Today I am thankful for the opportunity to help people heal themselves, for loving family and friends, and for the people who sacrifice their own comforts to ensure that my loved ones and I can continue to enjoy our freedom. Hug your loved ones and show some love to strangers, today and every day!

Today we had Thanksgiving at the Courthouse Restaurant, where they offer a free meal to the community to show thanks for support throughout the year. We started the tradition of eating there on Thanksgiving a few years ago. It was one of Mom's favorite places to eat. She loved everyone who worked there and took an interest in all their personal lives, the way she always did that made people love her so much. It was nice to go again this year, but a little strange without Mom there. But this year, we brought along a friend who lost her husband in October; she and her husband were also regulars at the Courthouse Restaurant. Mom would have been so happy to have her along, and I know she was with us, shining her love down on all of us.

Magic Numbers

They're just numbers. They really are.  But somewhere along the line some bureaucratic agency here in the US decided that certain numbers (or ages) meant certain things.  

A person isn't old enough to attend kindergarten until she is five or six years old.  If that person is born later in the year (like November), she has to wait longer than the other kids because she isn't old enough at the start of the year. 

A person isn't a "teenager" when the teen numbers start (ten); that doesn't come until she is thirteen. 

A person is suddenly old enough to handle an automobile on her own at the magic age of sixteen. 

A person is magically able to vote, smoke cigarettes, and die for her country at the age of eighteen, but for some reason isn't old enough to drink alcohol until the magic age of twenty-one.  

All of a sudden, at age twenty-five, a person is considered old enough to be less of a risk to auto insurance companies, so her rates go down (assuming she has a good driving record, of course).

At the age of thirty-five, a person now needs to start having mammograms every few years because cancer doesn't become a risk to anyone below that age.  

At forty-eight years old, a person is suddenly too old to get cheap rates on life insurance policies if she doesn't already have something in place. Tough luck for you, missy! (I turned forty-eight this morning, or last night if you go by where I was born. Fortunately I do have life insurance, so no worries.)

At fifty-five years old, AARP is suddenly interested in her.  She can receive "senior" discounts at some places who consider us old well before we feel it.  

Retirement and Social Security benefits are suddenly available to a person who has reached the grand age of sixty-five, though if she hasn't properly prepared for that retirement, she will have to keep working until the day she dies.  Or she can spend oodles of money on lottery tickets and hope to hit the big one. 

I know there was research that led those bureaucrats to make those numbers mean those things, but it is a very dangerous thing to create large-scale rules based on something as tenuous as age.  Age and maturity or frailty are only partially connected.  

I've known twelve-year-olds who were much more mature and sensible than any twenty-one-year-old, including myself at that age. And I've seen a number of elderly persons whose emotional and behavioral age dwindled down until they were mentally only five years old. But I've also seen senior citizens who were so physically active all their lives that they were still in peak physical condition well into their seventies.  Who's to say they should stop working and sit in an old-folks home because of their age?  

I'd love to see our culture unhook itself from all its conservative conventions that cause us to make laws and rules and regulations designed to protect us from ourselves.  That's a silly basis for a law.  Common sense should be good enough.  If a person is doing something stupid or dangerous and gets hurt or hurts someone else, then hold that person responsible for the damage. 

And that's my birthday soapbox rant.  For me, each year is just another number. It's not that I don't celebrate it - I  love the attention, what can I say? I just don't get hung up on the numbers.  I'm exactly as old as I feel and that varies minute by minute.  Don't pin a bunch of silliness to me just because of it. In five minutes I won't be that age in my mind and your silly bureaucratic rule about me will suddenly be a moot point. So, nyeh, and have a good day! Now I'm going to look up movie times and treat myself to a matinee with lots of oily popcorn and a soda!

Choices

Choices are a part of life.  The choices we make are a direct result of who we are, and have a direct effect on who we become.  

I have recently had to make one of the worst choices a person should have to make.  I have loved ones who have made this same choice, some recently, some in their past.  When they faced and made their choice, I felt horrible for them, even though I could only imagine what they must be feeling and thinking.  

Now, having faced and made the choice myself, and knowing some of the things they felt and thought, I feel even more terrible for them.  

Choosing between people you love is not something we should have to do, but sometimes it is the only way to be able to keep at least some of them with you.  All I can do now is pray for the ones I had to leave behind.  

