yesterday I felt just like this poor peep. all run over and squished with my insides open and oozing. oh the day started out fine enough. mom had a opthamologist appointment and I couldn't see the point of returning to the eye doctor yet again to be told that there was nothing they could do and she needed to blink more. we have made several trips there back and forth in the last couple of years and with her condition there is little they can do. except this time it was her doctor requesting the appointment and wanting a report of the findings.
so back to me. I have been watching the oprah life class on tour series this week and the first three episodes had me in a puddle of tears with a pile of kleenex beside me. was it the people she pulled up on stage or the fact that I could relate to the lesson? I'm sure we could all relate to the lessons. stopping the pain, living fearlessly, living with purpose and the power of forgiveness. sound like stuff you have thought about it or dealt with? yes, uh huh.
all of the lessons had me thinking, which is good. I like television that makes you think and I miss "that" kind of television. so me thinks that I should probably try and put some of these lessons to the test. what could it hurt? really? I could try to tell my mom that I love her and give her a kiss every time I see her. yeah, I could do that. I could forgive her for that which she did or did not do and sum it up to - she did the best she could with what she had. ok.
I head out yesterday morning with oprah in my pocket and a smile on my face. I am going to get through this appointment and even surprise mom with lunch out. "oh happy day" ringing in my ear. actually it was rhianna or something on the radio, but it was catchy.
I arrive at the home and dad is calling me on my cell. no doubt wanting to know where I am. I enter mom's room and the first thing out of my dad's mouth is "we're late!" to which I reply, "no, we're not, just relax" and then turn to mom to say hello and give her a peck on the forehead. she looks tired and weak. after lifting her out of her chair, getting her coat on and fluffing up her hair a bit we start out. dad is bitching the whole time down the hallway, "put your head down, look down, jesus maria look down" and trying to force her head down at the same time. here is my theory and I am no doctor but if you kept yelling at me to do something that was next to impossible for me to do, but I could do it, with patience and calm and probably not with YOU YELLING AT ME TO PUT MY HEAD DOWN! whew!
it just continued. in the car he tells me he has brought her glasses. her glasses? she never wears those dad. yeah, but she probably needs too. apparently when I turned around for a quick second dad went off and acquired a degree. we arrive at the appointment. I'm driving of course and so I try to get as close to the door as possible to drop her off. dropping her off means lifting her out of the truck and getting her set up with her walker. all the while making sure she doesn't all of the sudden topple. she ain't no weeble! this one does fall down!
so the appointment actually went really well. mom's eyes have actually improved. seems like life at "the home" has helped her eyes. with the consistent use of the eye drops and dark glasses and probably the humidity level too her eyes look healthy. shazam!
heading back out to the truck I ask dad to pull it around to the front. "do you got her?, hang on to her!, she's gonna fall!" ok, there is that yelling again and yes I have her! I am not a complete moron and if she falls on my watch it will be a complete accident and not intentional although I was having thoughts of how to silence HIM!
as I am lifting mom into the truck which is really no easy feat. thank goodness the women tips the scale at just over a hundred, but I am small and the truck is big! dad is no help other than his bitching and wanting to get in there and do it and then have more reason to complain about his back. so along comes a perfect stranger who says "oh if she used her other foot it would be easier". yes I KNOW that, I say, but her right leg is stronger. she goes on "well, I used to do this for a living and I had four aging parents that I took care of and..." yes, thank you I say and proceed to pick up mom's little body and place her in the seat as gently as I can all the while hearing the lady say "it probably would be easier if you put her butt in first and then someone on the other side could pull her in". really? to which I reply "well, there is no someone to be on the other side - there is just me". she finishes with "oh yes, of course. well, I just don't want you hurting yourself or anything". I reply with, thank you, I appreciate your concern and thank you for your help knowing full well that I probably sounded like a bomb getting ready to explode. just hissing....
back in the truck where dad starts in about who was this lady and why the hell was she stopped and talking and so on and so forth. mom asks who this lady was and I say she was a friendly stranger wanting to lend a hand and offer some advice. no harm in that and mom agrees. now off to the surprise lunch where again I park in front of the door. easier for me to lift mom out, but also another excuse for dad to yell at me. "oh, jesus christ, well, ok, just take her in and pick the most convenient table". he doesn't pull the walker out and so basically I am taking mom into the restaurant with her on my shoes. kind of like when you were little and used to stand on your dad's feet to dance with him. sigh....
dad walks in after parking the truck and apparently I have failed again cause I picked the table closest to the door. what was I thinking? well, I was thinking that you told me to pick the most convenient table and seeing as I literally carried your wife in here cause you didn't want to unload the walker again, well, hell ya I picked this table. lunch is ordered. we are at ma and pa's fave fish and chip place. they always order the $10 meal of cod and chips. I order halibut cause I like the taste better than cod but more than $10. eating commences after I cut up mom's fish and am quite fine with her eating with her fingers. but then it happens, sometimes you see it coming and you are diving in slow motion like those guys do on tv as they are yelling NOOOOOOOOOOO! but it's too late. she sneezes all over my plate. poor mama. between dad's bitching and mom's sneezing I have lost my appetite. lucky for me I scooted my coleslaw over the side and took a few bites of it. hit the bathroom and when I returned dad asks me why I order the halibut. I like the taste better I tell him. he says well it tastes the same to me. I just tried some of yours and actually it is a bit chewier than ours. WHAT? ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW? I say well then I guess the next time I will order cod seeing as it tastes the same or is it the fact that the halibut is more expensive that bothers you? no, no, no he says, I told you to order whatever you wanted. ok, well, then shut the hell up mister! of course I didn't vocalize that last part to my dad. I just smiled, but what I really wanted to do was cry. I felt like he ran me over and then came back and stepped on me to make sure I wasn't moving. turns out his fish and chip buddy charged us all $10 and so my expensive halibut choice did not break his cod loving bank after all. oh please let this end I cried to myself.
we got mom back to the home. we settled her in. he kept on about something else. something about dan and what is he doing? when is he going to settle down, buy a house, save some money? I say, dan is happy and he is doing what he loves and he is supporting himself. I think that is wonderful dad. hmm mph. throughout this whole day I am hacking up a lung, blowing my nose to smithers and wind up with a bleeding nose as I place mom back into her wheelchair. at no point did either of them ask if I was ok or had been to the doctor about that nasty cough or oh my your nose is bleeding let me help you out. I kissed mom on the forehead and told her I loved her. I said I would. I wanted too. I needed too. I would hate for ANYONE to feel how unloved I felt at that moment.
as I am bolting to my car dad is on my heels. still going on and on about something. I stopped listening, I was done, I came, I did and stick a fork in me - D.O.N.E, done, done. I wanted to turn around and yell at him - do you know dad that every time I see my son or talk to him I tell him how lucky I am and how much I love him and how proud I am of him. he is not perfect, no. none of us are, but he is the best there is and I want him to know it and I want him to feel it from the top of his head to the tips of his toes that he is loved - unconditionally - LOVED. he will never have to wonder if I love him or is he making me proud or do I think what he is doing is good. he will never have to hear me say that he never calls me or how much I need him. he will be free to live his life as he sees fit and as long as he is happy and smiling, I too am happy. I didn't say it though I just kept walking and could feel the tears coming on. I said good bye.