My mother is obsessed with death.  I think that may be one of the top ten signs of aging…you really start to enjoy a good death.  Mom’s favorite is cancer.  She pronounces it cane-sir, but we all know if anyone gets it they are doomed.  I don’t think she is aware of anyone having recovered from cancer, and if she has she’s forgotten them immediately because they obviously didn’t really have it. When Dad was living Mom devoted herself to his care.  Every breath, bit of food, sigh, shift and bowel movement was noted by my mother.  They both loved to talk about who was ill and what illness they had and how old the patient was.  I decided it was kind of a game.  It’s not enough just to win, you’ve got to try and beat everyone else.  The best way to do that it seems is to out live everyone, and the best way to do that is to avoid cancer.

For example, my mother has a friend I’ve never met who has a husband who has cancer.   Our recent conversation went something like this: “Did you know Charles has cancer?”  “I don’t think I’ve ever met him.”  “Oh yes you have.  Charles and Wanda.  You know.  They had  that Airstream trailer that year over at the lake when your Aunt Lucille was there and all the grandkids.  Sarah made that chocolate cake you liked so much.  I got the recipe.  You know.  Well he has cancer.”  “Well that’s too bad.”  “I don’t know what they’ll do.  They’ll probably have to sell their camper, maybe even their boat.  I don’t imagine he’s gonna feel like pulling anything behind that truck.  You know they’ve got that dualie.  Probably don’t get 10 miles to the gallon.  I don’t see how they can afford it what with things being what they are and all.  And they’re not blessed with children who will help out.  June still lives out in Oklahoma with that drunk she married after her boyfriend ran off and left her with those kids, and David, you know the one they always called Doc? Well he won’t have anything to do with his daddy ever since he got messed up with them drugs.  I still don’t know where I put that recipe.”  (Of course I have changed the names to protect the hillbillies, but it doesn’t much matter because I have no idea who she’s talking about anyway.)  “Well, Mom…I don’t know what to say.  Maybe between Medicare and any supplemental insurance they have it will be all right.”  “Oh you can’t count on Medicare!  Nadine had Medicare when she got sick and they had to put her in a home and Calvin ended up having to sell her house and every thing in it!”  “She died in the nursing home didn’t she?”  “Well, yes but it would have been nice to have left a little something for her kids.”

Now I remember Nadine and her house.  It was awful.  Everyone down on the flat was pretty much living in poverty and I don’t imagine her kids had many qualms about selling momma’s house or her things once she passed.  My mother doesn’t see things that way because my mother won. Nadine was younger than her when she died.  And she says it with such pride you would think it’s an accomplisment she herself is responsible for.  It doesn’t even matter that Nadine had COPD and died from lung disease before inhalers and steroids were commonly used to treat attacks it only matters that she was younger than my mother.

My mother’s best friend is in failing health.  She can’t be left alone, and her husband who is not much better off than his wife sees to her daily care.  The other day he went to get the mail and stopped to chat with a neighbor.  She became concerned about how long he had been gone and went to check on him.  She stumbled on the porch step and almost fell.  To hear my mother tell it, she damn near broke her neck and if they don’t get full time help for them soon they (I think they is their children) are going to find them both dead…and the shame of it is, I think you know my source by now, she’s younger than Mom. I pointed out that she hadn’t broken her neck, and in fact hadn’t even fallen.  That was right before the weather turned real cold up here.  Woman can still cut a mean glance.  When I asked her what, other than age, was wrong with the man she told me she thought he had lung cancer.    Now the man in question has been a closet smoker for years.  We all kind of figured that the smoking would kill him, but we thought it would be because she found out and put a permanent stop to it.  Nope.  We were wrong.  Mom has diagnosed lung cancer.  If you have ever smoked in your life and cough in front of my Mom you have lung cancer.  My Dad passed away April 12th of this year from complications arising from a stroke. The fact is that he had high blood pressure, emphysema, asthma, degenerative spinal problems, and blood clots throughout his tiny little body, but no force on this earth will ever convince my mother that the doctors all missed the fact that he had lung cancer.  He, however; was not younger than my mother.

My mother took care of my granny once she was incapable of taking care of herself.  She did a great job too, but it absolutely wore her down.  She has asked all of us to put her in a nursing home before she demands as much attention as granny did…and there are days when I find my little car driving towards retirement residences just to pick up a pamphlet or two.  I can’t do it though.  I promised my Dad I would always take care of Mom for him and he was always there for me so I’ll hang in there.  We recently found out that Mom’s brother-in-law and Daddy’s younger sister have lung cancer.  Mom’s gonna be busy for awhile. They have already had testing done and radiation starts next week.  Mom has said she will help my aunt if she needs it.  The brother-in-law lives to far away.  I can only imagine how many stories I’ve got coming my way.  Whether or not my aunt needs her help she will makes certain she is constantly updated.  You can think I’m as cold and calloused as you like, but I swear to you old southern women are running a race.  It’s not the get there first type either…you want to slide in dead cold last!  I’m putting all my money on Mom!!

1 Comment »

1. 

   I LOVE the Blogger.

   Comment by RCS — December 5, 2008 @ 12:56 pm

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