Scattered to the winds

Jeff, Biscuit and I haven't seen much of each other for the past few days.

Jeff was at home. Biscuit was with his cousins. And I was with my parents.

My Mama had back surgery Thursday morning. I couldn't be there, but luckily, my brother could. He stayed with for the whole day. Biscuit and I left Thursday evening to drive to my parents' house. Jeff had to work over the weekend, so he couldn't go.

My parents built their current house after my brother and I were grown. But it sits on the same  piece of land I grew up on. They live in the woods. Woods so thick that you can't hear cars on the highway.

Here's what you see when you look out from their front porch.

It's beautiful. And it's peaceful. And I hate to admit it, but it's kinda creepy at night!

I grew up in this exact spot, and I don't ever recall having any fear walking into the house at night by myself. There are no streetlights, so if the moon isn't shining, it's dark. REALLY dark!

But for some reason Thursday night, I was really uneasy until I got Biscuit and myself in their house and locked up. It was ridiculous. There was absolutely nothing out there, but I still felt nervous and scared. Sadly, I think I've become a city girl.

Once we were locked into the house, Biscuit and I got settled in for a good night's sleep.

Well, HE got a good night's sleep. That little rascal talked in his sleep all night long. I think he was dreaming about getting a shot. Then when he woke up Friday morning, he sat straight up, held out his hand and said, "Here's your ice cream, Mom."

Friday morning, I dropped Biscuit off at my brother and sister-in-law's house. The plan was for him to spend the whole weekend there while I helped take care of Mama.

Not only did he have a few days of playing with his cousins, he got to see a movie, and he played in the pool, where he dunked his head completely THREE TIMES. And if you ask him about it, he gets wide-eyed and says, "I put my head under the water THREE TIMES!" With big emphasis on the "three times" part. Oh, and he was wearing Spider-Man goggles that he got to keep. Bonus!

I think if he could spend a few more weekends there, we wouldn't have to worry about signing him up for swimming lessons.

The hospital was a little over an hour from my parents' house, so I hit the road to drive there. Mama's surgery went just as they had hoped, but for some reason, the nurse pushed her into taking heavy-duty pain medicine Friday morning.

Mama told the nurse that she doesn't do well with pain medication and asked if she could just have some Tylenol. The nurse told her that she would start physical therapy that morning and really needed to take the pain pills. Mama asked if she could just take one, but the nurse was pretty pushy about her taking two.

So Mama ended up throwing up all day. The doctor told her that if she could walk enough to impress the physical therapist, she could go home, even though the original estimate was a three- to four-day hospital stay.

But of course if you're throwing up all day, you can't very well do any physical therapy.

It was hard to watch her so sick.

My sister-in-law took the kids to a movie, then brought them by the hospital. You'd be surprised how fast Mama's facial expression changed. From sick to Grandmama in five seconds flat. Biscuit clung to me -- arms around my neck, his cheek to my cheek. He just stared at Mama.

"Is she okay?" he whispered.

"Yep," I said. "Do you want to give her a very gentle high-five?" Biscuit nodded his head, and Mama held up her hand. He barely touched his palm to hers. She smiled, then he smiled. And then he was fine.

Saturday morning, Daddy said something to Mama, and she came right back at him. She slammed him good. And I thought to myself, "She's baaaaack!"

Daddy looked at me and said, "Well, I guess she's feeling better."

The physical therapist came in to get Mama. They walked all the way down the hall (twice as far as she asked Mama to walk). And they practiced some steps, since Mama would have to walk up steps to get into their house.

We got her home Saturday afternoon.

Then Sunday, I cooked a big lunch and invited everyone over.

Daddy and I helped Mama get a shower and changed her bandages, and I could tell she felt better. I had been trying to do things to help out all weekend, like vacuuming, cleaning the bathrooms, etc. And Mama kept fussing at me. "You don't have to do that." "You're going to wear yourself out." "Don't worry about doing any more."

I finally got so upset that I cried. "You know EXACTLY how I feel," I told her.

Mama lived 5 1/2 hours away from Granny, so whenever she was down there for a visit, she always tried to cram in as much as possible, including cleaning or errands or whatever she thought she could do to help. And that's exactly what I was doing.

Mama realized how I was feeling, and she didn't say anything else about my efforts. I know she appreciated everything I did, but I also know that as my mother, she was worried that I'd be tired driving back home Sunday or that I'd be too tired to have a good week at work.

I'll admit that I was exhausted today. Biscuit and I drove home in sheets of pouring rain yesterday. Well, I drove while Biscuit slept. His cousins wore him out. And my shoulders were tense from the drive. The rest of me was tense with worry about how this week would be for Mama and whether she'd keep progressing as well as she has so far.

So I'm going back there this coming weekend. I talked to my boss today and asked if I could work Thursday and take the July Fourth holiday on Friday. That way, I could have an extra day with Mama. She said of course it was okay, so that's the plan.

Jeff will most likely have an assignment on Saturday, so it will probably be just Biscuit and me again. I don't like it when my little family is scattered to the winds, but I know that come Monday, we'll all be back under the same roof.