"Where's my Chicken?"

Corn and Potatoes from 7-11

                The summer of 2010 was an interesting one. Mom had planned to watch Addie one day a week when I went back to work in April so that they could have that time together and to help Jeff and me. She didn’t expect to have to continue chemo, and then when she was done with that and her office had again changed her position, she and my dad only got to watch Addie a handful of times.

                When I was done with school, though, and on summer vacation, Addie and I spent more time with my parents. It was a good summer with trips to the zoo, lunches, and just little visits. By the end of July, things were more difficult because Mom was in and out of the hospital and we didn’t really want to admit what we knew was happening. When she went to the hospital for the second time in just a couple of weeks, I did cry to Jeff, “My mom’s going to die!” and he was shocked and wanted to know who had said that. “Well, nobody, but she’s in the hospital again and she’s just not herself.”

                Early in August, when it sounded like another round of chemo might help her, but before they had administered it, Mom was in the hospital and had visitors. Greg and Bonnie and Mike and Cheryl were there to see her, but also to spend time with my dad since Mom was in and out of sleep without much notice. She woke up while they were chatting, and tried to get out of bed to get dinner ready and the table set! She was always thinking about others!

                A little while later, I called her. She said, “Where’s my chicken?” in a very light-hearted way.

                “I’m just getting Addie fed, and then I will be on my way. I am bringing corn and mashed potatoes too.”

                “I don’t need that,” she replied. “I already had it.”

                “You did? Where did you get corn and potatoes?”

                “7-11!”

                I wanted to ask if she was drunk, but assumed they wouldn’t allow booze into the hospital! Apparently she really wanted her chicken!

                When I got to the hospital with dinner, she was asleep and my dad was reading a magazine. She woke up briefly, ate some chicken and chatted for a short time, and then was out again.

                I’m glad I got to take her some of Jeff’s deliciously grilled chicken and wish that I hadn’t made her wait so long. Now, when I ask where something is or hear someone ask, “Where’s my ---?” in just the right tone, I laugh and think of that night… just a week before the end.