When the stars align and MaMere is having a good day on Sunday we take her to church with us. I can tell when she wakes up if it is a day for church or a day for someone to stay home with her. On a "good day for church" she comes out of her room smilig, blues eyes sparkling. On a "not so good day for church" she comes out of her room scowling, muttering curse words and waving her skinny arms at all of us. "I'm not really up yet, I just have to pee and then I'm getting back in the damn bed" she says as she shuffles to the bathroom. I know God understands, He doesn't want her ruining it for everyone else.
When we do take her with us she shuffles along smiling at everyone and acting like she is the model of good behavior. She says "I'm proud to meet you" when she is introduced to people, which is an old person expression. All of the residents at the facility she used to live in say the same thing. I'm not exactly sure why they are proud when they meet someone, I'm going to have to look up the origin of that expression.
Church members will tell her how sweet she is and she looks at me as if to say "see, I'm still smart enough to fool all these people." I roll my eyes at her and she grins bigger. Suckers.
One Sunday we had a youth fundraiser after church, complete with lunch and bingo. MaMere is settled with her bingo cards and is in rare form. She is ready to WIN. She has 4 cards in front of her which I know is a problem but she insisted. I'm not going to arm wrestle the bingo cards away from her... at least not in front of everyone. Let the games begin.
"Bingo" she screams, waving her skinny arm. She hands the card to my daughter who has to take it up to the front to be checked.
"I'm sorry, no bingo," one of the youth announces over the microphone.
"Well damn, I was sure I had it." I let it go because if I call her on it she will say twice as many curse words trying to convince me that she hasn't said a curse word.
She does her best impression of Bill Murray in "Groundhog Day" and does the exact same thing two more times. My daughter is losing her patience and stomps to the front of the room to have MaMere's cards checked.
"No bingo." "No bingo." My mom looks at me and rolls her eyes and sighs loudly, as if there is a secret Bingo conspiracy against her.
MaMere keeps marking her cards.... she stops and opens her mouth... "Don't say it" Laurel says under her breath. Too late, it's already coming out of her mouth.... "BINGO" she screams. "And this time I really have it!" My daughter makes no move to get up and my mother gets irritated. "Take it up there, I really have it this time. I was paying attention." Laurel looks at me and shakes her head no. "Just take it up there Laurel." "Mom, it's embarrassing, she doesn't have a bingo." I pull mom rank because I don't want to have to take the card up to the front. After all, I have to give her a shower so I figure Laurel can handle the embarrassment of the not-a-bingo card.
Laurel makes it obvious to everyone in the fellowship hall that she is not happy about this 4th trip to the front. She stomps her feet and sighs loudly, jaw set and eyes reflecting her irritation. I don't know where she gets these traits.....
Now the bingo callers are irritated.... my mother has completely disrupted the flow of the game with her continuous false bingos. "I'm sorry, NO BINGO." Laurel shoots daggers at me with her eyes and puts her hands in the air. She is done. My mother does not take this well, she was CERTAIN she had a bingo. We quickly go from a "good day for church" to a "not so good day for church." "Well goddamn it, this is so fucking frustrating" she screams out loud, smacking her hand on the table. Time slows down for a minute and I feel myself get hot. My vision tunnels... I see my kids visibly recoil and look for the nearest hole to fall into. I see the faces of the little kids, looking to see who is causing the disruption, the startled looks on the faces of other church members. I make a mental note to convert to a religion where speaking is forbidden. Then I see Jesse's face in my peripheral vision, he is trying hard to keep from laughing out loud. A split second later everyone recovers and someone starts laughing, then others laugh. Time speeds back up again. The bingo caller quickly calls out another number and the game moves on. I take all but one of MaMere's bingo cards and she keeps playing like nothing happened.
Afterwards several people came up to tell me how "funny" my mom is. "Yes, she's a real piece of work..." One lady told me that was the best laugh she had in a long time and she just "looooooves MaMere." (Great, you sit with her next time.)
As we are leaving my mom says goodbye to people on her way out, smiling sweetly like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. She has no idea she just dropped an f-bomb in church so she is happy as a clam in sand, oblivious to embarrassment, impervious to shame. I guess that's freeing in a way. I am just thankful that I go to a church where the members will smile at her after an f-bomb and not judge her. Thank you baby Jesus for grace.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Where's my damn remote?
OK, I am the worst blogger ever.... the longer you delay something the easier it is to keep delaying. I went through a period of second guessing my decision to publicly chronicle my mother's battle with the forgetness disease. This illness that is rarely named, not because we are afraid to say it, but because she doesn't remember she has it. We let her have that illusion. Then comes the moments, farther and farther apart, when she looks at me with fear in her blue eyes and she whispers "This is so humiliating. I hate this." And then the moment is gone and she shuffles away, looking for someone to sneak up on and scare or trying to find her remote control.
The remote control is an object of great power at the Diaz house. My mother uses it in a vain attempt to connect to a world she no longer understands. She will often settle on a spanish station and turn the volume up as loud as it will go, as if she will suddenly understand spanish if only the sound is loud enough. I asked her why she was watching spanish novellas when she didn't speak spanish. She thought about it a minute and said, "I guess I forgot that I didn't speak spanish." That makes perfect sense to her and is actually a pretty good answer.
