Something else I want to mention:
    When we both found neither of us could face another game I asked her what she wanted to do.
    "Just hang out," she said as she headed for her rocking chair and TV table to read her new gossip tabloids. It's been a long time since she's voluntarily chosen to entertain herself. One more victory. This woman may surprise everyone. She may well live to be 120, as she often says she intends.

    Tonight when I was rubbing her feet, after telling me, as she usually does, how good it feels (especially the part where I work her soles and feet over) she told me something interesting.
    "You know, I tried to do that for Mother [her mother], rub her feet, and she didn't like it."
    "Really! I can't imagine anyone not liking it! When was this?" I asked. "When you used to stay with her up in Prescott after Grandpa died?"
    "No. This was after she moved down to Scottsdale when she was in the mobile home."
    "Did it bother her? Did it hurt her?"
    "No, I don't think so, she just couldn't handle it for very long."
    We contemplated this while I continued rubbing her feet and legs.
    "You know, Mom," I speculated, "I don't think it was because you were doing anything wrong or physically irritating her or anything. Now that I'm thinking about it I think Grandma was the kind of person who couldn't really enjoy someone doing something like this for her."
    Mom thought about this for a minute or two. "What do you mean?"
    "Well, Grandma was so very independent. That was a fundamental part of her character. In order to enjoy the possibility of a good foot rub you have to allow yourself to be vulnerable to what someone else does to your feet. I think maybe she just didn't want to become that dependent on anyone to provide her with anything. If she got to the place where she liked foot rubs she'd be dependent on other people to provide them for her. A foot rub doesn't ever feel as good when you do it to yourself. It think Grandma's baseline motto was, 'If you can't do it for yourself it's better to do without."
    Mom smiled while she took a minute to think about this. "Mother was certainly independent."
    "Fiercely. She was so independent she didn't even depend on her husband. He depended on her. I don't think that was a circumstantial necessity for her, I think she was always that way and just happened to find the right man who would not only put up with this but enjoy it."
    Mom laughed. "You're right about that!"
    "So I think the whole idea of foot rubs, massages, anything like that, probably made her really impatient. If she couldn't do it for herself it wasn't worth having someone else do it for her."
    "You know, I never thought about it but I think you may be right."
    Sly, as usual, but this is her way of saying, "I agree."

    We talked some tonight, too, about how I managed to grab ahold of her this fall, pull her out of the clutches of doctors, her resignation, her body going haywire and my fears and walk her back to being interested in life again and healthy enough to enjoy her interest.
    As the conversation closed she said something I never expected her to say, mostly because I never expected her to really be aware of how far she and I have come in the last year. She leaned forward in her chair, looked me directly in the eye and said, "I'm really glad you did. I don't know if I've ever thanked you for that but I want to now. Thank you."
    You're most welcome, Mom. Thank you for allowing me to guide you back.
- posted by gail rae @ 00:30   email...this post