No More Showers

 

Thursday night my level of anxiety was at an all time high.  I kept remembering something that Jamie said yesterday, “The mom I saw today is not going for her hair appointment tomorrow.”  Those words haunted me.

I have not been able to sleep for the last five days which is evident by my red, burning eyes and my lack of concentration.  I knew I would worry all night about the possibility of the dreaded call so I took a Benadryl.  Thank God after I laid my head on my pillow and prayed for mom, my family and myself, I gently dozed off. 

Waking up I felt blessed that my phone had not rang in the night.  I believed with my heart that there was more unfinished business with mom. I called The Community* to see if Billy* could apprise me of mom’s condition.  Billy* with her strong accent said, “Juliann, don’t worry.  Your mom is doing much better today.  She is still weak.   We just have to give the antibiotics some time.” A feeling surrounded and guided me as I went through my steps to get ready. 

I knew her being alive this morning was due to more than just antibiotics.

I said hesitantly, “Billy* in mom’s present condition, may I still take her to have her hair done?”

“Yes, Juliann.  Your mom is eating breakfast right now.  I will tell her you are coming.”

Hanging up the phone I was thankful and relieved.  Due to my foot surgery five weeks ago, I have missed four times to take mom to her beauty shop appointment.  Although thankful to Jamie for taking her, I have felt sad that I missed seeing the transformation in mom each week.  See the beauty shop was more than just about mom ‘looking good’; going to the beauty shop at the place where mom lived for the past five years was about ‘feeling good’.

Each and every time we walked into the supportive living facility, Mom was greeted with smiles and hugs, and most important love. Whether they were staff or residents, everyone would tell mom that they were happy to see her and that they missed her.  So many employees have said to me, “your mom is my favorite resident”.  Mom clearly felt their love and support.  Taking mom to the beauty shop was a total ‘Mind, Body, and Spirit’ connection.

 

Fortunately when mom first broke her hip five years ago, our family purchased a transporter wheelchair for times when we needed to take mom to her surgeon's follow-up visits.  On times since then when mom has been on oxygen and weak, I have used the transporter to make the trip easier for mom.

 

Walking towards the nurses’ station, I could see Billy* working on paperwork.  When she saw me she smiled and greeted me with, “Juliann, your mom is around the corner in a lounge chair resting.  She has just gone to the bathroom.  I have taken her off of oxygen; she is able to breathe on her own.”  Billy opened up the big book and turned to the page for me to sign that I was taking mom out for a while.

As I walked around the nurses’ station, I could see mom staring at me.  “Mom, I am so happy to see you.”

“Julienne, I had a bad day yesterday.  My lips were purple.  I couldn’t stop shaking. No more showers.  I was frozen all day.”  Looking at mom right now her lips were still a little blue.  I could not believe that in mom’s weak condition she was speaking in full sentences and pretty clear. 

As I touched her hands mom pulled them back, “Julienne, your hands are freezing.  Put on gloves before you touch my hands.”  Ironically, today mom’s hands were warm and my hands were cold.  I dared not touch mom’s face yet until my hands got warmer.

“Mom, I brought our wheelchair from home so I can bring you to the beauty shop.”

“We don’t have to go anymore.”

“Mom, Joanne* is waiting for us.  You love to talk to her.  I will be very gentle with you.  I will make sure you stay warm.  I think you might feel better.”

“Julienne, this is the last one . . . no more showers, no more hair.”

“Mom, you are the boss.  You can tell Joanne* that you will not be seeing her anymore after today.”

“Julienne, I dreamt of Dad last night.  His back itched like mine does.”

“Mom, where were you both in your dream?”

“I was in bed, in my room. Dad was in the bed next to me.  His back itched.  I was trying to push the button for him, but no one came.  I tried to help. I told him Guido I’m trying.” 

“Mom, I am glad you tried to help him. I am sure dad was happy, too.”   I hugged mom; for some odd reason I was happy to hear Dad visited her last night.

Mom spoke again, “I tried to help him.”

“I am glad you did, mom that was great.”

 “God forgive me, Julienne, if I did him wrong.”

“Mom, God forgives you.  Dad was a good man.  He loved you very much.  He forgives you, too.”

“I can’t understand why he was in my room.”

“Maybe he was trying to come to you to comfort you.”

“I hope so.” 

Mom did not have the strength to pick herself up from the chair so an aide helped me carefully put mom in our transporter. 

“Mom, you probably did not notice, but today is the first day I am walking without crutches.”

“On yahh, good.”

To my surprise I was able to easily get mom into and out of my car with little to no discomfort.  Mom did not complain, but firmly said, “Take me for my hair and take me back.  No lunch today.”

“OK, Mom, you are the boss.”