Wednesday, 14 April 2010 -- Day 115 (128)

I guess b/c my girls have both had sinus infections these last two weeks, I'm reminded of some of my childhood illnesses. I had a lot of ear infections. Nowadays doctors would put tubes in the ears, but back then Mom would warm up mineral oil in a pan of water on the stove, test a few drops on her wrist, put three drops in one ear followed by a small piece of cotton. I'd have to lie w/ that ear facing up so the oil could work its way down into my ear canal. I can still feel the dull ache accented by sharp pains as it trickled down. Then it was time to repeat the whole process w/ the other ear. I would be allowed to chew two baby aspirin, and then I'd lie there on that brown sectional sofa tracing the satin-stitched flowers w/ my finger. I'd fall asleep and upon awakening the pain would be gone. Dr. Miller cured me again. Whenever I'd scrape my knee, she'd grab the peroxide, a cotton ball, and a Band-Aid, and say w/ her intercom voice, "Paging, Dr. Miller. Paging, Dr. Miller. Dr. Miller, please report to the bathroom."

Whenever I had a stomach ache, I'd creep quietly downstairs to my parent's bedroom and hover silently at the foot of their bed on Mom's side. Within seconds she would sense my presence and softly speak my name and ask, "Mari, what's wrong?" To which I would let out a bellowing "Waaahhh. My tummy hurts," and she'd take me to the bathroom, hold my hair back while I threw-up, and then give me a glass of water to rinse out my mouth. Understand that I had to pass the bathroom to get to their bedroom, but I always had to get to her first. Undoubtedly there were times when I caused her more work b/c I should've stopped at the bathroom first, but she never yelled or harrumphed in disgust. Always patient. Always understanding.

She was always there for me when I was sick, even when I was older, but I feel like I let her down b/c I wasn't there as much to help her when she was sick. It's expected that the roles become reversed and that grown children will care for elderly, ill parents. Even at 79 and sick w/ multiple cancers, she rarely seemed elderly or ill. The one time I do recall thinking just how sick she was, was at my Uncle Ervin's funeral, who passed away just a few weeks before Mom. Mom was always a classy dresser, but at his funeral her blouse was disheveled so I fussed over her like a mother fixing a child's collar. She didn't feel well enough to go out to the cemetery so I asked my sister-in-law to stay w/ her. I wish I would've stayed back instead b/c the next time I fussed over her was when she lay dying in a hospital bed and again when she lay in her casket. At the church on the day of Mom's funeral, Dad kept placing his hand on her forehead and matting down her hair so each time I'd go and fluff it up again. I'd never before touched a dead body, but I had to do it. And at that time I remember thinking back to a co-worker's funeral that I had attended two years prior and how her daughter fussed over the cloth that was draped over the casket. That single act of a daughter making sure her mother was presentable for her final journey into the sanctuary left me stunned, until I found myself hovering over my own mother, this time at her head rather than her feet. But there was no soft voice to gently call my name and ask me what was wrong. It was my turn to care for her.