I sit here alternately staring at the screen and then hopping links to other blogs. I have been so erratic about posting of late - both in timing and topic. I think back and recall there were a few pretty good posts - just about life, some pretty funny as I remember them, some not so funny.
I wasn't going to blog about this because sometimes Reality Avoidance Therapy works best for me. I'll deal with it, but in my own quiet terms. The topic today - Parents Aging.
As some of you know, I come from a large Irish Catholic family before I jumped ship to Judaism about 12 years ago. I am the seventh of ten children. My father passed away in 1989 and my mother has since lived on her own more or less (wayward sons and divorces disturbing the relative calm of what's on sale at Shop Rite).
Tonight my sister R called to tell me that my Mom had a "spell" in church this morning and went outside whereby she must have blacked out and fallen. A priest came to her aid and she was taken to a hospital whereby they treated her physical wounds and released her! Her face is badly cut and bruised and swollen which just makes me cry. This is a woman who has barely a wrinkle thanks to good genes and Oil of Olay applied religiously. That just makes me cry - her soft skin being bruised up in such a violent way.
Anyway, the big guns were called in (which is my sister Susan) and she came over and brought my mom to a hospital proper where she is indeed being held overnight for observation and some tests (CAT scans, etc) will be performed.
My mother does not live right around the corner so I cannot just hop into the car and run to the hospital. I will go tomorrow or Tuesday based upon what we find out tomorrow. I feel sad for my Mom as I see the signs of aging taking their toll. Her hearing has gotten worse and for various reasons, she has refused a hearing aide. She probably should not still be driving but she said only half jokingly when I mentioned something to her a year or so ago "they'll never take me alive!" This, as we imagined a scenario of her home being surrounded by police requesting her license over a bullhorn, which she wouldn't hear as she turned the television ever louder behind the barricaded front door.
I look forward to her quick healing and me being able to joke with her that I told her no good can come of her hanging out in church so often. We'll have a good laugh of which she'll only hear half. And we'll have a cup of tea.
Just like old times.