Page 57 of Body Shot

14

HAYDEN

Saturday morning, I drive to the grocery store to pick up some things for both myself and Aunt Gina and Uncle Colin. Then I go to their place to deliver the groceries and do more food preparation and cleaning up.

Aunt Gina’s hip fracture required surgery to pin it, and then she developed pneumonia in the hospital, which extended her stay there and had us pretty worried. Then she was moved to a rehab center while they tried to get her mobile again. She’s been home a few weeks now and is still using a walker. They let her come home because Uncle Colin is here to help her, but little did they know, he’s more a hindrance than help, not able to cook or do laundry, and he has no concept of what a floor mop is for.

“How are you doing, Aunt Gina?” I first check on my aunt, who’s sitting in a recliner in the living room watching television.

“Hello, Hayden! I’m doing okay.” Aunt Gina gives me a somewhat forced smile.

I cross over and crouch beside her. “Are you in pain?”

She grimaces. “Oh yes. But nothing to be done about it.”

“Did you take a pain pill?”

“No. I hate taking pills all the time.”

“I’ll get you one. There’s no need for you to suffer.”

“Those pills constipate me.”

I bite my lip, uncertain whether to push my aunt to take a pill or not. This is so hard, looking after the people who’d looked after me. Aunt Gina is an adult and still of sound mind, so she should know whether to take a pill, but I worry she’s too stubborn and is suffering unnecessarily.

“Well, if the pain is bad, you should take a pill for it.” I touch Aunt Gina’s arm, then rise. “I brought some groceries. I’ll go put them away. Where’s Uncle Colin?”

“He’s out back working in the yard.”

I nod. The yard is Uncle Colin’s pride and joy. He loves gardening and has turned their yard into a gorgeous landscape. In my opinion, he should spend a little more time indoors, looking after the house and his wife, and less time pruning and fertilizing plants, but again, he’s an adult and it’s his life. I love my aunt and uncle and I’m grateful to them for everything they’ve done for me since my parents died, but that doesn’t mean I always agree with their choices.

“Why are they even still living in this huge house,” I grumble to myself in the kitchen as I unpack bags. “With that huge yard.” I sigh at seeing the dishes in the sink, the dishwasher full of more dirty dishes. And I sigh again when I pull out the package of dishwasher detergent tablets and find it empty. Damn.

I feel bad that I never realized how much Aunt Gina did to look after Uncle Colin and their home. It only became evident when Aunt Gina was out of the picture, in the hospital. At first, I didn’t even think to check in on Uncle Colin; I was busy visiting Aunt Gina and making sure she had everything she needed and talking to the health-care professionals involved in her care. I assumed that Uncle Colin could make himself a sandwich and replace the toilet paper on the roll. I assumed wrong.

Then I was running from the hospital to their home to take care of things there. I discovered unpaid bills and dirty bathrooms, Uncle Colin living off fast food and happily caring for his rosebushes.

I suspect Uncle Colin is in a bit of denial about his wife’s health situation and disappears into the yard as a coping mechanism. I have to talk myself out of being angry at him, deducing that he’s probably feeling afraid and worried and overwhelmed himself. I just wish he would deal with it some other way. And I’m not sure it’s my role to tell him to man up. Maybe if they were my parents, I’d do that, but since they’re my aunt and uncle, I’m a little unsure of my role, other than I know I have to help them however I can.

Gina is my dad’s sister. Dad was a lot older than Mom, nearly forty when I was born, and Gina is now seventy-four, Uncle Colin seventy-eight. And I’m starting to suspect that even before her fall, Gina wasn’t able to care for the house as well as she used to. Which made me feel even guiltier. I should have noticed sooner. I should have talked to them about moving out of the house before this happened. They could be happily ensconced in some seniors’ complex, being waited on hand and foot. They have the money, and especially if they sell this big house they’ll have no financial issues.

But Uncle Colin refuses to leave his yard. Growing a couple of pots of plants on a balcony won’t be enough for him.

These thoughts run through my mind as I clean up the kitchen and put away groceries.

“I have to pop out to the store, Aunt Gina,” I call a while later. “But I’ll be right back. You’re out of dishwasher detergent. Is there anything else you need me to pick up?”

“Oh, Hayden. You don’t need to do all this.”

I smile at my aunt. There isn’t anyone else to do it. My cousins Jeff and John live on the other side of the country, in New York. They came home briefly when their mom was hospitalized, but they both have families and demanding careers, and can’t get back often. Also, neither of them is very nurturing, having freaked out at seeing their mom in the hospital doped up on pain meds and blood thinners. “It’s not a problem,” I assure Aunt Gina.

“I don’t think there’s anything else we need. You picked up that Black Forest ham Colin likes?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Thank you, dear.”

I make the trip to the nearest supermarket, grab the detergent, and I’m back in a short time. I throw together a couple of casseroles and am making ham and cheese sandwiches when Uncle Colin appears from the yard. I debate having a discussion with him about getting more help, since it’s likely Aunt Gina is never going to get back to the level of function she had before the accident—or the level of function she had five years ago, if we’re being honest. But Uncle Colin sits with Aunt Gina in the living room while they eat and then disappears back outside; so I glumly put that plan on hold. Again.

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