Peg's Ear, Nose and Throat guy has put her mind at rest in regards to her growing inability to taste or smell her food: she does not have nose cancer. The bad news though, for her, is that neither does she does have polyps. For the past five years at least we have been hearing nothing but "I have GOT to do something about these damned polyps in my nose! They're just driving me crazy! No one wants to operate, they say I'm too old!" Meaning somewhere along the line a doctor either misdiagnosed her or suggested she might have polyps or she decided it for herself after reading some scary article in the Mayo Clinic Health Letter News or whatever it's called that she keeps renewing her subscription to, for reasons I don't understand because it's not like she's going to change her eating habits at 97 or start sprinkling a teaspoon of turmeric onto her cereal or suddenly being jogging to the mailbox. The ENT guy suggested that Peg's lack of taste is most likely due to age and to the fact that she wears dentures, both of which I suggested, years ago, but she didn't want to hear, any more than I liked hearing the other day that I suffer from something called "Senior Rhinitis" (please!) and Peg is now no doubt looking around for another ENT doctor, the kind who can diagnose nasal polyps better.
However, this guy did have other good news: Peg's hoarseness, another on-going complaint, is not due to anything sinister either, she does not have throat cancer. What she has is--and here the guy starts treading on thin ice again--old vocal chords. Vocal chords, as they age, stretch, it seems, and this could indeed explain the hoarseness. Since Peg is unduly concerned about her voice and sounding okay for interviews, what he suggests, this doctor, is Speech Therapy. Speech therapy. For a woman who hasn't stopped talking in almost 98 years and has never to my knowledge had any trouble making herself understood either in front of a mike or across a crowded supermarket. And in fact might occasionally benefit from Gaffers Tape Across The Mouth Therapy.
Anyhow, she cancelled her first appointment. (Raining.)
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STAFF ON CALL: all four of them, all the time, or so it seems, even doing overnights when Peg has cousins from California visiting overnight. I keep thinking I need to go over, and fast. But then do the math, no small feat, and by the time you add up airfare and getting to and from airports and possibly a car rental, I'm spending MORE in 3 weeks than having Terri and Dominick continue with their overnights. So then I have to figure out, again why am I going? And the answer is to keep Peg company and of course annoy her and "take over" and "throw out" her "life" and other daughterly duties. And I think, well, maybe this can wait. Maybe I can get her here for a visit instead. Maybe I can find accomodation, maybe I can sort out air miles, maybe I can find a way so she doesn't have to fly at night which she hates (London via Vladivostok perhaps), maybe Bonnie would be able to bring her for Thanksgiving after all, maybe she can change her plans. Except now Peg's saying she doesn't want to come--correction, she does want to come but her "legs are like jelly", she can't get up by herself anymore without help, she says to me yesterday.
"Where are you right now, Mother?"
"At the butcher block."
"Where's Dominick?"
"Still asleep upstairs. It's early."
"So--how'd you get up out of bed and into the kitchen?"
"With my walker, why?"
"You just said you couldn't get up anymore by yourself, your legs are like jelly."
[PAUSE] "They are! And--I had to really brace myself against the side of the bed and PUSH, then FINALLY managed to HAUL myself up."
At which point she changed the subject instantly to her new iPad, which she calls "the thing you got", and I then tried long distance to guide her to the ON button and finally decided the thing needed to be charged, which I doubt anyone has thought to do since I left in September. And which in fact turned out to be the case. But now Old Jelly Legs knows how to do that. AND find the ON button. Maybe.
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