Wednesday, June 29, 2011

The squeaky wheel

Early Tuesday morning, about 3 AM, I called the nurse's station. I explained who I was and why I was calling; Sunday and Monday morning I received messages that the old man had crawled out of bed and they found him on the floor. I wanted them to check him and make sure he was still in bed. They checked him every two hours. I wanted them to check him more often. I did not want to get one more call that he was on the floor. They wanted me to go back to bed.

Last night the old lady and I went to visit. We found the bed moved up against the wall and a thick mat placed next to it on the other side. This way, if he gets the notion and energy to crawl out of bed again, at least he won't be lying on the cold floor. Not ideal, but not too bad either. I pulled the mat away so my mother could sit by him and hold his hand. "Do you know who I am?" she asked. "You're my wife!" We were happy that he was aware, but then after she told him she loved him he turned into a petulant child. "I want to go home. Why do I have to be here? I was happy at home, you should have left me there!" Then the moans and groans came and this dramatic statement, "I want to die, it was miserable in the beginning and my whole life and it is miserable now."

Way to go, Dad, way to go. Tell the woman who tells you how much she loves you that your whole life, including the 52 years spent with her, stinks. The old lady is a trooper. She told him that he can come home when he can walk again. She says he is like a bad baby. I will tell you one thing, if you are a miserable young man, and make no effort to look for the good, you will be a miserable old man. Two weeks ago the doctor told us he couldn't live more than two weeks. Surprise, surprise.

The old lady asks if she is a bad person if she wants him to die? No, not at all. We all do, including the old man. I think we all want some peace. (When do we want it? Now!) Other people talk of the beauty of watching a parent die and the wonderful closure. I am pretty sure we will not be having that experience. Next visit, I am not waking him up. I would rather watch him sleep than yell lies about his getting better.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Lifting the burden

It turns out that the old lady is very susceptible to agreeing with whomever she is talking to. If a nurse said my dad was getting enough care at home, she agreed. If I said he should be moved to a care facility, she agreed. Finally, I made the decision to have him moved and I think she is OK with it. We moved him on Thursday night, gave him a day to get settled and went to visit yesterday.

He was more alert, knew who we were and had enough energy to be a pain in the ass. Wonderful! It hurt her so much that the last time she kissed him, he looked at her blankly. This time she knew he recognized her and that gave her happiness. Having him being cared for in a nice facility has really lifted the burden on both of us. She feels a little guilty, but I told her she shouldn't. He is getting a higher quality of care and I think we were both surprised to see him doing so well, mentally.

Physically, I have seen better looking prisoners of war. He is so skinny, his legs, arms and chest are just bones. His face is pretty skeletal. Yet there is still that spark of life there. He was able to complain about the bed being hard (it is an air mattress) and he was aware enough to want to go home, whereas at home he had no idea of where he was. Sort of a convoluted way of saying he was alert. And the moaning! He was not suffering in silence as long as he had an audience.

I said to him, "Dad, you know you don't have to stay around for us. Anytime you feel like leaving, go ahead." He replied that it isn't that easy. It must be frightening to let go of the only life you have consciously known when you do not believe in the Creator or any kind of continuation of consciousness.  Many years ago, when I received the meditation techniques I sometimes practice, I lost my fear of death because I saw eternity and know that my energy will go on forever in some shape or other.

So I feel good but my mother is just starting to prepare herself for being widowed for the second time. She is not looking forward to living alone, but I can't see her marrying again. (That was a joke) Keep sending her good thoughts. As the tiny, bent over thing declares, "I must be strong as a horse!" Yes, Mom, an old thoroughbred put out to pasture, enjoying a few days of sun.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Solstice evening

I took a walk at sunset, just because I could. On one side was a peek into people's lives through their windows and on the other was Wolfe Lake. I would call it more of a pond, it is quite small. All kinds of hop toads were warming on the asphalt, colored so closely to the pavement they were hard to see. The first instinct is to get a stick and make them jump but then the thought comes to show respect and I walk on and leave them alone. They jump when they want to and bask when they want to and who am I to intrude? Boundaries, boundaries.

