Photo courtesy of Jon Flobrant/StockSnap

In retrospect I should have thought through the sequence of events a little better.

Yesterday I had some minor out-patient toe surgery done under local anesthesia. Early this morning I had an infected and cracked back tooth extracted under sedation.

So yesterday I limped around when I wasn’t keeping my foot elevated. Today I lived in zombie-land until late afternoon. I wasn’t even aware I had a sore toe.

I’m one of those people who have difficulty waking up from sedation. I recall prior episodes in the hospital where various shifts of nurses would check on me in recovery hoping to verify that my alertness level was finally sufficient to kick me out of the room to free it up for someone else.

My husband, having been a paramedic for over twenty years, is a wonderful caregiver. For instance he never once commented on the loud snoring emanating from his passenger on the way home from the oral surgeon’s office. He kept my supply of soft food, water, and meds coming at the prescribed level. Even though he was working from home, he took my ever-by-my-side canine companion on two long walks so the dog would be satisfied to come back and flop on the floor beside me.

And yet, despite my husband’s superb care and even though she’s been gone from this world over twenty years, part of me still wanted my Mom here to take care of me.

What is it about a mother’s love and care that reigns supreme? Part of our early lives with mom we spend in tantrums wanting to do things by ourselves or our way. Our teenage angst caused many of our moms to temporarily question why they thought it had been a good idea to have children in the first place. So being a mom takes an infinite amount of patience.

A friend of mine was a medic during the Vietnam War. He once shared the heart-wrenching story of young men who died on the battlefield of wounds too grievous from which to recover. Doing his best to provide comfort during their last minutes on earth, Doc sat with them, holding their hands, stroking their hair. He said he lost count of the men who called out for his mom in his final breaths.

My heart aches for children, both small and grown, the world over who do not know a relationship with a loving mother. Many of us take such a bond for granted. We automatically think others’ lives and relationships are similar to our own.

My own mom and I had a quarrelsome relationship when I was a high school senior. It seemed as if we fought over every minor issue. Basically, I was a brat. A Hallmark moment occurred in the form of what my high school best friend Linda wrote in my yearbook. Besides all the “remember when we…” and the “I’ll never forget the fun we had at…” jottings, she wrote these words of wisdom. Yes, I have my high school yearbook open, so this is verbatim.

“Something else I want to say. Love your mother, Norma. She has to be pretty special to raise someone like you. I know you DO love her, but show it. (I’m awful forward, heh?)”

I needed that tough love from a true friend to help me get over myself and reestablish a good relationship with my mom. I am grateful that my friend Linda is still in my life today and is a follower of this blog.

Words do have the power to change lives.

To my readers: Share a favorite story about your mom.