Stuart Little was at my house way before the movie!

It's a postage stamps! That's to funny!

Since my last few posts have been about Mother, allow me to share yet another little story. Life with Mother was always an adventure. To say the least.

I was in my teens, and one morning, I stumbled to the bathroom to get ready for school. While brushing my teeth, I happened to notice a Folgers coffee container in the center of the bathtub. I kept at least one sleepy eye on the container while brushing my teeth and wondering how it got there? Who put it there? What was in it? So, I investigated it a little closer, while still brushed my pearly whites, and found it to be a perfectly good-looking container. Mother happened to dash by the door, and I was only able to spit out a “Hey”.

“Good Morning,” she said with a smile.

I replied, while wiping the tooth paste off my face, “ Mom, why is there a coffee container in the bath tub?”

“Coffee?” She looked puzzled for a second, “OH, it has a mouse in it, dear.” And down the stairs she went.

A Mouse? This I had to see. So, I carefully opened one edge of the cloudy plastic lid, at which I confirmed, there was a small gray mouse, that was now looking back at me.

“Mother,” I began yelled from the top of the steps, “Mother!”

“What?” she said, as she appeared back at the landing of the stairs now looking up at me.

“Mother what are you doing with it?”

“Doing with what?” she asked.

“That mouse! That mouse in the bathtub.”

“I’m going to let him go when I leave for work, dear. Now hurry, don‘t be late for school”

“Guess it’s your lucky day, Mickey! Don’t be late for dinner!” I said.

　

　

　

Laughter, it’s a good thing!

For many, many years after the death of my mother, I felt somewhat like this lone tulip. Shortly after, almost one year later, Mother passed on, my M.I.A father did as well. Suddenly, I was left an orphan at 24 years of age.

Now, I was married to a wonderful guy, and we had a son, lived in a small town of which 99% of the residents were related to MacGyver (wonderful hubby) I had good friends and a big in-law-family. Life was good, but I left the medical field and moved to a 9 to 5 gig which offered us some wonderful opportunities and several physical moves; One to Richmond VA, and then onto New Orleans. I was angry at the fact I could not stop Mothers cancer. I was anger that she had to go through all that pain. I was anger that all I could do was watch. I was just plan angry, and an angry orphan at that. For ten years, I lived away.

Until the death of MacGyver’s Mother.

We returned home a year after she had passed on and since returning, I have cared for three new cancer patients. Yes, sound rather odd. My husbands Aunt, my father-in-law and to top everything off, MacGyver, (my husband). Who is now in remission. I remember MacGyver’s oncologist, (that’s the Doc’s that decide what treatments you get for the cancers,) said to me one day with a very genuine smile, “I don’t know what your doing, but he looks great and everything looks good! Keep it up!

Well, I have to thank Mother for part of the success. Life here at Main Street changed drastically in so many ways. Mother had shown me how to laugh during the fight of her life by her own laughter. I think that is what I miss the most. Her laughter. MacGyver and his family are very similar. Laughter is a big part of life for us. But, there were (and are still times) during MacGyver’s treatments, surgeries and even remisson when I forget to laugh. I was and at times still angry and bitter, looking for the worst and dwelling on the what if.

Shortly after MacGyver was diagnosed, my sister, the smart one, called and was in a frantic tizzy. She demanded that I go to the cemetery and straight out a problem with Mother. “Straighten out a problem with Mother?” I said. “Is she disturbing all the others? Is she playing the piano to loud? OMG, has she escaped? What the H*** are you talking about!”

“Just go to the cemetery and fix it!” She said! “Ok, OK….. I’ll go see if I can straighten her out!

Now Mother was placed in a crept, which is in a small chapel, and each family member has a key to enter. It’s very peaceful and privet. Each has raised gold lettering on the marble fronts with their name, date of birth and death. My thought was, good heavens. It has been over ten years, since I have been there.

The next morning I drove to the chapel to, at my smart sisters request, STRAGHTN OUT MOTHER. Only to find I needed a key which I had lost, and had to stop at the office to retrieve one. I walked the short distance over to the secluded little chapel. It had been years….years…since I had been there. So, I slowly moved up and down the halls looking for where I thought she had been placed. (I could not remember.)  So, I quietly began to browse for her name ESTHER ELIZABETH like I was strolling through the book shelves of Barns N Nobel, when I spotted my (maiden) last name, but much to my surprise the raised gold letters on Mother’s marker now read LESTER ELIZABETH not ESTHER ELIZABETH. I look at the last name again to be sure it was correct and now it was a him? LESTER. Who in God’s name is Lester and why is he in there with my Mother?

I busted out hysterically laughing with tears rolling down my face reading it over and over….. LESTER ELIZABETH.

OH, for heaven sake’s Mother! (my equivalent of swearing in front of Mother)

I barley made my way back to the cemetery office. Still laughing, with tears rolling down my checks I simple said, “It seems my mother has decided to change her name and gender. Can you help me?”

The most wasted of all days is one without laughter. ~e.e. cummings

EVERY DAY IS A GIFT.

Every day is a gift!

