While approaching the tail end of Zoom town budget meeting number one and awaiting Zoom town budget meeting number two, a CRAAAASH was heard in the kitchen. SHIIIT. I ran out to find Mom, face first on the ground, holding a spatula in one hand and a whisk in the other. “Are you OK dear?” Dad asked. I could tell that she was not. With a quick neck assessment, Mom got herself up to a sitting position. Blood poured from her chin and the one inch gash told me stitches were most definitely in her future. “Just get me a bandaid. Just GET ME A BANDAID!” she demanded. “No, Mom, no can do. This one needs stitches.” and I punched in a quick 9-1-1. “DON WHAT IS SHE DOING? TELL HER TO HANG UP!” Mom was not pleased with my decision, I wasn’t messing around. When paramedics arrived, they confirmed what I already knew. Stitches. “Make sure they do a CT scan just to check for any neck or head injuries” I instructed “She hit hard.” With a couple of hands and the assistance of burly arms, Mom was back up on her feet in no time and walked herself to the ambulance. “Steph, tell Helena I’m fine!” Mom yelled from the back of the ambulance bay, hand holding gauze to her chin but clearly more worried about our neighbor’s concerns. “OK, Mom, I will!”
As I came back inside, Dad reached for his keys to follow the ambulance. “Oh no, we can’t go, Dad” I told him. “They won’t let us in because of the virus.” This coronavirus is really putting a damper on our ability to enact bedside manner mode in a matter of minutes. I assured him that I would alert my sister in Weymouth and that she would handle the crisis on her end. “We’ll just have the sausage and pasta casserole that’s about to come out of the oven and wait to hear how she makes out.” And that’s what we did. We had dinner and commenced our evening routine, sans Mom and shaken up. No matter how many falls and mishaps, you never do get used to it. But you sure do get used to going into crisis mode real quick. That we got down pat.
When dinner ended, I began budget meeting number 2. Now, I chose to be a Spanish teacher for a reason. Math is just not my thing, politics elude me, and budgets are, well, budgets. The only thing that could have made this meeting better was if it were taking place in actual reality so that I could at least get some socialization from it. A budget meeting on Zoom? I’d rather suck on tongue depressors at a doctor’s office. But you have to perk up and at least pretend to understand what’s going on when jobs are on the chopping block. Stressed about work and worried about my wounded wonder of a mother was just not a good combination for a Tuesday night. Our divine fortune of having siblings so close by and ready to jump into action is priceless. After getting the kids to bed, hearing that the budget had been approved, and finding out Mom had been cleared for takeoff, I decided to breathe and have a second glass of wine. Though I’m not a big Christian and consider myself more a follower of Tao than anything, I went to bed that night saying “Thank you, Jesus. Thank you.” I slept like a baby, the first time in days.
The next morning, I awoke to see that my Mom had come back home and anxiously awaited her to get up so I could assess the damage. Two hours later, she arose with a purple chin and thirteen stitches poking out. From fractures to head wounds all in the span of several months, she just keeps plowing through and clearing every hurdle that comes her way and this absolutely includes the current pandemic situation. Ocean State Job Lot, Home Depot, Target, Stop & Shop, CVS, and Nesralla’s farm stand have all benefited from her in your face approach to COVID-19. She is not to be trifled with, no sir. The Tank; such a rough but accurate nickname. She shrugged off this new injury like the no big whoop it was and tossed back a couple Advil with her morning coffee. Attagirl.
Although the year ended with a stressful and painful bang, I have to say that I have finally developed my own version of Mom’s tankesque way of being that I have admired for so long. So many obstacles have popped up over the last couple years and by watching Mom confront her own challenges, I have developed a unique brand of that strength. Things knock me down from time to time and I have had to accept a certain level of defeat on occasion. Humbled by life’s downs, I have learned to take punches as they come and accept that though there is always uncertainty, my rebound is more than likely. I’m kind of like a human Weeble Wobble because, like the commercial says, “Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down!”
As Mom sat on the kitchen floor awaiting the paramedics a couple weeks ago, blood dripping from her chin, she looked up at me and said “Can I tell you just how much I hate myself?” I couldn’t help but laugh because she had every right to say that in that moment. So many falls this year it’s hard to keep track; I now want to invest in suction cup shoes. “I know you do, Mom. I know you do.” I said, knowing that there was very little truth in either of our admissions. When there’s so much desire to keep moving forward despite it all, that is not hate of oneself but love of one’s life. So much to live for and love through the ups, downs, and stitches along the way.