Life has been a bit hectic lately--well let's be honest, it's been hectic since May. So I haven't had as much energy or creative juices to write some truly jarring and politically incorrect blog posts. I do apologize and hope you accept it as sincere.
Since not much has changed since my last post (well...certain things have, but I'm not willing to divulge specifics yet. Stay Tuned :) ) I thought I'd write about something that I found truly hilarious and very typical in my house.
After spending 5 days in the ICU after her double mastectomy and reconstructive surgery, my mother was finally able to come home. She was healing "beautifully" and the cancer is generalized to the area they removed (although she still needs to do a round of chemotherapy).
I have never been so happy to see my mother hobble in our front door, and I think she felt the same way. While my dad went to the pharmacy to pick up her MANY pain meds, my mom settled in on the couch and seemed at peace. I did everything I could to make her as comfortable as I could--even made her 3 different kinds of soup, because after a bite of the first two she decided she didn't like them--but all she truly wanted was to get into her own bed and go to sleep. Which she couldn't do until my dad got home so we could get her up the steps.
So she waited and waited, staring down our front door. She was anxious and excited, and also wanted my dad to "hurry the fuck up," so she could get into her big, comfy bed. Suddenly the doorknob turned and opened. My mom was up off the couch so fast, you wouldn't have known she just had major surgery 5 days before. It was almost funny--like a little kid waiting at tops of the steps on Christmas morning.
We got her up into bed, surrounded her with pillows on all sides, and she let out a huge sigh of relief.
"You don't know how good this feels," she said with a lazy smile on her face. We laughed and tucked her in extra tight, after which my dad went back downstairs. My mom then turned to me and asked if I would lay with her for awhile. I was happy to oblige. I cuddled in next to her, and she took her hand in mine. It felt great to have her home.
I must have fallen asleep at some point, because when I turned over I felt a big empty space next to me. I opened my eyes to find my mother.
Up, and out of bed with a sock in one hand and a can of Pledge in the other.
Polishing and dusting my dad's dresser.
"What the hell are you doing," I laughed.
"It's bothering me," as she looked back at me, with the face of a little child getting caught in the cookie jar. She continued to spray and polish at a feverish pace, knowing I was about to end her party.
I got out of bed and de-Pledged her saying, "You're nuts. Only you would try and clean while your body is literally sewn together. Get back in bed." She took the sock off her hand and begrudgingly laid back down. I then removed all cleaning products from her room, knowing it was too big of a temptation for her.
I spent the rest of the afternoon rearranging the pictures on her wall, as she gave orders from her bed about where they should be.
It finally happened.
My mother has officially turned into her mother.
And all it took was losing her boobs.
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