Moments

Visits to my aged mother are tough duty now. One factor is that it drives me out of feel-good, rah, rah and forces me to confront the truth about the realities of life - not just those of an aged mother, but those of my own as well. Confrontation with truth could be one of the reasons there are not a lot of visitors of residents in a nursing home. Another may be that when we experience our loved one baffled, confused, half aware, blind, deaf, and fumbling for words she can't remember, we want to fix it. But we cant'. Again, our own limitations, our own mortality, our own feeble humanness becomes painfully apparently. Oh yes, I have it all together yet my mother is laying there, a mental and physical invalid, and my poor powers cannot help. I am not able to fix it. "I want to go to my home," my mother said. "You are home. You are not at the hospital anymore." "I know, but I don't like it here. I want to go home." "Mo...

My mother will be one hundred and two in July. She is in a nursing home. She is losing her mind - something that she has always hoped wouldn't happen. But, it is. And I don't like it that she can't walk, has a broken ankle, is bedridden, sleeps all the time. I wish it wasn't so; but it is. That is the way things really are - a bitter pill to swallow at the end of it all. But, it just is. End of it all? Yesterday, I was sitting by her bed, trying my best to carry on a conversation with her. She mumbled sounds that were unintelligible, and I smiled and nodded in agreement. Conversations with her are real work now. She said she had sandwiches for breakfast, and that she had heard a wonderful sermon that morning. Where did she hear a sermon: she has no TV. She doesn't go down to the lunch room when they have Sunday services in the home. Besides, it was Saturday. No services were scheduled. Where did she hear a sermon? She didn't say it was on the telev...

At the pool where I sometimes swim, there is often a man there who is, what may be considered, morbidly obese. One day he just sat in the chair on the side of the pool and watched me swim lap after lap. The next time that we were both there H did a sort of dog paddle to one end of the pool, then rested and dog peddled back. He did this a few times before quitting. That is what he did every time we were there together, but each time he did more laps. I did my best to encourage him, and he seemed to appreciate it and take it in the spirit it was offered. Just the other day he dog paddled many more laps than he had ever done before. When he finally got out of the pool, I stopped to compliment him on his long workout. He said he was trying; doing the best he could. Then he said, "I want to look like you." I was sort of taken aback, not knowing what to say but thanks. I didn't think I really looked all that good, so I felt especially honored by the compliment....