A funny thing happened on our way through check-out.
    I think I've used this intro before but, trust me, you haven't heard this one yet!
    As we tripped smartly through the grocery today, a new one having a grand opening, loaded with coupons for free items, a few of which we needed, my mother quietly placed a super-size of M&M's with Peanuts in the basket. I didn't discover it until I was unloading the cart at check-out.
    "Mom," I pleaded, "I know you really want this, and I feel horrible denying it to you, but, things are going so well, let's not test the waters just yet."
    "You're not going to let me have it." Her voice was triple edged, if such a sound is possible.
    "No, Mom, I'm not. I promise you, you will, again, sometime, be able to eat candy, but we're in a convalescent stage, let's wait a few weeks before we push it." I put the bag into an empty POP magazine holder.
    I continued unloading the basket. Before I was done my mother rediscovered the M&M's with Peanuts in the magazine holder, picked them up and announced, delighted, "Well look what someone left here!" as though Bacchus had taken a personal interest in her.
    I reached across the basket, laughing, and said, "You're a sly one, Mom, leaving it there and then making it look like it was left for you! You must want candy really bad! I'm so sorry, Mom, that it isn't a good idea for you to have it, now. I'm going to give this to the check-out clerk to put back. I promise, in a few weeks, we'll try heavy-duty sweets, again."
    By this time we were face to face with the clerk. I looked toward the tally of our goods and noticed four pairs of eyes glaring at me as though I was, well, taking candy from a baby. As I handed the goody package to the clerk she said, with a good-natured, supplication, "Come on, it won't hurt her..."
    I was surprised but was in an excellent mood and continued, chuckling, defending my case, "Trust me," I addressed all onlookers, "this could hurt. We've been battling anemia and quirky kidneys and her blood sugar for several months and we're just turning it around. Right now, this can and will hurt. Maybe not next time. Where there's healing there's hope."
    It worked. Eyes of humorous suspicion switched to sympathy focus. The check-out clerk one station down from us even said to my mother, "You're daughter's doing you proud. You listen to her, now."
    As we left, I assured our clerk my behavior wouldn't seem so mean next time. Internally I was making a note that this wouldn't necessarily happen because I wouldn't behave this way again with my mother, but, as a result of this incident, these four people would be sympathetic, next time.
    Did I mind? No, not at all, surprisingly. I never mind when people around us ask for explanations of my behavior with and public restrictions on my mother. I really do sense us as part of a community that, if it hasn't yet gotten it about within-family elder care, it's going to get it, through Mom and me, and I love setting an encouraging example. Most of the people who speak out fearlessly on behalf of my mother and the choices into which I steer her (and most of the onlookers) will one day find themselves in one or both of the spaces she and I currently occupy. Even if they share an incident that doesn't appear to be significant to their lives, as I find my mother and myself involved in these events I almost autonomically pump a little extra energy through the moments to highlight the incident for them so it will later be recalled. Insisting that we parade our adventure through the community is exactly how I see us being able to educate the community.
    I remember, a few months ago, when Mom was very lethargic and I could expect a shitting accident at least once a week, in public or not, we found ourselves arriving for one of her hair days a bit late. I had called, but was up to my elbows in shit so I didn't explain until we arrived, sotto voce to her hair dresser. "It's okay," she said before I could finish, "you don't have to explain."
    Without irritation I responded, "Yes, I do. We all need to know how it will be as we take on more and more of this care. We need to know how it will be for us and that it's okay to be this way in public, in polite society. The elders we tend are the senior citizens of our polite society."
    To my astonishment and delight, she understood and agreed with me.
    I never miss a chance to let people see us, interact with us, become actively involved in our appearances and our choices. I like to encourage others, us, to become what we truly appear to have the just-this-side-of latent ability to be: A community that embraces our Ancient Ones and looks forward to being embraced when we are Ancient.

    As a footnote to today's 'funny thing': on the way home, knowing my mother was simmering with sugar disappointment, I suggested an alternative. "Mom, when we get up to Prescott what we should do is, on days when you have sugar-need really bad, we should plan on going out for a dessert dinner. That way we won't have it in the house, we can get really good sugar rather than junk sugar, we'll have a few hours to prepare for it and the money we haven't spent on junk sugar will go toward quality sugar. As long as we can't have sugar that much, anymore, let's turn it into a celebration of sugar's excellence."
    Mom thought this was a great idea. So be it.
- posted by gail rae @ 13:34   email...this post