Mom’s Bedside Manner

My little niece recently got her tonsils taken out, which made me think of when I got mine removed when I was 16. My mom took care of me in her usual juxtaposed caring/acerbic manner, which was standard protocol whenever I had to stay at home for whatever reason (I was sick, we had a snow day, etc). I thought I’d share a few random stories about dealing with Mom’s unique bedside manner throughout my childhood.

Korean Wake Up Calls

Whenever we’d have a snow day and school would be canceled, Mom would walk upstairs, enter my room, and rouse me awake with her weak little Mr. Burns arms.

Mom: “Rebecca, wake up! Snow day. No school. Go sleep.”

Then she’d head back downstairs while my brain registered the little Asian intruder who had just delivered an abrupt, curt message. If I slept in too late, she’d stomp back upstairs and complain, always rounding the time up dramatically to emphasize my laziness. For example, if it were 11:18 am, she’d burst into my room and exclaim:

Mom: “Rebeccaaaaaaa! You better get up! Twelve o’clock and you still in bed?! My gahhhhh, so lazy!” Then she’d storm out while I tried to convert Asian Mom Time back to Eastern Standard to determine what time it really was.

Tricking Me into Eating

Whenever I was ill, Mom always took care of me expertly but with brusque undertones, as if she’d already had to put up with three kids getting sick throughout the years and was tired of the routine by the time I came around. Whenever I was sick and didn’t want to eat, she’d, without fail, always terrify me with this little gem:

Mom: “Here’s some soup. Eat.”

Me: “I’m not hungry.”

Mom: “You gotta eat, Rebecca! It make you feel better!”

Me: “I don’t want to!”

Mom: “If you don’t eat, you have to go to hospital and they stick tubes down your throat! EAT!”

Me: *shovels spoonfuls of soup in my mouth*

The threat of being dumped in front of a hospital by my unsympathetic mother so some strange doctors could retrieve me and cruelly and gleefully shove tubes down my gullet to force-feed me always scared me enough to take in whatever sustenance she put in front of me.

Calling My Bluff and Losing

I got sick a lot when I was young, and Mom undoubtedly grew tired of having to stay home from work and nurse me back to health. One time, in sixth grade, I woke up and got ready for school. As I was eating breakfast and watching cartoons, my stomach started to feel queasy.

Me: “Mom, my stomach hurts.”

Mom: “What?”

Me: “My stomach hurts! I want to stay home.”

Mom: “No! You go to school.”
icks.org purchase cheap levitra For many, their protective instincts are already operating at full throttle. This prevents the occurrence of premature ejaculation due to the excessive masturbation. levitra tablet click that Presence of potential aphrodisiac ingredients in herbal pills for male fertility are vitamin C and vitamin E. however; there are various other vitamins as well as minerals like folates and riboflavin, folic acid, potassium, iron. tadalafil india cialis Availability of Kamagra The medicine is available in all icks.org low priced cialis countries around the world.
Me: “But it hurts! I don’t feel well!”

Mom: “You’re fine! Here, take this and go to school.” *crams a spoonful of Maalox down my throat.*

She shoved me onto the bus and I sat through a miserable ride, feeling more and more nauseous. When the bus pulled up to the curb to drop us all off at school, I filed out and trudged towards the doors. Right before I walked into the building, I felt a lurching sensation in my gut, and before I could even react, I spewed out my stomach contents all over myself and the front entrance. I heard someone shriek out an “Ewww!”, and, covered in my own sick, I walked into the front lobby, spotted the school’s principal, and dejectedly muttered, “I threw up.”

He looked at me, raised his eyebrows, and said, “Oh my.” I was ushered into the nurse’s office and stripped of my jacket so it could be hastily cleaned. The nurse handed me the phone to call my mom so I could get picked up.

Mom: “Hello?”

Me: “You have to come get me. I threw up at school.”

Mom, sighing: “You didn’t even get to first class?”, as if her obstinate efforts to force me to go to school wouldn’t have been a total loss if I managed to quickly learn something before puking everywhere.

Me: “I didn’t even make it through the front doors!”

Mom, conceding defeat: “Okay, fine! I be there soon.”

I felt as if I had a small victory that day, even if it meant being sick all weekend.

Pre-Surgery Thoughts

My mom lobbied for years to have the doctors remove my tonsils because I was getting strep throat all the time. After I finally saw a throat specialist who agreed that my tonsils looked huge and gross, I was scheduled to have them and my adnoids removed. I’d never had surgery before, so I was a little nervous.

Mom, despite her stern attitude with her kids when they’re sick, has always been a big wuss when it comes to us being in hospitals. One time, my brothers and I all had to go in and get blood work done for some reason, and while they were drawing blood from my brother Gene, the doctor stopped mid-draw and asked my mom if she was okay because she had turned as white as a sheet and was on the verge of passing out. Gene was less than thrilled to have the procedure interrupted while everyone shifted attention to her.

Anyway, I was on a bed getting prepped to be taken into surgery, and I looked up at my mom, who was staring down at me with a worried look on her face. She looked so motherly and protective that it put me at ease to know that she cared about me that much. Mom took my hand in hers and rubbed it encouragingly, saying I’d be okay. I started to relax and feel less nervous.

She continued to pat my hand, then stopped and furrowed her brow. Her eyes narrowed, and she ducked her head down to my hand as if she were inspecting something and began to rub harder. “Okay,” I thought, “kind of weird, but I guess she’s just being over-protective.”

After several rigorous rubs, she said to me:

Mom: “Why your hands so yellow? You got jaundice? ”

And then I got whisked off into surgery. Thanks, Mom.