Jesse discovered the power of the remote one day when he and MaMere got in a fight about her physical therapy. Jesse is a saint, in case I haven't said it let me say it again: the man is a saint. He does physical therapy with MaMere on a daily basis. She does her leg lifts and sit/stand, and uses her three pound weights while Jesse sits with her physical therapy folder in his lap, a Jack and Coke in one hand. (I have it on video, the irony does not escape either of us.)
Some days she refuses to exercise and Jesse, bless his heart, tries to use logic to convince her. It goes like this:
M- "I'm not doing it. I'm a 70 year old woman and dammit I don't have to do anything I don't want to do."
J- "You have to exercise mom, this keeps you up and moving."
M- "I move just fine, and besides the nurse/doctor/physical therapist (this changes with the day) told me I don't have to do it anymore."
J- "No, they told you THEY don't have to come anymore as long as YOU do your exercises everyday."
M-"I'm not doing any goddamn exercises and you can't make me." This usually ends with her kicking her feet as she sits on the side of her bed and her slippers go flying off.
Jesse gets his feelings hurt, MaMere sulks, exercises eventually get done, but it takes an emotional toll on Jesse and MaMere.
This daily ritual began again one day with MaMere refusing and Jesse cajoling. MaMere changed her argument though and it proved to be her downfall in the fight against physical therapy. "I'm not doing it, I am watching my damn shows" she yelled as she waved her remote at Jesse. The lightbulb went off in a blinding flash. "Fine," Jesse said as he grabbed the bobbing remote. "When you decide to do your exercises you can have this back." He left her room and hid the remote from her and a standoff ensued. MaMere severely misjudged Jesse's resolve in this matter and after a short time she broke.
"Ok, fine. I'll do the goddamn exercises if I can have my damn remote back," she said, waving a skinny arm at Jesse.
"Mom, this isn't for me, it's for your benefit."
"I just said I'll do it, let's get the damn show on the road. I'm missing my damn shows."
One night Jesse and I were watching TV in the family room. MaMere came out of her room and loudly announced that she is walking laps around the house and will we please give her remote back when she has done enough laps. She stands straight and walks at a fast clip, looking over to make sure we are watching her. "Did you take her remote again?" I asked Jesse. "No, we did exercises earlier, I don't know what she's talking about." A beat later I said "Should we tell her we don't have it?" "Wait until she does ten laps around the house, she needs to walk anyway."
Paybacks are a bitch.
The remote control is an object of great power at the Diaz house. My mother uses it in a vain attempt to connect to a world she no longer understands. She will often settle on a spanish station and turn the volume up as loud as it will go, as if she will suddenly understand spanish if only the sound is loud enough. I asked her why she was watching spanish novellas when she didn't speak spanish. She thought about it a minute and said, "I guess I forgot that I didn't speak spanish." That makes perfect sense to her and is actually a pretty good answer.
Jesse discovered the power of the remote one day when he and MaMere got in a fight about her physical therapy. Jesse is a saint, in case I haven't said it let me say it again: the man is a saint. He does physical therapy with MaMere on a daily basis. She does her leg lifts and sit/stand, and uses her three pound weights while Jesse sits with her physical therapy folder in his lap, a Jack and Coke in one hand. (I have it on video, the irony does not escape either of us.)
Some days she refuses to exercise and Jesse, bless his heart, tries to use logic to convince her. It goes like this:
M- "I'm not doing it. I'm a 70 year old woman and dammit I don't have to do anything I don't want to do."
J- "You have to exercise mom, this keeps you up and moving."
M- "I move just fine, and besides the nurse/doctor/physical therapist (this changes with the day) told me I don't have to do it anymore."
J- "No, they told you THEY don't have to come anymore as long as YOU do your exercises everyday."
M-"I'm not doing any goddamn exercises and you can't make me." This usually ends with her kicking her feet as she sits on the side of her bed and her slippers go flying off.
Jesse gets his feelings hurt, MaMere sulks, exercises eventually get done, but it takes an emotional toll on Jesse and MaMere.
This daily ritual began again one day with MaMere refusing and Jesse cajoling. MaMere changed her argument though and it proved to be her downfall in the fight against physical therapy. "I'm not doing it, I am watching my damn shows" she yelled as she waved her remote at Jesse. The lightbulb went off in a blinding flash. "Fine," Jesse said as he grabbed the bobbing remote. "When you decide to do your exercises you can have this back." He left her room and hid the remote from her and a standoff ensued. MaMere severely misjudged Jesse's resolve in this matter and after a short time she broke.
"Ok, fine. I'll do the goddamn exercises if I can have my damn remote back," she said, waving a skinny arm at Jesse.
"Mom, this isn't for me, it's for your benefit."
"I just said I'll do it, let's get the damn show on the road. I'm missing my damn shows."
One night Jesse and I were watching TV in the family room. MaMere came out of her room and loudly announced that she is walking laps around the house and will we please give her remote back when she has done enough laps. She stands straight and walks at a fast clip, looking over to make sure we are watching her. "Did you take her remote again?" I asked Jesse. "No, we did exercises earlier, I don't know what she's talking about." A beat later I said "Should we tell her we don't have it?" "Wait until she does ten laps around the house, she needs to walk anyway."
Paybacks are a bitch.
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