The one thing that I have always had in abundance is sisters, and I never thought to be in the market for another. This is why I was a little taken aback when my mom referred to Elspeth as “my third daughter.” Elspeth is the nurse who comes to the house five days a week to stay with my 91 year old mom while my real sister, my mom’s caregiver, goes to work.
About five years ago, when we realized that Mom could no longer be left alone during the day, we began working with an agency whose motto was, “if they’re breathing, they’re hired.” This agency sent us aids with dizzying regularity, ranging anywhere from merely incompetent to mildly scary and culminating with Laurette.
Laurette will always be remembered because one day my sister same home from work unexpectedly and found that Laurette had written my mom’s name on a roasting chicken in Hershey’s syrup and was stabbing the chicken with skewers while muttering some type of incantation. This resulted in Laurette’s immediate dismissal, which was to be expected, and a dinner of Chicken a la Chocolate, which, unexpectedly, was not bad.
And then the gods smiled and sent us Elspeth. Elspeth had a sunny disposition and a good work ethic. She showed up every day, not on time, but pretty close. She did the minor household tasks she was asked to do; not competently but cheerfully. Most importantly she was able to get my mom, who can be a picky eater, to clean her plate, and she could miraculously handle Mom even on one of the bad days when lesser nurses would stab chickens in frustration.
Elspeth and my mom bonded by watching Dr.Phil together, both of them shouting advice at the TV screen and making editorial comments during the commercials. How they understood each other I have no idea, because Elspeth’s Creole accent is so thick that initially I rarely understood what she was saying.
Their bonding continued as they watched other daytime talk shows. I was over at Mom’s house one day doing a couple of minor chores and I walked in during a commercial break to hear them animatedly discussing “vaginal versus clitoral orgasms” which so startled me that I simply turned around and went home. They never noticed.
It was around this time that Elspeth began calling my mom “Mommee” and mom began referring to Elspeth as “my third daughter.” I don’t know if this concerned my mom’s first and second daughters, but I discovered how firmly this mindset was entrenched the day Elspeth and I took Mom to her rheumatologist.
The waiting room was packed and Elspeth and my mother were chatting loudly, because mom is as deaf as a rock, and when the nurse called for my mom to come into the examining room Elspeth stood up and said, ”Let’s go Mommee” at which point conversation in the waiting room stopped and everyone looked at our little group, possibly because Elspeth is very dark and my mom is very fair.
As the three of us made our slow way across the waiting room the nurse, a horrible woman with whom I have crossed swords on numerous occasions, barred the door. She looked at me and said “family only” and looked at Elspeth and said coldly, ”Sit back down.”
I looked at Elspeth, who looked stricken, but my mom never missed a beat. “Elspeth is my daughter,” she said grandly, shoving the nurse out of the way with her cane, and the three of us swept past her into the examining room.