I want my mummy!
Drippy nose, hurting, stuffed-up head, coughing, slight fever from time to time and all the little bones in my face ache, and a bag of used Kleenex beside my chair…
I know it’s only a cold, but… I want my mummy!
If my mummy were here she would get me comfortable on the couch and tuck soft blankets around me. She’d put cool facecloths on my forehead and stroke my hair. She would take my temperature on a regular basis. She would insist I rest – no matter what I thought I had to do – and bring me books to read. Regular drinks would be brought to me all through the day. And, chicken soup – not the salty, overcooked store-bought kind, but homemade. Then, to help me sleep, my mum’s special hot lemon and honey at bedtime.
When I was a child I would get a doozy of a cold at least twice, if not three times, every year. But, it wasn’t so bad with my mummy looking after me. Okay, yes, sometimes she got impatient with me but all us kids have to try out the limits – right?
All stuffed up and coughing I phoned my mum the other night. I wanted to make sure she hadn’t come down with this dreadful cold because we had been together the day before it hit me. And, at 82, a cold can become a much more serious event.
“Are you getting enough rest? Are you eating? Drinking enough? Have you made yourself some hot lemon and honey?”
“I’ll be okay, Mum. Remember when I was little and you used to look after me when I was sick? You made the best hot lemon and honey – your secret recipe.”
“You need someone to look after you. You phone your son and tell him to come and get me. I’ll come and look after you…”
“Thanks Mum. But, really, I’ll be okay. I’m probably over the worst of it. And I sure don’t want you to get this! It’s…”
“Oh Denise, I won’t get sick!”
“I know Mum. Thank you. Tell you what. If I get any worse I’ll have you come.”
“Make sure you do, mind.”
Lately the retirement home has told Mum that she must use her walker; even just to go down to meals. Her walking is deteriorating… as is her memory… But, no matter the age of the mother, or the daughter, the relationship stands as it always has, ageless – a mother, a child, the instinct to look after one another just a part of who you are. I am blessed to have such a mother.
“Achoooo! Cough, cough, cough… I want my mummy!!!”
Let’s journey together.
© Denise Budd Rumble 2009