For My Mom

My mom asked me to write a blog about her today. Currently, she is in the hospital where she is receiving treatment for pneumonia, COPD, and lung cancer. They say laughter is the best medicine, and all I can say is that she is not only doing her best to live up to that saying, but she also has kept me and the hospital staff in stitches (no pun intended) for most of her hospital stay. They say "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." I hope they are right. She is a most unique mother, and this is an unusual request -- not wanting to disappoint her, I have decided to oblige.

My mom is not your usual mother. She seldom baked, and certainly, never cookies. She could change out the toilet works, spray for bugs like a professional, clean gutters, and iron shirts on an old-fashioned mangle. And she could entertain like no other. Move over Martha Stewart, you've met your match! My parents had literally hundreds of friends and they all took turns having parties. I don't think there was a week-end in my life growing up that they weren't at someone's house or someone was over at our house. My mother could throw together a pile of crap, call it D'Knedrick (named after one of my father's patients), and have people rave over it.

More endearing than my mother's ability to entertain is what I refer to as her "-isms". There isn't a day that goes by when someone isn't full of "piss and vinegar", or she's so irritated she's saying, "oh bull's balls"! A few years ago, I learned that she is unable to eat a piece of cake unless it is lying correctly on the plate. Now what the hell is that? According to her, a piece of cake must be lying on its right side -- not left. I'm not sure why you can't just turn the plate around but according to her, it doesn't work. In fact, she called today and said, "you know, with all the shit I'm going through, I'm lying here thinking that my cake is lying on the wrong side on the plate." You gotta love that!

Her favorite show is The Wheel of Fortune and God help anyone who interrupts her watching it, including the President of the United States when he has a State of the Union address. She loves to read the National Enquirer, and no, the Star Magazine won't do. Something about their new format. I guess there's something about newsprint on her hands that makes it feel like a "real" newspaper. Oh, and let's not forget the Kleenex she has to have in her hand and the glass of water that she has on her nightstand when she goes to sleep at night -- a trait that has been handed down for generations, according to her. I can attest to that -- I do it and so do my kids.

The other day, she looked at her internist and declared, "You look like Richard Burton waiting for Elizabeth Taylor." I'm not sure what that meant but he was certainly flattered. An aide found a dime on her bedside table and pointed it out to my mom. Her response at 5 am? "Maybe I turned a trick in the night and forgot!" She has her oncologist blowing kisses at her as he leaves the room. She and the respiratory therapist share stories about Judge Judy (another of her favorite shows). Each and every person in that hospital will have a story about her to tell, I'm sure. She said to me yesterday, "Boy, I bet they think I'm a salty old bitch!" I doubt that...but I bet they will miss her when she goes home and chuckle a little as they pass by room 6713.