This Is Only A Test

"Mom, would you rather I leave the room?"

It's a question I hear myself asking often--sometimes, in an effort to preserve what remains of my mother's dignity and other times, I suspect, to protect myself from the knowledge of the truth.

"Oh, no, you can stay. She's just the speech therapist, here to ask me a few questions..."

Yeah, I know. That's what scares me, Mom.

"Mary, I'm going to say a series of words, and I want you to repeat them back to me. Here's the first set: Blue, bike, berry."

"Blue, bike, berry."

"Good. Now repeat: garbage, church, sign, picture."

"Garbage, something, something, picture."

The repeat-after-me excercise evolved into a "Follow these directions" exercise, only Mom didn't evolve with it.

"OK, Mary, now I want you to follow these directions: Open your mouth, stick out your tongue, lick your lips, close your mouth."

Mom said, "Open your mouth, stick out your tongue, close your mouth, eat breakfast."

"Well," Kristin said, "eat breakfast was the answer to an earlier question. And I need you to do what I'm saying, to follow these directions: Open your mouth, stick out your tongue, lick your lips, close your mouth."

"Open your mouth..." Mom couldn't get the original command of "repeat after me" out of her mind.

"Mary, don't say it, do it."

Mom opened her mouth and then said, "Stick out your tongue."

"Do it."

Mom stuck out her tongue and then said, "Close your mouth."

"You missed a step. What was it?"

"Oh, yeah," Mom said, "Lick your lips."

"Do it, though. Don't just say it."

To be fair, Mom did great at naming all the people who take care of her, including her five children. She knows what date it is, how old she is, and where everyone's been on vacation lately. She can tell you the name of the Savings and Loan she retired from, why she's in the nursing home, and that Leawood, Kansas, is a suburb of Kansas City, Missouri.

I hope she couldn't feel my torment, though, when she couldn't name one famous American, living or dead. Time became eternity as she sat there in her wheelchair, eyes winced shut, struggling to dream up an answer.

Finally, I tried to bail her out, tried to give her enough of a hint to jog her memory without making it seem like I was the one filling in the blanks.

"Mom," I said, "what about that crazy redhead you used to watch every day on TV, whose best friend was named Ethel?"

She used to love Lucy like there was no tomorrow, but now that tomorrow's here, Lucy's gone.

Several questions later, after she could only come up with seven animals in a sixty second period, Mom thought of the famous American she'd been trying to spit out: Franklin Delano (she said it like D'Eleanor) Roosevelt.

I sat across the room looking at my mom, who seemed in that hour like an unschooled little girl, and my heart filled with wonder at the mystery before me.

As much as I'd love to be somebody's child, I'm the parent now. Not for always, I know. But for today.

I'll be a little girl again myself someday, I know--but not now, not yet.

Not as long as my mother still needs me.

Posted by Katy on 08/31/05 at 01:14 PM

Fallible Comments...

I've been on vacation for the past week while I wait for my new job to start. It's really flown by, but I must say it's the strangest vacation.
Posted by to do denver on 06/15/10 at 07:56 PM

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Personal blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri Katy is represented by Greg Johnson at WordServe Literary Read more Katy at LateBoomer.net Follow Katy on Twitter Follow Katy on Facebook 123 Recent Posts Try Becoming Brenda Starr Off Beat Scattered That’s It So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What? The Spoon Sciatica Sweetheart A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices. As with everything in life, balance is key. Slow down, you move too fast… Yeah, I know. I have issues. Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	This Is Only A Test "Mom, would you rather I leave the room?" It's a question I hear myself asking often--sometimes, in an effort to preserve what remains of my mother's dignity and other times, I suspect, to protect myself from the knowledge of the truth. "Oh, no, you can stay. She's just the speech therapist, here to ask me a few questions..." Yeah, I know. That's what scares me, Mom. "Mary, I'm going to say a series of words, and I want you to repeat them back to me. Here's the first set: Blue, bike, berry." "Blue, bike, berry." "Good. Now repeat: garbage, church, sign, picture." "Garbage, something, something, picture." The repeat-after-me excercise evolved into a "Follow these directions" exercise, only Mom didn't evolve with it. "OK, Mary, now I want you to follow these directions: Open your mouth, stick out your tongue, lick your lips, close your mouth." Mom said, "Open your mouth, stick out your tongue, close your mouth, eat breakfast." "Well," Kristin said, "eat breakfast was the answer to an earlier question. And I need you to do what I'm saying, to follow these directions: Open your mouth, stick out your tongue, lick your lips, close your mouth." "Open your mouth..." Mom couldn't get the original command of "repeat after me" out of her mind. "Mary, don't say it, do it." Mom opened her mouth and then said, "Stick out your tongue." "Do it." Mom stuck out her tongue and then said, "Close your mouth." "You missed a step. What was it?" "Oh, yeah," Mom said, "Lick your lips." "Do it, though. Don't just say it." To be fair, Mom did great at naming all the people who take care of her, including her five children. She knows what date it is, how old she is, and where everyone's been on vacation lately. She can tell you the name of the Savings and Loan she retired from, why she's in the nursing home, and that Leawood, Kansas, is a suburb of Kansas City, Missouri. I hope she couldn't feel my torment, though, when she couldn't name one famous American, living or dead. Time became eternity as she sat there in her wheelchair, eyes winced shut, struggling to dream up an answer. Finally, I tried to bail her out, tried to give her enough of a hint to jog her memory without making it seem like I was the one filling in the blanks. "Mom," I said, "what about that crazy redhead you used to watch every day on TV, whose best friend was named Ethel?" She used to love Lucy like there was no tomorrow, but now that tomorrow's here, Lucy's gone. Several questions later, after she could only come up with seven animals in a sixty second period, Mom thought of the famous American she'd been trying to spit out: Franklin Delano (she said it like D'Eleanor) Roosevelt. I sat across the room looking at my mom, who seemed in that hour like an unschooled little girl, and my heart filled with wonder at the mystery before me. As much as I'd love to be somebody's child, I'm the parent now. Not for always, I know. But for today. I'll be a little girl again myself someday, I know--but not now, not yet. Not as long as my mother still needs me. Posted by Katy on 08/31/05 at 01:14 PM Fallible Comments... I've been on vacation for the past week while I wait for my new job to start. It's really flown by, but I must say it's the strangest vacation. Posted by to do denver on 06/15/10 at 07:56 PM Page 1 of 1 pages Commenting is not available in this weblog entry. Next entry: Fox News Rules! Previous entry: Tickled Pink << Back to main


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Personal blog of christianwriter & fallible momKaty McKenna Raymondin Kansas City, Missouri

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This Is Only A Test

Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri