Strange viewpoint from a 50something

Archive for October, 2012

When there’s a way.. the will isn’t far behind,,

I am a few days away from returning to St Louis. My Mom has found a new wave of life to ride. So much more restricted, but she lives on. In talking to both my siblings, I’ve learned that she is even being left alone for a couple hours at a time!! I know my Mom has been insisting on this… to go from ~happy she lives by herself to having one of us there 24/7~ I can only guess that she is rejoicing in the quiet! I’ve spoken to her on the phone and when you’re not there, you picture in your mind what you want to see. So in my mind, she is her old -I-can-do-it-myself- Mom. In reality though, she is doing well, she’s found a new routine for her day, with very little movement involved. Her voice sounded tired this last chat I had with her… but her scrappy attitude is still intact!!

I am back in the state of worry I was in when I came home a couple weeks ago. The situation has not changed. It’s still the same reasoning. I am there to watch over my Momma. To take turns with my siblings, to wait an undetermined amount of time until she dies. This ticks me off. So not fair. If there is one thing I have learned… life is not fair. In fact, it’s harsh as hell. But the small sliver of bright in this muck is that I can still talk to her. All my life I have told Mom things, I have confided in her, shared more with her than most women do with their Moms. She has always been my go to girl when it comes to advice. I find it difficult to see my life without her ear and her words.

During the 10 days I was there before, so much time was spent learning how to care for and deal with my Mom as she loses her battle with emphysema. Hospice had multiple visits to acclimate us to all her needs now and in her short future. These days there is a new flow to her day that I will fall into. A routine for me to learn and be a part of. For 2 weeks I will have downtime that I cannot find in my real life. With my erratic schedule (thank you AltasAir!) I have no normal type of daily ritual. Time to do things always seem to be interrupted by something or other.

So for me to just…. sit. And…. wait.

I will enjoy all the days I have remaining with her. I will tell her all the dramas I have always told her about… I will tell her the secrets I tell only my momma.. I will share my latest craft idea which will invoke an idea that she will share with me.. I will share the funniest things I can come up with to hear her laughter..

I will..

I will..

I will..

I will find all the will I will need.

Before I get there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Open letter to my baby.

Dear Son of mine,

To say I am angry would be an understatement. To be honest I really don’t know who I am more angry with.. you or me. You see I am the one who raised you. I am the one who taught you respect and values. Today it seems I have failed. But the blame is not all mine, is it?

How dare you talk to me the way you did. How dare you make such hurtful remarks to me because you didn’t get the help you were calling for. If your life is a mess, why am I at fault? You are a 26 year old man who’s been making his own decisions for a long time now. But you call and cry to me about how things are so bad, you are hungry and you’ve been in bed for a week, and you even talk about taking your own life! (What Mother wants to hear her child say that???) Today you told me that I don’t help you but I help your sister. Today you told me that you didn’t care if you were hurting my feelings, because you are my son I should drop everything and rescue you… “if Bry called and needed something I would….” When I reminded you of a time where I helped you out (just recently, in fact!) and I still haven’t received all payback, you said… “really Mom? I am the kid… I am in trouble, you are suppose to help me….” You played the guilt card?? On ME?? Right now you are so full of your own self loathing shit that you forgot who I am. I was where you are many times, for many different reasons. But I did it with 2 kids in tow. I wasn’t the greatest parent.. but you kids didn’t go without anything.. food, clothes, roof over your head. We didn’t have alot because I didn’t know how to budget or save or be smart. I made alot of bad choices and we just didn’t have much. I had so much debt, I had so little money. I did alot of crying. I did alot of whining about the place I was at. But I didn’t lay around… I worked harder. Got an extra job. Did what was needed.

I know I made many mistakes raising you, but the basics were there. That all went out the window when you didn’t stand up for me to that nightmare wife of yours and tell her “don’t talk to my Momma like that”. And since you didn’t, 8 years later now you talk to me like that. Learned behavior. Begging for help and then using any means to get what you need… that is a Felicia move.. and you have it down pat. As you know I don’t take it from her… and I will not take it from you either. You want to blame all your problems on me… go ahead. You want to lash out and be ugly to me… go ahead. You want to go around being pissed off at me… go ahead. Will I forgive you? Yes… at some point. Not without this written reminder.

