Not being able to see the forest for the trees

I know I am way too close to my mother all the time, and therefore don't have much perspective on her any more. I was reminded of that quite sharply on Tuesday, when I drove her to the Hematology Clinic to get her blood chemistry checked and find out if she needed a shot to build red blood cells. My whole focus that day was in trying to trump the clinic modus operandi so that we could get in and get out and I could start driving north for an Arts Alliance Board meeting.

The good news was that the whole appointment only took 2 hours for me from start to finish, and that is a new record. I now know enough to demand to see the doctor the moment we have blood results that I know mean that mom doesn't need a shot. Actually, I now know that I can ask for the blood results so that I can ask for the doctor to interrupt his rounds to patients and stop in to see us. Before I knew these things, our trips there sometimes took 4 hours. Not fun for me and exhausting for mom.

To my main point: I was drawn up short, when the nurse had asked mom a whole bunch of questions, many of which I had to answer, and then the nurse said to mom "Do you have any advice for us?" Mom was clearly confused by the question, so she followed up by saying: "I mean, how did you get to be 94 years old and still look so beautiful?" Mom just beamed, and said she didn't know if she was beautiful, but she just had lived a good life, or words to that effect. She giggled too. I realized how I don't often think of mom in that way, and that was sort of sad for me to realize that.

Leaving the clinic, mom thought it was fun to be pushed in her wheelchair across the street and into the parking garage, and expressed her delight at being outside. A simple pleasure that I take for granted, but which has become a rarity for her, especially now that we're into serious winter.

My next moment of epiphany came after I had gotten mom safely back in her chair at Langdon Place. As I approached the 3rd floor elevator to leave, one of the men on the floor was sitting looking out the window into the parking lot. He is not as talkative as some others, but he turned to me and said, "Is that your mother you just brought in?" I said, "Yes." He said, "She has a Mona Lisa smile. I've never seen such a beautiful smile." "Yes, she does," I said, thinking about how mostly I wonder if she's brushed her teeth!

So, all in all, it was a successful clinic visit (her blood numbers were good), and a good reminder to me to take a few steps back every now and then, and appreciate my mother.