Mom’s Knee, Part One

Yesterday I spent what turned out to be a half a day rather than the second full day at our regional garden show. A combo of plant lust, lectures, and show gardens creates a magnetic draw for me each year. As I’ve mentioned before, during the show, yesterday to the day, six years ago, is when I got the first news that things were seriously amiss with my dad. It’s a tough anniversary. When my phone rang Thursday, as I was getting ready to attend my first lecture, my heart fell as I recognized mom’s assisted living community’s phone number.

The wellness nurse shared that mom had a sore knee. They’d been giving her Tylenol as needed, but allowed that mom doesn’t remember to ask for more meds in the four to six hours dosing cycle, and now she was limping. It was time to try and get her into Doctor O, or take her to the walk-in clinic.

I called Doctor O’s office. He holds clinic hours Friday morning ONLY. With less than 24-hours notice they were able to squeeze mom in. I was seriously thankful.

Lest I sound selfish (instantly after sounding grateful), my schedule change was not smooth to absorb. Additionally, in the same morning via email, I received her community bill, as well as the bill from the appliance guy on the Island. It’s not about the money per se, but the intrusion, and financial representations of my mama’s challenges. These are two days a year I hope to steep myself into my industry’s candy, fantasy, and inspiration. Just two days.

I enjoyed the rest of Thursday, returned home, and got ready for what I hoped would be a two-stage day: Mom to Doc, Me to Show.

Just as I was about to leave yesterday morning our cat showed up with nearly a square inch of skin and fur missing from his right ear. Rains/Pours. The cat was unimpressed with his wound. I determined the wound wasn’t actively bleeding, and that giving him a solid skritch didn’t reveal any tender spots. I blocked his fancy-pants computerized external door, and headed out to pick up mom.

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