I came back through the pool area and stopped to commune with the potted plants. I found myself singing to them, telling them through tuneless song how much I thought of them, how I rejoiced in their growth. I don't know what any neighbors on their balconies might have thought, but the flowers and vines and I had a really peaceful time together.

Tomorrow my dad's doctor is going to come over to the apartment to see him and make a recommendation for placement in a facility that can care for him better. It might be a real hospice or hospice care at a nursing home. The fact is that he can't stay there in the apartment. He needs more care than my mother can give and that the aids can spare. It isn't cruel. It is kind to both of my parents.

Kindness is the most precious of all virtues in my eyes. My sister-in-law took the time to visit with Harriet today and to try to talk to Sidney. I am not a Christian but I know that Jesus said that what you do unto the least of these, you do to me. This is the way I try to live my life, and when I see others being kind, it moves me greatly. I told Leslie how much her kindness to my parents meant to me. She said that in the end, what else is there?

There is someone at work who drives most of us crazy. The other day I thanked her for doing a good job when she came to give me a break. I thanked her for leaving the station clean for me. Her eyes lit up and she started to smile. It was such a small act, yet it made her happy. I compliment well behaved children, I ask new mothers how they feel. I joke with old couples and admire interesting jewelry. I suggest a better product or agree that something isn't so wonderful. The point is I want everyone who comes in contact with me to have a positive experience, to feel like someone sees them and their worth. It is my hope that there will be a ripple effect. Think globally, act locally.

I truly believe there is not one problem in the world that can not be fixed if we all were a little kinder and saw the worth in our fellow humans, wolves, whales, and toads.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Easier said than done

Today was the official "Take no shit day" on facebook. I had the optimistic hope that I wouldn't spread any around. I was wrong coming and going. After talking to a bookkeeper at a clinic I had to call my insurance company where I was told the claim that I had pre approved was not being paid because they hadn't pre approved it. What? What? What? Round and round in circles until I was crying and saying "How are you going to make this right?" Well, of course they weren't and I was advised to get in touch with the clinic to find out some answers. Instead, I called the clinic and left a voicemail message with the bookkeeper for her to call the insurance and get the answers.

I decided to go to a funny movie to laugh and release tension. Bridesmaids was funny, but not funny enough. Too many sad parts, too much potty humor for me. I hate urinal scenes and women sitting on the pot. It was funny, but not funny enough and I saw the male writer's influence. I guess I just wanted to scream with laughter but only guffawed.

Tension, pressure, worry, aggravation, frustration, and pain. That is what I am feeling. I talk the good talk and try to walk the good walk but my emotional stability is balanced on a pin. The slightest thing makes me cry. I say surrender, I say relax, I say it is all in the Creator's hands, but I really don't know how to do better, be more at ease. The truth is that my father is dying and I can't make him better and can't help him die. The old man has made many of my years with him hell, and my sister and I both prayed for him to die since we were children. I always knew he loved me, but I never knew I loved him, too. Excuse me while I blow my nose and wipe my eyes.

I know there are people who love me who I can depend on to "cover my back", yet I still feel lonely and alone as the days wind down on the old man's life.  Thank you for your thoughts and prayers.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

A cupcake won't make it better

It is another Saturday night and I am watching TV and wondering who thought up this stuff? Does any of it have anything to do with my life? First Iron Chef America. The secret ingredient was spinach. I love spinach in just about any shape or form including canned. I saw ten different ways of cooking spinach using foam and food processors but only one that I might ever do, spinach mac and cheese. Then another show, so real, so timely, and so ridiculous... It was Cupcake Wars! What kills me about these shows is the judging. It is serious to the contestants, but not to me, and I have a hard time relating to any of it. But then again, maybe it is just what I need.

I took my mom out this afternoon. She is suffering as my dad is sleeping the rest of his life away. She says the hospice people are so good to him, they are treating him as gently as a baby. but they only come three times a week. The weekends are so long. One week ago, I was able to take him out to the park in a wheelchair. Today, he was sleeping, so skinny, not moving, in the same place in bed when we came back as when we went out. He is so vulnerable it breaks my heart.

