A little character study:

Mom has an unusually high pain threshold, but finally even she decided it was time for a knee replacement operation. She loves to walk, and had gotten to the point that she could only travel a few yards. Her doctor concurred, she made the necessary preparations, in consultation with the hospital staff and my physical therapist sister-in-law, L.

Finally the day came, and E, L, and I accompanied Mom to the hospital. We chatted, and then an orderly came to lead her off to the operating room. All seemed in order, and so E, L, and I waited for the several hours it took for Mom to have her operation, recover, and be taken to her hospital room.

When it was time to join her in her hospital room, we gathered around her bed. Mom's eyes fluttered open weakly. "Hi, Mom!," we chorused. "How do you feel?" "What time is it?" she responded, and we told her. "Oh! It's so late--you had to wait for so long!...Did you have lunch?" (Yes, we had.)

Now she's recovering at home, progressing well, but still not quite back to her usual active self. And her appetite is not really back. This week, I tried out a new chicken stew recipe. Taste-testing it, it struck me that it might make a nice, easy-to-eat meal for Mom. I'm planning to spend Saturday evening with her, so I sent off a note suggesting that I plan to make a pot of the stew for our supper.

The next day, her reply email was in my inbox. She liked my plan. She could get things at least partly ready, she said: she could pick up the chicken and other ingredients, and have the salad greens washed and ready. In fact, she realized, she could make the stew on Saturday morning and have it ready for us. (Note that she's still using a walker to move around--I can't quite visualize how she'd navigate the grocery store without a sherpa to push the cart.)

I emailed back: Wait, wait, Mom! My plan is to help you, and besides, I like to cook (which is true).

Now let's see who makes that stew this Saturday...