I finally got to see my mum on the weekend. Apparently, the warning they posted on the door doesn’t really apply. The CDC said it was just a cold, the offending parties are in isolation and my mum’s floor was not affected. Strange, I hadn’t seen her in a week due to my transcribing work and she didn’t really seem to notice that much. I stepped off the elevator and I hear, “Hey!”. That’s how she always greets me. Sigh. I missed her terribly, but she was her usual self. She didn’t seem to mind that they had cancelled the Hallowe’en party either. Even in her state, she recognizes the indignity of it all. I guess that’s a blessing in a way. I remember when she first went in the home and she would call me about 12 times a day weeping and asking me to take her home and then the nurses would call me saying she had hit someone or she was in a horrible mood. Between her and the failed IVFs, I was feeling (and looking) like a punching bag.
I had gone shopping for her earlier (something we used to do together) and she approved the new clothes. Her pants don’t last very long. They tend to use the hottest water there and it kills the elastic. And now she needs more socks. Mum likes to remove her clothes from her room and they end up elsewhere. I guess I could buy her clothes at a thrift store instead of Sears, but that is something that we also used to do together. The very thought of combing through racks at the Sally Ann (where I just might find some of her old stuff) is just too much. Not to mention time consuming. And musty. When I was a child, she had only 5 dresses in her closet. I want her to have new things all the time.
It was a lovely sunshiney day (so welcome after the torrential wind and rain the night before) so we went to our usual Starbucks and hubby and Juno came by. My little family. We watched the young people parade up and down Robson Street in various outfits. She needs her hair done, too much grey; I had to cancel her appointment due the flu scare. Her whiskers need trimming. I used to think that caring for my mum was some sort of sad consolation prize for not having my own child. Now, it’s just part of our lives. We have long life in our family, so barring any sudden illness, she’s likely to be around for at least another 10 years. And then I’ll be shaving my chin, too.
Caring for an infant will keep me pretty busy, but I don’t have to worry about missing visits with mum. She has a new sense of detachment from real time. I envy her that right now.
A Woman My Age 