My Mother and I had a special relationship. It had it's ups and downs, like any other relationship, especially one between a parent and a child, but for the most part, it was and will remain one of the best relationships in my life. I have two sisters. I was born 17 and 11 years behind them. My parents divorced when I was young, making my relationship with my Mother unique in that it was almost one on one for most of my life.
My teenage rebellion was mild and looking back, it centered more around typical teenage depression and/or insecurities than true rebellion. Our family did not match the traditional Cleaver-Brady-Cosby molds that were misrepresented on TV, so I felt it was abnormal. In reality, our family was relatively healthy. Despite the age differences, and single parenting, we all did ok. And it was all due to the strength of our Mother.
After veterinary school, I had moved back home with my husband. I had every other Tuesday off, and that became our mother-daughter day. It became very routine, a little shopping, especially at the consignment shops and thrift stores, and a nice lunch.
My husband and I were driving through town one day, and decided to stop in for a brief visit. We lived almost an hour away. There was no answer on the door. Her car was in the driveway, so she had to be home. I could not imagine any reason that my mother would not answer. She wasn't a walker, so if she was gone, so would her car.
I used my house key to unlock the door. My Mom was laying on the floor in the dining room, unable to get up. She was conscious, but unable to muster the strength to get up on her own. My Mom was 73, but a very young 73. She was known for hiking around New York City for 12 hours in heals without so much as a complaint. I could not remember her ever being sick, and it was absurd to ever think of her as weak or frail, yet here she lay unable to rise on her own, the strongest woman I have known.
I immediately helped her up. I was panicked to have seen her that way, and relatively irrational and in shock over the occurence. Of course my Mother refused to admit there was a problem, insisting that she was fine. Perhaps she had tripped over the toaster and hit her head on the table leg which made her too dizzy to get up. That may have been what had happened, but there was more going on than we could have guessed, but we didnt find out the truth for some time.
She sat comfortably on the couch while I panicked quietly inside. I called my oldest sister. I don't know why I did not or could not call the ambulance, and this inability to act rocked me at my core, and still does. I can only assume that in a moment of stress or shock the hierarchy within the family took over. Despite my chronological age, I was the baby and this fact rendered me unable to make the call. I also knew how angry my Mom would be with me if I did call an ambulance, so I called my sister, who called an ambulance, and rushed right over.
Once in the emergency room, there was bloodwork, x-rays, urinalysis, and all sorts of tests run. She was kept overnight. The next day, they reported that all was normal with the exception of the possibility of a urinary tract infection. I asked the doctor about a strange lump that we discovered on her left inner elbow. "That's just a cyst," he said after a brief visual inspection.
My Mom was not a frail person. I had noticed that she didn't appear to be eating much, so asked the doctor if it was possible that she could be suffering from depression. Her best friend had been away for several weeks, and I thought perhaps with being retired, and having her usual social buddy out of town, the loneliness might bring about depression, causing her to not eat, resulting in her not having her usual strength.
Immediately, my Mom scoffs, "What do I have to be depressed about?!"
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