|Note the goose egg and cut above her left eyebrow.|
Never blessed by good timing is how I've often regarded my life. Tonight I'm thinking that perhaps the good timing gene skipped only one generation. While I was a Trader Joe's musing over the ingredients for pumpkin cheesecake and lemon bars and puzzling out the price point of diminishing returns for some decent champagne, my mother was at home alone where she fell and hit her head. Only just as she fell, M came through the front door for her holiday break.
Off we went again (for the 4th time in less than a month) to the emergency room, my mother and I. On blood thinners for her atrial fibulation, she was at risk for internal bleeding and given a brain scan. Luckily no bleeding was detected. Five hours later, after a quick stop at the foot doctor to pick up her remodeled orthotics, we were home. I made dinner. We ate it. Back to life as usual--except we're not.
The new year will bring changes to Pillville. One of those I've-fallen-and-can't-get-up-buttons. Someone to stay with my mom for a few hours in the morning while I am out. (Dear siblings, say good-bye to your inheritance.) We had a good run here with things as they were. Sixteen months. I feel quite confident that my mom can continue to live here, but unless I wake up after the holidays and find that I've been cloned, I'm going to need some help. Until then M is here; C arrives tomorrow; my son and his family will be here a few days after Christmas; friends will be here. We'll eat, drink, and make merry. Happy Christmas from our house to yours.