This story is dedicated to Oscar, who is my nephew and has been patiently waiting for a poem or story to call his own. Hope you like it x
It is, as ever based on true events but with a Tilly twist but I’m not saying which ones.
While writing this I have read a lot about Tourette Syndrome. Reading
So who ever reads this I hope it brings a little understanding, empathy and a smile.
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I Gave My Mum Tourettes
My mum says I gave her Tourettes over the summer holiday. I looked it up on wikipedia and it said it was syndrome that was inherited. It is a neuropsychiatric disorder. It has a spectrum of tics with at least one being verbal. Mum defiantly has a verbal tic that’s for sure. She really blew her gasket last week and went for the world record of most swearwords used in the shortest period of time.
I really did try to think it through this holiday. How could I make my mum’s life a little easier? I wondered what I could do that wouldn’t cause any problems, accidents and will keep me out of bother. Fishing! Now what could possibly go wrong with a few lads fishing? A quiet and pleasurable way to pass the time or so I thought.
Being responsible is what got me into this mess, that and my laughing mechanism. It started with maggots. We mostly use sweet corn as bait, but we asked mum if this once we could use maggots. I promised with the face my mum finds hard to resist that I would not do anything silly with them and she relented and smiled making me promise to be good.
We had a good days fishing and swopping stories about fisherman that put maggots in their mouths and how those maggots would then burrow into their cheeks to come out weeks later as blow flies. It really grossed us out.
Being responsible though and knowing money was tight and that we would be off fishing again tomorrow, I decided to keep the maggots and not throw them away. I made sure the container had a tight fitting lid and then put them securely in my fishing tackle box. I had cleaned and put everything away, which I must admit I don’t always do, so I was really, really trying to get it right.
Mum, as she often did when she had time, had cooked our favourite, a roast with extra gravy and Yorkshires. She is the best mum ever! We were going to be up yearly the next morning so I went to bed without being asked and was defiantly looking forward to the morning. A perfect end to a perfect day, mum having no verbal tics at all.
*1*
I was woken in the morning by a most horrendous scream, followed by a string of words that I could not hear but felt sure they were not the kind for young ears. Obviously mums verbal tic was back and worse than ever.
We have a lot of mice come in at harvest time so it’s not too unusual to hear this early morning wake up call. Mum is extremely house proud, mostly softly spoken and would never use a swearword unless severely provoked. Well there she stood in the middle of our conservatory, the two black labs trying to get in through the window
to protect her and no matter how hard I tried I could not stop my laughing mechanism from firing up. I knew that look of horror but all those words that seem ‘so dude like’ coming out like machine gun fire from my mums mouth was so so wrong, it had me in fits. Mum’s verbal tic was progressively getting worse and beyond her control.
My brother and sister stood crippled with laughter too at my mum’s contorted face that held disgust, horror and anger, until she shouted about the maggots. Our little sister, who we had told those stories too, now was behaving like mum.
I tried to go in to the conservatory to help but the stories about maggots growing under skin freaked me out so much I just stood there. My older brother went in to capture the little beasties, while my mum stood in her pure white dressing gown and matching fluffy slippers with little maggots crawling up them. Rude words were bouncing off the walls. She was rooted to the spot and hysterical.
Mum spent the next hour in the shower trying to wash away the thoughts of maggots. I helped clear and disaffect every thing after my brother had got rid of most of the little creatures but they seem to get everywhere and I felt sure they were hiding
and I could feel them waiting for their opportunity to jump out at me.
Now this put my mum in a very tricky dilemma. She wanted to ground me for the rest of the holiday but needed time to calm down and this is best achieved if I’m not around. After I had explained that I had kept the maggots to save money she softened a little. We were being picked up by our friend’s dad to go fishing at a different lake. So my mum relented and I promised no more maggots and to be good, what ever good meant.
I had never been to this lake before and my friend’s dad, who is a keen fisherman, came with us. It was great, we were using the flies and hooks he had given us and had caught a load of fish including the biggest one I had ever caught.
When we got home we helped as much as we could and I asked mum if I could just tidy up a few things out in the conservatory. I got my tackle box looking neat and tidy and again put everything away hoping this would make amends for the morning’s trauma. Mum and dad came in with their coffees dressed in their costumes for the party and we laughed, as mum retold to dad what had happened with the maggots. She turned to me with her bright face that I like the best and I knew I had been forgiven although it will never be forgotten.
That was when mum felt a bee sting her and went to get up the cushion went with her and I could see the line dangling down like a semi invisible tail. I knew I was in trouble. Fishing hooks are made to go in and not come out unless expertly removed. This was all bad but the worst thing of all was that my dad was dressed in drag. They were off to a tarts themed party for my mum’s best friend fortieth. As he bent down to try to unhook my mum, it looked so wrong on so many levels that we were all in convulsive fits of laughter.
*2*
Mum who was dressed as flirty floozy with fish net stockings and thigh high kinky leather boots now looked desperately at my dad who had tried everything but only made the situation worse. There was nothing else for it he had to take her to accident and emergency at the local hospital. Dad wanted to change but mum was having none of it. She got the verbal tic and said that if she had to go dressed looking life a tart with a fish hook stuck to her arse, he had to go in drag. Her language was a lot more extreme.
Getting into our car was difficult and very funny. She couldn’t sit down and every movement she made, the deeper the hook went in. She had to bend over the back seat and hold onto the head rest, not easy to do dressed in tight skirt and high boots.
I had tried to help and felt sure I could have got the hook out given the chance but I was not allowed anywhere close. So off to A&E they went, Mum bent over the seat shouting with full blown Tourettes saying I would not survive to my next birthday! I did manage to get a few pictures on my phone discreetly. Even if I got busted it would be worth it!
They were stopped by the police who thought they had seen it all. They took pity on my mum though and gave my dad a lot of stick about his dress sense, blond wig and shade of lipstick. They even managed to make my mum smile getting them to hospital quickly. Once the doctors had calmed down enough, they expertly removed the hook closing the wound left, with a few stitches.
I felt sorry for my mum because every time we tried to give her sympathy we would all fall about laughing. Facebook and the phone were full of people who could not believe what had happened and who appreciating the pictures. My mum looked good as a tart and as ever is a really good sport, given time.
I consoled my mum that at least she wasn’t born with Tourettes and one day the cause of it all will leave home and she will be free from that involuntary verbal tic.
*3*
Tina Rodwell © All rights reserved
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