Mothers' Day 2014

Mom

The first year's worth of holidays after losing a loved one is not fun. Mom's passing last October was so close to the winter holidays, they seemed very surreal (especially spending Christmas in Florida). I'll be staying home this Christmas, mostly because I'm going to Las Vegas for Thanksgiving. Just the three of us going: Me, myself and I. No schedule while there (except the ticketed shows I'll be seeing); no agenda. Just some insane people-watching and the sights and food of Sin City. I can't wait.

Still, today has been the most difficult holiday, so far. Most of my friends spent the day with their Moms. I can't begrudge them that. I would have done the same, if I could. Picking out just an "Aunt" card for my father's dear sister was certainly tough, given the lack of them at the store. And not looking for several new books for Mom to read was even tougher. She was midway through the last book I bought her (for her birthday) when she passed. 

I think I've mentioned before that all my mother wanted to be was a mother. She wanted seven children, but ended up with just two. When my parents split up after 27 years, she picked herself up and reinvented herself as a savvy working woman, dating but never re-marrying. She even briefly entertained a hot Russian who was five years younger than I was. She settled down when her health started to fail in her late 50's, but she was kept active by her job and the few friends she had. But once she was forced to retire (the Cadillac dealer she worked for went out of business), she sort of gave up and I watched her steady decline with a very sad heart. When she went into the hospital for the last time, I still had hope she would pull through. I thought we'd have a few more years with her, at least. But it was not to be.

Mom loved kids and animals. She's feeding a lorakeet at the Lowry Park Zoo in Tampa in that picture, the last time we went to visit my sister together (I'm guessing 2009). A voracious reader, she often went through two or three novels a week; mostly thrillers and mysteries. The last book she finished was "Under the Dome" because she like the series. She loved "The Walking Dead;" "Falling Skies;" "Grey's Anatomy;" "Scandal;" "Mike and Molly" (a show I find terribly unfunny); "Rizzoli and Isles;" "The Closer"/"Major Crimes;" and "Castle" and she'd be really pissed if she knew she was missing the "24" mini-series. She couldn't spell if you held a gun to her head; she mangled pronunciations and was the Queen of Spoonerisms. She was quick to laugh at herself about it, too. She often got celebrity names confused (Morgan Freeman was always Morgan Fairchild) and while she said she never had a favorite movie, if forced to pick one, it would have been Doctor Zhivago. 

She taught my sister and I to cook and do laundry when we were young so we would never have to depend on her. Her cooking when we were kids was awesome, though she often admitted my marinara (based on hers), was better than hers (even though she didn't really like either version). She raised us to be kind to everyone and to not have prejudices. When I finally came out to her, she cried - not because I was gay (she already knew that) but because she thought I was afraid to tell her. She came to almost every show I was in or directed until it became physically too difficult for her to do so and was always supportive of my artistic endeavors. She could out-swear most truckers and occasionally let her own mother's prejudices sneak out, but never with real malice and never without an admonition from me.

It's only been seven months since she left us and I know it will be a long time before I'm really used to the fact that she's gone, but today was just a little bit harder. I miss her - a lot -  and am not ashamed to admit it.

If your Mom is still with you, I hope you at least called her today. If you and your Mom are estranged or if your Mom is also gone, I hope you got through today as painlessly as possible. 

Happy Mothers' Day, Mom. And Happy Mothers' Day to you and your mother, as well.

Comedian John Roberts (of the terrible "Bob's Burgers") nails the suburban mom on the head with his video "Mother's Day."* And while Mom wasn't nearly as whiny as Roberts, I can hear her voice in plenty of the things he says.

*The placement of the apostrophe in Mothers' Day causes tons of anxiety. I must insist that since it is a day for all mothers, it should come after the final 'S,' while there are those who insist on making it singular by placing the apostrophe before the 'S.' IMHO, punctuating it the latter way makes it about one mother only.  Bad form, indeed.

More, anon.
Prospero

Role Reversals

I've never really been upset by my own aging. While many of my opinions have changed over the years (well, a few) and my hair has gone mostly grey and silver and the bags under my eyes my have gotten a little bigger, I feel that for the most part, I am aging pretty well. 

No, the worst part of aging is watching our parents age...

