This weekend we had prepared to go up state to go to a baseball game with our middle and youngest daughters, my mother in-law, Bob’s nephews, and visit my folks on the way home for a little while.
On the way up my phone starts ringing (this almost never happens). I check the number, and it’s my parents’ number. So I answer it.
It’s my dad.
This is not going to be good news. Dad hates phones in general, and for him to have gone to the trouble to look up my cell phone number meant this was serious business.
My mom had fallen that afternoon. She hit a corner of a cardboard box on the way down, and she couldn’t even get out of the floor herself, my daddy had to lift her to her feet. But they hadn’t gone to the doctor–they were going to wait it out.
So we went on all weekend, with me checking in Saturday afternoon. Still hadn’t gone to the doctor. This was not unusual behavior for my mom–we walked on a broken femur for two or three days about 25 years ago.
So when we felt Starkville today, I called ahead to see if we could still come by; Daddy said sure and they had gone to the emergency room last night and nothing was broken. Had her on pain meds that wouldn’t make her sick.
So we took her a Mother’s Day present–bath bombs, a nail kit, and a nail trimmer with a light attached so you could see what you were doing. I had to unpack it for her, let her look at everything, then pack it all up in the bag again.
She did not look good. And she didn’t talk much. But I’m glad we dropped by even if there wasn’t anything I could do. I just wanted to see my mom for Mother’s Day.
Not Quite Right 