Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Steel Magnolia

I was going to start off this blog with a statement about how old my mother is. Then I remembered that I didn't want to die the swift and painful death sure for anyone who reveals the age of a woman born below the Mason Dixon line before 1970.

Suffice it to say, my mother is just shy of being a baby boomer. She's a petite woman who has trouble beefing up enough to fit into a size six (Don't hate her because she's beautiful). She's fiery tempered and kind hearted. She'll give a brand new suit to a woman who has nothing to wear. And right now, she's in the hospital recovering from a mild stroke she had on Friday.

More than anything else, my mother is annoyed with her stroke. Particularly the challenges with speaking which rose from it. I don't think she previously realized just how dumb her entire family is, until she had to rely on our ability to complete her sentences. I commented to her that, if the situation were reversed, she'd know exactly what I was talking about instantly. She nodded in agreement and smiled, and waited for me to figure out that "yellow", "bag" and "bathroom" meant to go and get the yellow bag in the bathroom.

We also made the mistake of deciding to have dinner on Sunday at her house. While she was not there to supervise. My mother rolled her eyes at the thought of three daughters and two sons in law roaming free among her kitchen cupboards and perhaps leaving a soiled hand towel just hanging in the bathroom for all the world to see.

This is how we know our mother will be just fine. She may not be talkative, but her eyes are giving us conversation. She's telling me she likes my hair down, not up; and admonishing my husband for stealing the nurse's chair. She's telling us to go home and get some rest, and to not count on vending machine potato chips as sufficient nutrition. She's doing what she always does, which is to take care of us, even if silently, even if from a hospital room.

So I'm doing a little taking care of her back. I'm blogging about my amazing mother, and her recovery, so that everyone in cyberspace can pause a second and send one up for her.

Thank you, and believe me: She'd do the same for you.

2 comments:

Tulips said...

Beautifully written. Thinking about you and the family.

xooxo

Accidental Wonk said...

Prayers for your mom from me.

My dad was diagnosed with cancer this spring, and he's never lost his sense of humor, all the while mom & kids freaked out. Gotta love the parental unit for that.

Love your blog, by the way. I've been reading you for a while now, and I look forward to every post.