When Mother takes her pills

Today is my mother’s birthday.  She’s 94.  She lives in an assisted living facility although it’s only because she doesn’t like to take her pills. If she doesn’t take them, she gets all foggy.  If she does take them, Lord help the staff. She takes to trying to run the place. What can you do?

Today she was visited by a fellow “prisoner” who confided an urgent desire to escape and Mother alerted the front desk via her emergency button. Mother:  “They came and took her back home and then I looked out the window and there she was trying to get over the speed bumps again.” (I guess she was using a walker) “And I called the front desk and said, ‘whelp, she’s at it again’ and they all thanked me.”  Mother would generally be the first to try to escape but apparently my brother has managed to beguile the ladies at the front desk with his swaggering charm (the men in my family all age well … fuck that) and so Jimbo’s daring escapades keep her entertained.

The Dashing Jimbo in his favorite hat.

She used to live with my husband and me but we are very boring and we live at least a four hour drive from her beloved son who is always innovating, creating, partying, and exercising.  She lived with him briefly but he doesn’t own a television set and has lately become a vegetarian.  She needed and could afford to live someplace where she could have a television in every room, eat what she wanted, and meet with her friends to plan their little rebellions. Life is meaningless for mother unless there’s something to rebel against.

So, happy birthday Mom and enjoy that coffee ice cream you fought so hard for!