Mister Man had already left for work. He called me while I was on the boat and told me his manager asked him to help out on the grave shift one more week. Can I please help at night with her? Sure thing. That split shift crap again of 6AM-12PM and then 10PM-7AM today. How awful. I'll either sleep on the couch or in the spare room. Most important thing is that she needs someone here. She got up very slowly and I helped her dress to go to Mass. She absolutely will not eat anything until then. Slowly slowly down the stairs of the building, and after refusing the wheelchair we made our way to Redentore church and she got up those steps. She won't take her scarf off in church today, just like yesterday, because she hasn't had her hair done since before going into the hospital. The priest smiled at her arrival and came to bring her communion when it was time so she didn't have to stand too long. She was tired after Mass and allowed herself the wheelchair for the walk back. Climbing the stairs took a while. She's a little knackered this morning and it's no wonder. Eat breakfast people! It'll fortify you...
I asked her if she wanted me to make an appointment to have her hair done, but she declined. They won't have time for her today, she thinks. I told her I could wash and set her hair.
“Sai? Devi fare?” You know? You can do that?
I told her I had set my grandmothers' heads before. It's been a few years but I know how.
“Ay, cara. Sei meravigliosa.” You're marvelous. She says that now, but will she afterward?
I went looking around in the closet for her curlers, pins and setting lotion. She didn't have any setting lotion. No problem, I can go get some. And I need to do my own rat's nest. It's been almost six weeks for me. Trim the ends and bangs and brush up my color. I asked her if it was okay if I colored my hair in her bathroom – I promise not to make a mess. “Si, si.” Okay, after breakfast.
She was in some discomfort but would wait it out until Marco came home to give her a shot. I was thankful for this. I don't want to try administering a syringe, that's for sure. I managed to give her a thorough hair wetting and shampoo and got her back to the couch, and I ran out to the “Beautyfull” store down by the Giardini for supplies. Got back pretty quickly, I was only gone 45 minutes, thanks to good timing with the vaporetto boats.
Set her hair and hooked it up under the drying cap and hairdryer. This totally reminded me of being a little kid and watching my grandmas do this in their homes. Now it's time for mine.
I haven't purchased hair color over here before but it's not like it's rocket science. I found a color I wanted “tiziano rosso” - Titian Red. Perfect to be dyeing my hair in Venice with the color named for the artist who used these colors for hair in his paintings. It's bungundy-red on the box. Perfect. I got it all ready and mixed. Looks the appropriate purple in the bottle. Put it on my head and my scalp looks like Ronald McDonald orange red. Cross your fingers, people. This could get a little scary. Thirty minute wait for developing. THIRTY? Popped my head out of the bathroom and looked at the clock – oh man, he's going to come home and I will have Ronald McDonald head. I will never hear the end of this... great.
Luckily, he was a little delayed. Whew. I managed to wash out the color and blow it dry and he wasn't back yet. Cleaned up the bathroom. You'd never know I was there.
And no clown hair for me. Yay! It is a lovely burgundy red, just as advertised. Whew, again. Mamma complimented me on the new shade. Finished up her hair, taking it out of the curlers, a little backcomb poufing and spray the crap out if it. I've seen Steel Magnolias 87 times. I can do this.
To keep her mind off her discomfort I offered to give her a manicure. She was soaking her hands when Marco came in. “Mi dispiace, dispiace. Lo so che sono in ritardo!” I'm sorry sorry – I know I'm late. He took one look at the two of us playing beauty parlor and cracked up. Got her shot prepared but we all agreed she needed to eat something first. She had little appetite but ate a bowl of soup for me. He gave her a shot and we went back to the manicure.
“Ahhhhhm. Scusa. Pranziamo?” Excuse me. Are we going to eat lunch? Sure, get a bowl of soup or heat some ziti in the micronda. I'm a little busy here.
Oh, if looks could kill. What a sad little baby face pout. Sorry pal, she may wait on you hand and foot but it's not my job. I suppose I could have made him a plate while I was making her one, but I didn't think of it. Most capable adults attempt to fend for themselves in their own houses.
Finished her up and she was so pleased. Said she would have to sleep sitting up so she didn't ruin her hair. Silly woman. I told her she did need to take a nap. Rest, Mamma.
She slept a few hours and we went on a short walk. I think her just getting up and down a flight of stairs is sufficient two days out of the hospital as a bit of exercise, a few times a day. She doesn't really need to start walking on top of it, but she did. About ten minutes outside the building and to a bench, rest and then back to the building.
Marco got up at 7PM and I fixed us all plates for dinner. She didn't want anything, but we cajoled her into having a little more soup and I made a half sandwich for her. She struggled with eating the soup and couldn't do the sandwich at all. Just not hungry. I know it's the medication and post surgery mental stuff. It happens often.
We took her on one more round of exercise and back up inside for the night. He gave her a shot and I got her ready and into bed. I parked myself on the couch for the night. We watched an episode of “Chuck” from two seasons ago. It was more exciting in Italian than when I first watched it in English. He's not familiar with the show so I gave him a quick rundown. “What is this Nerd Herd? You have this thing really?” I explained him what the Geek Squad is at Best Buy. “We need this in Venezia.” Yes we do. He left at 9:30 for work. I kept her bedroom door open and an ear tuned for any noise that she was waking. She didn't though. Quiet night.
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