I’m not there, I’m here. You’re there, not here. Unless, of course, you are here like me.
I’m in Indiana today. You’re where you usually are. I hope you two nice every-day-readers from the Russian Federation are still there. Stay out of Ukraine. Thank you.
Now back to Lafayette, Indiana.
It’s my semiannual trip to see mom, brother, kids, grand-kids, and old friends (both meanings of the word—old).
My mom is six months into her 10th decade on the planet. Since I last talked about her she’s had one good fall. Trying to make a 3 am potty-call, she missed her wheel chair and tumbled head-first on the tile. It was her first-ever ride in an ambulance and she was not happy about it. She said it was so bumpy she couldn’t hold her bladder. She asked the EMT for a bedpan and he told her they don’t carry that piece of equipment. She said, “Well, you’ll be sorry you made that mistake, cause I’m letting it rip.”
A few stiches in her head and some smashed fingers were a lucky outcome which only required a month or so of healing. She’s back in full stride again…complaining about the horrible food, the bad entertainment and a dumb God that won’t listen and make a deal with her. She keeps offering him/her a trade-in. She says, “I tell him to save a young one and take me. I’m tired.”
Mom gets lots of visitors. It’s like going to see a combination Phyllis Diller/Joan Rivers in a nursing home. Her stand-up routine is from her wheelchair. After their visit, I think they are more worn out from laughing then she is from living.
She complains all the time that she has totally lost her appetite. She tells me she hardly eats anything. My mom has been saying that for years. If it’s something she likes, she’ll pack it away. I guarantee she can eat more than any other 100 pound person on the planet. Last week my daughter called her when she was on her way to visit. She asked mom if she could stop and pick up something to eat. With my daughter’s permission I’ll give you the exact conversation.
Grandma: I’m just not up to power today. Been sleeping all day. No food sounds good.
Me: How about some soup? I could pick you up some warm vegetable soup? Potato? Anything?
Grandma: No, just not much appetite.
Me: ok, but we are close to Subway or Burger King.
Grandma: Well maybe I could eat a hamburger with cheese, pickle, onion, and ketchup. How about a root beer and a few fries?
That’s my mom and it’s good to be home again.
Stay tuned for more Indiana stories.