jawnbc | J'ai la tête qui éclate...

It's going pretty well so far. Well it must be: my sadness is often tempered with confusion and crabbiness at my parents, les phreaks. And no, not "all parents are freaks" sense: they are phreaks. This morning I was awoken once again by my mutha shouting

The last time I was awoken by screams chez parents was 12 November 2001, when AA 587 crashed about 400m from the house. Since this was the second time, I had a frame of reference (of sorts) and leaped out of bed, found shorts, removed ear plugs and lurched into the hallway.

No smell of jet fuel. No smoke.

"I said 'You need to go to Nanny's. She fell this morning and no one's answering the phone.'" Oh.
"Do I have time to shower, or should I just run over there now?"
"Take a shower, no panic." Oh.
Shower. Dress. Stop to catch my breath.
"Waddya doing--get over there! She could be hurt!" Oh.

Nanny lives 3 blocks away, 3 Rockaway blocks or about 500m. I was there in 3 minutes, and Renata greated me with a big smile. Renata single handedly saves my parents and Nanny and Brenda (my 52 year old aunt with Down's, who lives with 96 year old Nanny) from absolute squalor. She's lovely and does amazing work. But she won't answer the phone (rightly so) and didn't know Nanny had fallen. "She's asleep." Oh.

beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep. Ring. Ring. "Hello?"
"Hi. she's asleep in bed."
"Well wake her up."
"Why?" (If I were/get to be 96, I'd be napping at 11am too)
"To make sure she's not unconscious. And to say hello of course, she'll be happy to see you." Oh.

Gently shake. "Nanny?" More vigourous. "Nanny?" Shake/rock. "Nanny?"

"Whath? Whath? Who's dere?" (Nanny's from Galway and has a thick brogue)
"It's me John."
"John! Hallo! I fell, and I couldn't geth up and Una (aunt, legally blind from diabetes) and Ethna (aunt, amputated lower leg, also from diabetes) couldn't geth me. Then they could. I was so embarassed. Anyway, how errrrr you?"

At first I was taken aback and how disoriented Nanny was. This is the first visit she wasn't 100% lucid. But once she got up and made her way to the living room (with a walker, another change in the last 12 months), she had her wits again. And we had a lovely visit. She's conceding more and more each day that her death will be sooner rather than later, though she doesn't feel she's there just yet. Her body is betraying her much more than her mind--something she's quite OK with. But her hearing is the shits, and finds the isolation that accompanies deafness very, very difficult to accept. Her hearing aid is only of marginal value, though she'll see if she can get it tweaked later this month. She is very worried about Ma though. Nanny and I are unusually close (I'm her 4th son, according to her), and the visit was a mutual love fest of the gazillionth degree. Woo hoo!

I visited for about an hour, then ran some errands (NY pizza for lunch yay, banking, post office), then chez parents. Da was back from golf and Ma had shifted to the breakfast nook, so I joined her and we passed the time. As she was prepping dinner, she asked me to light the grill. I didn't get it to light right away and she impulsively came onto the back deck, lit the grill and went back inside. And very nearly passed out from completing losing her breath. Horrible to watch, powerless to help. 15 minutes later and she was OK. Poor Ma.

Dad and I finished serving dinner, and I cleared the table. I grabbed my laptop and showed Ma photos of Australia, and remembered just before I started to tell here there was a boyfriend (

querrelle) in some of the photos. A very serious boyfriend (the relationship, not I guess the boyfriend). Silence. I started the slideshow in iPhoto, and any discomfort disappeared with the photos of pretty birds and flowers, Opera Houses, harbours, kangaroos and things antipodean. She was genuinely excited and pleased. I also touched base with Kathleen: she's gonna join me and some of the cousins for dinner tomorrow night. I'm glad to get some grown-up time with my mega-mamma sister (7 kids).

So was I.

Couple of hours later and I've been in the basement watching la tube boob (digital cable) for 3 hours. Ma and Da are on/in bed, as they are by 730pm every night. The programming is inconsequential, but after about an hour I noticed I couldn't see the telly because my eyes were full of tears. Which almost happened upstairs after Ma's attack, but I didn't want to upset her. I am so very, very glad I'm here now. We're having a visit. I dont' think I can count on Mom being around for Christmas, but I think one more Christmas for the whole family isn't too much to ask from The Universe--consider this entry my official request. My Mom has survived many things I'd rather not disclose here--she's ain't a blogger, I am--and though she'd never make it explicit, I think she's really really hoping to hang on for the holidays.

I have the nightly call with

querrelle in an hour, then it's bedtime for Jawnzo. And besides I can't see the screen for some reason...