After mom’s regularly scheduled dentist appointment yesterday, I took her to MedExpress to get checked out. Because, really. Why just go to one appointment in a day if you can also squeeze in another doctor’s office visit and a pharmacy run?
Anyway, she was complaining of dizziness and believed her broken toe (due to a fall last Tuesday) may be infected.
We’re in the waiting room at MedExpress. I’m texting my sister the update (because really, misery DOES love company, even if it’s virtual). My mother is looking at her hands.
She holds them up, and studies them.
“My hands,” she notes with concern, “are so WRINKLED!”
This from a woman whose heart and kidneys are failing, and who is battling lung cancer.
“Mom?” I say, looking at her hands, and then gazing deeply into her eyes. “You’re OLD!”