MEAN AS A SNAKE

"Mean as a snake", is how my dear husband responds when anyone asks him how I'm doing.  It has become sort of a term of endearment to me.

When I was working as a Hospice nurse, one day I visited a very special man.  He barely fit on his hospital bed.  He wasn't overweight but tall, a big ole boy, and as near a saint as they come.  He wanted his bed in the living room where he could see out that west picture window.  Picture windows were popular when I was a child.  They gave you a bigger view of your yard, the neighborhood or the farm, depending on where you lived.  Their home set up on a rise and pasture surrounded their house. He wanted to look outside.

His wife wasn't well herself.  She had a bad case of chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, COPD, and a history of bilateral breast cancer, and the longest run of Shingles I'd ever seen or heard tell of.  She was as thin as a rail with watchdog eyes that seemed to never move away from my patient.  She'd perch herself up in a chair, throw off her oxygen tubing and holler at the caregiver to turn off the oxygen machine so she could smoke.  "Don't even try to talk me out of smoking!"She'd warn me each visit. I didn't! Good thing, if there was one, was that she'd do this in the garage with the door cracked open so she could hear better in case her husband beckoned her.

He'd smile at me and say softly, "She's still a good ole girl."

More than once I'd be sitting with him and he'd be off in his own world praying...for her, not himself, and his prayers were tender, endearing pleas of mercy for his wife.

I knew some of the story about her life. It sounded like a really rough childhood with an abusive, angry father, a dozen or more siblings and not much to eat, hard times for everyone 'those days', I was told.

One family member said it made her 'mean as a snake'.  Others told me, "Don't upset her. Don't rile her!" Believe me, I did not!! And she really was kind and courteous to me.

But I'd heard stories of her putting the fear of God in many people in the county.  One story was often told of how she nearly killed a man who tried to rob them back when they owned a bar in the 1940's.  She took a pool cue stick to him and then got out her shotgun.  No one ever tried that again.

I can remember as a very young child sitting on the foot rest of that long beautiful oak bar, wondering how anyone could stand to eat those pickled eggs, or sausages, and okra.  I liked smelling that oily red stuff she would throw on the floor of the bar to sweep up the dirt with a huge dust mop.  And I recall watching folks come in and sprinkle sawdust and something gritty onto the shuffle board table to play their hand at the game.  The big bright colorful jukebox sat on the north side of the bar and would spill out whining country western music and some Elvis too, I think.  The music seemed to float above me with the cloud of cigarette smoke.

My aunt had a Katherine Hepburn look.  She was slender, dressed in slacks and blouses or sweaters.  She always had on expensive, nice looking shoes.  But no one ever doubted who run the joint.  She was not a weak woman.  However, my uncle's presence gave some pretty powerful order to the mix as well. He didn't say much but he didn't need to.

All of these memories ran in and out of my mind while I visited.  Even though my aunt was still in charge as much as she possibly could be, she'd turned into one of the most devoted, caring wives I've ever witnessed.  As frail as she was, she would make her way to his bedside and in her cigarette, throaty voice, ask him, "You all right?" And he'd slowly turn toward her, smile, and say with the moment of strength he had called for, "Yes, Honey, I'm all right."

Then she'd sit back down and watch.

Sometimes, and I understand not always, life has a way of soothing rough places due to faithful, unconditional love over the years.  For someone as 'mean as a snake' she was the the sweetest, dearest presence to him...a memory that will be with me as always.