Monday, 13 April 2015

Caring for my Mother #7

Caring for my Mother #7
I help my mother into the shower, her tiny bent body naked, nothing hidden.
I can see how her organs must be crushed in by the bending and shrinkage of her spine. There isn’t an ounce of fat on her but her waist widens out under the curve of her spine.  I tell her she is like a sparrow, the amount she eats is barely enough for a toddler.
I scrub her back and gently wash down her lower legs and feet.  The skin is so fragile and bruised on her shins, too heavy a touch and she says “Ow!” in a loud whisper.
She is visibly frightened at the climb down out of the shower.  I dry her hands and hair while she still sits on the perch-stool, and drape the towel around her shoulders.  She checks her feet aren’t slippery then pulls herself to standing.  The walker is in position right at the door of the shower, she clutches my hands and I carefully guide her hands to the rail of the walker, and hold it while she steps down, one foot at a time.  In her fear, she stops breathing for the whole moment it takes her to do this, then stands panting and staring at the short walk ahead to get to the bed.
I dry her back and lower legs sitting on the bed, while she, panting and grim, dries her arms and upper body.  When she finally lies down flat I quickly cover her with a towel, before starting to drizzle moisturizer on her arms.  I look at her flat, barely visible breasts, avert my eyes from her vulva as I caress her legs with moisturizer and wonder when I will ever look at a beautiful woman’s body again.  I would never have done all this personal care for my father, nor would I expect my brothers to do any of this for our Mother.  We don’t want to work with the naked body of an opposite-sex parent, however old and sexless they are.  But how does this work for a Lesbian?    I’m repelled by the sight of my mother’s body in the way only someone who normally desires such bodies is.  However unacceptable it is to admit this.  At my age I don’t hold out much hope of a future relationship- though I have not wholly abandoned hope.  But the thought of a lover, a lover’s body, a lover’s pussy, is overlaid by the present experience. 

I pull knickers on Mum as quickly as I can, their bulky pad concealing everything.  

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