A lesson in perspective

Friday afternoon, I was gearing up for a busy weekend. I had been having some minor health issues and had gotten behind on Christmas shopping and other holiday stuff. I finally went to the doctor Friday morning and was looking forward to feeling better and catching up on some things.

Around 6:30, Mom called and asked if I could come over and help her. She said her hand and lips were numb and she couldn’t think straight. Her speech was a little slurred. She thought she was having a migraine. I grabbed some Excedrin Migraine and went over there.

After nearly an hour, we finally convinced her to go to the ER. They did a CAT scan which showed some abnormalities. The ER doctor said it appeared she’d had a minor stroke. Those are words that completely stop you in your tracks.

I don’t know much about strokes, but I know they can be debilitating and cause permanent damage. How much damage had been done? Was she more likely to have another one? They transferred her to another hospital where a neurosurgeon could look at her. The next thirty-six hours were tense and anxious, worrying and wondering.

I think Mom probably got to her room around 11:00 Friday night. It filled my heart to see three of her sisters, one brother, two sisters-in-law, and one niece show up at the hospital at that hour. One aunt even spent the night at the hospital Friday night.

She spent Friday night and Saturday night in the hospital, undergoing a battery of tests. They released her this morning. The neurosurgeon said he thought her numbness and other symptoms were caused by scar tissue from a previous stroke. And she has to make an appointment with him to see if he can determine why these episodes are occurring and how to prevent them.

My thoughts are many and scattered. I’m not sure I’m making much sense. It was strange to be there without Dad. I mean, he visited for a few minutes on Saturday. But it was weird to realize for the first time the responsibilities that had been transferred to my sister and me.

On trips back and forth to the hospital this weekend,I kept passing places that reminded me of my childhood. I passed the preschool I attended. It closed a few months ago, but the building and sign are still there, along with some playground equipment. I remembered crying when Mom would drop me off. And thirty years seemed to have disappeared like a wisp of smoke.

For a time when I was very young, Mom and Dad cleaned the social security offices at night and cleaned up the parking lot of a shopping center on the weekend to make extra money. They would bring me along. I passed the shopping center on the way to the hospital this weekend. I thought about Mom and Dad when they were younger, trying to make ends meet. Oh, to be five again.

It just seemed things like that kept popping up and stirring memories of long ago. And I didn’t mind at all. I was thankful to be reminded of things I hadn’t thought about in years.

Friday afternoon, I was stressing about shopping and errands and Christmas and such. But sometimes life has its own plans. Tonight, I’m spending the night at Mom’s, having been reminded of the things that are really important. All that other stuff… is just stuff.

A ten dollar lesson on the things that really matter

I received ten dollars in a birthday card last week. Except it wasn’t my birthday. One of my aunts had put the money in Mom’s birthday card along with a note instructing her to give it to me.

I found it quite a remarkable gesture. Especially considering this is an aunt I rarely see, Mom’s eldest sister, who is widowed and has ten kids and umpteen grandkids of her own, not to mention twenty or so nieces and nephews. Yet here she is sending a note and ten bucks to her thirtysomething nephew she sees on Decoration Day, sometimes Christmas, and maybe another time or two during the year at most.

It really affected me.

It made me think about the alarming rate of the passing of time, and how I need to make more of an effort to see family and loved ones more often.

I thought about my grandmother, how almost eerily similar she and my aunt are, and how so many of her good qualities were obviously passed on.

I thought about how excited I would have been years ago, when I was in high school, or college even, to get ten bucks in a card.

Then I thought about how today, ten dollars won’t buy much of anything. But if my six other aunts would get their act together and all made the same gesture… I’m kidding.

I felt guilty that she had sent me any money at all.

I thought about how maybe this is one of those things you don’t directly repay, but instead just pass on to someone else. And I made a vow to myself that I would do the same someday for my nieces, nephews, and other loved ones.

I thought about how a hundred dollar bill would not have meant nearly as much. There was something simple and pure and sweet about those two fives.

I thought about how thankful I am for family. Even family I don’t see that often. Especially family I don’t see that often.

I’m thankful there are still some things in this world you can’t put a price on. Things that are worth so much more than money and always will be. Things like a few words scribbled in love on a little piece of scrap paper…

Give this to Bone. And tell him I love him.

“No, I ain’t forgot how I was raised, but I’m living way too fast. It’s a roller coaster ride up and down…”