I have taught both you and your sister that you can do, or be, or acquire anything in this life that you want. The choice is yours. I love you dearly my son… but grow the fuck up.

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Still looking for the SandMan..

I’ve met many people in this world from all walks of life, some are still treasured friends. I met a man on a flight from Charlotte to Huntsville and this blog is about him.

I don’t fly often, but when I do it doesn’t bother me much. When the engines gear up for take off and then you feel the brakes release and the plane begins to roll down the runway… the force as it keeps you in your seat. ahhh… I love that!! Lifting off the ground still amazes me. The idea that I am in a small metal tube flying through the sky under its own power.. how is this possible?? Usually the first thing I do, after finding all the exits in relationship to where I sit… is to figure out if my seatmate is a worthy seatmate. What I mean by that is – Am I sitting next to someone who has their head on their shoulders or up their ass or even aware they have a head? I want to feel secure in the feeling that I am sitting next to someone who has a knack for life, one who would fight to live if something like a crash happened.

On my trip to New York in 2010 I met a wonderful woman who I’ve had the pleasure of making friends with outside of the plane ride. We traded emails and cell numbers on the promise of getting together at some point and we actually did that! We have shared a few meals since that flight, and it’s nice. To meet someone on the fly (not to use a pun!) like that and maintain a friendship is a great story!

I got to my seat and waited patiently for that seatmate to show themselves. I watched as person after person boarded the plane and took their seats.. still that seat next to me remained empty. I heard the annoucement that the door had been closed and still –  empty. At this point I am looking at the person across the aisle.. (I need to know who I will be dealing with, counting on, oh crap… really???) Just then a man walks up from the back and plops in the empty seat.

We said hello, (nice… he has an accent) and so it began. Don’t get me wrong here. I was instantly comfortable. I assessed and decided that if some calamity happened he would keep his head…. whew!! Ok, now that I am over that survival hump, right away we bantered conversation back and forth, he was easy to talk with, articulate, knowledged and ohh the accent!! After a few initial questions, it’s discovered that he is a married cardiologist who was born in Lebanon. How refreshing to hold down conversation with someone of his stature. In any other scenario would he have given me the time of day? Hmm don’t want to know the answer to that.

It was just over an hour flight and we learned all the surface things about each other, what area we live in (as it was discovered we were both flying home), what we did for a living, our martial status, kids, grankids and granpuppies… you know, all the important stuff! Next it was on to hobbies, I bowl and play billards and he plays tennis. I don’t remember just how we lit on the subject, but he spoke of a sand collection. He wants small amounts of sand from every corner of the world. The odd thing is, I just went to Florida two weeks previous to this and collected a large amount of sand from Narvarre Beach, Fl. As I revealed this information he was beside himself. Would I send him some of it? He continued to tell me all those in his world he has recruited to bring him some sand from wherever they might travel. Since we had already discussed our occupations, he even asked if I might get the pilots to bring some back from Europe, Brazil and Mexico! He mentioned a couple times that he would gladly give me his address so that I could send him said sand from wherever.

The plane landed and as we rolled toward the terminal, he looked for, then told me he didn’t have one of his business cards. I managed to pull out one of mine and there it ended. He took it and said he would email his address for me to send a small amount of my Navarre sand. He patted my arm, wished me a safe trip home and down the aisle he went.

Time has passed and I haven’t heard from him. I don’t know why that bothers me. I had hoped to have a friendship with him.  (NO! Not like that. I am very happy in my life.)  The idea I could have a friend so totally different from me. I just wonder what we might have learned from each other?

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And so life resumes…

My Mom is at home, and she is stable, after a week with her and not seeing any decline in her health, it was time to peel myself away from the situation and return to my life. I’ve missed Del. I’ve missed my job, my friends. I returned home to Alabama. The drive was long, filled with memories and tears. What if I never hug and kiss her again? The ‘what if’s’ ravaged my mind the entire ride.

Now that I’m home, I am overwhelmed. There is so much to get back to but I just can’t find the motivation. I feel lost. My mind is in St Louis. Busy worrying about the one thing I cannot change. It felt good to go back to work, the activity of moving around is a mood lifter. By the time I finished for the day, I was so physically whooped. Seems it just doesn’t matter though, my mind is still at full throttle. My sweet Mom, her independent spirit is still very much alive! Her will to control what is happening is there, but it’s just not working like it used to. I kissed and hugged her before I left. My last image of her was the helplessness and the fear of waiting I saw reflected in her eyes. How can I stop thinking about it??

I am proud that my sibs and I have come together to make sure she knows one of us will be with her until and at the moment. We three worked out a schedule where we will each be there to help take care of her. Even though hospice is involved, their time with her is limited until her health really declines. I have been home almost a week and the phone calls I’ve had with her – Mom sounds so amazing!! I know she is more restricted than she has ever been, that will never change. How can we possibly be waiting for such a thing as her death? The doctor told us to expect it soon. She doesn’t have much time… but to talk to her, it just seems unreal. She said to me today that she wants to know how much longer. How do I answer that???? And if all this is hard on me, what must it be doing to her?

She has been the one we have relied on for guidance and love. Where do I find the guidance I need to help her through this? Is my mind trying to deny her condition? Is it how I am able to function day to day without my mind taking me where I don’t want to go? This is not how it’s suppose to be! The little girl in me is stomping around and kicking up a fuss..

 

 

 

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The homecoming.

I am watching my beautiful Mother as she loses her battle with emphysema. She has fought the galant fight for many years. She even kicked breast cancer’s ass. Twice! On oxygen! The second operation, she wasn’t allowed to be put under because of her lungs. So she endured the procedure wide awake and even though she felt no serious pain, did feel the doctors digging around in there.
I am watching as the body that carries her mind and her soul shuts down. I want to tell you that I am doing ok. But truth be told, I’m not. And I haven’t let it go yet. Not yet. I hope that I can sharpen the backbone that she has now passed to me and fuse it to my own. I have to have the strength that she needs to see, to help her through this transistion.

Finally the ambulance pulled up to Mom’s house. We’d been waiting for an hour now. I went out and peered into the back window and there she was… waving and smiling. When they opened the door, in a weak little yelp I heard, “I’m home!!” I had to laugh! 30 minutes later and she is settled in, in her new surroundings. Taking it all in… you could see in her eyes… she still has the fire… not liking the change at all. The 3 of us hovering around, probably bugging the crap out of her, asking her this or that, trying to disguise that we are just as miserable about this as she is.
Within an hour she is out of the bed, walking herself (with a walker and a very slow gait) to the bathroom. Next she rests a bit and walks herself to the kitchen. Under protest, she is determined to do it herself! She makes it halfway to her chair in her living room, takes a 15 minute rest in the chair there. She lifts her carcass up and makes the last half of the walk. Took her another 15 minutes to collect herself enough to eat.

Not really saying much, sitting there in her chair all evening watching her offspring chattering away. Can’t imagine what she was thinking. After my brother went home and my sister went to bed, now it was just us. I asked how she was doing. Nodding her head okay… I’m okay. I began giving her the business for doing too much. First day home… after almost 10 days spent in a bed without much movement. Mom! You’re no spring chicken! Nodding her head some more, just like a scolded child! I know! I know, she says. I just blurted it out. “Mom I know this must be hard on you, but you have let us help you!! I know you’re scared. And I know that you know that WE are scared too!! But you have to count on us!” More nodding. Ugh.. the exasperation! We sat in silence awhile. I asked her if she needed anything, as I was going to bed. “yes, will you help me to bed?”

She spent the entire next day in the bed. She knew she over did it. All that time spent in the hospital… just waiting for the moment she could get home and do things for herself. And she did her absolute best to do that. But the reality of her situation has really set in now. She looked worn out but her eyes were different. Something I hadn’t seen before. I am really worried.
She went through the day in pretty good spirits, with a few spurts of laughter, and she ate good. But she just layed there. Not doing anything at all. Letting us hover and dote on her.

Who is this harder for I wonder, her… or us?

 

 

 

 

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Kindness still exists.

I seem to be sharing more than I thought I would about the trauma my family is experiencing, but I find great comfort in writing about it. There is pent up anger in me as I see my Mother slowly losing the battle of mind against body, and at the same time I feel overwhelming sadness and misery. I am riding an emotional rollercoaster.

So today, even though I have much more to get out of my system, I am going to go in a different direction.

