Clara had been retired for only eighteen months when her mother called and told her she had cancer. Clara felt as if her heart had thudded to a stop.
The family decided Mama should move in with Clara because she lived closest to the medical center. And after all, she was retired so she had the most spare time. Mama was a very independent woman, and it took considerable effort to convince her it was for the best.
“Please, Mama, come stay with me while you're getting treatments,” Clara begged with tears in her eyes. “It will give us extra time to spend together,” she pleaded. “Really, it will be so much easier for me, so much less driving.”
That settled it. “Okay, okay, Clara. I'll come stay with you if it will help,” Mama finally agreed irritably. She hated to give up her freedom and accept help from her children.
Chemo treatment started immediately, and it didn't go well. Clara gently held Mother's hand as the lifesaving poison dripped into her blood. She watched the nurses' faces as they kept returning to check Mama's vitals.
“What's going on?” Clara asked, her voice tight, as one of the nurses stopped the drip.
“I'm sorry, your mother seems to be allergic to one of the medications. We have to call the doctor.”
Clara felt as if she couldn't breathe.
They were able to continue with a decreased dosage. The number of treatments increased. Weeks flowed into months. Mama was nauseous and exhausted much of the time, and she morphed into a petulant child. She was demanding and uncooperative, and Clara was beginning to resent her presence.
“Please, Mama, just one more bite. It's your favorite,” Clara wheedled. “Please, Mama, come outside and keep me company while I garden. It's a beautiful day and the goldfinches are at the feeder.” No matter how much she cajoled, she couldn't convince Mama to do anything.
Defeated, Clara retreated to her garden. Tears streamed down her face as she roughly deadheaded the roses. I can't go on like this. I really need a break. I don't want to end up hating Mama. Maybe I'll run away, she thought. I know, I'll run away and join the circus. She stood still and her clenched jaw slowly relaxed as an idea began to blossom. A little smile started to grow. She paused to smell the roses as she returned to the house to make a phone call.
That night at the weekly Zoom conference with her four siblings, she told them she would be taking a class. Henceforth, she would not be home on Wednesday evenings. They could decide among themselves who would come over and stay with Mama. After a moment of shocked silence, her older sister asked, “What class?”
“Juggling. I'm going to learn to juggle. I've always wanted to, so I signed up at the School of Circus Arts.”
“Surely there are videos online,” her obtuse brother suggested.
“I'm sure there are, but that's hardly the point. I need a break. I need to get out of the house. I need some time to myself. The class starts in two weeks. One of you be here at six o’clock and have dinner with Mama, and I'm not making it. You guys figure it out.”
She hung up. Slowly, her breathing returned to normal and her hands quit trembling. The tension that had been gripping her chest and hunching her shoulders slipped away. The pressure in her head that had made her feel like she was going to explode was replaced by a lightness. She felt happy for the first time in months.
Two weeks later, she walked into the warehouse where the classes were held. After putting her shoes in a locker, she watched the young children practicing gymnastics. Motion caught her eye and she looked up. Colorful swathes of fabric hung from the rafters where teenagers were gracefully performing aerobatics. In the far corner several young students and an elderly lady were bobbing back and forth on unicycles. She had come early and by the time class started her face muscles were already tired from grinning.
That evening, Mama was already in bed asleep when she arrived home. She closed her eyes and sighed as the quiet enveloped her. Her shoulder muscles were tired, but her mind was so relaxed she slept soundly; her first good night’s sleep in months.
The next day, as soon as breakfast was over and the kitchen cleaned, as soon as Mama was comfortable, Clara retreated to her room to practice.
Left. Right. Left. Plop.
Clara bent over and picked up the silver-and-cobalt juggling ball. Closing her eyes, she felt the cool leather resting in her palm and took two slow breaths. Her hunched shoulders relaxed. Opening her eyes, letting her focus soften, she started again.
She heard Mama calling, “Clara, I need you,” and she missed the catch.
What now? Clara wondered. Pasting a smile on her face she walked downstairs to see what Mama wanted.
Clara practiced every day, twice a day if possible. She loved going to class and being surrounded by vibrant colors and happy people. She loved learning new skills and becoming part of a team. She loved coming home to a quiet house. She focused on these positive feelings whenever she started to feel frustrated and irritated with Mama, and they helped her to stay calm and even cheerful.
No one had arrived to take care of Mama when Clara was ready to leave for her fourth class. She waited ten minutes, her stomach starting to hurt, but she decided to go ahead anyway. Her heart sank when she arrived home to find Mama asleep on the couch, alone in the house. Wakening her gently, Clara asked quietly, “Why aren't you in bed?”
Mama was groggy and it took her a moment to respond, “Oh, Robby called. He couldn't make it.”
“Did you eat?”
“Yes, I had some crackers. My back aches. Help me to bed.”
Clara lay awake that night feeling her heart skipping beats.
At breakfast Mama told Clara, “I wish you wouldn't go out and leave me. I really hate being alone when I don't feel well.”
Counting to ten, Clara gave herself time and chose her words carefully. “Mama, I want you to call Robbie. Tell him how you felt when he didn't show up.”
“Oh, I couldn't do that.”
“Yes. You can. I'm going to continue going to class. If you don't want to be alone then you need to tell that to your other four children.” Clara took a few sips of coffee, hardly able to swallow. “I need a few hours a week to myself. It's not too much to ask the others to step up and help. Is it?”
Her anger was so swift it took her by surprise. By now she was practically shouting. She slammed her mug down, splashing coffee onto the tablecloth. Shoving her chair back, she stood up to leave. Instead, she sank back down onto the chair. Bent over, head in hands, she started crying. “I'm sorry Mama. I'm just so sorry.”
Mama slowly scooted her chair over and started stroking Clara's hair as she had done so many years ago. “I know, love. It's just so much easier to depend on you. I'm sorry, too. I'll call him. I'll tell the others, too, that you need a break.” She paused. “And maybe this afternoon you can show me what you've been learning.”
Six months later, the treatments over, Mama was recovering, feeling better and regaining her strength. Her other children still came over for dinner once a week while Clara was gone, but now Mama stayed up later on her own.
“Hi Mama, I'm home,” Clara called as she set her equipment bag down.
“Welcome home, Honey. How'd it go?”
“Oh, Mama, it was so much fun. The aerialists were practicing for the show; it was like watching music in the air. We worked with clubs again tonight and I passed several times without missing. If you're feeling well enough, I would like to take you to the Festival next month. I think you'll find it very enjoyable.”
After a thoughtful pause, Mama asked, “Do you suppose you could teach me to juggle?”
Clara laughed with delight. “I could try, but why don't you come with me and we can take lessons together. Getting out and being involved will help you get back on your feet.”
Mama gave it some thought. “You know, I think I would like that.”
Clara gave Mama a big hug and said, “Let's head to bed now. After breakfast I'll show you a new toss I learned tonight.” She felt so grateful that she had figured out what she needed to take care of herself while she was caring for Mama. Instead of feeling irritated all the time she had found a way to be happy, so she didn't resent all of the demands of caregiving. Instead, she and Mama had gotten to know each other in greater depth and now, in addition to being mother and daughter, they were friends. They were both smiling as they hugged good night and turned out the lights.
Author: Laura Nicol
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