Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Mothers & daughters
Blogger is driving me nuts. I don't want a new layout design and if I did then just let me click on design and pick one. Instead, I have to deal with their PUSHING their new blog designs on me. In the process I can't find where they have moved the FONTS so I can't change the color on my header or shrink it to make it fit my picture. I ABSOLUTELY HATE IT. When I have more time to set it up I'm moving to WordPress. People tell me that it's easier and faster and they seem to like it better. BLOGGER you are pushing my buttons!@%@$#
My mother's birthday was last week. She turned 84 years old. Ever since I have known her my mother has suffered from every possible imagined and sometimes real illness. A Internet friend once referred to her mother as "she who was always dying". It fits my mother, too.
Our weekly phone calls can be funny and enjoyable or tense and stressful. If I've been sick then the next week she will be suffering from something MUCH more serious. She and my step father used to do this dance. After he died she had to find a replacement. I have to say I'm not the best player. I tend to not do the one-upmanship. Takes the fun out of it, I guess.
Anyway, about once a month the conversation moves around to WHEN SHE DIES. A topic that makes me start to tense up and gulp my coffee. It's like taking an oral exam.
Will I get the answer right? Trust me, in the past I've gotten it wrong. Gave the wrong response. Got sassy and made light of something. Last Sunday I tried to "stick to the paperwork", which means when my mother informed me that she has a new condition that prevents her from eating anything but tiny little bits of food or only taking liquids, I nodded, mumbled, "wow, when did that start up". Mind you, this diagnosis has not been delivered by a doctor or exam but by my mother, who was a nurse sixty some years ago.
I'm munching on my toast, drinking my coffee and listening to what kinds of foods she can or can't eat when she suddenly tells me that, she told her doctor, by her Cricket cell phone with the extra large buttons, she did NOT want a stomach tube if she couldn't eat any more. Apparently, the doctor brushed off her request and told her not to worry about it that when the time came he would make sure she got food into her. This disregard for her instructions made her angry.
Here comes the test question, ready BEA?
So, dear daughter, when the time comes that I can't take food by mouth any more you WILL tell the doctor that he isn't supposed to put a tube in me.
Spacing is about the only way I can convey the horrible feeling I have when asked that question.
Do I protest that I can't do something like that and I want her to live, yada, yada, yada?
Do I tell her that the doctor will honor anything that is in her file that she has told him to do?
I chose to stick with the paperwork. I told her that if and when that was an issue that certainly everybody would honor what SHE HAD PUT IN HER MEDICAL FILE.
There is always a silence on the other end after my answers. I always have this sinking feeling that I just blew it.
This time she let a nice pause happen then she said, "Good, then I don't have to worry about that. I wouldn't want to have to put your younger sister in charge of me."
Oh, we wouldn't want that to happen. Nope. This test is just for me.
The women in my family live well into their 90's. She's only 84. Last night she called to tell me or rather shout at me that she was going deaf in her right ear, her good ear. At least now I can shout back at her.
Posted by Bea