Karen and I headed to the hospital to meet Kenny and see Mom. I parked and we were walking in and I spied the coolest St Louis Cardinal bumper sticker on another vehicle in the lot. I am a huge fan of my boys of summer!!Wild Cards!! I oohed and ahhed over it! It was awesome! We continued our walk in and ran into Kenny… I had to show him, maybe he might know where to get one.. (I have to have one!!) Nope… he’d never seen one like that. He said, “leave a note.” So I got out one of my business cards and wrote the following message on the back…. “Dear Person. I love the Cardinal sticker on your car!! Would you call me and let me know where you got it? Thank you… Francine” And then I added my brother’s local number.

This was 3 days ago. I asked Kenny every day if he’d heard anything… nothing. Oh well. Today he said a guy called him about the sticker!! Oh Wow!! I was so excited!! He went on to tell me that the man (who sounded very old and on the frail side) said he was very sorry for the delay in calling, but he had to call his daughter (long distance!) to find out where she had gotten it because it was a gift!
This man, who has no idea what we are going through, took time out of his life to find the information some stranger asked for on the back of a business card… and then apologized for taking a couple days!
I asked him if he still had the number of the caller. And I called…. if you know me, then you’ll know I just had to!
It rang about 4 times and then I heard the soft voice of a very elderly woman. I told her my name and explained that I was the sister of the man her husband called about the bumper sticker. She told me that his name is Norman and he had been at the hospital to pick her up, she’s been very sick, you know.  I thanked him again, through her, saying that it always amazes me the kindness some folks show. She voiced that there wasn’t much kindness left in the world. I told her I was very glad that on this day – there was.

=)

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The words have been said.

Last year when I hit the guardrail and came out unscathed… I knew how lucky I was. I’ve spent alot of time pondering death. Death in general as a subject is interesting. But thinking about my own death has had a strange effect on me. The idea of the world going on without so much as a blink of an eye the minute I die. The mark that remains on those I leave behind will fade after a time and next thing you know… we’re a few generations down the road, and long forgotten. After all is said and done, I know one thing. I am afraid to die.

With heavy hearts we start our day. Meeting at Kenny’s, we hug and the feeling of sadness is thick. We have hashed and rehashed how we think the conversation will go and how she will take it. Each of us thinking different scenarios, because we each see someone different. She is our mom, and though she raised us with the same values and rules, she had a special way with each of us indiviually. Each child with their own dreams and dramas, their own set of problems and their own relationship with Mom.

We asked Kenny’s wife Tammy to go with us. She and Kenny have been married for 20 years, so she is as much a part of this as we are. When we arrived we peeked through the window of Mom’s room, to see if she was with anyone and she was eating lunch. We decided to let her eat, it’s just not the time to tell her such news. So we sat in a waiting area with some chairs and a tv. We finally get our collective will rolling only to come to a sudden stop! Alot of nervous energy floating around and the waiting was nerve racking, so we decide to go to the cafeteria. This was, by far, the best thing for us… all those butterflies needed calming. And there’s nothing like a snack to take the edge off.

After a bit we headed straight to her. Karen going first she walked right up to Mom and kissed her and hugged her. It took a minute for Mom to realize it was Karen, who had just left to fly home. As we all hug and kiss her the questions begin pouring out… what the hell? We four pull up chairs around the bed and slowly we begin explaining. The flow of conversation was smooth and we laid it all out. She sat and listened and interjected occasionally. And then it was quiet. Only the sound of tissues dabbing wet eyes.

There she sat. She said many things, wanted to know this… wanted to know that. The thing that stands out to me is her courage. She teared up but she didn’t cry. We asked her to think about the options that we presented, that there was no pressure for her to make any quick decisions. We could see that she was running out of steam… so we suggested she rest and we’d be back later.
Hugging and kissing her as we left, I felt my heart heavier now than when we came in. I just kept thinking about how if it were me, how would I handle sitting there thinking about news like this? Would I cry? Would I be angry? Would I be resigned?
We returned later in the evening and she was doing well. Her old spunky self. She asked a few more questions and my heart just broke. With all we presented her, I’m not sure if she is really grasping the gravity of it all. We’ve had a few days to absorb all this information and here we are, watching her weighing her only two options.
I don’t know what’s in store for us as the next few days unfold. I only know that I love her, and I don’t want her to feel the feelings I feel when I think about my own death. I would like to think I have many years left, death is an unknown, but I am not faced with my own immediate demise because my body is failing. I don’t want to her to face this choice at all… she’s my Momma.

