Conversations

Eri calls from the nursing home, "Bubby says to bring her something else to wear."
 -"Where are her clothes? Didn't they bring them back from the laundry yet?"
 -"I don't know. She says she is tired of wearing the same thing."
She doesn't know who to ask, there have been some accidents and she wants different pants. I say I will bring more clothes. I stop by the apartment and get a few more outfits.

"Hi, I am Carol, Harriet's daughter. Where are her clothes? They told me on Tuesday that it would take up to two days for the laundry to mark them."
  -"Where are her clothes?" asks the beautiful nurses. They are beautiful, too, one represents West Africa with a round, dark face and braids. The other represents East Africa with a lighter, thinner face and long hair. Both smile and take me in stride.
 -"That is what I am asking you."
They tell me how sweet my mother is and call down to the laundry. They will find her clothes.

"Hi Mom."
She looks up at me with sad eyes and says, "How long do I have to be here? When can I go home?"
 -"Mom, why are you here?"
 -"Because I'm weak?"
 -"Yes, and what do you have to do?"
 -"Eat?"
 -"Yes, and what else?"
She doesn't have a clue. "You need to walk with the walker. You can't go home if you aren't walking."
 -"No one takes me, they leave me alone all the time."
 -"I will talk to the nurses."

"I would like my mom to get out of bed and go to activities."
  -"She doesn't want to get out of bed."
  -"Tell her that her daughter wants her to get out of bed."
  -"We can ask her, but it is her decision."
  -"Can someone walk her?"
  -"Yes, we walk her to the bathroom and back."
  -"That isn't very far. Can she walk to the dining room?"
 They tell me they think that is too far and she should use the wheel chair. They really are as sweet as they are beautiful.

"Mom, lets go for a little walk in the hallway."
 -"I feel weak."
 -"You won't get any stronger if you just stay on your bed. I will help you."
I find her shoes and help her to sit up. She can barely stand, but once up tells me she has to use the bathroom. She walks like a thousand year old mummy. I can't believe it. How has she gone downhill so quickly? She needs help getting the pants and Depends down. She needs help getting them up again too. She tells me she is too tired to walk in the hallway and I help her back to bed.

We talk for awhile. She is bored and no one comes to see her. I tell her in the past four days I have been there three times, Leslie once, and Eri and Gavin were there just that day. She is amazed it has only been four days, it seems like a month. She tells me she believes me, she just can't remember. I suggest that the next time she thinks no one has visited she tell herself that she's forgotten. This is a woman who claims she can remember her own birth, and believe me, remembers slights for decades. We all say be here now, but I don't think that is working for the old lady.

While we are talking, another beautiful young African lady comes in with Harriet's clothes. She tells me she was off a few days and there was a backlog of labeling when she got back. She takes the other apparel I have brought to label. I feel much better.  On the way out I stop by the nursing office to thank them for finding the missing clothing and tell them that they are right. She is too weak to walk to the dining room. They smile at me and I thank them for the good care they are giving my mother. I ask if they think she is imminently dying and they both shake their heads no. I agree that though she is weak, the life force is strong.

As I walk to the car I find myself wondering how long I will need to visit every day. I am a little resentful, and kind of mentally tired. Then I remember the goal I have set for myself once again; not looking for an end, but accepting the process of living and dying and doing it all without resentment however long it takes. Doing it with patience, and hopefully experiencing joy.

Both hard and easy

This morning I got out the old red suitcase. It was dusty because I haven't been on vacation in a long time.  I brought it over to the assisted living apartment where my mother lives. While Patty, the hospice nurse gave her a shower, I filled the suitcase with nighties and underwear, sweaters, slacks, shirts. Pictures went in a tote with some toiletries. Between Patty and myself we got her into the car and off we went. for me, that was very hard. I knew this day was approaching, but I still got quite sad.

I drove up to Shalom Home West, found a wheelchair and luggage trolley. From that point, everything became easy. The staff welcomed her, the Hospice social worker made sure everything went well. The old lady said she was hungry and she went to lunch where she sat with others and ate some soup. I was able to kiss her goodbye and promised to return tomorrow morning.

The Shalom people have been doing senior care for over 100 years and they really have been lifesavers. They run Menorah Plaza where my folks lived and also have a huge campus with memory care and senior apartments, assisted living, hospice and nursing home. When you walk into their facilities, you cannot smell nursing home, not in the lobby, not on the floors. My mother, who is being supplemented by the county and the state is getting the same care as private pay patients. Thank you dear taxpayers, thank you.

We have told her that if she eats, gains some weight and mobility she can come home. I am at the point where it is OK either way. I am here for the endgame too.

Getting ready for death

Today, the old lady and I had a little discussion about death. We had come back from eating soup at a deli. She laid down on the bed and I told her to skootch over and I sat at the edge. I asked her if she was giving up. She didn't seem to eat much anymore. She told me again that she missed my father. She told me again that he loved my mother, that one did not have to do with the other. And I told her again that I knew the heart had many rooms. Did not her own mother love all five of her children?

She asked me if she would see her husband and I told her that I didn't know. I believe that we come from love and we return to love. I think it is a different existence without a body and we can't imagine it. I asked her if she was afraid and she said no. What is to be afraid of? I told her to think of it as another adventure and she was always ready to try something new. Didn't she take on the adventure of being a mother to three children at the age of 44? Everyone told her not to do it but she did. It wasn't a hard childhood because of her; in fact she alleviated some of the suffering. It was hard because my father was a mad man. He never confronted his losses and it ate him up inside.

She has always been an incredible clothes horse and when she had to move to a smaller apartment we needed to weed out enough so she had room in the closet. Now she can't find anything to wear so I took away most of the dresses and suits and summer clothes. She was grateful to have the room. I told her I would bring back her summer things when it got warm. She remarked if she was still here.

I do not begrudge the time I am spending with her in this limbo before she passes.  I am grateful for the opportunity to talk about things that really matter to both of us. We have both grown a lot in the seven years since I moved them from NY. I thought at the time they couldn't last more than a few years. I was wrong. She will be 98 on Friday and I am hosting a small dinner party at her favorite Chinese restaurant on Saturday. One day at a time, that is all anyone has, Mom, you, or me.