Doctor’s VisitAs I get closer to my due date, my mother becomes more excited.
Last Wednesday, I came home from work with terrible cramps. The cramps then progressed into contractions that were about 10 minutes apart. Since I have never been pregnant nor have given birth before, I did not know what was going on. I called my mom and then ended up calling the hospital (the doctor’s office had closed for the day). The doctor on-call told me to stay home, but call back if the contractions became closer together. My mom was not happy with that advice.
I had the cramps and contractions all weekend. Yesterday, I decided to force a visit to the doctor. I had my mom drive me, as I don’t feel comfortable getting behind the wheel of a car with bad cramps. As she pulled up in front of the house, I could hear the bass pumping. My sister had borrowed the car the night before and had left the hip-hop station on. My mom kept it on as we drove to Greece.
“So you are pimpin’ today, Mom?” I asked.
“I can pimp if I want to, “ she insisted.
I told my mom she could stay in the waiting room while I went to be examined, but she wanted to come back with me. You see, she’s been with me to the doctor’s before. Whenever we go, she’ll insist on coming back for when the doctor measures the baby or takes the heartbeat, but she high-tails it out of the room once the doctor does the internal examination.
After the nurse took my blood pressure and asked me about the cramps, she handed me a sheet to put on while I waited for the doctor. Mom went out to the hallway to sit in the chair next to the examination room. I waited about five minutes and heard a knock on the door. I thought it was the doctor, but it was my mother. She stuck her head in the room and stared at me on the examination table in the blue sheet.
“There’s some nurse talking about a kid who cheated on his English paper at the school where you used to work,” she whispered so loudly, I was sure the nurse would hear her. “I’ll find out some more and let you know what’s going on.”
“Okay,” I said.
A few minutes later, there was another knock. I thought for sure it was the doctor.
“Okay,” my mother said, peeking around the door. “According to this nurse, the kid was so excited to be writing the English paper, that he was talking to his friend about it. Then they ran the papers through some plagiarism program and the kids had the same sentences in their papers. The kid went from an A average to barely passing. Okay, I’m gonna go back and find out this kid’s name.” She closed the door.
There was another knock soon after. Thankfully, it was the doctor.
The examination went okay. I am dilated a centimeter, which means that the baby probably won’t be here for a little while. The baby wouldn’t hold still while the doctor tried to take the heartbeat. Finally, she got a heartbeat on him.
As I put on my pants, my mom gave the doctor the third degree in the hallway. “So she’s dilated a centimeter,” my mom said, “In the textbook definition of labor, how long do you think it will be before she has the baby?”
I opened the door. “C’mon, Columbo,” I said to my mom. My mom got up and wandered down the hall, asking the doctor more questions. The doctor gave my mom vague answers.
In the car, I got the full scoop on the plagiarized paper. According to my mom, the kid was so excited to write that English paper that he talked to his friend about it.
I stopped my mom at this point: “Um, I taught high school for five years. I know of NO 16, 17 year old boy who gets excited about writing English papers. That’s crap.”
My mom sounded serious. “She said the kid was very excited about it. Now he's off of high honor roll, just because he had a few sentences that were the same as his friend. The mom doesn’t think the kid deserves to be kicked off of honor roll. She even called the principal and the head of the English department.”
“That is such crap,” I said to my mom. “No parent ever thinks his kid does wrong. Obviously, the kid knew he was plagiarizing. They teach avoiding plagiarism from the time they are freshmen. I always warned my kids that if something was similar between two papers, they would be done. What is this parent, stupid?”
My mom said innocently, “Well, that’s what the woman said.” She paused. “I couldn’t get a last name on the kid. I wonder who it is.”
I took my mom to Schaller’s for lunch. Afterwards, she drove me to Parkleigh.
Parkleigh is a cool store. My mom is even more like an immigrant coming to the US for the first time at Parkleigh, than any other store. I think part of it is because everything is kinda pricey. I wanted to look at Vera Bradley handbags, but then decided I couldn’t afford one. One of the conditions of my mom taking me to Parkleigh is that I had to buy her something. We descended on the candy counter. I bought Mom a Godiva chocolate bar, and got myself some truffles and a giant peanut butter cup.
On the way home, I gave my mom a truffle. She seemed to like it. However, it seemed to be a distraction, because she soon found herself lost in the city.
“You can get on 490 up there,” I said, pointing.
“I don’t like the expressway,” she said.
“Well, follow the Inner Loop signs,” I told her.
We were back on Monroe for a bit. As Monroe became Chestnut, I instructed Mom to turn left onto Broad.
“I don’t want to,” she said, passing Broad.
We then passed East Avenue and Main Street. She could have made a left on either street to get back to Exchange. We then passed Andrews.
“Where are you going?” I asked her as we passed a sign for Marketview Heights.
“I don’t know,” she said.
We drove for a few blocks. We were definitely lost. There were boarded up houses on either side of the street.
“Mom, we are in the hood.”
“I know,” she said. “I don’t know where we are going, but it all must lead somewhere.”
Very profound, I thought.
We came upon Avenue D. I told her that she could make a left onto Avenue D and it would eventually lead to St. Paul and the Driving Park Bridge.
“What if I don’t want to?” she asked.
“Do you know where you are going otherwise?,” I asked.
“No.” She made the left. "But all roads lead somewhere," she said softly to herself.
It was a Robert Frost moment.
