She tries to sneak past me every day! It’s a game we play.
One of the aids in Mom’s building smiles as she tells me. We are in Covid times and the staff do regular temperature checks of every member of their little community – staff, visitors and residents alike.
Lois has a twinkle in her eye as her 87 year old bones rattle and creak their way through the lobby. Today she plans to win the game. Never mind that she moves at a snail’s pace, her bright red walker leading the way. Today will be her day.
Lois!
Darn! She grins a child-like grin, knowing that she’ll play again tomorrow.
36.2 degrees. You’re perfect, says the aid.
Yes, I am. I am perfect!
Despite the uncertainty that clouds the air, the science that is sound but evolving, Mom gets vaccinated as soon as she is eligible.
It’s not for me, she says. I have cancer. I might even die of cancer. I want the Lord to heal me but you never know.
It’s for all of the old people in the building. Not me you know, but I don’t want to accidentally get it and spread it without knowing. There are old people here you know. Some of them are really sick!
…says the woman with recurrent stage four cancer that is now feasting on her recently healthy liver.
Mom gets her second shot as soon as it becomes available.
There are old people here – not me – you know. Why should they get sick because I didn’t get vaccinated? It wouldn’t be fair. They’re old. Remember polio? Of course not. That’s because people got vaccinated.
Finally, when she is well along in her last six months, she gets her booster shot because, well, you know… not her… She grins when she says that it’s for the old people.
