Some of the mundane tasks in life are often taken for granted. Yet when something tragic happens and those mundane abilities are stripped from us, we then realize the great gift it was once before. My grandmother, now, can walk to the restroom on her own:
She had a stroke at the tail end of Betty and my honeymoon in May, leaving the left side of her body numb. She could not lift her left leg nor left arm and would not ever look to the left. I visited her in the hospital about a week before our LA reception in early June and she was not very coherent. She needed to be carried out of bed to go to the restroom, somebody at her side to feed her and an occupational therapist there to retrain her how to dress and comb her hair. On top of that, she was greatly depressed, constantly saying that she is a “no use person,” in Chinese.
Today is another day.
She has moved from her apartment in Chinatown into my parents home, where my mom sleeps beside her every night. My brother, a Physical Therapist (or Physiotherapist, in Canadian speak), has been working with her in his gym-clinic to exercise several times a week. My sister does exercises with her and helps her get around (when she is not around, my grandma boasts of Melissa’s strength and recollection of exercises and dedication to her).
This morning, I was woken up by the sound of her walker scraping against the hardwood floors — she was walking to the restroom by herself. I asked her in Chinese, “Do you need help.” ”No, I’m fine on my own,” she replied. Yesterday, was another day of surprises when I saw her doing laps around the furniture on her own as an extension of the daily exercise.
The word “mundane” is now slowly losing its value.
Grandma, you are a trooper. You taught me much of my Toisan vocabulary. You made all those Zongzis when I was growing up. You are the one whom squeezed my hand so I could properly hold my chopsticks. I love you grandma and pray for your health and salvation.
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