So, as we sat in the incredibly crowded waiting room, I had to giggle at her childlike commentary. It very much reminded me of the embarrassment you feel when your child publicly asks you about the legless woman in the wheelchair, or why that man is wearing a towel on his head? It usually comes from such an innocent and pure place but it still makes you want to crawl under your chair and die. I'm not sure who that child belongs to...
Being extremely hard of hearing, my grandmother likes to make off color comments while "whispering." I can assure you her version of whispering can be heard by patients and passersby throughout the building and in the surrounding offices.
"Why the hell is that guy wearing a mask over his mouth? What kind of disease does he have?" As the man in the mask looks away in complete horror, I answer with a smile, "Oh, he probably just has the flu. It prevents him from spreading germs." Then, looking right at him she yells, "Well, how's that working for you?" The entire office is now staring at this poor man and his germ infested mask and I'm sure he was waiting to be ostracized from the community at a moments notice. "Um. I think it's working fine, thank you. I don't know why they are making me wear it, I'm only here because of my allergies."
Everyone else in the room breathes a sigh of relief, but because my grandmother can't hear, and the mask is preventing her from reading his lips, she just nods her head while flashing this forced grin that screams, "I don't know what you are saying, but I still think you are gross."
I have never been so excited to see that it was our turn to see the physician. In hindsight, this turned out to be a short-lived victory. You see, my mother had sent me there with this list of questions for the doctor. Grandma is getting a little more forgetful and her poor hearing makes it impossible for her to communicate one-on-one with the physician. So, after the nurse weighed her and strapped on her blood pressure cuff, she handed me this very tiny paper gown and told me to get her COMPLETELY undressed with the gown open in the front.
My pulse started racing, I began to sweat, and I completely lost my appetite. And for those of you who know me, that NEVER happens. With my back to my grandma, and my list of questions in hand for the doctor, I turned around to see that my grandma was standing before me in all of her nakedness. I thought to myself, "Oh No She Di'nt! (Insert black girl finger wave). She didn't just strip down to nothing right in front of me!" The last time I checked, her generation was known for their modesty.
Oh, yes she did. I opened up the paper gown and helped her slip her arms through - leaving it open in the front. Is there no mercy? I also had to "boost" her tiny 4'11'' frame onto the ominous table and quickly draped the paper sheet over her legs. Um, AWKWARD! I had to chant to myself, "Eyes averted down! Keep looking down!" I clicked my ruby red heels three times. "There's no place like home. There's no place like home."
After more than 30 or so minutes of small talk, the doctor made her appearance and I was able to perform my duties as the family fact gatherer.
- Grandma thinks she has wax build up in her ears because her hearing is worse than ever.
- Can you check this spot on her ankle?
- Her boobs are touching her belly button, is a boob job out of the question?
Soon, the appointment was finished and my grandma was ready to go home. It was just about lunch time which was the perfect scenario to force her to eat. This is something she doesn't do when she is all alone. She agreed to do so on one condition - that I let her pay. Reluctantly, I agreed to her demands - somewhat amused that her craving for the day included one of the largest KFC chicken sandwiches I have ever seen and nearly twice her weight in coleslaw. I guess when you don't get out that often KFC sounds like fried chicken heaven!
We had a great conversation over lunch and I was thrilled to know that she had some sustenance in her system - albeit greasy and gross. What I didn't know is that apparently KFC has the same effect on my grandma as spinach does to Popeye. Her persona changed. She got a little ballsy. There was a little skip in her step. Well, not really. She's had hip replacement and now walks with a cane. But she walked with more confidence. And as I gathered my coat, purse and keys to make my way to the door she asks, "How about we go for a ride around the block?"
"Okay. Sure! I'll drive you wherever you want to go!" Nope. That is not what she wanted at all. You see, she had not driven in more than two years. Not since my grandpa died. Common sense would tell you that it's probably not a good idea. There's deafness, extremely short legs, occasional dizziness, and waning eye sight issues. The list goes on and on. But I must have been in some grease induced fast food trance because before I knew it, I replied, "Let's do this. Where are your keys?"
Backing out of the narrow carport in a big blue Buick proved to be challenging for grandma. Half on the pavement and half on the grass, we finally made our way to the public streets unscathed. And after circling around the block not once, but twice, she was content to head back to the comforts and safety of her home. She emerged from the car a new woman with a new found confidence that surely reminded her of the independence she once had. It felt so good to give my grandma that moment - she was confident, smiling and proud.
So when I say that my grandma has "been around the block" - I really mean it. Literally. And under these circumstances, that is not such a bad thing!
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