Vicious Old Ladies

After repeated invitations to have dinner at her complex with Used to Be Mother, I agreed today. I had not spent any time with her since Wednesday so this was a concession to spend some time with her.

When I arrive I notice there is a big stain on her winged back chair.

Me: "What's that Mom?"

UTBM: "Oh I'm so ashamed. I had diarrhea and I couldn't stop it coming out. I had to wash my panties and slacks."

Me: Well we need to clean your chair too.

While I am washing her cushion, the stench gags me and reminds me again why I could never be a nurse.

We head downstairs after I sent the cushion to dry. We are too early for the dining room. We sit in the lobby where she can count all the cars that pass.

Pretty soon the residents begin arriving one here, two there. Though there is not assigned seating, she has sat with Hazel and Jean for three years. Hazel pushes around an oxygen tank but her mind is sharp and intact. Jean, 92, also has no memory issues but has bruises all over her evidence of the number of times she falls each day. She parks her walker with the five little stuffed GUND animals attached like those pom poms we called chicken balls decorating a '63 Chev.

The old girls' table is at the very front of the dining room so all the other people have to pass their table. Used to Be Mother says hello to many of them calling them by their name. She tells them her daughter is here for dinner and a few smile politely and say something before they shuffle to their place. A spunky Irish woman lingers a little longer and tells me what a fine mother I have. She usually sits with these three but gave up her place so I could sit there.

The waitress takes their order. They call my mother Lillian and smile at her.

Jean: Your mom will order whatever we order.

There's a tone I don't like in her voice but I ignore it.

Hazel picks up where Jean left off. "Your mom is a copycat." Again I hear a tone and see her eyes roll just a bit at her insufferable lot to be with my mother.

Our dinner comes and the three dig in but  the roasted lamb, mashed potatoes, beets and carrots are wasted on this lot. A few bits from each plate and then they are done. A bird eats more than all three together. Used to Be Mother chews happily on her roll after she stacks all her dishes at the corner of the table. She told me she had three cookies while she was waiting for me so she isn't hungry.

Jean follows Mom's lead and when Hazel finishes she also stacks her dishes. I look around in the dining room but see nobody else has done this.

Hazel: Your mom insists we do this and the waitress seems to like it.

My mother excuses herself to go clean her teeth.

Hazel: Thank God she didn't show us what was in them. We finally have her going to wash them out.

Jean: And when she comes back we will hear all about what was in her teeth.

I'm feeling apologetic for my mother. I say something about how her dementia has advanced.

Hazel: Oh we know. We hear the same stuff day after day.

Jean: I told her I didn't want to hear any more talk about church. I tell her to stop but she keeps on doing it.

My mother returns and I cut her off before she can give us the description of her false teeth. I hurry her out of the dining room to a safer, kinder place.

We aren't in the apartment a minute before I can hear the loudest gurgling.

UTBM: Oh oh. I've got more diarrhea.

She runs to the bathroom but leaves the door open. I can hear it all especially her little grunts and sighs.

She wonders how she will get her toilet clean. She wonders what is the matter with her. She wonders if she if God is going to take her home tonight.

I help her change into her nightie and grab up all the dirty laundry. I gag at the stench.

I give her a little hug and thank her for dinner.

Used to Be Mother has said on many occasions that she doesn't have any friends.

I'm beginning to believe her.