cherished Tradition

Don’t let old people ruin your holiday. Come to the ER for the "YaYa Yeet" (alternately known as the Pop Drop), an annual event where you can abandon your elderly relative and troubles with us!

Listen to the audio-version here:

Hi and welcome to the Everything Is An Emergency ER (otherwise known as the “EAR”—hear hear!). We’re glad you’ve chosen to take part in the yearly tradition of leaving your unwelcome strays at our emergency room. We get it, it’s hard to care for creatures who require company on walks, pee on the floor if you don’t keep close watch, whose food you have to prepare, who become incontinent if you’ve fed them too much from the table (and don’t get me started on the begging), and who make all that noise while the family is trying to talk. Some of these old animals are hearing or visually impaired and snap easily, which poses a risk to the younger members of the family who don’t know how to approach slowly and cautiously. I haven’t even mentioned the smell! No one likes a needy critter getting underfoot while you’re trying to baste the turkey. Who wants to yell to be heard, unless it’s at your brother-in-law who likes to have a few too many drinks and “play devil’s advocate?” The shelters are often full this time of year, and since it’s frowned upon to release domesticated beings into the desert, we’re glad that you were conscientious enough to come to us, here at the EAR, so we can help fill the gap and offer temporary placement.

Our staff are frequently away from their own families and pets, working long, thankless hours throughout the holiday season, and it can be comforting for them to be able to provide this important service, even if they’re at high risk for being bitten when they get too close.

This year we’re proud to announce that we’ve taken steps to streamline the abandonment process by implementing the “YaYa Yeet¹!”, named for my first “holiday dump” as a new attending physician: an old Greek lady who didn’t speak a word of English and whose family fled the waiting room after pinning the phone number of a third cousin twice removed to her lapel (said phone number connected to a salad delivery joint). Her family returned four days later to collect her and was angry upon seeing that she remained old and infirm even after spending days at our prestigious institution. YaYa was confused but delightful during her stay, and her sudden transition to surly and slightly violent upon her family’s arrival was, sadly, not shocking after talking with them.

The “YaYa Yeet”, previously known as the “Pop, Drop, and Roll” is a two-day festival taking place just outside the ambulance bay of the ER and is designed for your convenience. Meant to aid your release of the burden of guilt caused by jilting your elders, now you don’t even have to exit your vehicle! No need to come to a full stop, either. Just roll by the padded entrance at or below 10 mph, allowing Nana to tuck and roll from the passenger side. Don’t worry if your grand-relation is mobility limited! Shoving the inconvenient old person in your life out of the car is now a valid option, thanks to our soft, hip-safe™ ball pit. Every hour, deposited geriatrics will be gathered and herded into the warm ER (if you’re cold, they’re cold!) without any way to for us to contact you, because you didn’t leave a real phone number; if you did leave a valid number, we know you won’t bother answering until the Monday following the festivities anyway.

Our staff will care for your YaYa (or Grandpappy or Great Grandpappy!) without any knowledge of, or way to obtain, their medical history or medications, because mild to moderate dementia prevents them from answering questions coherently, and because you have somehow deposited them at the one hospital at which they’ve never been seen. For extra style points, deny our facility consent to access records from other hospitals.

Simplify the intake process by not leaving any of your decrepit family member’s regular home medications, of which there are probably dozens, in their overnight bag, which should only contain half their denture set and an empty pill bottle with the label torn off. Don’t feel obligated to include a change of clothes to replace MeeMaw’s soiled pajamas; we have the finest tie-back gowns whose laces are only a slight choking hazard, as well as grippy socks in multiple colors—fun!

