Monday, October 23, 2006

Mommy programming

I had the funniest mental blip the other day. As I entered my mother's hospital room, I found myself thinking "I wonder if she'll think I look nice today?" Here I am, a mostly mature adult in my late 50's, a wife, a mother, a professional woman hoping my mommy, my half-blind dear old addled-brained mommy, thinks I look pretty. When I realized what I was thinking, I told myself that I didn't need my mother's approval to feel ok about my appearance. I happened to think I looked rather spiffy that day. Even so, I found myself pleased when she did compliment my appearance that day. Isn't that strange that we, correction I, still want good old mommy to pat my head and smile approvingly over what I say and do?

When Mother was readmitted to the hospital, I firmly resolved that there would be no more assisted living for her and the next move would be into a nursing home. As the days passed, I expected she'd start talking about going back to her apartment but she didn't. I went ahead and made arrangements to reserve her a room in the long term care unit and also to clear her stuff out of her apartment, but I didn't discuss any of this with her until today. She accused me of sneaking around behind her back. I played my trump card which was this was what her doctor recommended. That made her think for a moment, but she kept saying she was totally surprised even though minutes before she was saying she doubted she'd ever leave there. My little girl thinking came rushing to the forefront with its second guessing, its wondering whether mommy was mad or mommy was happy with what I had done. She seemed pleased when we showed her the new room. It is just down the hall from her current one, but once more she said I'd been doing all the planning behind her back. She's right. The mature me knows that this transition would likely cause some protest. Who would want to go to a nursing home if given the choice? I guess that's the rub: there is no choice. I made it and no matter how I sugar coat it, it is a lousy thing to have to do to your mommy.

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