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Mom, we’re on our way…

8 hours of driving. Of wondering, speculating, crying, wishing and fearing the unknown. I went straight to the hospital where my brother met me. Never saw this before… the worry mixed with relief on his face. As we walked in, he talked a mile a minute, explaining what I was walking into. We got to her room and I peered in the window. Her frail frame laying in the bed. Angry looking contraption on her face. The tv was on and I kinda hoped she was awake, but she was asleep. Kenny and I decided to find some coffee and check in on her in a bit. Again, he filled me in on everything. Doctors, medical status, her paperwork… it went on. We cried and we laughed and we worried together for the first time in years.
Mom was asleep still when we checked on her again. I was tired. He was tired. So it was decided we would return in the morning. We got to his house and I think we were still a little wound up so we went through some of the paperwork, and the pad of paper he was reading all this overwhelming information from was in his handwriting. He has spent these last few days investigating all the medical aspects and all the legal aspects. The time he must have spent to have so much information! I was quietly impressed, and secretly relieved.
I am nervous as we drive there the next day… how am I going to handle seeing her in such a sad state? How will put on that brave face and not show the fear I feel? Every step closer to her room my feet seem to gain weight.
Deep breath, I walk through the door and there she is… sitting up, no mask with a surprised smile on her face… “well what are you doing here?” I was stunned. Kenny was stunned. Neither of us processing that she seems to be herself. Gosh I was so glad to see her! All that worrying about things unknown. It’s dawning on me, wait a minute, I had come to terms with this in my mind and now what’s this?? A reprieve? Hope? Please?
For a few days now I have seen two things… This woman, my Mom, is willing herself back to what she wants… to go home. But I also she the fear and acceptance of a life lived, of the reality of the end of her life. She knows it’s close.

My sister arrived Friday night from Switzerland. We had a telephone conference with Mom’s main doctor. Very thorough he was. With great respect, he delicately explained exactly where Mom’s health is. The beauty of the last couple days is my lovely Mom has been herself, joking and cuttin’ up. Being the sassy-self she is. The situation is very grim though, regardless of this wonderfully hopeful resurgence. Doctor tells us her choices are she goes into an assisted living facility and her medical needs will always be top priorty, they will use all means necessary to keep her alive, or she can go home with hospice, and ride out the rest of her days. Now, in either scenario, her time is (“I don’t have a crystal ball and can’t truly say how long”) really limited to just months.
After a long discussion between us, we will go in today, surprise her with Karen, and deliver the worse news anyone in any condition will ever be prepared to hear. This is where we have to be the strong adults she so diligently raised.

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Wet cement will eventually harden..

I leave tomorrow for St Louis. I don’t know how I will get through today. Strange how I have written many times about how fast time is going by… yet time seems to be dragging along at a snails pace. I know I am clock watching. Hurrying time to speed by so it will be tomorrow. I need to leave… I need to get on the road… I need to see her… I need my Mom.

Every trauma that has ever occurred in my life there was a call made to Mom. Her soothing voice, her sage advice – it was always there for me to rely on. It’s my turn. The trauma is hers this time. She is coming to the last crossroad of her life. Will my voice be as soothing for her? Will I have any advice, sage or otherwise, to help her? In my mind I am coming up short.

I’ve been thinking so much about her life.. all her years. All that she has been through, and barely a whimper from her. Of all the things she has lived through, I think my Dad’s death was the hardest to endure. She was so lost for so many years after. She buried her parents and all but one of her sisters. She beat breast cancer! She has lived with emphysema for the last 15 years. And through all these events she remained independent and fiesty, she is the mainstay of our lives. A quiet woman, she kept mostly to herself in all those years, always thinking of someone else, not much thought for herself. Her giving nature and selflessness is who she is.

The family dynamic has shifted yet again. This time though it is in my direction. How will I ever be the rock that she was? I don’t know what’s in store for the next few days.. weeks.. but I feel my shoulders already drooping from the weight of guilt, remorse and great loss.

I am my Mother’s daughter,  through all these fears and tears, I will find the strength she has always seen in me.

Hurry up tomorrow.

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