Sandwiched
As I’ve mentioned before, there are many similarities between taking care of your elderly parent and raising your own children. One area that comes to mind lately is doctor appointments.
When your kids are under 18, you typically take them to the doctor at least once a year for check ups (and more often as newborns.) Sometimes these appointments involve the dreaded needle for vaccinations. In my case, this process consisted of me holding one of my young sons on my lap and looking away when the nurse stepped up with the dreaded sharp instrument.
I can’t even look at someone with a needle on a TV program or movie, let alone in a real medical office. If I do, the staff would no longer be dealing with one patient, but two as they pick up my lifeless body from the floor due to a fainting spell.
Thankfully my sons are now 18 and 16 and they handle needles without flinching. I haven’t had to even hold their hands in years and the days of getting ice cream afterwards to soothe them – and me – are long gone.
But just when I thought those painful days of seeing someone I love getting stuck one or more times were over, now I’m taking my mother to various doctor appointments. And lately they’ve involved those dreaded needles and other instruments of torture.
Poor Mom has had to deal with the effects of her tanning sessions from the 70s and 80s – she’s had spots of basal cell carcinoma that had to be taken care of at the dermatologist’s office. Thankfully this skin cancer grows slowly, rarely spreads to other parts of the body, and is easily removed. Well, comparatively speaking.
Over the last few months Mom’s had to have spots of carcinoma removed either through cauterization or with (gulp!) an excision. The latter of course involves those dang sharp objects.
Mom has had two excisions. The first time I stared at my phone with intense concentration as Dr. Siebe and his nurse worked on a spot on her arm. But my imagination was still racing and I felt bad knowing they had to jab her with needles to numb her up first.
The second time, I accidentally glimpsed up as Dr. Siebe was numbing up Mom’s forehead. My stomach rolled. I felt weak and light-headed as I saw her forehead puff up. I wanted to scream, “Don’t hurt my mama!” Once again, like with my children, it was so hard to see someone I love feel pain.
I’m relieved to say that Mom’s done with needles for a while. And I’m glad that her facility takes care of flu and pneumonia shots each year!
If we ever do have to face those sharp objects again, I think this time I’ll hold her hand – while staring intently at the wall, of course. And maybe we’ll go get Dairy Queen afterwards to help make it all better.