Wasn't really sure if we would be celebrating Mother's Day today when the call came last Wednesday from Fox Ridge Assisted Living in Bryant.
"Your mother fell and is complaining of pain in her right hip, and you know she doesn't complain about pain," the nurse said.
An ambulance crew was on the way and all they needed to know was which hospital, and they were told Baptist in Little Rock.
Mom turned 94 six days before the fall. It's never good to fall, but when you are 94 and suffer from dementia, it can be really bad.
I met mom at the emergency room and my sisters Sue Fisher and Lola Hall weren't far behind. Lola works at Children's Hospital. And they, of course, understand medical emergencies.
An X-ray showed mom had broken her right hip, and the ER doctor asked if a surgeon from Ortho Arkansas was OK, and of course that was fine.
We had no idea we were lucking into not only an amazing surgeon, but if there were a national award for best bedside manner they should name it after him. He's a big part of the reason we will celebrate Mother's Day today with mom in Baptist Hospital.
Dr. Tejas Patel was incredibly passionate, kind and respectful. Every day after the surgery he came by to see mom and yesterday the last thing he said was that he would see her today. His whole team followed his example.
Before the surgery he admitted he's a big North Carolina Tar Heels fan, and he was told just don't tell mom.
Like churches are for sinners, hospitals are for sick people, and all around us we could see the concern, fear and bowed heads as the three of us sat with mom waiting on the surgery Thursday.
My pastor, Chuck "The Pigskin Preacher," came and prayed for mom and us. That's the way he is, a pastor 24/7. He may be between churches but he will always be a preacher and no one can stop that.
My sisters and I had a little corner to ourselves during surgery and we recalled stories about mom, some humorous, some not. Mom was raised in the Depression era and it wasn't unusual for her to have 15 sets of sheets on hand in case one of her children or grandchildren needed them.
She and dad were never short order cooks; we ate what was put on the table, all of it, and our dishwasher was named Sue and Wally.
When I turned 12 three things happened in our house, without ceremony to say the least. Sue got a part-time job, I got a paper route (my first experience with the old Arkansas Democrat) and mom started beautician school. In our home everyone worked hard. It wasn't a rule, it was a way of life.
If the church doors were open we were there. One time, when a preacher's daughter slapped Lola, we immediately changed churches. Loyalty was taught on a daily basis.
Discipline came with two quotes, one from the Bible: "spare the rod and spoil the child;" and "this hurts me more than you." The first one was more likely true.
In the eighth grade I made the basketball team at West Side, mainly because a lot of the ninth graders quit after they found out three of the eighth graders (not me) were going to start. My uniform looked like something the dog dragged in because the cat wouldn't have it.
Mom grabbed it, disappeared into her bedroom for 30 minutes, and we could hear her sewing machine buzzing. When she came out I had a perfectly tailored uniform.
Mom had six sisters, two are still alive. Aunt Jane flew in from California. Aunt Wanda, who lives in Searcy, got her daughter, Greta, to drive her in to be with her older sister. The family reunion was sweet but laced with deep concern.
This won't be the best Mother's Day ever, but we are having one and that's the good news.
Sports on 05/14/2017