A Rescue Mission

It was early April now, but just two months earlier, Mom seemed to exemplify extraordinary health and strength, successfully entertaining our two year and four year old children during the day while Tom and I worked. Tom headed out downtown each morning, while I climbed the stairs to the second floor guest room, which doubled as an office, with a sleep sofa, desk, computer and dot matrix printer.  That Mom managed to come up with enough inside games and reading to satisfy the children, while stuck in the house in the middle of February was a singularly enormous feat. (Going outside was pretty much out of the question. Instead of a normally mild winter, that year winter storms ended up dumping several feet of snow.) And I'd miscalculated how much time I'd need to complete my project. With no outside childcare arrangements set up, weeks before the deadline, I began to panic. Mom came to the rescue.

Then just two weeks after the monthlong rescue mission was over and she’d settled back in to her home in Charlotte, something changed.

I was on the phone with her, regaling her with new stories about her grandchildren.

“Mom, Baby Heather just got a new tooth. And already at just two years old, she’s such a little devil. You know what she asked her father last night? ‘Is the Tooth Fairy coming with a present for me?’

“So forget about the Tooth Fairy giving her presents for losing a tooth,” I said. “Baby Heather wants a gift every time she gets a new one! Tom and I hope that when she grows up she finds a way to live in luxury!” I laughed. Mom was silent, seemingly distracted.  Clearly, something was up.

“What’s wrong, Mom?,” I said. “You sound funny.”

“Oh, I just don’t feel that good,” she said. Since she rarely complained about aches and pains, those six  words spoke volumes. Probing her further, I learned that a pink stain accompanied her bathroom visits.

Like blood?

I swallowed hard, trying not to let on how frightened I felt. “Mom, I think you should go see a doctor. Don't you?”

“Yes, I know,” she said sounding like an errant child being chided by a parent.

But she didn't promise to contact one right away. Which wasn't surprising. Except for regularly scheduled visits to her heart specialist, Mom hadn’t seen a doctor in years.

Luckily, friends and family in Charlotte found out and were worried too. Over the next few days, they nagged her mercilessly until she relented. Probably anxious to avoid the same physician who’d already urged her to lose weight, and to be more vigilant about good nutrition and exercise, Mom opted to visit a walk-in clinic. Whoever it was was guaranteed to be a complete stranger.

photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/48889036490@N01/3254161432">Islington road</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/">(license)</a>