Who Knew?

By Jody Worsham

All rights reserved for anything alcoholic

My 91 year old mother hurt her knee and ended up in the hospital. Hospitals are dangerous germ filled places for people in the 90-99 age group. So many check in but never check out, pneumonia being the usual culprit. I was worried that she would lie there and with shallow breathing catch pneumonia so I drove the six hour round trip to check on her.

I need not have worried on that score. When I got to her floor, I didn't have to ask which room was hers. Those lungs were filled to capacity and bellowing out orders to everyone. She thinks the hospital is some kind of resort.

I spent the entire day with her or someone who had possessed her body. The nurse had given her a vicodin for pain before I got there and Mother then talked non-stop for five hours. I felt like I was watching the weather channel, same thing repeated every hour.

During her five hour ramble, she talked, more than once, about the ninety-five year old twins that had lived across the hall from her for several months. They didn't stay there long. They moved to a townhouse just across the drive-way from my mother's assisted living facility. I have my suspicions as to why. Mother can't cross the drive-way.

Then she complained that she had tried to reach some lady by phone. She wanted her to come and help her clear out a closet. I said "Well, Mother maybe she couldn't hear the phone ring." "Oh, she can hear it ring. She's nine-seven but she can hear." "Mother, you're calling a ninety-seven year old woman to come and help you clean out a closet?" "Well, I'd pay her."

These stories and several others that my brain cannot recall alternated along with her concern for her swollen knee for three hours. The doctor had aspirated the knee, tested, and performed an MRI. We were just waiting for the results. She had already made a couple rounds with her walker with two nurses in tow so I wasn't too worried about the condition of her knee at the present. My sister and I were concerned about what had caused the knee to collapse. If it was just worn out and the collapse was spontaneous, then we had to consider getting Mother a motorized scooter…a very scary thought. Mother had given up driving when she was 85 because of the other crazy drivers on the road. "I've never had an accident," she proudly claims. My sister and I exchange that "But how many have you caused?" look we share.

By hour four of the vicodin trip to fantasy land, I headed for the nurses' station. "I need drugs," I gasped. "For your mother?" They didn't even ask who my mother was or her room number. I guess they had seen that dazed look before. "No, for me. " "Sorry, your mother's nurses on the night shift already took all the drugs not under lock and key. Maybe if you leave the room she will fall asleep." I staggered back down the hall.

By hour four and five minutes, I went in search of a diet coke since the only alcohol I could find was the disinfecting kind, tempting but reason reined temporarily. When I came back, I slid with my back against the wall quietly down the side hall and leaned in to see if Mother was asleep. Just at that moment, she was leaning out of her bed peeking around the corner and caught me. Even at ninety-one, I can't slip anything past her.

After five hours six minutes and eleven seconds, the doctor appeared with the results. "The tests showed this is just a temporary injury. She must have banged it on something." At that point Mother vehemently and loudly proclaimed that she did not bang it on anything.

After talking with my sister, I learned that the Mavericks had played the same night she experienced "knee failure". It was a close and exciting game. Mother is an avid sports fan and armchair coach. The pieces began to fall into place. Mother would never admit it, but I'm sure Dirk was glad she was not at courtside when he missed that shot. Unfortunately, I don't think Mother's knee missed the side table.

When my head stops spinning and my blood pressure drops below 300, I will call my sister and see how Mother is doing tonight. I'd call the hospital myself, but I think the Mavericks are playing game six tonight and nothing interferes with Mother and sports.

I enjoyed the silent three hour ride home. I didn't even play the radio. I was afraid I would catch the Mavericks game. I was afraid if Dirk made a dumb shot, Mother might fall out of bed and hurt her other knee and by the time I turned around and got back to the hospital, she would be re-entering vicodin land. Mothers!

The Attack of the Refrigerator

By Jody Worsham Nov. 2010

All rights reserved for a Whine Cellar

If you live to be 90 there are going to be some challenges. Our ninety-year-old mother is an avid sports fan. She played professional basketball in the 1930's and to this day when she watches games on TV, she dresses in her favorite team's jersey, has the team throw emblazoned with their logo across her legs, and her Diet Coke in the team sanctioned koozie.

She insists on having more clothes than will fit in her assisted living closet. My sister and I asked her why she needed so many clothes. She said "People talk if they see you in the same outfit during the same month." "Mother, most of these people can't remember what they ate for breakfast." "Well, I can: toast, scrambled eggs and bacon." We bought two of those rolling laundry type hangars to cram into her tiny apartment. Every outfit must have a matching pair of shoes and jewelry. The jewelry we could handle, but finding orthopedic shoes in every color in the rainbow was something else. We resorted to spray paint.

Most of these challenges we have managed to handle but the attack of the refrigerator caught us both off guard. My sister was 2,000 miles away when the nurse at Mother's assisted living facility called her. "Hum, your mother fell. She's alright. She will be a little sore….the…uh…refrigerator door… fell… off…and…uh…your mother fell …back." "WHAT?" "Thedorfellofftherefrigeratorandknockedyourmotherover….but she's ok."

Fortunately Mother did not suffer any broken bones, however, when my sister called me three days later it was Houston, we have a problem! Our mother had decided that the refrigerator was out to kill her. No amount of logic, reasoning, or physical evidence of rusted hinges would convince her otherwise. The refrigerator was out to get her. She took everything out of the refrigerator and placed it on the kitchen cabinets. We talked with the facility manager about getting another refrigerator. My brother-in-law has been checking the hinges daily but still Mother is convinced that somehow during the night when no one is watching, the refrigerator will sneak up on her and do her in.

My menopausal sister was at the end of the chain our mother was jerking, but I knew just what to do. There are certain advantages to being a Medicare mom. It has only been three years since my five-year-old was in the terrible two's. There is a definite connection between the Terrible Two's and the Nerve Wracking Nineties. There was only one solution. Get her mind on something else.

Mother had commented recently on how clear a flat screen television was at some restaurant where my sister had taken her. We had decided then that we would get her a new super large TV for Christmas. Santa is going to make an early delivery.

I had ordered the TV on line and had it delivered to my house so we could surprise Mother. With this newest challenge, my sister told Mother she was getting a new TV, a really big clear one. She would be able to see Dirk Nowitzki up close and really good. She would be able to read the scores at the bottom of the screen without having to get up and walk up to the screen, like she would need to check any stats on a ball game she was watching. In that respect, her mind was as sharp as it was when she was twenty. That was all that was needed. Her mind was now on Dirk Nowitzki.

That was on a Wednesday. I told my sister I would bring the TV and the cabinet to Mother's on Sunday. "NO, I can't wait that long. I'll make the three hour drive today; in fact I'm in the truck now headed your way. I think there is a game tonight and she wants her TV NOW". My sister made the three hour drive to my house in record time without getting a ticket. We loaded the TV, the cabinet I had refurbished to hold it, the chocolate cookies I had made, and she was off on the return trip. Total time as my house 8 minutes and 13 seconds.

Later that night I called my sister to see how things were going. "Great! The refrigerator is no longer a threat. Mother has stopped relating the story of the Attack Refrigerator to anyone who walks by her door. She has her Mavericks jersey on, her throw blanket, and her koozie all ready to watch the game tonight AND she even opened the refrigerator and put the cookies you made inside without using the Grab-it stick we got her to pick things up off the floor." This was real progress. "So the refrigerator is no longer an issue?" I asked. "Not the refrigerator. We'll have to see what challenge tomorrow brings."

Todays' challenge met and conquered, now on to the next. When your mother is 90…that's a good thing!