my mom hasn’t spoken words audible, understandable words in months… until…
daughter: (feeding my mom a nursing home vanilla ice cream cup) mom, do you want some more dessert?
little tobin: (face squished, mouth pursed, eyes eager) yes, a better one. (clear as day)
little tobin: jes, it’s you?
daughter: yup, it’s me mom…
little tobin: (inching her face close to mine) don’t be afraid, ok?
-okay cut me open and rip out my heart now, why don’t cha!-
(dementia will never kill her loving, caring, compassionate spirit… it may have taken her life, her mobility, the majority of her memories… but her core will always be there, continually looking out for others… a true testament to the woman & mother she is and always will be…)
nurse: your mom is one of the lucky ones…
daughter: hummm, interesting…(voice in my head: i will now back away so my fist cannot reach your face, you m*&$#$ fu**$#$ as$**$#!!!!)
nurse: lil, lil… how was your lunch?
little tobin: good… (pensively forming a thought) but the service sucked…
daughter: (i just realized i was the service…)
resident on unit: hey guy! guy! … hey guy!
daughter: (tap on my shoulder behind me…)
resident on unit: hey, hey guy! are you the one who brought me the ice cream last week?
daughter: noooo, i don’t think so…
resident on unit: wait, are you a guy?
daughter: nope, i’m sure not…
resident on unit: well, then obviously you didn’t bring me the ice cream… why didn’t you just say so!
daughter: (beyond no clue what to say… but once again, must grow out this hair!)
daughter: yup, i just gave a dog the finger… (and that just about sums up the last few days.)
(recent thought that popped into my head…)
daughter: why can’t my mom just be a normal dementia patient?…
(something has run horribly amok if this is what i wish for these days…is that even a thing?!)
little tobin: listen! you are crazy… i’m a jerk… but thank god we still have OUR LOOKS!
daughter: hallelujah!!! (hands in the air, whoop whoop!)
(a spot on observation by little tobin…)
daughter: hey mom, this is mr. d*, he’s here to help..you guys can chat about tattoos, he’s got a few…
little tobin: well then he’s a big pervert!
daughter: huh? but you have a tattoo…
little tobin: hey! who we talkin’ about, me or him?
daughter: well technically you…
ambulance lady: ok we’re going to head out now, if you have any concerns or want to chat, just give me a shout…
little tobin: well, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m pretty positive I already hate you…
daughter: annnddd we’re off!…
little tobin: hey, you think that guy is available?
daughter: god i hope not…
*(mr. d’s identity has been withheld to protect his privacy, because obviously i’m very concerned with personal privacy…)
daughter: hey, you’re going to be moving friday… that ok with you?
little tobin: yup, good! this place shits…
daughter: well said mom, well said…
(fingers crossed the next place doesn’t get the “shits” rating…)
how can i not find humor in all this when i look at my day planner for tomorrow and it reads as follows…
Wednesday FEB. 12th:
1. Cancer – 10am
2. Taxes – 3pm
3. Therapy – 5pm
(did i offend the scheduling gods?… i mean seriously, did i?…)
little tobin & daughter 