Thursday, May 17, 2007

My Role in Taking Care of my Mother (Deatails of the reason why I chose to post the last entry..)

The main purpose of this blog is to give the world a peek into my life as a blind woman. I pretty much try to keep all of my entries centered on that particular theme. However, there are times I stray. But that's okay... That's the fabulous thing about being the author and boss of your own blog. You make the rules, and break them, if you so desire.

Since it is my mother's birthday month, I've taken the liberty of posting two essays that I wrote about her. The first one is entitled "Love; The best Medicine", and the most recent one is entitled "The Summer Months."

I started to not post these essays, simply because the content was not about my blindness at all. In fact, I don't even think I make any mention of my blindness and how her illnesses impact me.

But I decided to post it for two reasons. The first reason being that I wanted to take this month to salute my darling mother. She's a fabulous woman. She’s a shining example of resilience, determination, and strength.

But now that we are past the mushy stuff, I can get to the second reason... I wanted to show the world that I, a blind woman, can take care of someone and/or something that is in need of care. Yes, I'm the primary caregiver of my mother. And I must tell you, with modesty, of course, that I am a great caregiver. Yes, my blindness is annoying and sometimes it prevents me of doing certain things... But I refuse to permit my blindness to prohibit me from providing the best care in the world to a woman that deserves the best care in the world.

So, I took certain steps to make sure I could do the job. I bought a talking blood pressure machine. I labeled all of her medicine bottles in braille, so that I can know what pills are in each of the 12 bottles. I bought a talking scale, so that I could keep track of her weight and fluid retention. Just to mention a few things I've done to make sure that my blindness is just a mere inconvenience, and not an obstacle...

When my mother's doctors found out that Mrs. Braden's oldest daughter, the blind one, was going to be the one taking care of her, they basically freaked out. Of course, they were much too polite to express their concerns as outrage. However, they did make it clear that someone other than me needed to be in charge of taking care of my mother's medicines and checking her blood pressure and glucose.

Because I'm no virgin to prejudice and discrimination, I didn't sweat it. I knew that I, in spite of my blindness, was the best person to take charge of my mother's health. My sisters were too young, inexperienced, and in some cases, too immature to handle the severity of my mother's health crisis. So, I stepped up and grabbed that bull by the horns. And even though that raging bull scared the hell out of me sometimes, I didn’t let go. I held on until the bull was under my control.

After a couple of years, I won the respect and admiration of her team of physicians. Often times, many of the doctors would express how pleased they were of me and the role I played in taking care of my mother. They started viewing me as being an integral part of their effort to improve my mother’s health conditions.

And how about this… A couple of doctors even told me that the doctors would often discuss how "brilliant and amazing" I am. One doctor actually went as far to say that he believes that if it had not been for my persistence and commitment to my mother's health, that my darling mama would have certainly died.

Although the doctors' delayed affirmations and praises are nice to the ear and the heart, I am fine without their medical endorsements. I am motivated to help my mother for very personal/selfish reasons. I want to see her live and prosper. I want her to live as many years as she can, so she and I can explore life and love together, as mother and daughter.

So check out the essays that I wrote about my mother. “Love; The Best Medicine” and “The Summer Months” Oh yes… There’s also an essay I wrote that details the shocking series of events that transpired the night of her stroke. It’s entitled, “I use to be Afraid of the Dark.” You can find it in the archives.

I pray that God’s peace, love, understanding, and grace be with you all the days of your life.

Much love,


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