My mom recently had surgery. Fortunately, it all went well and she is on the mend. She has always believed herself to be a medical professional (she was a high school English teacher for decades) so it was a bit challenging for her to put her care in the hands of her daughter and other ACTUAL medical professionals but she tried REALLY hard. I did have to tell her to stop telling the staff that came into the room pre and post surgery that I am a nurse. I just wanted to be the concerned daughter. At work it can go one of two ways if the family members have a medical background. They can either be really helpful or they can question and criticize your every move. So, even though I know she just likes to share because she is proud of me, I made her stop during her time at the hospital. I behaved myself - not taking her iv out myself or getting her out of bed when I wasn't supposed to.
Her recovery included needing an injection every day in her abdomen to prevent blood clots. I agreed to do the first few and then assumed she would catch on and be able to self administer. A few days after her surgery I was headed back to work. The plan was to have her giving herself shots by then because I wouldn't have as much time to swing by and give her a shot. The day before my work day she mentioned that she didn't feel quite ready yet. I wasn't going to leave her on her own until I at least saw her do one successfully. When she told me she couldn't do it, I looked at her, probably a bit exasperated, and said, "you just like seeing me every day, don't you?" She smiled, "yes." I showed up the next night between shifts and asked again if she wanted to do it - to no avail.
After my initial frustration of trying to fit in one more thing, I looked forward to the visits. Sometimes I would come in, give her the shot, and be gone within 5 minutes. Other days I would sit and we would talk for awhile. One day I even had to find her on her walk, put her in my car and administer the shot because that's all the time I had. She asked if that was even legal. I assured her that because it was lovenox and not heroin, I thought we were okay. When I would text her I was on my way she would always have an enthusiastic response. And, even though she was going to get a shot, I know she meant it. I know she liked seeing me every day.
My mom has lived in the same city for a couple of years - only about 15 minutes away. Even so, she sees my kids more than she sees me. She will help drive my kids to golf, or pick them up from school for ice cream sometimes, or borrow one of them to mow her yard. I can easily go a couple of weeks without seeing her. Seeing each other every day for 14 days was something completely new.
As mother/daughter of course we have history. We haven't always seen eye to eye and we can get impatient with each other (she would probably say I get more impatient with her than vice versa). Sometimes I still feel like I am seen as the 14 year old kid instead of the 44 year old adult - but she probably feels like I haven't let her evolve either. That being said, the 14 days was an unexpected gift. I got to check on her incisions, bring her food and tend to her physical needs but we also got to talk. Talk without kids all around. Talk without being in a hurry.
Over 14 days I learned things about my mom that I never knew. She learned things about me that she didn't know. I began to look forward to those visits as much as she did. I think we both came away with a better understanding of the other. The shots ended on Tuesday. Yesterday was the first day in two weeks I didn't see her. I missed her. Who knew the unexpected blessing on surgery would be the 14 shots?
