adventures in mom: moral support and the softer side (g2)

My family has always had a… unique way of comforting one another. It wasn’t so much about comfort as it was about inappropriate sarcasm. Looking back, I realized that neither my mom nor my grand had what I would have deemed appropriate responses to their circumstances. I never saw either of them ever break down, never cave to the pressure. There is something to be said for strength, but there is something to be said for allowing yourself time to hurt too.

At thirty-four, my mother had to have a full blown hysterectomy. She never once uttered any fear or concern, no feelings of inadequacy or questioning her sexuality, things that I found were much more common as an adult when a peer or two had to have the same. The only thing my mom expressed was her irritation that I wouldn’t look at her stapled scar, so when the doctor finally pulled them out she had the doctor save all the staples in a little bag and gave them to me.

I remember when she was getting her anesthesia, she turned into Pavarotti, belting opera until suddenly passing out. Why couldn’t YouTube have existed for these occasions?

My grand was diabetic, and a noncompliant one at that. They steadily succumbed to macular degeneration and it wasn’t too long before they were told they should no longer drive. Around the same time, my grand had also been diagnosed with cancer, it was caught early, surgery was done and medication was prescribed. My mom, being the epitome of sensitivity while grand was in the hospital, brought them coloring books, crayons and something like this:

I am very glad that as good as the Glare(tm) is in our family, it has not yet evolved to the point where people are physically harmed from it.


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