I Want My Mommy Back!!!!!!
Ok, Dr. Hottie may rock in the whole surgery and looks department, but can I just take a moment to say (imagine this in my husband’s redneck voice) “he dun fucked my mama up!”
My mother has been in a Vicodin and Valium induced fog for the last week. When she comes to she calls me. Then she complains that she, “lost a week.” After that she rambles on asking how many stitches do I think she has, why does this hurt so bad, and maybe she shouldn’t have done this after all. On Saturday she called twelve times. Sunday she called 4 times in the morning and was threatening to drive over here because I “abandoned” her. My brother had to hide her keys.
Emphasis on ELECTIVE SURGERY, Mom!
At least now I know why my mother doesn’t drink… she becomes a completely different person! All of her complaining is done in a southern accent, somewhere between a Paula Deen and a Scarlet O’Hara. I have no clue where any of that is coming from!
Now, I’ve been over there every day, twice on most days, with the exception of Saturday and Sunday. I left Kate over there in charge and that kid is a mini-Martha Stewart in the making. When I say Martha Stewart I’m not talking about floral arrangements I’m talking about that “other” reputation Martha has.
Now, I love my mother, heart and soul. I adore her. I’ve helped nurse her through a few medical recoveries both elective and, hmmm, not so much…
But this facelift bit takes the damn cake. Kate has been there to ensure that my mother takes her pain meds at the right time, because as I have been warned, emphatically, by Dr.Hottie’s office if the pain meds wear off, it’ll take a helluva lot to get control of the pain again.
Conversation with mom on Friday when I stopped by to check her sutures (and yeah, there are ALOT of them):
Me: Is Kate taking good care of you?
Mom: (sounding like she has had about 6 margaritas and 5 shots in the last 1/2 hour and spent the majority of her life living in the deep south) Every time I start to perk up she runs in and hands me pills and knocks my ass out again.
Me: Good.
She called at 10:30 that night to tell me that she was going to bed… then she decided to have ice cream. So I talked to Kate and we decided she also needed another Vicodin. As Kate was getting out the pills I could hear my mother in the background ala Vivian Leigh, “WHY do I need more of those? Those make me loopy! You just gave them to me five minutes ago!!!” Apparently, they cause some sort of rip in the fabric of time as well, because my mother’s five minutes was actually nearly 4 hours. And, that’s right, folks, she doesn’t know anything about birthin’ no babies. Well… she does… but you get my point.
Kate put me back on the phone with mom, who started rambling again… so I said, “Oh, Mike’s right here!” and handed the phone to Mike, who had somehow come under the impression that Mom wanted to talk to him. I don’t know where he might have gotten that idea, but I’m sure he didn’t get it from me… Then we made obscene gestures at one another as he feigned concern for her current condition.
His end of the conversation:
“Well, I’m looking at before and after pictures here and you spent a lot of money to look really bad…”
Then he handed the phone back to me and more obscene gestures ensued.
I hate men.
Oh, here are the pics I mentioned…
Mom before:
Mom After:
Hmmm… maybe Mike was right.
Related Tags: Plastic surgery, facelift, moms, surgery, husbands, men, vicodin, valium
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July 17th, 2006
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Posted in: Family Antics, Things That Could Get Me Killed
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