...Continued from last time:
So I'm back already.
It seems that my chronicle of the journey I'm traveling with my ninety-nine-and-a-half-year-old mother has resonated with so many people who've traveled that same journey - or are currently traveling that same journey - of being their mother’s father’s, aunt’s uncle’s, sibling’s, or some other elderly relative’s keeper that for me the spark to share our own journey - my mother's and mine - has been reignited.
In truth, in addition to my feeling in recent weeks of being logistically and mentally overwhelmed and starved for time, I wasn't even sure I wanted to continue writing about this experience. After all, most of the details I'd be sharing are my mother's data, which means it should be up to her to decide whether or not she wants this private data made public. And she's no longer in any condition to make such a decision for herself. As with her other affairs, I am now the keeper of my mother's data.
But then it occurred to me: my mother has never been a private person. Au contraire. She's always been a sunny, funny, open person and whenever the spotlight's been on her she's always been glad to shine. And she's often been glad to share the details of her life with others who might benefit from her experiences. Or who just might be interested. (She once wrote an article on menopause based on her own experience, which had been dreadful. Herself unprepared for and uninformed even with her medical training - my mother was a nurse - about what was actually entailed in what women of her day euphemistically and in hushed tones referred to as "The Change," my mother wanted to yank the event up from underground and educate women on the physiological process of menopause and on what they might expect during the process. Her writing alternated in style between clinical and humorous, the funniest line having something to do with women entering menopause not knowing beans from Shinola about hormones.
My mom submitted her menopause article to Good Housekeeping. The magazine, however, opted not to publish her article, so my mother just made copies of her menopause article and gave them out to everybody to read. I was in my late teens and I recall being mortified at the time, even though one of my girl friends, a phys-ed major, thought it was a great article. Fifty years later I agree with her).
And so, when time allows (as it's allowing at this moment) I'll try to continue blogging, among all the other subjects there are to blog about, updates on what's going on with my mom these days. I believe my mom would like me to.
So I'm back already.
It seems that my chronicle of the journey I'm traveling with my ninety-nine-and-a-half-year-old mother has resonated with so many people who've traveled that same journey - or are currently traveling that same journey - of being their mother’s father’s, aunt’s uncle’s, sibling’s, or some other elderly relative’s keeper that for me the spark to share our own journey - my mother's and mine - has been reignited.
In truth, in addition to my feeling in recent weeks of being logistically and mentally overwhelmed and starved for time, I wasn't even sure I wanted to continue writing about this experience. After all, most of the details I'd be sharing are my mother's data, which means it should be up to her to decide whether or not she wants this private data made public. And she's no longer in any condition to make such a decision for herself. As with her other affairs, I am now the keeper of my mother's data.
But then it occurred to me: my mother has never been a private person. Au contraire. She's always been a sunny, funny, open person and whenever the spotlight's been on her she's always been glad to shine. And she's often been glad to share the details of her life with others who might benefit from her experiences. Or who just might be interested. (She once wrote an article on menopause based on her own experience, which had been dreadful. Herself unprepared for and uninformed even with her medical training - my mother was a nurse - about what was actually entailed in what women of her day euphemistically and in hushed tones referred to as "The Change," my mother wanted to yank the event up from underground and educate women on the physiological process of menopause and on what they might expect during the process. Her writing alternated in style between clinical and humorous, the funniest line having something to do with women entering menopause not knowing beans from Shinola about hormones.
My mom submitted her menopause article to Good Housekeeping. The magazine, however, opted not to publish her article, so my mother just made copies of her menopause article and gave them out to everybody to read. I was in my late teens and I recall being mortified at the time, even though one of my girl friends, a phys-ed major, thought it was a great article. Fifty years later I agree with her).
And so, when time allows (as it's allowing at this moment) I'll try to continue blogging, among all the other subjects there are to blog about, updates on what's going on with my mom these days. I believe my mom would like me to.
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