=>Moving =>Mom

    For several months, dating from the medical problems that followed her back injury, my mother has not been keen on standing. That is to say, my mother hasn't been interested in standing to, say, look at something, starting a conversation as she's standing then finishing it in the standing position...all the normal, unconscious reasons we have for standing have seemed silly to my mother and she's refused, without ever saying so, to do anything that requires standing for any length of time beyond the time it takes to walk from one sitting position to another.
    Which is why it is with much surprised pleasure that I find myself able to announce that, yesterday, while I was doing the hour or so of after breakfast chores that reset my mother's bedroom and bathroom to usable order, I noticed that my mother had "disappeared". Assuming that she had either shuffled off to bed or the bathroom, I stopped my chores and searched for her. I found her in the bathroom staring into the mirror, meticulously shaving her chin.
    Why should I celebrate this seemingly insignificant personal grooming moment? Because she hasn't shaved her chin for a couple of years, now. I began shaving her a couple of times a week some years ago when she started forgetting that she now grows a slight but noticeable beard. The transfer of this grooming duty commenced without comment or notice, so I have assumed, since then, that I would, until my mother's death, be responsible for the smoothness of my mother's chin.
    As of yesterday it has been about a week since I last shaved her. I'm not sure why we haven't done this for a week, except that I recall mentioning during her bath at least once that "I'll shave you this morning," and her response: "I'm hungry, let's wait until tomorrow," which is a fairly typical response. Usually, after I week or so of this I stop suggesting and just do it. But, yesterday, she did it herself.
    I'm celebrating for several reasons. First, in order to shave it was necessary for her to stand, unaided, since she was using both hands, one to smooth her skin and one to shave, for at least 10 minutes. I don't believe she's done this for a couple of years. Thus, I know she remains capable of independent, autonomic standing balance. I didn't know she could still do this. Second, I didn't think she noticed the hair on her chin, anymore, when it began to reach the point of being noticed by society. Third, since she spends a large amount of time trying to put off personal grooming chores as I suggest them throughout the day, I figured she was past the point of automatically doing these things by or for herself. Fourth, I assumed that her vision was no longer acute enough for her to see well enough in a mirror a good two feet from her to shave her chin. I am delighted to announce that I was wrong on all counts.
    Once I discovered what she was doing, I remained in the bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet, watching her. I didn't do this because I was afraid she'd spontaneously topple (she was as steady as a sober judge) or shave a off a slice of skin (her shaving movements were as careful and gentle as a diamond cutter's). I stayed because I was fascinated that she had thought of doing this herself and commenced to do it. As I watched her, I considered that maybe there were other grooming chores that I now perform for her that she could be encouraged to do herself. Then, I remembered that I didn't suggest she do this one. Never even occurred to me. So, maybe my best strategy is to simply mention, as I usually do, that it is time to perform a particular grooming ritual, wait for a few minutes to see if she decides to do it on her own, then, if necessary, step in to pick up the slack.
    There are other subtle indications that, despite my lack of success with getting her to move, she's begun rehabilitating herself on her own schedule. Within the last couple of weeks she's done a lot of in house moving of her own accord. For instance, it's been, for some time, an unconscious habit of mine to periodically check the area around where she's sitting for used Kleenexes (she goes through a lot of Kleenex when she's not on oxygen) and discard them every hour or so. Lately, every half hour or so, my mother has been gathering her used Kleenexes on her own and taking them to the garbage in the kitchen. At first I kept a wary eye on her, since this usually involves negotiating a few steps and watching out for obstacles in her way. I've become so used to her to-the-garbage competence, though, that I barely notice, now, that she is up and down several times a day cleaning up her area. Although she continues to refuse "exercise", she seems to be making up exercises on her own to keep her muscles movable, as long as the exercise involves a legitimate task and isn't exercise just for the sake of exercise. My mother has never been an "exercise for exercise's sake" person. There was a time when she a walked a couple of miles almost every day, several years ago, some time before I came to live with her. She did this with my father, in an attempt to encourage his health during those times when he was attempting to heal himself from the effects of his decades long alcoholism. These walks became such a habit that when I'd visit them the three of us, or, sometimes, just Mom and me, would walk her track. However, when I came to live with her I was in the habit of walking three to four miles every morning and every evening. She was no longer in the habit of "constitutional" walking. My father had been dead for 9 years at that time. Although I prefer walking in the dark and alone, there were many times, during those first years, when I offered to walk in sunlight so she would walk, too. She always refused. I understand, now, that she refused because she didn't consider the walk necessary to some other purpose. I've also learned, from the 50+ years I've known my mother, that it is impossible for someone other than my mother to invent purpose for her. Thus, I know better than to attempt to set her to an invented purpose in order to accomplish a purpose which is important to me but inconsequential to her. Considering the health conscious atmosphere of our society, today, you'd think that it would make sense to her that moving for health would be a satisfactory purpose, but her Central Farm Country generation is of the attitude (which has kept many of them living well beyond the average lifespan) that life provides adequate opportunities for nurturing one's health; one needn't go looking for them.
    Perhaps the early budding, this year, isn't confined to our yard. Perhaps it's going on, as well, inside our snug little home.