Big Bang

            Fortunately, no one was hurt.

            The first thought of my 3 a.m. sleep-fogged brain was that Mom had fallen.  I jumped up out of bed and took the two steps across the hall to her doorway.  Her bed light was on, and she was in bed asking me what happened.

            It just took a second to see the source of the big bang.  As I came over to her bedside, she said, puzzled, “I don’t know what happened.  I don’t know why I did that.  Is everything alright?  Here I am doing parlor tricks.”

            “Everything looks okay,” I told her.  “Let me just get it all picked up.”

            On the floor were her alarm clock, telephone, and glasses.  I placed them back on her bedside table.

            Vicki is delightful.  She did exactly what I asked her to do:  sit and visit with Mom while I was at flute choir rehearsal.  The relief I felt was palpable.  Mom had not been happy about having someone come in, as she said, “my babysitter.”  But surely this evening would be a tonic for her, a chance to talk about her favorite memories.

            I sensed a little trouble when I arrived home.  Mom radiated discomfort.  I visited a bit with Vicki and then walked her out to the porch.  I hoped that the couple minutes outside would be enough time for Mom to forget whatever was brewing in her mind.  It wasn’t.

            My happy bubble burst when I stepped back into the house.   Mom had not forgotten her discomfort:  she didn’t want to feel like a hostess and have to talk all evening.  She didn’t want Vicki to come back.  I explained that Vicki would be back, two evenings a week, because I do not feel comfortable leaving Mom alone since she has become so weak and unsteady on her feet.  She replayed her complaints over and over for the next thirty minutes.  I tried to be direct yet reassuring.

            Funny that I had never anticipated the fall-out after the fact:  I had assumed Mom would love having a new audience for her stories and that the companionship of the evening would win her over to this new situation.  But as I listened to her, I understood that she was grappling with feelings of not having control, her privacy invaded. 

            The result?  I will speak with Vicki this evening and offer her a plum deal:  Mom wants to quietly do her puzzles and reading while Vicki does her own thing.  I will have a couple suggestions of “tidying up” things for Vicki to do but also encourage companionable silence.  And, of course, there is the matter of washing Mom’s hair and helping her with a shower.

            I do wonder if anything will come crashing down after I get home from chancel choir tonight.