Delta40
07-23-2011, 12:46 PM
I know she wants to tell me a story but I have just spent the most tiresome day at work, listening to the whining complaints of customers who think they have the right to call me names. By 3.00pm the smile I paste on my face with my makeup slides downwards and collects on my blouse. Its part of life, my Mother tells me. We start off enthusiastic and hopeful but it cannot last. I hate it when she is right. She spent years working in a bar and I guess with the kind of customers she served, I really don't blame her but it doesn't mean my day should end up the same.
But work is work and we take it as it comes. So when I bus it across town to visit her in the home, I do my best to keep the last bit of happy me energy on and smile at the old lady disjointed by a whole list of ailments. Rheumatism, widows hump, arthritis, and basic old age curling up at the toes and fingers.
There is a pervasive smell of urine mixed with disinfectant. I wonder idly amongst the bodies slumped around, watching The Young and the Restless and top volume, who the culprits are.
Her smile is often more brighter than mine when she sees me, which is odd since her mind is a screwed up as the rest of her. You’d think her retreat into childhood, the girlish smile would lift my spirits but instead, it weighs me down. She’s going downhill and I don’t understand why she smiles at me so warmly and yet her eyes are vacant. It doesn’t make sense to me and it’s a bit painful.
I kiss her curly grey hair. ‘Hi Mum. How you doing today?’ She looks flustered as if I asked the hardest of questions and perhaps, in her state, it really is. The nursing staff greet me and while my Mum fumbles over the thoughts in her head, they tell me just how she is doing.
‘She’s not had a good day today. Several times she got quite agitated and started shouting. Melanie caught her when she tried to rise out of her chair.’ I see the table is pressed right up against her tummy to prevent her from getting up so quickly.
‘I’m fine! Where’s my bonnie girl?’ She looks round and sees me and there is a flicker of recognition as some memory passes through on its way out. I’ve never been her bonnie girl so I really don’t know who she is talking about but that look of warm love is good enough for me so I sit down next to her and stroke her gnarled hand.
‘I’m here. Your bonnie girl.’
‘Thank God for that. I’ve missed you so much. You know you’re always in my thoughts don’t you?’ I nod and tell her it’s okay but tears trail down her wrinkled face.
‘It’s not okay. I know what’s happening to me. They think I’ve lost my marbles but I know you will do something about it.’
Not in her lifetime. I’m dog tired and wish there was more I could do for Mum but reality bites like a b itch and I was left with no choice but to put her in here. There are others to think about. My children for instance, my job. I can’t put them aside and become the full-time caretaker of this aged version of me.
My daughters are upset that Grandma is in a nursing home. ‘How would you like it if we put you in one of those places when you couldn’t look after yourself anymore?’ They slap me with accusations of being uncaring and selfish and I can’t seem to get it through their heads the truth. It’s not that simple. They’re too young to appreciate the responsibility of looking after an old person and I can’t rely on them either. Imagine having to give up their social life for Grandma! No, definitely no easy solution here.
‘Bonnie, tell me that story again.’
‘What story Mum?’
‘You know. The woman who was murdered in Fremantle.’ I have no idea what she is talking about and wonder how on earth to improvise.
‘Well her husband died in a tragic fishing accident and she had no income so she went down to the harbour and scaled fish for coins. One of the wharfies took a liking to her but she kept knocking him back. Then she went missing and about a month later her body was found in the hills.’
Mum’s head shakes from side to side. ‘You’re lying again! I always know when you’re lying.’ That’s true. Even when I was a little girl, she knew if I wasn’t telling the truth. Looking back, I’m sure it something to do with my body language. A turned in foot, swaying from side to side, hands locked behind my back. ‘Did you do this?’
‘No Mummy. Honest.’
Then she would step back and watch me, only for a moment before making her mind up. She was a sharp smacker and even now I can remember the fear churning in my gut as she flipped me across her knee. I wriggled, screaming, trying to protect my bottom but she thrashed me with her slipper then locked me in my room.
‘I’m not lying Mum. I just don’t know the story. Why don’t you tell me what it was about?’
A mischievous smile plays on her lips. It reminds me of the nights she got drunk with her friends. For the first time in a while, she actually looks like the full deal so I leave her to her memories and just wait, drumming my fingers lightly on the table. It’s hard to keep a flow of conversation going with people like Mum. Other residents seem to be constantly on the move, muttering or babbling nonsensical stuff which might make sense to them but it is what put them in here in the first place.
Mum looks at me. The smile slips off her face, as if she is disappointed to see me but then I notice how vacant her eyes start to become. ‘Come on Mum. What happened to the lady in Fremantle?’
She calls out for the nurse. ‘I need a wine. Get me a wine!’ I grasp her hand again but she snatches it away and tells me that I killed her. ‘Killed who?’
‘You know exactly who I’m talking about. That’s why you locked me in here.’
‘I can’t take any more of this. I’m going.’ I hate it when Mum goes all frosty on me. I mean, it’s not her fault, at least not now but it really is an ugly side of my Mum that I don’t care to near to.
‘Tell bonnie girl that I need to see her. You don’t need to come back.’
‘I will. Don’t worry.’ I escape the confines of the nursing home and wonder whether to re-evaluate just how often I drop by. After all, what the hell would my Mum know? I don’t know who the people she is talking about are but I do know something happened to her when she was younger.
