Saturday, February 12, 2005
It's like she's PMSing...
...which, of course, we all know can't be happening. At 0948 she was awake. I know. I checked in on her at that time. She seemed amenable to getting up. Did, in fact, went to the bathroom, then in the time it took me to plug in the hot water pot, put ham in the skillet, herd her First Thing in the Morning Pills, she was back in bed in her soaked pajamas and underwear, snuggling in her soaked comforter. I decided if she's going to sleep longer I'd take advantage of this time to go to a DVD outlet here and pick up some movies that we watch a lot and I know we'll continue to watch. I told her I'd wake her up on my return. She agreed this sounded good.
I returned at 1100 straight up. As I turned the corner of her room I saw her open eyes shut tight as she caught a glimpse of me. I left her alone until a half hour ago. Her eyes were open again so I went into "getting up" gear. She remained in bed.
"Look, are you tired or are you doing this because you can't think of any good reason to be upright?" My mother is always honest answering this question.
"I'm tahred." Her voice broke in her throat as she said this.
I felt her forehead. No fever. Probably dehydration. "Okay. I'll check in on you every half hour or so. Ham for breakfast, you know. Does that make it worth it?"
She took a moment to answer, "Almost," before cackling and laying her head back down on the pillow.
The woman at the store who helped me corral items on my list is probably about my age. Her mother is 78. She's planning on "combining households" [How psychologically generous of her! I thought.] with her mother "when it becomes necessary". I quickly thought back. In 1994, when I established my home with her, my mother was 77, very independent and remained that way until around 1997, as she turned 80. That was the summer she bought the house in Prescott and I discovered in the middle of the deal she was no longer capable of conducting competent business. There was one major hitch because of this which could have gotten us sent to court, but everything was smoothed over once I took the reins.
The woman who assisted me was interested in hearing my mother's opinions of certain movies and laughed in recognition of her own mother's fierce opinionatedness. Like, for instance, that my mother, after I forced her to watch it right (which means not looking away and starting a conversation during the difficult parts), now loves The Shawshank Redemption but her final judgment on The Green Mile, which she dutifully watched on the enthusiastic recommendation of friends who lent us the movie, was a shriveling, "What, exactly, was the point of that?"
At other times her depth of identification surprises me. She loves watching Dances With Wolves (a copy of which I was able to procure today) because she identifies so closely with Native Americans in films that, especially during this film, she is often heard to say, "You know, I think I must have been a [Sioux tribe, usually] in a former life. I just feel as though I know how all of this feels!"
I was not, to my dismay, able to find Driving Miss Daisy, the curse of medium sized towns that consider themselves small towns (the condition of not being able to find a perennially popular property, not the movie).
I'm not sure if today will be a movie watching day. I think, to test the waters, I'll throw out My Best Friend's Wedding, one that we rent fairly frequently, especially when we need a realistic lift, a copy of which I bought today. If that goes over well maybe we'll graduate to something a bit more stimulating, like Amadeus, an advertisement of which she slavered over the other night so I bought it today. Or, maybe we'll reverse the order, see how that works.
What am I talking about! She's not even up yet!
Yes, you can probably expect another entry in the DVD's owned site within the next few days.
Later.
I returned at 1100 straight up. As I turned the corner of her room I saw her open eyes shut tight as she caught a glimpse of me. I left her alone until a half hour ago. Her eyes were open again so I went into "getting up" gear. She remained in bed.
"Look, are you tired or are you doing this because you can't think of any good reason to be upright?" My mother is always honest answering this question.
"I'm tahred." Her voice broke in her throat as she said this.
I felt her forehead. No fever. Probably dehydration. "Okay. I'll check in on you every half hour or so. Ham for breakfast, you know. Does that make it worth it?"
She took a moment to answer, "Almost," before cackling and laying her head back down on the pillow.
The woman at the store who helped me corral items on my list is probably about my age. Her mother is 78. She's planning on "combining households" [How psychologically generous of her! I thought.] with her mother "when it becomes necessary". I quickly thought back. In 1994, when I established my home with her, my mother was 77, very independent and remained that way until around 1997, as she turned 80. That was the summer she bought the house in Prescott and I discovered in the middle of the deal she was no longer capable of conducting competent business. There was one major hitch because of this which could have gotten us sent to court, but everything was smoothed over once I took the reins.
The woman who assisted me was interested in hearing my mother's opinions of certain movies and laughed in recognition of her own mother's fierce opinionatedness. Like, for instance, that my mother, after I forced her to watch it right (which means not looking away and starting a conversation during the difficult parts), now loves The Shawshank Redemption but her final judgment on The Green Mile, which she dutifully watched on the enthusiastic recommendation of friends who lent us the movie, was a shriveling, "What, exactly, was the point of that?"
At other times her depth of identification surprises me. She loves watching Dances With Wolves (a copy of which I was able to procure today) because she identifies so closely with Native Americans in films that, especially during this film, she is often heard to say, "You know, I think I must have been a [Sioux tribe, usually] in a former life. I just feel as though I know how all of this feels!"
I was not, to my dismay, able to find Driving Miss Daisy, the curse of medium sized towns that consider themselves small towns (the condition of not being able to find a perennially popular property, not the movie).
I'm not sure if today will be a movie watching day. I think, to test the waters, I'll throw out My Best Friend's Wedding, one that we rent fairly frequently, especially when we need a realistic lift, a copy of which I bought today. If that goes over well maybe we'll graduate to something a bit more stimulating, like Amadeus, an advertisement of which she slavered over the other night so I bought it today. Or, maybe we'll reverse the order, see how that works.
What am I talking about! She's not even up yet!
Yes, you can probably expect another entry in the DVD's owned site within the next few days.
Later.