Mom called me at the Day Job this morning (not an unusual thing) and left me a voice mail that said "Call me right away, please!" The tone of her message was not her usual. I called and after she picked up, there was some fumbling and then quiet. "Hello?" I said. "Mom?" Hello?" Then she said, "I think I'm going to call 911. I think I'm having a heart attack."

"Hang up and call them now! I'll be right there!" My boss had heard and simply said: "Go!"

I raced from work to find her already in the ambulance when I got there. She was having trouble breathing. Long time readers will remember our last ambulance trip to the hospital for an episode of diabetic shock, which ended up in a 5-night stay. This time it seems that congestive heart failure led to fluid retention resulting in respiratory distress. Mom was scared and upset and kept apologizing for upsetting me and disrupting my day. The E.R. nurses were terrific about getting her blankets, pillows and whatever else she needed. I went and got some lunch and made a few calls, then headed back to the hospital with her book, a hairbrush and some toiletries she requested.

She's spending at least one night in the ICU while they give her diuretics to get rid of the fluids. The ICU nurse (a very nice lady named Vivian) explained everything that was going on and assured me that she's going to be okay. I don't honestly expect her to be released until Sunday or Monday. She has yet to see her cardiologist (a 6'5" hottie who reminds me of Michael Crichton and whom she adores), though I expect I'll hear from him tomorrow. Everyone, from the EMTs to the attending physician, says she did the right thing by calling 911. And I must once again commend the members of the Levittown/Fairless Hills Rescue Squad and the staff at Lower Bucks Hospital who have all been wonderful.

I hate that I have to watch her deteriorate. This once strong-willed, speed-walking powerhouse of a woman is increasingly becoming a frail, little old lady and I hate it. Now I'm doubly worried about her upcoming shoulder-replacement surgery. Of course, this episode may have postponed that for a while...

Having seen my aunt care for my grandmother after her stroke, helped me prepare a bit for what was to come, but these ladies have some smart things to say for folks in my situation:

If you're parents are aging and/or ailing, I hear you. Don't ever be afraid to reach out. I'll listen and know what you're going through.

More, anon.
Prospero

Damage Control

This is what happens when you jump the curb at a shopping center. 

My poor mother, on her way to her weekly hair appointment yesterday afternoon, attempted to park in front of the dry cleaner's next door to her salon. The poor thing says she has no idea what happened. "The car (a 2006 Hyundai Santa Fe) just shot forward," she told me and the police. I suspect she accidentally stepped on the gas instead of the brake, though she swears she no feet on any pedal at the time. Luckily, no one was hurt and amazingly, her car suffered only minor damage: a fist-sized dent in the right fender; a broken parking light and a few scratches to the bumper. A true testament to the safety of the Santa Fe (I drive one, as well). And to top it all off, after the police and EMT's left, she went and had her hair done!

Of course, this isn't the first time this has happened. She did the same thing last summer at my house, running into my shed and destroying a small table and chair, that time admitting she accidentally put the transmission into 'Drive' instead of 'Reverse.' And a just few weeks ago, she grew very confused and upset in the parking lot of another local shopping center while we were out Christmas shopping. I ended up taking over for her and extricating the car from the corner in which she'd trapped herself, but she insisted on driving home and scaring the crap out of me while doing so.

Mom's only 70; hardly old by today's standards. But her health is not the best. You may remember an incident in February of 2010, where I found her in diabetic shock, resulting in a week's stay in the hospital. Severe arthritis in her knees makes walking difficult and 50+ years of heavy smoking have impacted both her heart and lungs. Her hearing is going, though she refuses to admit it and since retiring, these conditions only seem to have worsened. 

My first reaction to yesterday's accident was: "I'm taking away her keys." Of course, the mere mention of doing so sent her into paroxysms of anger and denial. But I am afraid she is a danger to herself and others and it's only a matter of time before someone gets seriously injured. So I am asking you, dear readers, what would or have you done in similar situations? Anyone else out there caring for an ailing, elderly and exceptionally stubborn parent?  Any advice you have is greatly appreciated.

More, anon.

Prospero

Happy Mothers' Day!

Shhh! That's a picture of Uncle P's real-life Mom. She'd kill me if she knew I had posted it. This was about two years ago in the Lorikeet exhibit at the Lowry Park Zoo in Tampa, sometime during the week before Mothers' Day.  My sister, the BIL and myself had our portraits taken for her that year. She cried. I'm guessing from the giant sunglasses, that she was traveling incognito for some reason.

