I'm Looking For My Mom

  I got a cryptic email from my older sister informing me our mother had gone to the local Hospital Emergency Room; also that she was predicted to return home that day.  When I called on my mother the following morning to see how she was, I would only get her answering machine.  Now sometimes my mother will screen calls because she just doesn’t feel up to talking to people; we’ve all used that function, I’m sure.  But in this case leaving several messages wasn’t going to do it.  So I called the front desk of her adult living complex and asked for them to send someone up to her third floor apartment to check on her.  They agreed to do that, but would I please call back in ten minutes.  When I did call back, the friendly receptionist told me she checked their daily log and noticed the previous night my mom had gone to the Emergency room but nothing about her returning; when they checked, she wasn’t in her room.  While they were performing that task, I had called the hospital and was informed she had been there, but  no longer registered.  Collectively, we were puzzled. We did find out she had most likely been transferred to a skilled facility for recuperation.

  Researching Google I found over fifty skilled facilities advertised within a twenty-five mile circle of where my mother lives.  It’s true, my reflex was to surrender to the difficulty and just wait until mom was well enough to initiate contact.  My bride, on the other hand, got her Catalonian feathers up and said "like hell we’ll wait," and began calling.  Something about her saying into the phone from the other room, “I’m looking for my mother-in-law” embarrassed me into action.  So I bought into the project with dedicated vigor.

  Montse printed off the list of all the facilities and grabbed a yellow marker to mark them off as we contacted them; I started calling intent on reaching every-single-facility until I found my mommy!!!

  This….was a mission….from God (as the Blues Brothers would say.)

  The first few facilities admitted, in fact, they were not skilled facilities; just assisted living facilities. So we learned that the advertisements were not entirely up to date or completely factual.  I also learned how to hone my inquiry into an almost salesman like pitch.  For instance, I got more help if I mentioned that I was calling from Atlanta, Georgia…that’s very far from Roseville, so the person I called would realize this wasn’t a garden variety caller.  The real zinger, that galvanized a stranger to my cause was,

   “I’m looking for my mom.”  I was showered with ‘ohhh’s and Awwww’s” to the point that the other person would ask me the details of the story.  Once they found out which hospital she was in, they’d render their past experience into where she’d most likely be taken once released. 

   “Oh honey, that’d be Eskaton Care Center.”

  From there they’d inquire as to which adult community did she live, along with pumping me for any other useful information; they too were in mission mode.  Believe it or not their help shaved our effort down to six calls.  Yupper, each try increased my knowledge to the extent that I finally found out where my mother was.  It was an excellent lesson in cooperation along with yes; a redemption of my opinion concerning human nature.  When you can find the right cause; like a grown man looking for his mom, you can gather unto your banner a virtual army of attentive dedicated helpers.

Now if that isn’t a demonstration of the mom icon inspiring everyone to play nice…I don’t know what is.