melissaahowells
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getting older is not for sissies
I found this out as my Mother aged didn't really have a Mother in the true sense Mom wasn't good at boundaries at figuring out where one person started and the other ended she was kind of like a sister but she was more like a good friend really as a Mother she wasn't the best at it she tried but she was more like a chum fun and funny and at times needing a confidant and lots of cheering up and a shoulder to cry on then something happened when I wasn't around anymore my own life had gotten so complicated I hadn't noticed that was not like me not to notice things.. my Mother had started to disappear bit by bit the first time I saw it was when she came to visit us in Oregon she arrived at the airport with a very light suitcase it was empty...no medications, clothes, shoes all she had on were the clothes she had on and her glasses to see the glasses didn't seem to be helping her to see what was obvious I didn't know this had happened right away as my youngest brother was the one who always hosted her visits I found out later in a restaurant at breakfast as she sat to my left eating her flapjacks with only butter smiling and nodding during our conversation about her occasionally entering and exiting the conversation with an interjection placed here and there all I could do was reach over and squeeze her cool well manicured hand I was so afraid she was going to disappear I felt like an ass for talking about her like she wasn't there it was such bad manners much later on back in Fargo something happened which changed everything one night she fell and fractured 3 vertebrae she lay pinned to the floor in agony for 3 nights and 3 days on her left side on her apartment floor during a very cold winter in North Dakota in January when a phone rang and she pulled it onto the floor...her friends contacted both the police and us and then we knew just how serous her situation was early onset Alzheimer's was not the first diagnosis initially she had an extreme UTI and the usual garden variety diagnosis of bi-polar with major depressive features how I despise the inexactness of science the coolness of it at times never mind how old she was she was young and two years before had been still roller blading and cross-country skiing but my lovely dutiful youngest brother flew to Fargo and packed up her entire life and apartment to be transferred to Oregon she never went back to her life/friends I could talk so much about the initial challenges...I wasn't there for most/ all of them. I'd been there for Mom before when she'd had her emotional breakdowns. When I'd picked her up off the floor and carried her to bed and watched her go to sleep. When I'd rocked her to sleep like she was my own child. This was harder. This was different. She didn't know me anymore at first. Especially after the surgery. She was outwardly angry. I don't think she understood what was going on. outward manifestation of an inner unspoken frustration? I could only guess. Eventually, she was placed a rehabilitation center where Catholic nuns worked with her. I have and issue with the word "placed." But it was called Mary's Place. These women were angels in the sense of their patience humor and understanding. I rarely did not see them without a smile. Sounds like television doesn't it? My Mom must've won the lottery on this one. It turned out to be the right place for her to begin her healing. She had to learn to write again. I didn't understand this cognitive part. She was living in a locked unit for her safety. She was reed-thin, tiny and pale. Vulnerable looking...all large green eyes and freckles. Dressed in her Lantz pj's and slippers. It took 3 buses and 1 train to see her. One day when I came in she looked up and recognized me. Called me Missy. A name I would normally despise. That day it was catnip to me. I could have balled. But I kissed her all over her face. It was as if she was waking up from a dream. After that, she got cranky. We knew she was getting better then. "Why am I in this damn place, she would ask me? What's wrong with these damn people? But these nuns sure are nice to me. But why are they being nice to me?" I would have emptied my bank accounts for that moment of recognition. The day she called me by my despised moniker, the moniker I used to hit neighborhood kids in the chops for, if they attached any bad words to it. I would empty my bank accounts to have that moment again, but she is gone now. She died suddenly and without any explanation. She had just turned 70. She was mentally getting more clarity each day. We should have had more time. Some one told me, reminded me that there are no "shoulds" in this world; they were trying to be gentle. It does not feel gentle. This still pains me to this day. rough draft....prose to be turned into some semblance of a narrative or poem. Copyright Sept 18, 2014 All Rights Reserved By this Author Meloo/Melissa A Howells copyright Tilt-a-World All ideas/prose/poetry/rants are the legal property of this Writer UTI means urinary tract infection, a medical term/acute Vote for this poem |
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