We went to a deli and the food seemed not to have any taste, but I really think it was us. Then we went for a long ride around the lakes. My mother seemed to enjoy it. She kept saying how grateful she was to be out of the house. She doesn't know how long she can take it. I told her that she had to make some decisions, was she going to get a new, freer, lease on life, or was she going to follow the old man? She said she wants to live, so is going to be strong.

I wish the most important thing in my life was a culinary contest. I wish I could ease the suffering of this poor old lady who is spending her waking and sleeping hours worrying about my father. I wish I could make his last days happy. My God, he is so pathetic looking, sort of sleeping, getting weaker and weaker. We all want it over, but it is not up to us.

The title of this posting is "A cupcake won't make it better." When my oldest was four years old she hurt her knee and was crying. I asked her if a cupcake would make it better. She nodded, and I got a cupcake from the kitchen. I brought it in to where she was sitting and rubbed it on her knee. Laughter really is the best medicine.

 







Friday, June 10, 2011

Expanding the definition of success






I had a great conversation about my "garden" with a true gardener, my mother-in-law Betty. I was asking her about the huge tomato plant I bought and which leaves to take off. Then I told her about the roses, geraniums and all the vines. I was quite proud of the hibiscus that I was able to winter over as well as the geraniums. I said that I don't have a green thumb. She said of course I do. I said I can't grow petunias. I can bring home the most luscious plants and within days they are scraggly. She then admitted that petunias were hard for her too.

Every time in the past years that I got roses to bloom in pots, I experienced a thrill. Really, each and every bloom was precious and amazing to me. Look at me! I'm growing roses, hahaha! Begonias in hanging baskets? Piece of cake, anyone can do it. But because I couldn't grow petunias, I thought I wasn't a gardener. I planted raspberry bushes in poor soil, and blamed myself when they didn't thrive. I didn't know about using good soil. The chipmunks ate all the delicious dahlias. Obviously I was a failure.

My oldest daughter was born in 1977 and a friend gave me a green plant that lived for over seven years in three states. Frankly, I got tired of the responsibility of keeping it alive and one winter stuck it on the porch. When we moved to Orono in 1987, Betty gave me a grape ivy that was quite old. Whether I watered it or not, it thrived and grew. About the time the marriage was ending, I passed it along to someone getting married. I'd had that plant about twenty years.  It never occurred to me that I had anything to do with it's longevity.

I am starting to see twenty-three pots of flowers on the ground and five hanging on the fence as pretty darn wonderful. Does anyone miss petunias? I don't think so. Hey! I am a successful grower of plants in pots! (No puns about pot plants please.)

I wonder, are there other crazy standards we use to judge success? I wonder also, what you, my readers could tell me about reassessing success.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

OK!

OK what? OK, let's go! OK, let go! OK, I'm up and will feed you rotten kitties. OK, it's a beautiful day. OK, OK, OK.

Yesterday I went to Laughter Yoga and spent a lot of time consciously releasing tension. My back and leg still bother me but I kept saying to myself, "I release this pain" and "There is no pain." I allowed the endorphins and ibuprofen to help and although there is still discomfort, it is definitely a lower amount. OK!

Here's a lesson from my daughter. As a single person she buys whatever she likes and knows she will use. I took her advice and bought one perfect peach as opposed to a quantity that would go bad before  being used. I might be paying more per item, but getting quality and cutting down on waste (and guilt). It goes against all the thrifty ways to feed a family, but makes sense on an individual basis. OK!

The folks seem to be OK too and I've had a couple of nearly folk free days. I spent time on the phone with the assisted living facility's head nurse and with the volunteer director from Hospice. It is delightful to step back and let them do their job; hopefully the old man will stop calling emergency services. A volunteer is going to visit with my mom and ask her all about herself. A new audience for old stories, OK!

My niece Emma gave birth to a lovely long baby boy last week. He was almost 9 pounds and 23 inches long. His daddy posted an eleven second video clip on facebook and I can't wait to meet him. Welcome to the world Linus James. OK!

Wishing all my friends and family a day filled with the appreciation of Creation and the wonder of our very own existence. For your pleasure, Monty Python's The Galaxy Song and The Beatles' Good Morning. OK!




