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July 19, 2005
TT: Smooth operation
Yesterday morning I arose before dawn, took my mother to the hospital where I was born forty-nine years ago, and watched her vanish down a corridor, wondering if I'd see her alive again. Seven hours later I was feeding her ice chips from a plastic spoon and doing my best not to get choked up as I told her she didn't look too bad, considering.In fact, she came through her operation somewhat bloodied (she lost a cupful) but mostly unbowed, and when it was over the surgeon informed us--convincingly--that the prospects for her recovery were excellent. I passed the word to her a couple of hours later in her hospital room, and she smiled wanly. Then I pulled out my cell phone and started calling all the people on the list she'd handed me the night before.
I don't know what you do on the eve of major spinal surgery, but my brother, a man of action, decided the situation called for a cookout and proceeded to barbecue a mountain of pork chops, chicken breasts, and jalapeño sausages on his charcoal grill. Since my mother was under the strictest possible orders to eat no solid food after seven p.m. and we had to hit the road at five-thirty the next day, we dined on the early side. Neither one of us felt much like sleeping after I drove her back home, so we watched The High and the Mighty on AMC. We were nervous and didn't care to admit it, mutually self-evident though it was, so I said the most outrageous thing I could think of in order to break the ice.
"Don't die, Mom," I told her during a commercial. "I didn't pack a suit."
There followed what actors call a beat--well, maybe three--followed by an explosion of wild laughter and a bear hug. Then John Wayne saved the day, and we turned off the TV feeling much better and headed for bed.
Now I'm home alone in the house where I grew up, preparing to fall into the same bed after what I think it's fair to call a really long day. I wanted to post something profound before retiring, but it's all I can do to spell profound. Instead, I'll settle for feeling something profound, and go to sleep.
See you later.
P.S. If you want to know what kind of mother I have, here's the answer: she baked me a cake the day before I came home.
Posted July 19, 2005 12:03 PM
