My mom Terry is my best friend and champion. There never was a soul who loved me as unconditionally as she does and that’s all any of us can wish for, at day’s end.
This week has been tough for my mom, but typically, what’s happened to her became a lesson in life for anybody who watched her ride the storm – and we need heroes in a world gone sour with cynicism and half-baked politics.
When my mom had an unexpected accident, and was forced to make fast decisions involving surgeons, operations, anaesthetics and lengthy recoveries, she took in her stride all the voices in her head, which weren’t her own.
They belonged to us – the loved ones, professionals, observers, opinion-givers and caring bystanders who had, as we always do, something to say.
She listened, nodded (or shook her head), shouted in pain, yelled when necessary, and asked questions.
I’m sure that some of what we advised or commented made sense – but through it all, I watched my mom spending time with her own thoughts, politely, while we made useful noise and loved her as unconditionally as she loves both us, and the world at large.
What she’s been through over the past several days would be arduous for the most stoic of patients – but you wouldn’t realise it, unless you asked her.
Even then, she’s more likely to respond with a withering retort, rather than a genuine complaint.
Some people are built that way – eschewing self-pity in favour of dry humour, or an arched eyebrow.
My friend Podge once said that you’ll know someone’s “inside person” only when their chips are down, and they’re alone on an island of pain, or poverty, or deep and aching loss.
This week, despite her own stuff, my mom asked each visitor or caller about their spouses, and kids; about so-and-so’s flu, or Person Y’s weekend plans. It wasn’t a distraction technique – it was mom being Terry, the warrior, who cares as much about you, standing there, healthy as a horse, as you do her, lying in bed, strapped to pipes, and hospital routines.
As she told me yesterday: there is an interesting lesson in all of this. It’s just a matter of discovering what it is.