C.A.T. Testing and Review of Temporary Human for Purposes of "House Sitting":

Day - 3; Task - Laundry
Subject is folding the last of six loads of laundry, during which time C.A.T. has alternately ignored T.H. completely or woven between her legs to distract T.H. while walking with armloads of towels and sheets.  So far, T.H. response is generally coos and sidestepping actions.  While not terribly entertaining, this does provide both T.H. and C.A.T. physical contact and voice communication.  No evidence of intelligence beyond minimal level.  
With the last load of towels placed on sofa, C.A.T. propels his body into the pile, rolling and purring to attract the attention of T.H.  Response of picking up C.A.T. and relocating him to the floor is unacceptable.  C.A.T. offers a second chance by lying among the folded towels which TH.. has carefully placed on the table.  Again, T.H. responds poorly by picking up C.A.T. and placing him on the floor.  C.A.T. offers another chance for redemption, once again lying on the table among the folded towels, carefully placing himself so each pile is touched by some part of his body.  T.H. again responds poorly, this time by trying to pet C.A.T. while cooing words that sound negative.  
Clearly T.H. is not understanding the purpose of this exercise.  C.A.T. communicates that these responses are unacceptable with use of claws and teeth.  T.H. leaves room temporarily, and returns to laundry folding a few minutes later.  C.A.T. notes presence of white wrappings on hand of T.H.  C.A.T. feels his message has been received and leaves T.H. for the outdoors where he can test and evaluate large white birds in the yard. 

Qi Revolution

This weekend I attended a four-day seminar - Qi Revolution.  It was an amazing experience. We did breathing exercises, moving Qi through our bodies with a combination of breath control, postures, and hand movements; we also did a brief bit of strength training, and sat through lectures on topics like nutrition and sacred geometry.  It was all quite fascinating, and I was very energized the whole time I was there.  I also got to see Yaw again, this time for a happy experience.  He came up for the funeral, and while I greatly appreciated having him there, it wasn't exactly a happy experience. 

The most amazing experience I had this weekend actually happened on the very first day, and while everything I saw and experienced blew my mind, this blew my soul.  We were instructed to lie on our yoga mats and were led through our first breathing exercise - Empowering Breath. During the exercise, the instructor took us through a visualization; towards the end, he instructed us to imagine pulling up and away from the Earth until we were looking down at her from outer space.  When I did this, I thought, "Mom, is this what you see?"  My answer came, but not with words or pictures in my mind.  Instead, I was suddenly wrapped in the most comfortable warmth I have ever felt, and I felt her arms around me, holding me like I was a child.  

It was the most beautiful thing I have ever felt, and I am deeply grateful to have experienced it. 

Tonight at dinner, Dad asked me what I took away from the weekend (hoping I would be able to use it to make more money with my massage business). I started telling him about all the breathing exercises and lectures, and I told him about the visit from Mom.  He accepted that well, saying that he and Mom both always believed I picked up my Grandmother Jenny's psychic ability.  

But the rest of the time, he smiled and nodded at me the way you do when you're trying not to upset a crazy person by telling them how crazy they are.  Sigh.  

Reminders

Lots of little reminders sneaked into my consciousness yesterday and today. Things Mom loved were all over the place.  

My friend (and boss), Samantha, moved into a new house and I visited there today. We walked around her property looking at all the trees and flower beds.  She had a number of azalea bushes and crepe myrtle trees, some hydrangeas, and I found a surprise wild rose bush tucked into a nook in a shrubbery ring out in the field. Driving home this afternoon, a brilliant male cardinal flew across the driveway in front of me. I drove past one of Mom's favorite restaurants. I heard some music she loved (big band).  I also heard some music she hated; ironically, that's the one that brought some tears. 

I guess it doesn't matter what actually gives me the release, as long as it comes.  I still need the big one to hit so I can really move on, but I guess I should just be patient with myself.  Grief has a schedule of its own, and it doesn't care if that schedule works for me. 

I miss my Mom.   