Mother, Mom the burrito, Mother the artist, Mother the musician, Mother the microbiologist, Mother the Grandmother, Mother the friend, Mother the collogue, Mother the sister, Mother the seamstress, Mother the gardener, passed away, peacefully twenty-five years ago in April, at the age of sixty seven, from lung cancer that metastasized to the brain.

For many years after her death, each September, I received a package in the mail from my Aunt, (Mothers’ sister), which always included a plain sealed envelope that was simply addressed, “Merry Mari,” scribbled on the front, in Mother handwriting. Each message ended in the same way.

………….Every day is a gift, and faith makes things possible.

Love,
Mom

EVERY DAY IS A GIFT. CHAPTER 5

Every Day is a gift Chapter 5

I stopped by the lab just in time to see ( the most wonderful hubby) MacGyver lurking around the lab waiting room. He was holding a small, stuffed green canvas bag in one hand, (which I’m sure he confiscated from our son Billy Bobs room), and a small sty-foam cup which had small wisps of steam softly twirling in it’s escape from the top, when he spotted me coming around the glass doors he smiled at me.

“Are you running away from home?” I ask.
“Maybe.” he replied. “Snacks, word searches, cards, you know. I just thought we might need some fun.”
“You’re on the ball!” I said proudly. I quickly gave him the run down of my morning and suggested he headed for the main waiting room on the first floor.
“I’ll meet you there. Ok?”
“It’s going to be fine.” he whispered.
“I know…..and every day is a gift.” I tried really hard to smile as I looked into those big eyes and believe that.

I glanced down at my watch, it was now 9:45 a.m. I headed for the employee’s elevator pushing the 4th floor button and the doors went shut. Within seconds, they opened in unison, and I was instantly transformed into the secret halls of the operating unit. Most folks never see awake.

Countless men and women all faceless were scurrying about, flipping through charts, while their black stethoscopes slowly swung around their necks like a pendulum counting out the seconds. Others, carried them or rolled them up in their white lab coat pocket like a harmless snake in slumber. They were all stealth like due to the bootee‘s which covered their shoes, and except for size and shape, all uniform in their dull green garb.

“Mari!” I heard a voice call out. I glazed at the nursing desk hoping to recognize who was summoning me, when I caught an arm wave and motion for me to come closer. “You can change in the nurses’ lounge and meet me right here when you’re done.” said the voice behind the mask.

“OK.” I replied. I open the brown door mark break-room, and looked around for all the necessary attire I thought I would need. My presents here were infrequent. I only went directly to the small satellite lab tucked away down at the far corner of the last corridor. I mainly delivered supplies when needed or pick up some stat specimens that needed the expertise of the main lab. I was hardly ever assigned here.

I quickly dressed, slipping on my bootees as I opened and went out the door in search of that voice, of who I believe to be Dr. Corda. Mom’s lung guy. This guy was great. Could have been Charlie Chaplin’s twin brother. He stood no more then 5 feet tall. A very sweet, and admired Doctor. I trusted his judgment, but he looked like Chaplin and made me laugh every time I saw him.

Mother would laugh at my impression of Dr. Corda when he was making rounds, and I just happened to be on the floor. She laughed wildly, but always managed to scold me for my disrespectful behavior when she thought it was getting out of hand. “Now Mari…..(here it comes and you knew play time was over.) you mustn’t…..”

“Just in time they are taking her back. Want to see her a minute?” he asked kindly. “Sure,” I replied. I followed him down the hallway, chuckling to myself about how funny he looked in his operating garb. Truly, my only thought was, “Mom is going to love this!”

There she is, he pointed to her. She laid all covered up in a pure white blanket, it was warm and soft to the touch and had been tightly wrapped around her slim body, making her resembled a burrito.

“Cold Mom?” I asked softly as I leaned down searching into those blue green eyes for guidance. “There just about ready to get started. I love you! And, please be good!”
“Ok, she acknowledges with few blinks of her sleepy eyes,” and they began to slowly pushed her through the double doors of Operating room 3.

I stood watching outside the doors through the small windows of OR #3 as everyone took their places and began rolling machines, side tables, white sheets and adjusting huge round futuristic sliver colored blinding bright lights over my Mom the burrito, who seemed to quickly disappear in all the assembled equipment.

My thoughts wandering to any given Saturday or Sunday mornings as a child when I watched my Mother perform similar tasks when she was getting ready to spend the day painting on one of the hundreds of canvases, she had been lining her painting studio with. She loved oil paint and was very talented. The distinct smell of turptine and menials spirit hovered through our house and was oddly soothing to me as a child. Today the smell of antiseptics strangely had replaced the artist smells’ and becomes reassuring as I watch her lifeless body laying in O.R. 3.

“Meet me in the satellite lab will you, Mari.” said Doctor Nicky as his back side swung open the doors. “They should have our little goodie out in no time.” I headed around the corner, with Mothers last words continually streaming across my brain like one of those annoying neon messages sighs signaling a special or an invitation at the local pub or dinner.

“Faith makes things possible, not easy. Faith makes things possible…..Faith…Faith…..”

