they might not let me back

my mother went into the hospital with dirty hair. and you know how that makes you feel: ugly, gross and lumpy (well, it makes me feel lumpy). so by text message at three in the morning, my mother requested that i bring my shampoo, my conditioner and my hair dryer. well, i did her one better; i brought the curling iron, too.

i arrived ready to style, but had to wait while the physical therapist (who i like) did her thing with my mother and totally wear her out. this is how low my mother's muscle mass and therefore strength is: she walked two feet down the hall and then she had to turn around and go back. and she was out of breath. it's times like those when i realize my mother has spent so much time in bed and so little time moving about that that has actually become part of the problem: she has no stength to get up and move.

then i had to wait for the dietician, who i was interested in hearing and all she said was, "try to have snacks. some snack ideas are: yogurt, an apple with peanut butter, crackers and cheese. . ." it was depressing because she told us nothing new. i thought there was something that could be done, something new to learn, i was ready! ready to be inspired! ready to change my life and my mother's life and watch her walk around with vigour and vim!

no such luck. so when i saw her later and she told me she'd stop by to talk to my mom again, i told her not to worry about it. this made my brother laugh really hard.

"she was looking at you like, 'who doesn't want to hear about nutrician?'" he told me in the elevator.

then the nurse came in. then the physical therapist came back. then the nurse came back to tell my mom to get ready for an mri. so we knew we had to hurry (plus my friend sara was watching my kids and i couldn't just leave them with her indefinitely). i got in the shower, looked around, then called for the nurse.

"how do i wash her hair?" i asked.

She looked shocked. "you can't do that!" she exclaimed.

it took a great amount of convincing that we could. she finally agreed on getting me a wheelchair. so we got the wheelchair and then i had to wheel my mother into the shower, which meant she had to hold on for dear life while i pulled it over the dam. then i had to get in the shower, roll my pant legs up and let aaron hand me whatever i needed.

i did not control the water very well.

getting her out was a bigger problem since i was all wet, but with aaron pushing and me pulling and my mother holding on tight, we managed to pull her out.

so, question: do people not shower in the hospital? because no one was treating me like this was an idea that someone else had had before.

in the end, we laughed a lot. and i was able to do something for my mom that wasn't just trying to keep her household from imploding. this felt more like helping. and it was like therapy, i felt better about everything. i walked out of the hospital feeling lighter.