Hands

Hands that touch.  Touch a frail body ever so sensitively.  Hands that are wrinkled.  Hands that are freckled.  Hands that can have the weight of a ton of bricks.  Hands that I use to beg to intertwine with mine.  Just for a bit.  Calm hands.  Nervous hands.  Hands attached to long fingers and even longer nail beds.  Proof we're related hands.  Hands with the blessing of cooking skills.  Thank you Mom hands.  Well manicured hands taking care of rough calloused hands.  Signs of a lifetime of hard work hands. Seemingly huge hands have grown smaller over the years.  Mini hands full of multicolored polish.  Full of life and so much possibility hands.  Hands that look for a phone but instead find their way to a keyboard.  Hands that clean.  Hands that iron.  Hands that hang freshly washed clothes.  Hands that wipe tears.  Hands that come together to pray.  Hands that grip a yoga mat.  Downward dog.  Bridge.  Help me hands.  Help me make sense.  Hands.

The lab

Next week, Mama has an appointment with her primary care physician.  That being the case, we went to the local lab this morning to take her routine exams [blood, urine, etc.].  Mama seemed to be semi-excited, maybe even anxious this morning.  She woke up and the first thing she said to me was, "We're going to take blood this morning right?"  I assured her that we were and even suggested we go grab some breakfast afterwards.

Why aren't I at work you ask?  Well, I've significantly reduced my hours at the job in order to be around more often for Ms. Mama.  I also [thankfully] secured a position tutoring a group of engineering students at the local university.  So, there's still money coming in and more time to care for Mama.

Back to the lab.  So, as Mama is getting her blood drawn, the woman attending her is trying to convince her to take a short trip with me back to New York.  She's making a good case but Mama is just politely laughing saying its too cold over there right now.  She faithfully watches the Weather Channel like its a real channel.  Its almost like a favorite past time of hers or something.  I mean really, what is it with old people and weather?  She goes straight for the weather section in the newspaper, must see the weather on her afternoon news program, and knows the Weather Channel number and schedule by heart! You would think someone so invested in weather would use it to her advantage and actually plan outings or something!  I digress.  

Where were we? Oh yes, the woman finishes taking her blood and hands her an empty tube and a plastic cup.  Mama looks at me with these bugged out eyes and says "You can stay here."  I ask why and she responds "I have to give a sample of my urine so I have to go to the bathroom." I say, "Ok, well then, let me take your purse." See, in my mind she already has a cane and a bad arm.  If she wants bathroom privacy I'll grant it to her but the least I can do is hold her purse.  Here's were it gets interesting...as I reach for the purse, she pulls back and refuses!  But like nervously refuses - with crazy eyes this time.  Now I know something is up and before I could open my mouth again she says "Come, come with me to the bathroom."  Lord oh Lord, I think, What is she up to??  

As soon as we walk into the bathroom she starts unzippering her purse.  As she's doing that, she's explaining "I don't go to the bathroom in public places, and I never pee here.  I always bring my own urine."  Yes.  Read it again.  Ingest that.  I promise it just gets better.  She then proceeds to pull out a small plastic bottle.  As she's doing this I'm thinking - that bottle looks very familiar....don't tell me.  No. she. didn't.  The bottle, ladies and gentleman, was the bottle I use to store my natural juices that I make at home.  My famous baby bottle that I love because it doesn't leak and is small enough to fit in my bag.  Yes, that bottle is now Mama's pee pee cup.  I can't.  I didn't know how to react and so I just mumbled [desperately and in full English] "Nooooo, you can't be serious." under my breath.  Mama saw my face and said "What?"  I responded "Mama I use that for juice!"  While pouring her pee from my bottle into the tube and passing me the unused cup to throw away, she nonchalantly said "Well, I couldn't find the cup I usually put it in and so I grabbed the first thing I saw."

Please note: 

#1- I am afraid to ask what she use to put her pee pee in before my bottle came along. #2 When did she find the time to do all this without me noticing?  She must have done it last night before she went to bed...when I was out teaching...ugh #3- there is no way she just stumbled on that bottle because I store them on the second shelf in the kitchen --- of course I would have the TALL 89 year old grandma! 

As I type this I am in a fit of laughter.  How are you such a germ-a-phobe that you won't use perfectly clean public toilets but you'll freely piss in a baby bottle that people drink from?!?!  It's like I'm living a sitcom sometimes...and these things are just too good not to share.  Happy Friday folks!

Exhibit A