I’ve got a dinner to cook when I get home then some work to prepare for tomorrow. The mystery of my Mum is as enigmatic now as when she drank.
As I board the bus I realise I will never know the full story.
But work is work and we take it as it comes. So when I bus it across town to visit her in the home, I do my best to keep the last bit of happy me energy on and smile at the old lady disjointed by a whole list of ailments. Rheumatism, widows hump, arthritis, and basic old age curling up at the toes and fingers.
There is a pervasive smell of urine mixed with disinfectant. I wonder idly amongst the bodies slumped around, watching The Young and the Restless and top volume, who the culprits are.
Her smile is often more brighter than mine when she sees me, which is odd since her mind is a screwed up as the rest of her. You’d think her retreat into childhood, the girlish smile would lift my spirits but instead, it weighs me down. She’s going downhill and I don’t understand why she smiles at me so warmly and yet her eyes are vacant. It doesn’t make sense to me and it’s a bit painful.
I kiss her curly grey hair. ‘Hi Mum. How you doing today?’ She looks flustered as if I asked the hardest of questions and perhaps, in her state, it really is. The nursing staff greet me and while my Mum fumbles over the thoughts in her head, they tell me just how she is doing.
‘She’s not had a good day today. Several times she got quite agitated and started shouting. Melanie caught her when she tried to rise out of her chair.’ I see the table is pressed right up against her tummy to prevent her from getting up so quickly.
‘I’m fine! Where’s my bonnie girl?’ She looks round and sees me and there is a flicker of recognition as some memory passes through on its way out. I’ve never been her bonnie girl so I really don’t know who she is talking about but that look of warm love is good enough for me so I sit down next to her and stroke her gnarled hand.
‘I’m here. Your bonnie girl.’
‘Thank God for that. I’ve missed you so much. You know you’re always in my thoughts don’t you?’ I nod and tell her it’s okay but tears trail down her wrinkled face.
‘It’s not okay. I know what’s happening to me. They think I’ve lost my marbles but I know you will do something about it.’
Not in her lifetime. I’m dog tired and wish there was more I could do for Mum but reality bites like a b itch and I was left with no choice but to put her in here. There are others to think about. My children for instance, my job. I can’t put them aside and become the full-time caretaker of this aged version of me.
My daughters are upset that Grandma is in a nursing home. ‘How would you like it if we put you in one of those places when you couldn’t look after yourself anymore?’ They slap me with accusations of being uncaring and selfish and I can’t seem to get it through their heads the truth. It’s not that simple. They’re too young to appreciate the responsibility of looking after an old person and I can’t rely on them either. Imagine having to give up their social life for Grandma! No, definitely no easy solution here.
‘Bonnie, tell me that story again.’
‘What story Mum?’
‘You know. The woman who was murdered in Fremantle.’ I have no idea what she is talking about and wonder how on earth to improvise.
‘Well her husband died in a tragic fishing accident and she had no income so she went down to the harbour and scaled fish for coins. One of the wharfies took a liking to her but she kept knocking him back. Then she went missing and about a month later her body was found in the hills.’
Mum’s head shakes from side to side. ‘You’re lying again! I always know when you’re lying.’ That’s true. Even when I was a little girl, she knew if I wasn’t telling the truth. Looking back, I’m sure it something to do with my body language. A turned in foot, swaying from side to side, hands locked behind my back. ‘Did you do this?’
‘No Mummy. Honest.’
Then she would step back and watch me, only for a moment before making her mind up. She was a sharp smacker and even now I can remember the fear churning in my gut as she flipped me across her knee. I wriggled, screaming, trying to protect my bottom but she thrashed me with her slipper then locked me in my room.
‘I’m not lying Mum. I just don’t know the story. Why don’t you tell me what it was about?’
A mischievous smile plays on her lips. It reminds me of the nights she got drunk with her friends. For the first time in a while, she actually looks like the full deal so I leave her to her memories and just wait, drumming my fingers lightly on the table. It’s hard to keep a flow of conversation going with people like Mum. Other residents seem to be constantly on the move, muttering or babbling nonsensical stuff which might make sense to them but it is what put them in here in the first place.
Mum looks at me. The smile slips off her face, as if she is disappointed to see me but then I notice how vacant her eyes start to become. ‘Come on Mum. What happened to the lady in Fremantle?’
She calls out for the nurse. ‘I need a wine. Get me a wine!’ I grasp her hand again but she snatches it away and tells me that I killed her. ‘Killed who?’
‘You know exactly who I’m talking about. That’s why you locked me in here.’
‘I can’t take any more of this. I’m going.’ I hate it when Mum goes all frosty on me. I mean, it’s not her fault, at least not now but it really is an ugly side of my Mum that I don’t care to near to.
‘Tell bonnie girl that I need to see her. You don’t need to come back.’
‘I will. Don’t worry.’ I escape the confines of the nursing home and wonder whether to re-evaluate just how often I drop by. After all, what the hell would my Mum know? I don’t know who the people she is talking about are but I do know something happened to her when she was younger.
I’ve got a dinner to cook when I get home then some work to prepare for tomorrow. The mystery of my Mum is as enigmatic now as when she drank.
As I board the bus I realise I will never know the full story.