Saturday, December 20, 2008


The priest gave my mom the Anointing of the Sick. When my dad got it, it was called Last Rights. It's the final sacrament for Catholics and it's not a bad deal, really. The priest traces crosses of oil on your forehead and hands, gives you a shout out from the pope and absolves you of all sin.

I'm not sure what sorts of sins my mom has been committing lately. How much sinning can a four and a half foot seventy-six year old home body Dego do? Cheating at mahjong? Coveting her neighbors walker? She was probably good. Me on the other hand? I told the priest I was feeling a cold coming on, could I get a little of that sweet sweet absolution?

Apparently I'd have to do the full on confession. Who's got that kind of time?

So it's been a weird two months. Mom's been in and out of the hospital, not doing so well. I've been going a little crazy. I've been going to a shrink and, man, it's really depressing to find out how much of your neurosis come from your mom. You think of yourself as a pretty fascinating fella, out of the ordinary, dig? Then it turns out your brain is duller than disco. Why couldn't it be that I was groped by clowns? That I was raised by wolves? Maybe I've been a secret agent and the suppressed memories are starting to return. Nope, mad at mommy.

So I'm watching my mom get the right of the dead and looking at how I've been living my life, lashing out at everyone around. Pushing and pushing to drive off anyone who gave half a rats ass and seeing the one person that I could never push away, that was the one person I really wanted to push away fade away.

Being alone is a scary thing. I've got cousins, aunts and uncles, and a lot of very dear friends, but in the end, she's it for me and family. The last person that has to give a shit.

So I'm afraid. Terrified really.

The doctors think she'll make it through surgery. Eighty to ninety percent. That's pretty good odds in Vegas. If there was a one in ten chance you'd get hit by a bus if you walked down Hickory Street, would you maybe take Elm? In addition to the bypass they're going to freeze and burn parts of her heart. It's been arrhythmic, beating to the wrong tune, and this could correct it. They give that a 50/50 shot of working. She's got a decent chance of having another stroke during the procedure and the surgeon isn't convinced she's strong enough to make it through recovery.

No, she hasn't been a perfect mom, but she sure as hell has tried. She's an amazing little lady who doesn't give herself nearly enough credit. As much as I hate her at times, as much anger as I've tried to keep buried all these years, I love every bit of her with all of my heart. She's a beautiful woman with the tenderest heart ever placed on this Earth.

I don't have an ending. I love my mom. I want her to live, I'm not sure she's going to.


At 5:30 PM, December 20, 2008, Blogger smoo said...

Hey Jim. Love the blog.

Don't know what I would have done without good shrinks and psychiatrists and LCSWs and whatever.


At 5:31 PM, December 20, 2008, Blogger smoo said...

Oh and as you get into your mom shit, remember that if she gave you enough tools to overcome the crap she instilled in you then she was a good mom.

At 3:44 AM, December 21, 2008, Blogger SuperOceanLad said...

Thanks. I'll be fine, just tough timing. Thanks for the compliments

At 12:42 PM, December 21, 2008, Blogger chthonik said...

Awww, Jim. Gimmee a call if you wanna talk.
It's funny, my mom has talked about how weird it is for her and my uncle to be the oldest in the family. I don't think anyone is ever prepared for this kind of stuff. Our parents have such a huge impact on us it's hard to imagine they won't be around sometime.


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