Almost every day you can find some silly little thing on the internet about how the Baby Boomer generation actually survived their childhood in spite of no bike helmets, concrete playgrounds, drinking from a hose and any number of other things that should have killed us before the age of 10. And yet here we are.
UNLESS . . . You are now that "lucky" senior who is blessed with loving children who want to protect you from the ravages of time. Because Grand ma and grandpa have now suddenly become brain dead and totally incapable of making decision on our own.
GOD HELP US !!!!!!!!!!.
My recent adventures with open heart surgery have brought forth the masterful take over of my body and brain by my loving children. All those years when I thought I was at least a little bit smarter than my kids has proven not only false but deadly. All because they "LOVE ME" !!! I realize that my children have patiently awaited this day when they will have their revenge. Mom is no l longer in charge, the kids are and heaven help the old lady sho is left to their mercy.
Let's start at the beginning . . . I have managed to make it to a ripe old age of 80 only by the grace of God. He blessed me with parents who gave me life and managed not to kill me during my teenage years. I don't know how I survived my college years other than God must have had a plan where I would have children just so they could have their revenge. My life was full of blessings. The most precious ones being my 3 children.
My kids are amazing adults. Kind, generous, loving and evil. I know they think they are helping but Lord save me from their care. And to think I would have moved mountains to live near them. Now all I want to do is hide when I hear them coming.
From the moment the decision was made to under go this surgery my kids rallied like Custer at his last stand. Phone calls were made between them, calendars were consulted, vacations were moved and I began to slide into the vortex of The Black Hole of my deadliest nightmares. I had not realizes just how great a job I did raising these people. They are smart, competent and well meaning. If only they would be taking care of someone other than me.. I would be so proud of them.
It seems that mom going into the hospital for "serious" surgery meant that mom would suddenly become brain dead, incompetent, frail, need to be under their watch 24/7 and STUPID !! The looks that would pass between siblings when I would say or do anything no longer mean, "Isn't mom funny! Look how cute she is when she is drooling mashed peaches into her Ensure." Now the looks that pass between my kids mean so much more, first and foremost being, "OH GOD ! She has totally lost it and we are going to be taking care of her for years on end."
Am I the same person who had heart surgery just 3 weeks ago? YUP ! Do I need diapers and a bib? NO! Not quite. Is my brain still a bit fuzzy from being under anesthesia for several hours? Yes ! Do I still know my name and how to wipe my. own butt? YES ! There seems to be no middle ground here. I am either a half step from being a Kumquat or am so old that all I'm good for is clearing dishes from the table and bringing in the mail. I might as well be a German Shepherd.
My first born child arrived on the scene shortly after I was out of recovery. (We shall call him "K 1" ) I do not remember ANY of those days. I know the kids were there for me and had a plan of attack for when I would come home to an empty house. It is a good plan and one I truly appreciate. BUT . . . My first born child is Type A personality. I am sure there is a power point presentation for any and all who care to know how well I will be cared for. He arrived with a full menu plan for the next 3 weeks. He is an excellent cook but I really think I may have appreciated being consulted in deciding what I would like to eat. So far we have feasted on Salmon, swordfish and chicken. All gourmet meals but I am craving a simple bowl of spaghetti with sauce. "K1" has taken care of laundry and "cleaning" all while working from here a full 8 hours a day. If I make the slightest sound he suddenly appears out of nowhere to ask if I am "OK". I am constantly asked if I want/need anything but my lips are sealed. My fingers are itching to get into my kitchen to clean off the counter tops and put things away. (I too am a Type "A" personality and it KILLS me to have to just sit and watch.).
"K1" is also showing signs of being equipped to do nursing and physical therapy. I have only just arrived home from a week in a rehab facility and "Richard Simmons" is concerned that I am loosing ground. If I don't get back to therapy I may spend the rest of my life in bed from lack of moving for 2 days. Meanwhile the surgeon kept impressing on me that I am STILL HEALING inside and I need to "take it easy". I guess that means that I can not open a bottle of aspirin but I can be made to march in place of 45 minutes until I drop dead.
But it is all being done in the name of LOVE.
