Blues for Momma

The doctor he said hey hey Mary Lu,

I got awful bad news to lay upon you.

I got results right here

of a test you can trust.

Indications are strong that

your brain’s gonna rust.

Sorry to say, yer head’s gonna rust.

You sure, dear doc, can this be true?

Doctor said wish I was lyin’ to you,

but the truth is,

and you can write it in red,

that body of yours

gonna outlive your head.

Your crazy old body

gonna outlive your head.

Not many more days

can there sadder be,

for a man to go home

for his momma to see.

As he walks in the door

and he says howdy do,

his momma looks up

and says who are you?

momma looks up

says who the hell are you?

Over the years, I’ve posted updates about my mom, who was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s back in July of ’06.

Since then, she’s actually done pretty well, with her slide toward demented oblivion being very slow and gradual. We’ve had time to do some nice things, and have some nice talks. But that slide has indeed been happening, and it’s been inexorable.

Now, she’s in a Home, a very nice, mellow Home, and when I called recently to check on her, she told me that everything was fine, and that she was doing a little packing because she needed to get up to San Jose.

“Really?” I replied. I figured I might as well humor her, knowing full well that she wasn’t going anywhere. “Well, what’s going on in San Jose?”

“Oh, I’ve got to visit my mother. She’s not feeling well.”

Oooooh-K. Actually, I don’t think Grandma’s feeling much of anything, since she’s been dead for 34 years. It’s safe to describe the next few seconds in the conversation as awkward. Awkward squared. We quickly got back on track, thank God, by bashing a little on my brother. Good ole Tom.

But one of these days, she isn’t gonna know who Tom is. She isn’t gonna know who I am.

The way things are going, that day may come soon. I imagine it will be a day of some significance. And pretty weird, too. A day when my personal gyroscope will wobble noticeably. Shit. I’m gonna miss her.