Angels in Human Skin
In the past few years, I've really experienced how small actions can make a big difference. I've had the opportunity to meet some really good people in my life. Mavis Wold being one of thos people. After reading a story about my brother in The Fargo Forum, she sent me an email volunteering to tend to his grave, which is far from us here in Kansas City.
That was a true act of kindness from a then-stranger, but many times we don't have to look any further than our own circle of friends for help. Last spring, another writer I knew from a group came one day to help me clean my mother's house out. I didn't ask for help, but she was there.
Yesterday, my long-time friend, Priscilla, asked what she could do to help me with Mom. When I couldn't think of anything, she brought us over a homemade Italian dinner, complete with salad, bread, spaghetti and brownies for dessert. She also brought my mom some flowers, which helped brighten her day. It was delicious and a welcome break (for our stomachs and our wallets) from fast food and take out.
Pris is a good person. We met nearly 24 years ago when she hired me as a temporary summer office worker at a tool and die company. Since that time, we've been friends through both of her parent's deaths, her divorce and remarriage and two moves. She was there for me at my wedding, countless moves, my brother's death and she also helped me with my mother's move last spring.
There couldn't be a better friend and like Mavis and Bertie, she's good people.
Pris made enough food to feed at least 10 people, and I was able to share that dinner with neighbors on my mother's floor who have been looking in on her and helping her when I'm not there.
And she's needed a lot of help.
I was taken off guard by her stubborness again when she told me in the nursing home that she wanted to go home, and that she didn't need to be taken care of.
I think she was in denial. Since she's been home, she lost her voice and she hasn't been able to get up out of her chair alone, nor has she been able to use the restroom by herself. While her neighbors don't mind looking in on her or even being there to make sure she's steady as she walks around her apartment, they don't want the responsibility of lifting her - and I don't blame them. It took me 30 minutes yesterday to figure out how to lift her without injuring my own back or breaking her frail, 90-pound frame in two.
Late night runs to get her settled in and early morning jaunts in 13 degree weather to help her into the bathroom isn't helping me get rest or assisting me in getting caught up with work.
Something will have to give today, probably resulting in Mom coming here at least for a little while.
That was a true act of kindness from a then-stranger, but many times we don't have to look any further than our own circle of friends for help. Last spring, another writer I knew from a group came one day to help me clean my mother's house out. I didn't ask for help, but she was there.
Yesterday, my long-time friend, Priscilla, asked what she could do to help me with Mom. When I couldn't think of anything, she brought us over a homemade Italian dinner, complete with salad, bread, spaghetti and brownies for dessert. She also brought my mom some flowers, which helped brighten her day. It was delicious and a welcome break (for our stomachs and our wallets) from fast food and take out.
Pris is a good person. We met nearly 24 years ago when she hired me as a temporary summer office worker at a tool and die company. Since that time, we've been friends through both of her parent's deaths, her divorce and remarriage and two moves. She was there for me at my wedding, countless moves, my brother's death and she also helped me with my mother's move last spring.
There couldn't be a better friend and like Mavis and Bertie, she's good people.
Pris made enough food to feed at least 10 people, and I was able to share that dinner with neighbors on my mother's floor who have been looking in on her and helping her when I'm not there.
And she's needed a lot of help.
I was taken off guard by her stubborness again when she told me in the nursing home that she wanted to go home, and that she didn't need to be taken care of.
I think she was in denial. Since she's been home, she lost her voice and she hasn't been able to get up out of her chair alone, nor has she been able to use the restroom by herself. While her neighbors don't mind looking in on her or even being there to make sure she's steady as she walks around her apartment, they don't want the responsibility of lifting her - and I don't blame them. It took me 30 minutes yesterday to figure out how to lift her without injuring my own back or breaking her frail, 90-pound frame in two.
Late night runs to get her settled in and early morning jaunts in 13 degree weather to help her into the bathroom isn't helping me get rest or assisting me in getting caught up with work.
Something will have to give today, probably resulting in Mom coming here at least for a little while.
posted by Kerri Fivecoat-Campbell at 4:57 AM
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