I’m Just Saying by Austin Rhodes: Happy 80th birthday (in Heaven) Mom
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Her Christmas gift list was made, and she had picked out her nephew’s anniversary card to mail after the first of the year. She had a stack of stamps ready to go, envelopes addressed, and boxes set aside for wrapping. She had her home health care nurse stopping by Thursday morning and was looking forward to a hair appointment set for Friday.
But God had other plans for my mom. He called her home on December 5th, 2013, and in doing so, made her whole and well once more.
My mother had been sick for about 20 years. It all started with a ruptured appendix in 1993, the physical damage from which was exacerbated by her long-time physician’s misdiagnosis of what was happening. It was about eight hours before someone caught the mistake, and they were finally able to open her up. It was a good six months before she was able to work and take care of herself again.
Years later the scar tissue from that event resulted in an intestinal blockage that required immediate emergency surgery and about a month recovering in intensive care. Mom would have related ailments that would keep her going back to the hospital for years, with her recovery always complicated and compromised by a 50+ year smoking habit that affected her body’s natural ability to heal.
That summer before she died, Mom fell at home, breaking her jaw and doing extensive damage to her mouth. It required surgery to repair. Following that surgery and the usual complicated recovery period, she was not the same. Her short-term memory was practically non-existent, depending on what day it was. We were seeing improvements in her physical well-being outpacing her comprehension and cognitive abilities. While her medical team was not able to give us a concrete answer for her condition, it was clear that oxygen deprivation due to chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) was likely the culprit.
After weeks in the hospital, she was moved to a nursing home for physical rehabilitation, building up her strength and coordination. No doubt the rigorous therapeutic routine and aggressive nutrition plan put her on the path toward regaining her physical abilities, but her mind was much slower coming around. Flashes of her wonderful personality would shine through clouds of confusion and anger, but often she struggled and was lost in frustration.
This was not a good time for me and Mom.
As her only adult son living close, dealing with her medical issues and making the appropriate plans of action came down to me. Her cherished older brother and sister were incredible rocks for me during these months, but at this point in her life, my mother’s struggles were putting us all in the sad position of having to make decisions for her. Decisions that she did not like. Decisions she fought at every turn. More often than not, I had to be the bad guy. She was bound and determined to return to work and her independence, but I had to plan for her life taking a different direction.
It was the opinion of her physician, and virtually everyone who loved her, that Mom needed to move permanently into an assisted care facility. It was something she would have to accept. We were close to getting everything squared away in September when her miracle arrived. Over the course of about two weeks, thanks to an almost non-stop flow of oxygen via nose tube, most of her cognitive abilities returned. For the rest of her life, Beverly Bentley, the mother, sister and aunt we all knew so well, seemed to be with us once more.
I did my level best to try and convince Mom that her apartment, and the three flights of stairs it took to get to her front door from the street, was too much for her frail body to handle. But she was going to do what she wanted to do, damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead.
For two months she managed the stairs and led a reasonably normal – at least for her – life. She was not able to return to work, but she was honored and humbled by an incredible retirement party her crew at the Augusta Country Club threw in her honor. As the office manager for the golf course maintenance department, she interacted with dozens of co-workers and vendors over the years. She was embraced like a den mother. And while she only had two sons in real life, she adopted her boss Greg as a son in her heart. I am pretty sure her devotion to him and her job gave her more positive energy and determination in her last few years than anything else.
On that last Wednesday of her life, she was busy. She had plans. But as she relaxed in her own home, watching her own TV, laid back in the comfort of her beloved couch, God had a better plan for her – and she just went to sleep.
Her passion for politics and communication, her demands for justice and equality, her desire to make a difference, and to “fix what ain’t working,” inspire me every single day.
Some days I don’t want to care as much as she did. Often, I am tempted to take the easy road and opt out of the fight. But she never did that, and she wouldn’t want me to do that either.
So, I don’t, and I won’t.
Thank you, Mom. Thank you for that gift. Thank you for everything. We celebrate your 80th birthday, and your sons, your grandchildren and all that are inspired by you still will forever cherish the gifts you gave us.