A MONTH OF MOM
84 year-old women do stupid shit in the dark. That’s a fact; not a rude or blatant indictment on elderly women and it’s backed up with truth. Because the woman in question happens to be my mother, look at what follows as a “blog of love” as opposed to verbal elder abuse.
A couple of months ago, my mother who currently resides in Palm Harbor, Florida took it upon herself to take out the trash at 9:30 p.m. to a dimly lit dumpster area whereupon she turned the wrong way, fell and laid next to said trash dumpster for approximately forty minutes before someone heard her crying out in pain. Once taken to the emergency room it was determined that she fractured her hip and would need surgery and all the fun rehabilitation that goes along with it. Like I said…84 year old women do stupid shit in the dark.
Let’s cut to present day, shall we? After moving in with my mother for six weeks, my sister asked if I could do the same: drive down to Florida and stay with mom for a month to help in her post recovery and give her (my sister) a break. Being what I consider to be a decent brother and even a better son, eight days ago I started the 14 hour drive from Columbus, Ohio to Palm Harbor, Florida in the midst of Covid-19, and headed to the current epicenter of the pandemic in order to take care of mom for a month.
Before moving on, let’s look at some facts…My mother is 84. I am 61. I haven't lived with my mother for a month or longer since I was 18 years of age. Got it? Ok…
Upon arrival, before a proper hello, my mother said, “The first thing I want you do is take off those clothes and take a shower. I don’t know where you’ve been or who you’ve been in contact with on your drive down here.” Despite being extremely cautious and socially aware the entire way, I chose not to argue with mom and instead let her assume that I touched everything and everybody on the drive down, while allowing a hoard of Coronavirus infected people cough all over me while in Georgia. No offense to Georgia, but you ARE a long-ass state to drive through while en route to Florida and one talkative guy at a PILOT station did get a little too close.
So, eight days later here’s where we are…I am taking care of my mother. I am at her beck and call for whatever she needs. I make her meals. I refill her water cup. I make sure she does her “walker laps” every hour and a half. I help get her to bed at night. I get up with her in the middle of the night if she needs any help getting to the bathroom. I do NOT bathe her. Thank God, there is someone who comes and does that regularly. I mean if push came to shove, I would, but the therapy bill for me personally months later would be enormous. Basically I do everything my sister did for the last month and a half but complain about it more.
But it’s our mom. It’s a month out of an entire life. A small frame in huge picture window that has been our mother and all she’s done for us through the years. Raised us. Shaped us. Not always correctly, but what parent does? She did do something right. She raised two kids who give a shit about people and how fortunate that those “people” include moms. Granted, one is way better at it and the other one writes a smarmy blog about it, but the love and sentiment is the same: we both think mom has got a few more miles in her, be it with or without a walker. So long as she stops doing stupid shit in the dark.