I've been struggling this week with my mom's surgery. She had knee replacement surgery on her right knee. It plain took her out. When she awoke from surgery, I was there. She said, "Prathima, is that you?" I nodded. Then she said, "I like your shirt. It's nice." I smirked. She's kind of wacky like that. I left that day for home two hours away, but after I left, she apparently got less coherent in her comments, and she kept having trouble recognizing reality. She thought the milk needed to be put back in the refrigerator, and it turned out to be a jug of distilled water. My younger sister stayed with her the past three nights, making sure she was being taken care of, making sure she did the right things.
It's really hard to describe how much this woman did for me in my younger years in terms of serving me. That's the way she has always been to me and my sisters. She was our servant. She was our mom, sure, and she did exercise some discipline, but she didn't know how to lead us in this country. We were in uncharted territory. How to deal with the "popular" kids in school? No way would she guide us on that. How to be fashionable? We bought out of the bargain bin. How to get good grades? That was my dad's territory. How to flirt? She told us to look away when boys looked at us when we passed them. LOL.
Now, to see her so incapacitated, so unable to take care of herself, it's a bit difficult. I know she hates it. I know she wants to "do" everything. She cannot. Just like I'm learning. I can't either.
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