If you’re a Seagull—an adult relative of elderly family named for swooping in after a prolonged absence and crapping all over said old-person’s tenuous independence—then you’re already familiar with the act of feigning shock at the natural progression of human decline as both an excuse for “the dump” and as a way to assuage your culpability for abandoning them to the ER shortly after your arrival. We ask that you set an example for the first-timers and please don’t stop your vehicle to ask to speak with a doctor or nurse. Talking with healthcare staff may result in the actual collection of personal information, or lead to a conversation about your faux-loved-ones medical needs, both of which (we know) you’re unwilling or unable to provide. Save all your ire and anger towards ER staff for pick-up, so as to not slow down the long line of cars rolling up behind you. Remember, the “YaYa Yeet” is closely related to the homie dropoff—when a friend is suffering gang or drug related injuries and you dump them at the hospital entrance then depart immediately—and in neither case is sticking around advisable.  

We don’t want you to worry! While you’re gone, your demented, medically unstable forebears are in good hands. In the hospital, your relative is 15% less likely to make upsetting requests like “let me have a closer look at you” and “why don’t you come give me a kiss?” We also provide a number of enrichment activities. “Sundowners Soiree” is a big hit every year, and it’s sure to be one of our most-attended activities: your elderly relative, wrenched from the familiarity of their usual environment, becomes agitated and confused after dark, wriggling their way out of bed and “dancing” up and over the bedrails. Whose smooth moves will result in a head bleed or a broken hip?

For guests who develop shockingly superhuman strength for such a frail body, as if they’ve ingested PCP, we offer the option to wrestle with orderlies and nurses who are just trying to provide food and medications. For a small fee, you can place bets on or against your unloved-one as they fight hospital staff who are just trying to help, only to forget and be perfectly pleasant by morning. Who will be champion of the jello-cup arm wrestling tournament? Which codger will cause the best staff black eye? Each bracket is a chance to win a free co-pay! That is, if you actually give us real insurance and billing information, which—worry not—we don’t expect. 

The tradition of dropping off nuisance old fogeys so you can enjoy a dry turkey and passive-aggressive competition with your sister-in-law, who is richer than you, but not better than you, is sacred. We are committed to taking in your elderly detritus, freeing you to return to your lives having ruined the fragile routine that was keeping your relation in generally manageable condition.

Another gentle reminder: don’t pick up the phone until at least the Monday or Tuesday after the holiday in the hopes that we might magically place your ascendant in a home, so you can take over theirs. And just in time: mortgage rates are terrible relative to the zero-interest rate period. If they do return home with you, don’t be too concerned, as the multi-drug-resistant UTI they picked up while boarding at our facility should ensure their return to us, and their eventual, inevitable placement in a nursing facility where someone who isn’t you will look after them. Traditions are important, and the nursing home staff will continue to return your ancient ball-and-chain to us during the holidays, because they don’t want to deal with him or her either. Pro Tip: becoming power of attorney before an official diagnosis of dementia or delirium streamlines your ability to take over both real estate interests and any accounts that might be necessary for both your antediluvian relative’s ongoing upkeep, as well as your own.

Be considerate of our staff’s hard work by letting them know when you return (you are going to return, right?) that the staff and hospital didn’t do enough to fix your old-timer’s chronic deterioration, dementia, or drag on your good time. We apologize that, upon discharge, you may feel that your senior relative is an even greater buzzkill than before. Those of you with flights in the next few days will enjoy a gradual reduction of that sensation throughout the coming week, with an eventual return to your pre-holiday baseline.

As the Statue of Liberty exhorts: Bring us your old, your over-salted fluid-retainers, your sundowners yearning to break free (of their soft restraints). Send these, the discarded, family-tossed-out to me, we lift our syringes by their hospital-room door. Freedom from responsibility is an American tradition! We’ll be sure to see you again next year. Or, if you’re local, Christmas is just around the corner. Be sure to pick up one of our frequent flyer punch cards.

Happy Thanksgiving! I’m grateful for so much, including readers like you. If you’ve gotten this far, consider the Go Fund Me that’s funding my husband Jake’s ongoing cancer treatment.

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1. The YaYa Yeet™ is slang for the unfortunate act of tossing your grandma somewhere you’re not, because you don’t want to deal with her. Other variations on the theme include the Pop Drop, Elderly Eject, Pensioner Propel, MeeMaw Maroon, Oma Overnight, and the Gramp Decamp.