Lifting Mom’s spirits

Sitting in a retina specialist’s exam room last week, my mom shook her head and looked down as the doctor told us the news about her left eye.

I tried translating all the medical jargon as well as I could. But the tone of the doctor’s voice and look on his face said it all.

I hugged my mom afterwards as we waited to find out about her next appointment.

“No te preocupes, Mami (Don’t worry)” I told her, sounding like a broken record.

After a seemingly endless array of medical procedures, including her recent toe surgery, my mom’s latest affliction is an abnormal growth of blood vessels in her left eye. It’s been swollen and red, causing her a lot of discomfort and pain. She can’t see out of it.

The doctor was hoping the pressure in her eye would come down after an injection and higher dosage of eye drops. It did but not enough. He recommended I take her to a glaucoma specialist as soon as possible. There’s a good chance she’ll need surgery, but there’s no guarantee she’ll regain her vision.

Later that afternoon, my mom sat in the kitchen looking pensive.

“Estoy triste (I’m sad),” she said to me, explaining she doesn’t want to lose her eyesight.

While I’ve tried to remain optimistic, it’s becoming increasingly harder to do so. As caregivers, we tell our loved ones that there’s hope and for a while we believe it. But there are moments when hope isn’t enough.

So I reached out to friends and family last week and asked them for their help. Can they call my mom and try to cheer her up? Can they pray for her or send good vibes our way?

Yesterday, as we celebrated Mother’s Day, I was struck by how relaxed and content my mom seemed. A steady stream of visitors dropped by the house. A colorful array of flowers adorned her kitchen. The smell of grilled chicken, veggies and turkey burgers filled the house.

Our worries aren’t over. But at least Mom knows that she’s not alone and that in spite of what ails her, we – her family and friends – will always be there to support her and lift her spirits.

Another day, another surgery

Mom’s having surgery again. For the second time in three months, she’ll undergo an operation to repair a toe that causes her pain when she walks. It’s a minor operation. A day surgery. She’ll go in at 10 a.m. and be out by lunchtime or shortly after.

If my memory is correct, this will be my mom’s fourth such surgery since 2005 and the second one on this particular toe. “Estoy cansada,” she says each time. She’s tired of having had so many operations, including a couple of eye surgeries, in recent years.

The procedure today involves straightening out the left middle toe and inserting a metal pin. If all goes well, it’ll provide some much-needed comfort. Hopefully, she’ll be able to walk again without hobbling.

Perhaps one of the hardest things about seeing your loved ones age is your own feeling of helplessness. You want to make things better for your parents. You take them to their doctor appointments. You make sure they have the proper medication. You do the best you can do. But at the end of the day, you realize that they are the mercy of their aging body. It may cooperate one day and then spring a new ailment the next.

Recently, after a visit to her podiatrist, my mom and I stopped to get some lunch. She planned to wait in the car while I went inside to order. Before stepping out of my car, she noticed a couple of middle-aged women walking on the sidewalk.

“How I wish I could walk like that again,” she said to me in Spanish.

I smiled, placed my hand on her shoulder and told her she would. I pray today that she get’s her wish.