Mom may be getting on in years, but she can be pretty amusing when she wants to be and even more so, unintentionally. She's the Queen of Mispronunciation and Spoonerisms. A few years ago while watching "America's Test Kitchen" on PBS, she malaproped the title as "Test Chicken," which it remains to this day. Mom has always had atrocious hand-writing; can't spell to save her life and pig-headedly refuses to believe that she is losing her hearing.

Mom changed our diapers; kissed our boo-boos; got down on the floor to play with us. Mom taught us to read at 4 (and got in trouble with both 1st grade teachers for doing so). She fought for us when she needed to and punished us when we were wrong. She told us to never say "can't" and taught us to never be afraid to voice our opinions (Hmmm - who'd have ever guessed that?). She refuses to acknowledge the existence of passive aggression ("That doesn't even make sense. How can that be a real thing?"), but she sure has the practice of using it down to a T. And of course, no one knows how to push buttons like our mothers. You can be married for 30 years and your partner will never be able to make you as crazy as your mother can (or get there in less time).

Oh, please don't get me wrong. I really love my mother. And my sister and I know both know she loves us. She's often told us that growing up, she only ever wanted to a be mother. She also says my sister and I are the best things to happen to her in her life, and that we're only good thing to come out of her 27-year marriage to a bitter jackass. And I know she only stuck it out for my sister and I. Because that's what moms do. Everything is centered forever and ever around the needs, wants and hopes of their children and they'll do whatever it takes to see that they get them.

Truth be told, my mom is pretty terrific. And if your mom is /was 1/10th as terrific as mine, you're a pretty danged lucky person! I mean, we all can't be raised by movie stars:

...or Warrior Queens:




...or Women of Faith:



I hope all of you appreciate your mom just a little more, after that..

Love you, Mom!

More, anon.
Prospero

Mom

It's Mother's Day. I was going to post a picture of my mother, but she'd kill me and I wouldn't want to upset her on her day.

Seriously, my mother is pretty terrific. All she ever wanted to be was a mother. She married my father at 18 and had me just a few months before she turned 20. It would be another 6 years before my sister came along. When we were kids, Mom loved snow days, because she got to spend the whole day with us. And she was practically ecstatic when our school district went on strike one September. It meant almost another whole month we could stay home and play with her. We would play board games, color, do paint-by-numbers and crafts. In fact, one of my earliest memories is playing with Colorforms at our dining room table in the tiny house my parents rented in Trenton, before we moved to the tiny house I grew up in, in Levittown.

When I was in High School, I had an opportunity to travel to France with my French class. Mom took a part-time job as a Playground Monitor at a local elementary school, so she could afford to send me. She often went without so my sister and I could have the things we wanted, whether it was designer jeans; tickets to the latest show in town or my sister's wedding. She taught us the basics of housekeeping - how to cook a meal; how to sew on a button; how to remove a stain from the carpet and (best of all) how to find a bargain. I swear, that woman would make a deal with devil if it meant saving money.

After my father finally left (what she often says is "...the second best thing to happen to me, after you kids."), she went to work full-time as a switchboard operator in a local department store, quickly working her way up to HR Assistant. After that, she landed a job with with mob-owned garbage disposal company. Then she worked for a BMW dealer and finally spent 19 years as the Customer Service Manager for a Cadillac dealer before finally retiring this past fall. And she had herself a rather wild time time during her late 40's and early 50's, even dating a Russian hottie who was only a few years older than me at the time. And when I finally worked up the courage to come out to her, she simply said "I knew" and cried - not because I was gay, but because she thought I didn't trust her enough to tell her sooner.

Lately, she's had her share of health issues and has slowed down quite a bit, but she can still make the best mashed potatoes you've ever tasted (though she has yet to teach me how to make her legendary pie-crust). These days, she spends most of her time reading (I can't remember a time when she didn't have a book with her), watching Oprah and The View and generally enjoying herself (when she isn't complaining about how she can't do all the things she used to be able to do).

For Mother's Day this year, I treated her to breakfast yesterday and bought her the latest novel from one of her favorite authors, as well as a beautiful new cushion for her favorite reading chair; all of which she loved. She'd be mightily embarrassed if she knew I was extolling her virtues in such a public venue, but her innate distrust of the Internet ensures she'll never find out (unless one of my friends that know her rats me out).

