Wednesday, February 9, 2005
The Mom just re-retired...
...after tossing and turning and deciding she'd gone to bed too early. We talked a bit then watched another Kung Fu episode. She may, indeed, have been too well rested to retire early, tonight. I also know that she is being agitated by an unfortunate incident that occurred today. I decided to do a jacket laundry, something I do once a year if there appears to be no reason to do it before. I pulled all the jackets out onto the floor in front of Mom and me to give her a sense of participation and started going through the pockets. In one of the pockets of Mom's beloved light pink jacket was an empty pack of the cigarettes she used to smoke.
We were forced to go through the story of her quitting, again, setting it in time and place and circumstance; we reviewed the advantages to her and to me since she's quit.
When these fits occur she remembers having smoked "earlier today" or "yesterday". Today, she remembered smoking "last week" and, stretching it a little, she's almost right. She smoked all afternoon and evening the day we went to see her doctor and visited MCF & Family.
I want those of you who love my mother to know that if I thought it didn't matter whether she smoked I'd let her smoke. I allowed it for a long time. I'd also let her continue if the emotional component of quitting was hard for her to bear and outweighed the physical benefits. As it turns out, the emotional component, for her, was just an occasional itch. The physical component was taken care of during three weeks of hospital care.
I have often fantasized that I will know within a week, maybe a month, when she will die. At that time, if I understand that she will be more enjoyably engaged smoking cigarettes and talking away the days in memory with me then that's what we'll do. When it no longer matters anymore whether she smokes and there is no reason to consider its presence an irritant to her then I think it will be appropriate for my mother to be holding a cigarette and blowing smoke when St. Peter taps her on the shoulder.
We were forced to go through the story of her quitting, again, setting it in time and place and circumstance; we reviewed the advantages to her and to me since she's quit.
When these fits occur she remembers having smoked "earlier today" or "yesterday". Today, she remembered smoking "last week" and, stretching it a little, she's almost right. She smoked all afternoon and evening the day we went to see her doctor and visited MCF & Family.
I want those of you who love my mother to know that if I thought it didn't matter whether she smoked I'd let her smoke. I allowed it for a long time. I'd also let her continue if the emotional component of quitting was hard for her to bear and outweighed the physical benefits. As it turns out, the emotional component, for her, was just an occasional itch. The physical component was taken care of during three weeks of hospital care.
I have often fantasized that I will know within a week, maybe a month, when she will die. At that time, if I understand that she will be more enjoyably engaged smoking cigarettes and talking away the days in memory with me then that's what we'll do. When it no longer matters anymore whether she smokes and there is no reason to consider its presence an irritant to her then I think it will be appropriate for my mother to be holding a cigarette and blowing smoke when St. Peter taps her on the shoulder.