“Nice specimen! He said as if he had just found some exotic creature. (These guys in the path lab are scary sometimes) Let’s take a closer look at this varmint, shall we?” He sprang into action as he rolled from counter to counter top. His hands so gently and steady as he picked up the reddest brown, chicken liver looking, pieces of warm lung they just removed from Mom as he prepared it for inspection carefully placing it on a clear sliver thin glass strip. In no time his face buried in one of the large black microscopes, as his hands turning the side dials like they were knobs on a radio. Slowly forward, and then back. One side than the other gentle rolling. His glasses now askew atop his head. We could have heard a straight pin drop. The silence was sickening.

“It’s Squamous Cell Carcinoma metastasizes of the lung I’m afraid alright.” he said softly. “Want to look?” as he pushed back from the counter. I stepped up and peered into the scope. The tears began to fill my eyes and collect in the lenses. It was too hard to see anything. All I could do was nod my head as I tried to focus in this monster, called cancer.

“A lobectomy of that R-lung would be in order Mari. That will be her best chance, that along with chemo and cobalt treatment.” he said.

“I understand Doc.” Was all I could say. “Thank you for doing this and being here.”

EVERY DAY IS A GIFT. CHAPTER 4

Chapter 4
Every day is a gift.

I awoke early Tuesday morning and still found myself rushing around getting ready for work. My shift at the laboratory was from 05:00 a.m. to 14:00 pm

Mother was admitted Monday night. A mediastinoscopy with possible lobectomy of R-lung was on the surgery board for 10:00am. My sister, who is ten years old, then I, was currently finishing her Master program at the University of Illinois, which is only about an hour or so away. She and Mother had spoken, and Mom insisted there was nothing to fret about. “Finish your studies, Sissy. (my sisters pet name) I’m fine. There is no need for you to be waiting around here.”

In my sister’s defense, Mother was correct. Sissy is incredibly educated but, when it comes to medical terms, procedures, caring giving, or a fast decision to be made, let’s just say, that would not be her strongest attributed.

I had phoned everyone I could think of an informed them, and promised I would call when we knew something. My Father, whom had been M.I.A from our lives over the last fifteen years or so, wished me luck and told me to call, when I knew more?

I was hoping for a better reaction. Maybe his presences! But, that would have in all probabilities been a gift, Mother, or I really did not want to open, especially today.

The morning air was crisp. The sun slightly peeking through the night line as I got in the car and headed for the hospital. Guessing Gus, our local weatherman, had called for a perfect sunny, pre-spring day. It was March 1983 as I opened my locker door at work and shoved my purse in my assigned hole. I grabbed my white coat, checked my pockets for all the necessary item I might need for the day and headed down the long shinny marble corridors of the lab. The smells seemed especially pungent as I turned the corner and entered into the path lab.

“Wee… Tommy, what you got cooking in here today?”
“You know, this and that. Been a busy night. I got a cool liver hanging out over here, want to see.” He jumps up to retrieve it.
“No, I’m afraid it may look like mine in a few years. I’ll pass. But thanks anyway. You know where Dr. Nicky might be?”
“Check the cafeteria. Last place I saw him, and good luck to Mom today. I see she is on the surgery board for 10:00 am today. You know she is in the good hands, my dear.”
“Thanks Tommy.” I smiled and gave him a wink. “I’ll check in the cafeteria.

I poked my head in the cafeteria door and gazed over at the area where all us lab junkies usually sat., But it was empty. So, I grabbed the elevator and headed up to the eighth floor, Room 800-A, to check on the star of the day.

Mom was up in a chair, her lips stick and make-up on perfect, hair perfect in her standard French roll twist, covered in a striking dark blue bed jacket, stretched out across the bed, as if she was a guest on the Queen Mary, lounging with the morning’s paper.

“Good Morning, Merry Mari.” (mothers pet name again) She said with a big smile as she folded the paper.
“Mom.” I said bending over and giving her a kiss on the forehead.”
“How are the boys?” She asked.
“Boy’s are fine Mother. How are you? Has anyone been in too see you yet?”
“No. All quiet in here, my dear.” She said with a giggle.
“Mom, let’s talk.” I softly said.

“Merry Mari,” she said, as she clasped my hand, I bent down beside her.
“Remember love, faith makes things possible, not easy, possible. I love you, and have faith in your judgment. You will make the right decisions. You have the best Doctors guiding you and talking care of me.
“I know but,” I began to tear up…. When my pager began to screech madly as if it would shoot out of my pocket. I pulled it out trying to quiet its insufferable alert.

“It’s the Lab.” I said, softly.
“Well, dry those tears and get to work then. There are sick people in here!”
“Mom, I love you! We will get through this.”
“Look young lady, you have things to do. I have things to do. So move on. Every day is….”

“I know Mother…… a gift.” I whispered as I walk out of room 800-A. I called Doctor Nicky from the nurse’s station, and he indicated that things were on scheduled, that’s a first, so Mom should be going up to surgery in about an hour.

I poked my head in 800-A and told her that things were running as scheduled, and someone should be by to collect her, in about an hour.
“Ok, Dear.” She replied.

I headed for the elevators. It was now 9:00am.