Deliver Me
Jun
Posted Tuesday, June 30th 2009
at
6:06pm
30
Tagged:
Please, if you can, expand your definition of "spirit" to include a sense of humor, perhaps, or resilience, for this blog post. I simply must share my humiliation with someone, and my husband is on a plane halfway to DC and my best friend is in a meeting.
I try to visit my 87-year-old mother in Mississippi every six weeks. I'm with her now at the retirement community where she lives. As I was walking down the hall this afternoon, on my way to run an errand, an elderly woman stopped me to introduce herself.
"Nice to meet you," I replied.
And then she said--wait for it--"Are you new here?"
For the record, I'll be 48 in August. As in not yet 50. Maybe letting my hair go grey is not my best option after all.
There. I feel better already...
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Comments
Well, this little lady is probably over 80 and perhaps you might contact her family to suggest a trip to the optometrist! This one really isn't about you, I promise!
I agree. It's the other woman's eyesight. We took our 1 year old to visit her great, great aunt who is 94. Another woman in the nursing home asked me what kind of dog my daughter was . . . I'm chalking that one up to eyesight too. And, BTW, I LOVE your hair!
How absolutely hilarious! And I *totally* love expanding the def. of spirit the way you did.
Oh, honey, what did you do? Did you do a spit take? Faint? Pretend to not hear her?
Perhaps she thought you worked there, maybe a new nurse or physical therapist or something, so maybe it had nothing to do with mistaking you for a resident! Or maybe she was just wondering why they were letting in such young college-age women these days!
Thanks for sharing this with us! I'm so overwhelmingly happy that your husband and friend were unavailable - so you could share this here! hee hee hee hee!
I appreciate your kind comments, Her Spirit readers, but man oh man was I "undone," as my mother said. I hadn't considered that maybe she thought I was a new employee. Hmm...that might be the angle I use the next time around. Another indicator that I may be spending too much time at Mother's retirement community: They have a handful of rooms that can be rented by the night for visitors. I squealed with delight when Mother told me I got the room in building five. I've been so many times I actually know which room is the best (bigger, etc.). Pa-the-tic. Lord knows I love my mother, but we may have to start meeting at the Hilton by the highway...
ALW
P.S. If you should ever want to spend the night at St. Cat's in Madison, MS, let me know and I'll tell you how to get the good room!
I accompany Daddy to all of his medical appointments now that dementia has begun riddling his mind. I've been treated like and referred to as his wife more times than I'll admit in a public forum. Every time it happens, I struggle to remain calm while politely explaining through gritted teeth that I'm his daughter and that I have power of attorney. I say "power of attorney" as one might say, "Checkmate!" I blurt this out all at once, as though my credentials might erase the very idea of being my father's, well, you know, from my psyche. I swallow back the metal taste that has risen in my mouth and I gag a little.
Signed,
Gray and grossed out in Murfreesboro
Dear Gray and Grossed Out,
Thank you for sharing your story! I must say I feel better now We'll have to start a club, or make some t-shirts, or meet for margaritas.
It is lovely, and touching, that you're able to help your dad. Even if you do look old enough to be his wife! (Sorry...)
ALW