I hope all of you, dear readers, have as wonderful Mom as I do. And if you don't, just remember.. it could be worse:

Or you could have a Wicked Stepmother...

...in which case, I'm very sorry.



What a bitch!

Happy Mother's Day to all you 'Mothers" out there. I just hope you're all as great as mine.

More, anon.
Prospero

Too Pooped to Post

If you read last night's post, you'll know just how tired I am. I think in the last 48 hours, I've slept for maybe 4.

Two trips to the hospital to bring Mom stuff (books, glasses, etc.), an outrageously over-priced late breakfast at a local diner ($15.00 for an omlette, toast, coffee & juice) and cleaning up the mess left by the EMTs (blood stained sheets, etc.) have left me both physically and mentally exhausted.

I also want to spend some time working on my new screenplay, so I have decided that tonight will be another night off at Caliban's Revenge. I will be writing a full post tomorrow at The Zombie Zone. But for now, I'm going to wish you a very good weekend and thank all those who posted good wishes here and on Facebook for Mom. Hopefully, she'll be released tomorrow. I promise to keep you updated.

More, anon.
Prospero

In Praise of EMTs

Uncle P had himself quite a scare tonight. My mom has had her share of ups and downs with her health over the years, but over the last few days she hadn't been feeling well, suffering from dizziness, extreme weakness and a low-grade fever. Because she didn't feel well, she hadn't been eating much, no matter how many times I told her it was important for her to do so.

She called me at work today to tell me had fallen and had lain on the floor for over an hour before she could get up (she later admitted she may have blacked out). I wanted to call an ambulance then and there, but she told me "Don't you dare!" in her typical German/Scotch pig-headed way. She told me she was going to take a Vicodin for pain (a less-than successful knee replacement about 6 years ago has left her in chronic pain, which was exacerbated today by her efforts to get off the floor) and then lie down for a while.

When I checked in on her after work, I found her in bed, moaning and writhing, her pupils as big as saucers and not responding when I tried to talk to her. I immediately called 911 and asked for an ambulance, thinking she was either having a stroke or some kind of seizure. The 911 operator was a wonderful woman who stayed on the phone with me until the ambulance arrived, doing her best to keep me calm while advising me on what to do.

The EMTs arrived quickly (though it seemed to take forever, it was probably less than five minutes), took one look at her and asked "Is she a diabetic?" When I said "Yes," they did a quick blood test and found her blood sugar at a frighteningly low 26! They administered a massive amount of glucose and she quickly rallied, responding (finally) to the questions they asked her. They asked her her name, my name and the year, all of which she got right, though she stumbled a bit on her date of birth and my father's name. Then they asked what she eaten today. She said "A banana and some chocolate." Not eating + oral diabetes meds = damn scary low blood sugar. They told me I had gotten there just in time.

Of course, upon being told she was going to the hospital, she balked, but they told her she had no choice. She was still weak, and wasn't always making sense as they wheeled her into the ambulance. After a quick call to my sister, I raced to the hospital and filled out the forms, still rather flustered. When I did get in to see her, she was still suffering from some tremors and couldn't remember my answers to questions she had to ask more than once. She was admitted at least overnight, until they got her stabilized and I finally went home, exhausted and wound-up, though relieved that she was going to be okay.

She called me about an hour ago to tell what room she was in, and actually sounded like herself for the first time in several days. She's scheduled to have a consultation with an endocrinologist in the morning, and it looks like she's going to be fine. But I have to be honest and tell you that finding her like that was one of the scariest moments of my life.

While I rarely get this personal on Caliban's Revenge, I never got the chance to thank the EMTs who did such an excellent job and probably saved her life, so I thought the best way to thank them would be to do so publicly. The two members of the Levittown-Fairless Hills Rescue Squad were professional, expedient, polite and responsive while Uncle P was panicked and just a little more than upset.

Support your local Rescue and Fire squads, folks. They do wonderful and important work. You never know when you might need them (and I truly hope you never do) and they deserve your thanks and support. Mom is going to be alright, thanks to those two terrific EMTs. And even though I may have a hard time getting to sleep tonight (adrenaline will do that you), I will sleep a little bit better knowing there are folks out there ready to help when its needed.

And I want to thank you, dear readers, for putting up with this most personal ramble. Writing is always therapeutic for me, and putting this rather surreal experience into written words has helped me process the events and get them out of my system.

Back to more movies and nonsense (hopefully), anon.
Prospero