A Visit With Mom
I have not visited Mom in almost three weeks, the longest period of no contact since she was admitted to the nursing home. I can't quite explain what happened to upset my pattern of twice weekly visits. The last one on December 1st found Mom in an absolutely foul mood, unable to distinguish me from from the hospital staff which is a constant source of torment from her viewpoint. I also had a shingles attack. For about the first two weeks I thought I had just pinched a nerve in my shoulder. It made carrying the Mommypack pretty painful. But, the real reason was I was just exhausted. And the process of leaving my job just emphasized how much.
Once again, it was my inner Crosby who reminded me that NYU Medical Center was actually pretty close to Herald Square and that the Q train would get me to Queens Plaza in twenty minutes.
Crosby: Bro, this is a no-brainer. You should visit your mother.
He was right. I would have kicked myself on Boxing Day if I hadn't visited. She seekedlooked pretty peaceful when I first walked in. Her eyes opened almost immediately. My theory is that since she has been blind for the last six or seven years, she has developed a keen sense of smell and she has learned to associate the arrival of two McChickens and a small Coke, wrapped in a bag, with my visits.
I went immediately to work and asked her whether I could "turn on the record player?" Not waiting for a reply I queued up the Youtube video on my Kindle and soon the magical tones of the Drifters were wafting gently toward her good eardrum. She clearly recognized the tune and I set it on repeat for several minutes. It was their version of "White Christmas".
That was followed by the Bing Crosby http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001078/ version for several turns. After about fifteen minutes of alternating between the two, I could see her eyebrows arching and I feltknew she was ready for the words:
"Merry Christmas."
"What?"
"Merry Christmas."
"I can't understand what you're saying."
"Merry Christmas."
"Oh, is today Christmas?"
I lied and said it was.
"Merry Christmas. And, thank you."
I stayed for an hour and a half, playing and replaying the two versions of "White Christmas". I tried playing some cuts from "The Wizard of Oz", but MGM/Sony seems to be exercising extra copyright infringement vigilance this time of year.
That's okay. Mom clearly thought she was home. She kept asking whether I had eaten. It took me about a half-hour to say, goodbye. The last thing she said to me was, "What's next?"
"Bedtime", I replied. I waited for about a minute after that and when she didn't ask me another question, I crept out of the room.
All I have been able to do since I got back is pick the bones clean of a rotisserie chicken I bought almost a week ago.
Once again, it was my inner Crosby who reminded me that NYU Medical Center was actually pretty close to Herald Square and that the Q train would get me to Queens Plaza in twenty minutes.
Crosby: Bro, this is a no-brainer. You should visit your mother.
He was right. I would have kicked myself on Boxing Day if I hadn't visited. She seekedlooked pretty peaceful when I first walked in. Her eyes opened almost immediately. My theory is that since she has been blind for the last six or seven years, she has developed a keen sense of smell and she has learned to associate the arrival of two McChickens and a small Coke, wrapped in a bag, with my visits.
I went immediately to work and asked her whether I could "turn on the record player?" Not waiting for a reply I queued up the Youtube video on my Kindle and soon the magical tones of the Drifters were wafting gently toward her good eardrum. She clearly recognized the tune and I set it on repeat for several minutes. It was their version of "White Christmas".
Click to viewThat was followed by the Bing Crosby http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001078/ version for several turns. After about fifteen minutes of alternating between the two, I could see her eyebrows arching and I feltknew she was ready for the words:
"Merry Christmas."
"What?"
"Merry Christmas."
"I can't understand what you're saying."
"Merry Christmas."
"Oh, is today Christmas?"
I lied and said it was.
"Merry Christmas. And, thank you."
I stayed for an hour and a half, playing and replaying the two versions of "White Christmas". I tried playing some cuts from "The Wizard of Oz", but MGM/Sony seems to be exercising extra copyright infringement vigilance this time of year.
That's okay. Mom clearly thought she was home. She kept asking whether I had eaten. It took me about a half-hour to say, goodbye. The last thing she said to me was, "What's next?"
"Bedtime", I replied. I waited for about a minute after that and when she didn't ask me another question, I crept out of the room.
All I have been able to do since I got back is pick the bones clean of a rotisserie chicken I bought almost a week ago.