Happy Birthday, Grace

Several months before my mother's birthday, my father was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease. The crippling illness progressed very quickly. Many Parkinson's patients' speech is affected, so in the early stages, during his first hospital visit, Daddy asked me for a favor. "Please take care of your mother, Honey," he begged. "That's all that I ask of you."

Within six months, Daddy was totally bedridden. The majority of that time, he couldn't speak above a whisper. Dementia is another complication of Parkinson's, and one day his doctor held my hand and broke the news to me. "Your father will not get better, Nancy. It's all downhill from here. In a few months, he won't even remember your name." Unfortunately, the doctor was right. Our entire family was heartbroken, as we began to slowly lose Daddy to this horrible disease.

Since I lived 70 miles away, I couldn't visit with Daddy every day. I called, however, to check on him and Mom every night. I thought I was prepared for the storms that lay ahead of me. I did pretty well, until the holidays and other special occasions crept up on us. Mostly I really dreaded my mother's birthday. I knew how hard it would be for her, and how hard it would be for me to fulfill that favor for my dad. I bought her a present from Daddy, but I knew things still wouldn't be the same for her when her birthday came.

A couple of weeks before her birthday, I began to notice my mother's downcast mood when we talked on the phone. We never mentioned it, however. I didn't know what to say.

Daddy had resided in a nursing home for the previous year. Fortunately, the nurses there loved both Daddy and Mom. Since my mother spent almost every day in Daddy's room, all of the nurses and their assistants knew her well.

Tina, one of Daddy's nurses, sensed my mother's lack of joy and enthusiasm. Somehow, she found out that my mother's birthday was drawing close. She went way beyond the call of duty to lift Mom's spirits on her special day. Tina bought a small picture frame and put Daddy's picture inside it. It had a little tape player at the bottom, which would hold a brief message. Daddy still had the capability to speak in a faint whisper, with a great deal of coaxing, if he was coherent. For two solid weeks, after my mother left the nursing home for the day, Tina went into his room and begged Daddy to speak into the microphone.

On her birthday, Mom went to the nursing home just as she did every other day. Through her swollen eyes, she was surprised to see birthday balloons adorning every corner of the room. Sitting on Daddy's lap was a beautifully wrapped box. Tina and some of the other employees slipped into his room right behind my mother. Mom opened her present and pushed the tiny button. Daddy's voice softly spoke. "Happy Birthday, Grace."

The tone of my mother's voice as she told me the story convinced me that we were surely going to make it through the trying days ahead. And it was all because of a nurse who took time from her busy schedule to care about the love between a sick man, his wife, and an important birthday.

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