Do you remember how, when you were about twelve or thirteen, peoplewould always remark about how you were growing up? Having people point out the obvious is annoying and cool at the same time. You realize thatyou are almost as tall, if not taller, than your parents. You are not a little kid anymore! You can reach the top shelf. You can open jars with tight lids. You are practically an adult! You might even pity your parents a little bit, because they are not cool anymore. Because they're not the superheroes you thought they were when you were growing up. After all, you can reach the top shelf, and they can't. What I would do to see my parents as invincible once more. Yesterday, I got a phone call from my sister. She and Mommy were in the hospital. Mom had been experiening pain whenever she walked, and it had gotten worse. I scarfed down the hopia I was eating, told my boss I had to leave, and high-tailed it to the hospital. (Well, not really. Traffic was slow on the freeway because of some construction). It took me a while to find parking in the hospital. If I hadn't chanced upon someone who was leaving, I probably would not have been able to park for another half-hour. I then ran to the elevator, cursing myself for wearing high-heeled shoes. When I got to the fourth floor, I found my sister sitting in the waiting room, doing her homework. "Where's Ma?" I asked. "They're looking at her now." "Has she been in there long?" "Almost an hour, I guess." I sat down beside her and pulled out a bottle of water from my backpack."Want some?" "Sorry." I made a mental note to always keep a pack of M&M's in mybackpack, in case of emergencies. "Do you wanna go to the cafeteria and get something to eat? I can wait for Mom." "Nah, s'okay." For a few minutes, we talked about homework, shoes, Ducky, school, work. She told me about how Mom's doctor was young and good looking. Fifteen minutes after I arrived, Mommy came hobbling out of the doctor's office,wincing in pain. Sis rushed to her side and led her to a seat. "What happened?" I asked. "Oh, they made me raise my arms and things like that. Then the doctor gave me a prescription for painkillers." "Was it that cute doctor?" Sis asked. "No. And now I have to go to radiology to get x-rayed." So the three of us shuffled together to radiology. It didn't take more than a few minutes for them to call Mom. While we waited, I read a magazine article about cannibals, and Sis whittled away on her homework. After Mom came out from the x-ray room, we shuffled to the pharmacy. They said that it would take them an hour to fill Mom's prescription, so we decided to have some lunch first. Sis drove us to KFC, and we shared fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and biscuits. We could tell that Mom wasn't enjoying her meal because once in a while, she would grimace with pain. But the mood was generally light. For a few minutes it was like we were on one of our Friday nights out, before I got married. After we finished our lunch, Sis dropped off Mom and me at the pharmacy. She had just enough time to catch two of her classes. While Mom sat down, I fell in line to pick up her pills. I reached the counter after twenty minutes, and guess what - they couldn't find her meds! Normally, I would be very miffed (to put it mildly) at the delay,but I was just glad they were finally attending to me. After all, in context, this delay was just an inconvenience. They quickly found her medication. The pharmacist looked at it and asked to look at Mom's ID. Mom limped to the counter (I'm ashamed to say I did not assist her). The lady at the counter was very apologetic about inconveniencing us. She told me confidentially about how her husband had taken the same medication, and that she hoped my Mom would feel better soon. A few simple, kind words. They gave me some comfort. Mom quickly downed one pill, and we made our way painfully to theparking lot. When we got home, it was a struggle to get her upstairs to her bed. She was almost in tears because of the ache in her legs. She was moaning in pain. I had never seen her react to pain before. The trip up eleven steps was painful for me, too, as I supported Mom to make sure that she doesn't fall. As we took each step, I wondered, am I helping alleviate the pain? Oh, what a heavy load. I don't mean my mother. I mean, my heart. I tucked her into bed and put the remote control and telephone within her reach. I checked the answering machine for messages, and took down the numbers of those Mom said she'd like to call back. I put one painkiller in a small dixie cup and put it by her bedside along with two bottles of water. "Do you want me to turn on the heater?" I asked. "No, I'm OK. I got my heating pad on." Mom is a lousy liar. She was gasping in pain. "Well, I'm going to go downstairs and fix you some dinner." "No," she said firmly. "You have to go home now, before you hit rush hour traffic." "Ma, it's three o' clock." "Well, I don't have an appetite anyway. Just get on home, and give me a call tonight." "I'll just go downstairs and clean up a bit." I checked her mail and washed the dishes in the sink. Then I went back up to her room. "Hey Mom? I need to step out for a bit, but I'll be right back, OK?" "OK," she said weakly. I hurried down the stairs and into my car. I drove to Goldilocks bakeshop and bought her a bowl of arroz caldo (rice porridge) and two mamons(buttery sponge cake). When I got back home, I transferred the arroz caldo to Mom's pretty white serving bowl and covered it with a plate. I stuck a note on top of the plate for my brother or sister, with instructions to make sure Mom had dinner that night. I then took a mamon out of its plastic wrapping and wrapped it in a paper towel. I went upstairs and knocked on her door. "Hey Mom?" "Yes?" "Here's a mamon, in case you get hungry." I placed it on her nightstand. She laughed at that. "I'll probably forget about it until the ants get at it." "Well when I call you tonight I'll remind you to eat it. There's some arroz caldo downstairs for your dinner. Just ask Sis to heat some upfor you later, OK?" I could see her perk up at the mention of arroz caldo. She loves arroz caldo. "OK." I looked around. "Is there anything else I can do for you? Anything I can get?" "No. Just go home now. I'm going to try to get some sleep." "All right." I didn't want to go. I felt helpless, not being able to make her feel better. I leaned over to give her a hug. "I'll call you later. But in case you need anything, just give me a call, OK?" "OK." Mom's condition has not improved since yesterday. Last night, she developed shingles. The pills have given her very little relief. Shewas able to speak to her doctor over the phone, and he has prescribed her some medication for her shingles. Sis will pick them up. When I spoke to Mom, she was still very obviously suffering. I want to go to her, but she put a kibosh on that idea. She has forbidden me to see her until she gets better, since her shingles are contagious and I could infect Ducky. It's hard for me to see Mom this way. It's hard for me to want to be there and to not able to be there for her. It sucks to be the taller, bigger, stronger party. I don't mind having to care for her. I don't mind this role reversal - it is an honor. I just wish it didn't mean that she had to be in any pain. Darn. I can't even be selfless without being selfish. St. Peregrine, pray for us. |
