The worst part of being laid up with an injury, besides that you sit on the couch so much that you might as well throw it away once you’re healed, is the long distance telephone care you get from your mother.
That’s not to be ungrateful or unappreciative. Moms will be moms, no matter if you’re three years old or 73. The truth is moms care and moms worry. And more than anything, moms want to be there for you and they think they know the answers, even if they have no idea what the problem is.
“Brian, did you ask them about clotting?” she quizzed me the day after my freak surfing injury a fin punctured my upper thigh and left me with 40 stitches on the surface, and many more in the muscle beneath. “There could be a problem with clotting. You know it runs in the family, and the doctor probably needs to know that.”
First off, there is no history of clotting in my family. Truth is, one family member once having a problem with clotting doesn’t constitute a “history.” And last time I checked, blood that clots is actually a good thing. Otherwise, we might leak a lot.
But where did she get that one? She never has simple, easy or obvious questions like, “Did they sew up the right leg?” or “Did they make sure they didn’t leave any cotton balls in there?”
No, instead they’re far-out, wild, uncommon, and unusual questions. “Did you ask them if you have calciumitis? It’s a rare disease that makes your mouth taste like chalk, and although it has only been reported once in Siberia back in 1932, the symptoms are a lot like yours,” or “Did you check to make sure that all their utensils were stainless steel and not aluminum? Aluminum surgical tools could cause dementia.”
Where does she come up with these things?
We actually had an argument over whether hydrogen peroxide or mouthwash would be more effective in killing germs. If my mother has a cut, she has been known to pour mouthwash on it to disinfect it.
“If it kills everything in your mouth,” she told me, “it should kill everything in the wound.”
Sometimes it’s hard to argue.
Again, I know she is just concerned about me and trying to help. Like a good mother, she’s trying to dispense medical care any way she can, even if it’s across phone lines. Suggestions and wild ideas are her way of being involved and taking care of me.
But it gets tough after a while as the phone keeps ringing and the questions keep coming. Not to mention she compares everything I’m going through with experiences she’s had with her cats.
“Now, Brian,” she said, “I remember once when Jaws had a fight with a raccoon in the grape vine arbor and got this very deep puncture wound. We had to ”
I don’t remember where that one went as I think I had an out of body experience mid-way through. The moral of the story should be not to tangle with raccoons in grape vines, but I’m sure her version involved something like fish oil supplements and shaving all the hair around the wound.
Lucky for me, I’m on the road to recovery, and no longer glued to the couch where the phone calls from home can easily find me. I’ve started going back to work, and more importantly, modern medicine has started working its magic, which means fewer suggestions on how to heal myself. I still get the occasional lecture on why sterilized bandages are overrated and how if I just licked my wound like a cat I would probably be healed by now. But a little bit of long distance care I can certainly manage.