Wednesday afternoon about 4:30 I stopped what I was doing to brighten my mother’s day at the assisted living facility where she resides. I found her lying in bed as if napping. She was awake in a kind of quiet and meditative way.
She wore a simple apple green cotton top. Her neck was wreathed with a sheer scarf. The scarf was brown toned with a subtle leopard print. Her hair was white. She looked beautiful.
I kissed her. Her stillness worried me for a second. She recognized I was there. I came to recognize nurse Sheryl’s arrival to get Mom up and ready for 5:00 p.m. dinner. All present and accounted for.
Sheryl brings with her a hoisting apparatus I refer to as the Deus Ex Machina. I call it this because it follows Sheryl like a dog on a leash and its operation is both theatrical and dramatic.
Safety is an issue. My mother is unable to walk or stand unsupported. Falls can be dangerous. This device helps lift her hundred pounds or so into or out of the wheelchair in which she spends most of her waking day.
A bright green woven sling with tabs is placed under my mother. The tabs fasten onto hooks, and by relatively simple hydraulic means, the sling does the work of transporting my mother’s body from point A to Point B.
She is like the baby being delivered by a stork when she is in midair. She is like a little pea in a pod as she comes down to her seated or reclining destination.
When my mother is in bed, the bed is lowered as close to the floor as possible and when she rises, the bed is raised at the push of a button, to two or more feet off the floor.
As Sheryl presses the control to raise the bed, a pilot’s voice somehow takes control of me.
” How high are we?” I ask. “We are now flying above the ground so many feet. Ladies and gentlemen , our altitude is ______”
“Wonderful!” says Mom.