Reflections on the Eleventh Week of Fall

 

I call Mom Dot at 6:00 p.m., after she eats dinner and before the nurses tuck her into bed at night. She says, “Four walls and a TV. I'm bored.” But she doesn't bore me. On her clear-minded days, she's full of news like my nephew Robert visiting at dinner time. “He just picked up my fork and started feeding me. That was great. Dinner went smoothly.” She's always eager to hear what's happening with us. The day Spence put on yellow waders to cut and pull tree trunks out of Deer Creek, she asked, “Didn't he get wet?” Occasionally she's confused. “I don't know why I'm here. I want to go home.” She'll forget. “I don't know who gave me the pretty Christmas flowers.” When I explain (Spence and I sent the pink Christmas cactus), she often remembers, “That's right. You would know about plants.” Clear or confused, Mom's interested in people. Her general practitioner stopped to visit. “He's big. It was great to see his handsome face leaning over me.” And, she's attached to her second roommate. “We get along so well. I'll miss her when she leaves.” Throughout the rehab ordeal, she's still been mother-advising me. “I used to make fun of older people who gave up sewing. Now I understand. It happens fast, so if you have a project you want to do, do it now.”