I Never Sang For My Mother

Oh, but she has sung for all of us.  One of the tragedies of Mom's life is that she chose the career to please her Parents.  Mom had, and has a good singing voice--it was clear, and strong when she was young, and Mom wanted to be a big band singer.  She read all the Jazz magazines published in the 1930's-40's and listened to all the bands on the radio, usually while doing her homework.  

Unfortunately, my Grandfather worked for an executive, Howard Cullman, who produced many Broadway musicals of the 1940's and '50's.  Mr. Cullman was described as 'Broadway's Number One Angel" but I guess his conduct was less than angelic because Grandpa forbade my Mom to pursue a career in show business--only 'loose women' went into show business.  So,  Mom, being a good daughter, went to the College of New Rochelle, and then got her Masters from Teacher's College, Columbia University.  She taught in the public schools until she married my Dad, Bob Michaels, in 1953.

And she has sung whenever she got the chance.  On long car rides--when we children had lapsed into a stupor after 'don't stare at me' or 'she's sitting on my side of the car'.  I knew every single Johnny Mercer song--that Lady of One Thousand Songs had nothing on my Mom.  What's worse is when she hums--it's more like a grunt, and provides a downbeat by slapping on her thighs.  

Oddly enough, I began to read "Legends' by James Kirkwood and recognized many of Mom's character traits in Mary Martin.  The ladylike demeanor--the inability to admit to any genuine emotion, especially a strong one.  They both have a talent of getting their own way by a sweet, refined air that will brook no opposition.  Weatherford, Texas was not emotionally distant from Bay Ridge, Brooklyn ( Mom's birthplace--Miss Martin was from Texas).  

My theory is women whose mothers were raised in the 19th century learned at home and school to get their way without being openly assertive.  They used other methods--charm, emotional blackmail, singing, manipulation--all the traditional female wiles.  I did come of age during the 70's, when the Feminist movement was in full swing, so I've found it difficult to relate to Mom's passive aggressiveness.    If you can teach an old dog new tricks, this old bitch is going to be more patient and understanding with Mom.  

S'Wonderful

It was not a good day at Augustana.  The alternate title for this post should be 'Bad Day at Black Rock".  Mom is having a colonoscopy tomorrow, at 1pm, so she is on a liquid diet today.  The solution, named 'golightly' ( perhaps invented by a crazed Truman Capote fan) tastes terrible, and Mom became tired of drinking it.  Not that I blame her--I've drunk it, and it's nasty stuff.

But, Mom was not taking this stuff without a fight, and I bore the brunt of it.  When you are a 'great lady' like Mom, you are as sweet as pie when the RN gives you directions.  Only your daughter can tell that you have no intention whatsoever of following those  directions.  The 'Jack Benny' look on your face demonstrates that you shall not be moved.  After all ' the word 'must' is not to be used to princes.".  

I know it's horrible stuff, but three hours of her bad attitude drove me a little nutty.  I wanted to come home, order a pizza, and wash it down with a bottle of good Bordeaux Blanc, with a pint of Hagen Daaz for dessert.  Since I am an insulin dependent diabetic, with chronic Hepatitis C, all those items are off the menu.  So, I ate a small package of Vanilla wafers.

Poor Ginny--she'll come home in an hour or two, just as frazzled.  I shall make some healthy take out, from Circles Cafe.  

'Everything Old is New Again"

Mom is back at Augustana Rehab, after 12 days in the hospital.  It began one morning, when she got up from her wheelchair, to transfer to her bed for a sponge bath, became dizzy, but fortunately fell onto the bed.  I first phoned her doctor's office, and he told us to go to the emergency room.  The tests ruled out a major stroke or heart attack.  Further blood work showed she had a thyroid disorder, which caused the dizziness  and light headedness.  A few days later, her knees got very swollen, and painful.  Somehow, this condition is probably connected to her Ulcerative Colitis, which can do all kinds of wonderful things to connective tissue and joints.

For some strange reason, I am handling this stress far better than I did last Summer.  Part of me was so exhausted with Mom's emotional demands.  The bedpan, bathing and personal care did not bother me as much as her refusal to do her exercises once the physical therapist stopped making house calls.  Both Ginny and I would cajole, beg, scold, but Mom was steadfast in her refusal to get out of the wheelchair. It was a negative of 'Sunrise at Campobello"  perhaps "Sunset at Bay Ridge' would be a more accurate title.

Now that we ( my Sister and I -- I'm not using the royal 'we' like Queen Margaret of Scotland) understand that Mom had dizziness and pain from her knees, we are both more realistic in our expectations.  If the rehab can get her further than transferring from wheelchair to bed, God bless them, every one.  ( It is two months until Christmas ). 

More tomorrow.