Wednesday, August 15, 2007

The Ancient Ones

How the middle-aged view the Ancient Ones:

My mother turned 85 yesterday. You'da thought it was the end of the world. She'd been bitching and moaning and complaining about it for days. She didn't want to celebrate it and didn't want to go anywhere because it meant that she had to get off the couch where she velcroes herself daily. The night before her birthday, she started in again about how awful it was to be 85 and "we're not going to do anything about it, please, for God's sake." As a positive thinker of the first order, that was IT...the straw that broke my camel's back. "Listen, Mother...we ARE going to celebrate the fact that you are still on this planet, by God! We're going to get you up off that couch before it collapses under you from such heavy use, and we're going to Maudies for a lovely Mexican lunch whether you like it or NOT, Goddammit!"

She must have had a change of heart during the night because she woke up on her birthday, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and ready for anything! I guess brow-beating the naysayers into positive submission really does work sometimes. Either that or she knew that if one negative syllable passed her lips, there would go her only caregivers...right out the front door. I don't care why she changed her mind, but it proved for a lovely day on everyone's behalf.

My mother is both a stinker and the source of all of my own wisdom, strength and power. SalGal and I have to go out on a regular basis and bitch, moan and complain about her bitching, moaning and complaining over a few martinis. Then we're fresh and ready to take on another day with someone who so wants to 'let go,' but doesn't know how or when it will happen.

For those of you out there who are caregivers for the Ancient Ones...we feel your pain and we say this...Drink about it, vent with the like-minded, use up your friends and love those old pricklies in spite of themselves!


Yeah, yesterday turned out to be good and what a nice lunch we had. It only took us 2 hours to get mother on her walker from the front door to the car. You did a nice job on her hair as the last time I fixed it she looked like she had just escaped a tornedo and seen a ghost in it.
Just think - when we are 85 years old, 85 will be the new 65 and we will still be going strong. I'll admit my body can't take what it did when I was 25. When I was stomach used to say, 'Give me that hamburger!' and my liver said, 'Bring on the Bourbon!' Now that I'm in my 50's, my stomach says, 'Uh, oh...give me an Alkaseltzer.' and my liver says, 'Bring on the Bourbon!!'
Anyway, talking with mother is sort of like doing Yoga. You get all twisted up, you spend a lot of time looking at your feet and deep breathing is essential.
God knows we love her though, bless her heart.

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