In Perfect Timing for Mother’s Day, A Display of Admiration and Appreciation

Written by A GURUSAIRAM

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In Perfect Timing for Mother’s Day, A Display of Admiration and Appreciation

As previously expressed, I hold my mother in high esteem — a woman of keen intellect who opts out of Mother’s Day festivities. Instead of traditional celebrations, I take this occasion as an opportunity to recount an incident that underscores her resilience and resourcefulness. It eventually ties into an enlightening theme, so stay tuned till the conclusion.

To provide context, my mother routinely utilizes New York City’s public transit network, encompassing both subway and bus services. One might perceive this as commonplace, given the multitude who do the same. However, the noteworthy aspect is my mother’s age. How advanced, you wonder? Take a glance at me, and engage in a bit of arithmetic for a reasonably accurate estimation. To be precise, she is on the brink of embarking upon her tenth decade.

Furthermore, she has been residing independently since the passing of my father, diligently managing various facets of her life. These include grocery shopping, culinary endeavors for herself, maintaining cleanliness, and juggling her unexpectedly active social and scholarly engagements. (She has recently undertaken volunteer duties as an educator, editor of a newsletter, and student.) She executes these tasks with understated aplomb, leading my siblings and me to occasionally overlook the remarkable nature of her self-sufficiency.

However, a few months back, I received distressing news that my mother had experienced a fall while boarding a bus and was being tended to in an emergency department. Fortunately, there were no fractures — a relief indeed — but the fall inflicted a significant laceration on her left leg. An eyewitness to the incident speculated that she might require a tourniquet to stem the bleeding.

We are all too familiar with the repercussions of falls. It’s not solely the elderly who are affected — I’ve attended to a gentleman in his thirties whose life underwent irreversible changes following a fall from a ladder in his kitchen, resulting in head trauma, a fractured ankle, and a cascade of neurological and infectious complications that left him permanently impaired.

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(I have an aversion to ladders. My spouse perceives me as timid, but my apprehension is well-founded.)

Undoubtedly, the elderly are particularly susceptible to falls. Neuropathy, muscular debility, vestibular instability, visual impairments, osteoporosis, and arthritis collectively contribute to a heightened frequency — and peril — of falls as one ages. These incidents inflict physical and psychological trauma that can severely debilitate an individual, initiating a vicious cycle of incapacitation, complications, and dependence.

Consider the oft-heard refrains: “They were fine before the fall…” or “Ever since the hip fracture, they’ve never been the same.” Truly chilling.

During our conversations subsequent to the incident, I detected a tone of vulnerability in my mother’s voice, an unfamiliar quality. Moreover, she was scarcely venturing beyond her abode.

However, she persevered:

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She candidly conveyed the challenges of this ordeal to her kin and acquaintances — a commendable act for someone accustomed to independence and disinclined to seek assistance.
Under the guidance of a skilled and exceedingly compassionate plastic surgeon (Kudos to you, Dr. Schwartz!), she acquired the skills to tend to and dress her substantial wound daily. Witnessing her proficiency, one might conjecture she could have pursued a career as a wound care specialist had journalism not been her chosen path. What a remarkable talent!
She gradually regained her mobility, initially venturing on brief outdoor strolls during fair weather, subsequently resuming solo grocery trips. She has now resumed her use of public transportation.
She successfully completed a week-long course of levofloxacin without succumbing to tendon damage.
We now arrive at the informative segment of this narrative. When the healing process appeared to stagnate, with increased exudation, her plastic surgeon ordered a wound culture, the results of which he shared with me via this screenshot:

“Unless you have an alternate suggestion, I intend to commence levofloxacin,” he conveyed to me. A prudent decision indeed — the wound had become superinfected, despite its extensive exposure. Perhaps it was a consequence of the prior cephalexin regimen she had undergone. Or perchance it was a “gift” from the microbial inhabitants of New York City streets.

Ever inquisitive, my mother posed two queries, to which I responded as follows:

Is this the notorious “flesh-eating” bacterium? [No, that’s most commonly attributed to streptococcus.] If this is a pseudo (i.e., false) monas, what characterizes the genuine monas? [I am uncertain.]

These inquiries are commendable, particularly the latter.

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I am pleased to relay that, with meticulous local care, antibiotic therapy, and the passage of time, the wound has gradually begun to heal. She has “graduated” (her terminology) to simply requiring a small bandage. No further visits to Dr. Schwartz are necessary.

So here’s to a Joyous Mother’s Day, Mom — thrilled to witness your recovery, your resilience was truly remarkable. And exercise caution on those urban buses!

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