On Tuesday last, my mother had her Gall Bladder removed. I named him Gary and in the weeks leading up to the surgery, I would call her and ask her how Gary was doing. Gary was not behaving, obviously, and finally it was decided he need to be evicted from his cosy studio adjacent to Leticia Liver in the neighborhood that is my mother's innards.
I must admit that my mom's neighborhood is really rough. I mean, I would liken it to my old neighborhood in Manhattan - Great from overhead in a plane winging its way to La Guardia, with some lovely buildings and parks. However, when you walk through it, you could leave my apartment, a high rise at 34th and 9th, travel two blocks south to my friend Libby's lovely studio on 31st between 8th & 9th and during that walk you could: pick up your dry cleaning, rent a movie(i am dating myself), get a decent slice of pizza, buy a bag of crack and secure the services of Holly Hooker (or should I say Harvey Hooker....)
Mom's 'hood is something of a wasteland, missing some of the vital amenities you really need to label it a "desirable neighborhood" and want to take up residence. There is nowhere to get a drink (bladder cancer moved Bettina Bladder out ten years ago), There are no girly girl stores (all that went with Bettina to be on the safe side and no I could not name my mothers female parts) and uptown on the upper east side, Oxygen is in short supply after a partial lobe removal of one lung. Although in my opinion, New York's Upper East side was so far away from my neighborhood in Hell's Kitchen we joked we needed oxygen tanks if we headed up there for brunch with our friends with better jobs.
Now, Gary Gallbladder has left the building and the city altogther. I have yet to tell Mom that this probably means that Paula Dean will no longer be invited over for recipe swaps and butter is not her friend.
Mom, you are awesome and I am so proud of your determination. Who needs Gary anyway?