Sunday, June 5, 2011

Enough is enough

I spent five hours with my parents yesterday. I made sure the old man got dressed, took the old lady out for eggs and then to Urgent Care to have her eye washed. When we got back I took the old man out in a wheelchair and we watched Little League in the park next door. I bought him a Coke and he seemed to enjoy seeing the little boys playing baseball. They really were sweet, age six to eight and they had confident batting poses. It helped that the pitches were all good, generated by a machine. At one point the old man needed to pee. As I wheeled him over to the portable toilets, I stopped by bleachers and asked if there was a compassionate man who could help my dad. It is all in the asking and a very nice man assisted us. There are some things a daughter should not do and helping my dad pee is one of them. He is so unsteady on his feet. He can't deal with the buttons on his pants and I do thank and bless the kind soul who helped.

While we were sitting out he asked why they made him go in earlier. Why can't he stay out on his own for more time. Explaining staffing was the easy part, making him understand that he can't take care of himself is much harder. He waved off the difficulty he had at the Port-a-let. "That? Anyone would have trouble there!" No, Dad, most people can stand on their own. In his mind he can do anything. What kind of care does he need? There is a real disconnect.

I got the call at 12:50 AM, he had fallen, the aide couldn't get him back up, his elbows were bleeding and he called 911. The ambulance was bringing him to Methodist Hospital. I made a decision, enough was enough. I was going to bed and let them deal with him. At five I woke up and made a phone call. Was he admitted? No, they sent him home.

At what point do we make the real decision that enough is enough? That assisted living is no longer meeting his needs and he should be in a full time care facility? He is killing the old lady who is getting very little sleep while running to his beck and call. He is wearing me out. I see another conference in the near future. In the meantime, I think I will go back to bed for awhile. I need some rest before work today. That after church crowd is a tough one.

The sun is shining on my roses and although I am tired, I am not bleak.

Saturday, June 4, 2011

Time

Until recently, I was obsessive about time. I was never late and if I was late, it was a catastrophe. As a child, I would get hysterical if we overslept and I was late for school. As a spouse, I stressed at my partner's cavalier attitude towards getting to work on time. I don't know why I was this way. But I do know why I changed. Instead of obsessing about time, now I obsess if I can check the computer one more time before I leave home. I'm rarely late... but I do cut it close!

This has been a horrible week, starting with the old man calling for an ambulance to take him to the Emergency Room.  I arrived before the paramedics and along with my mother was the brunt of verbal abuse. He is not a stoic Swede like my in-laws. He does not suffer in silence. They sent him home after some tests. He is not sick, just old and worn out and sometimes confused. The silver lining is that we aren't in NY. In and out in only four hours. Back in Brooklyn he would still have been waiting to be seen.

Meetings with Hospice, meetings with the administration of the building where my parents live. Who is in charge? Me. But I don't live there, and I am called last in line. I had a hard day at work on Wednesday. I was snoozing on the couch when the phone rang and in my sleep I decided not to answer it. After listening to voice mail I got in touch with a home medical delivery service. They had brought an electric bed but couldn't deliver it because there was no room. I waited all day Thursday for the call that they were bringing it back. I had to get the old man out of bed and move it to the trash so they could set up the rental one. All the aides were at a meeting at another building so I remade the bed and got him settled. I showed him the controls, but who knows if he understands?

I look at the old man and listen to him complain and think that he has a choice. Why doesn't he look at the beauty of creation and appreciate what little time he does have? Then I look at myself. Why don't I see this time as a precious commodity instead of something to be got through? I am trying. But now I have to try a little harder.

Today at work I complimented a woman on her well behaved children. She did that annoying thing that we sometimes do as mothers. She said, "Well right now they are." Yes, appreciate it because the times in the past that they misbehaved are gone and all she had was right now. What guarantee do any of us have that we will be alive longer than the next breath? So if I am waiting to appreciate life until after the old man passes, I am wasting my life right now.

David Byrne of Talking Heads writes: "Time isn't holding us, time isn't after us, time doesn't hold us back." So who does? In this moment I can only commit to trying to be in this moment. And if this moment holds pain, so be it. This too shall pass.

A little Talking Heads for your pleasure.