Deepest Love

At Mom's memorial service, Dad spoke some of the most beautiful words I have ever been blessed to hear.  They made everyone tear up (including quite a few big, strong men), and some of us wept uncontrollably.  His words were brief; they were spoken spontaneously, and came from the depths of his soul. He didn't even remember what he said, and later when we repeated them to him, he still didn't remember speaking them.  Here's the best I can do to repeat his beautiful words: 

"God saw fit to loan me this beautiful woman, Rose, for just 53 years, one month and one day, to love and to cherish and to protect. And I did that the best I knew how. I have to send her back to Him now, and I pray that He does the same for her."

May everyone in the world share a love as deep as theirs.  

Eulogy for Queen Rose

Today, we sent away Queen Rose, my Mother, with much love and respect.  These are the words I squeakily spoke in remembrance of her. 

We were all rotten kids.  Except when we were being the surprise angels, showing her love in unexpected moments: the home made card, the scrawled picture of two blobs connected by a line where someone else wrote, “I love you, Mommy;” the fly-by hug on the way to play with friends; the tiny frog brought in to show her, which then leapt from tiny hands into her freshly poured glass of RC cola.  Rotten kids. 

She had her hands full with us, and it was a beautiful thing.  I don’t have any specific stories to tell, only impressions of the feelings I had – brief glimpses of this moment or that adventure, but not really a whole story to tell.  I can say there was always love. No matter what was happening, no matter what we had done, her actions were driven by love.

 

And that love manifested in more ways than just how she raised her children.  She showed her love in art, as you can see here in this room; she showed her love in music, and if you never sat with her while she hummed along with the radio, I feel very badly for you; she showed her love in the kitchen, with every meal she made - with whatever she could scrape together (a lack of ingredients could be easily overcome);  she showed her love in words – teaching her children to speak clearly so we would be understood; and she showed her love in acts of kindness – always willing to help someone in need. 

I can’t give you specific memories of my Queen Rose, but I can tell you what I feel, and what I have always felt, when I think of her name, her face, her voice.  I think of Love. 

My Mother's Mother

Dinner time last night, the following conversation happened. I have become mother to my mother (said with a smile). 

Mom: How come you have so many onions? I didn't hardly have any onions. Why do you have so many? 
Me: I put a whole layer of onions on top of your meat, just like I did on mine. You just have less meat since you won't eat much of it anyway. 
Mom (who has sat looking at her serving of meat with onions and cheese for about 5 minutes): My meat is cold. (makes a face)
Me: Your meat wasn't cold when I gave it to you.
Mom: The cats don't like the meat.
Me: The cats aren't getting anything else.
Mom: Is this all the fries I get?
Me: I would like for you to eat your meat before giving you more fries.
Mom: The cats don't like the meat.
Me: That's too bad for the cats.
Mom: My meat is cold. (again with the face)

The good news is that she eventually ate everything on her plate, including a few more fries. Ann and I were talking today about her current behavioral patterns and we decided that while her mind is still very sharp (she processes well when she isn't too tired), but her behavior patterns are that of a 5 year old - thankfully, it's usually an obedient but inquisitive 5 year old.

How Am I Supposed to Do This?

It's been a long time since I posted.  It's been a long time since I even looked at my blog.  At first, it was because things were maybe not perfect or happy, but at least predictable. I knew Mom would probably be either in a hospital or convalescent center every few weeks if we couldn't get her to truly follow all the instructions she'd been given.  I knew there would be constant fights between her and Ann about food (fat, salt, sugar, blah blah blah), and that if a home health nurse was working with her, she would completely ignore the rule about leaving the house, and go to the store to buy all the stuff we were trying to keep away from her.  I knew to expect these things, and still tried to keep people floating on a positive vibe so as not to continue to poison the air with negativity.  

I failed completely in my efforts.  For some, being negative is the only way to breathe.  I have been the same way, and during those times my life was darker than any dark you can imagine as long as you can imagine light. I can still imagine light right now, and would like to keep it that way.  So, I'm going to do my "vomit out everything that is happening all in one post" thing to avoid having all this stuff chew up my light and spit it out on my feet. 

Mom spent Thanksgiving in the hospital.  She went from there back to rehab and got home just in time for Christmas. She got out just after New Year's Day, and was back in for her birthday (the 12th), came back home without a rehab break, then was back in just before her 53rd Wedding Anniversary (2/6).  She has not been lucid since before she went back in.  She was sleeping - a lot.  At first we thought it was just because she'd had a couple of bad nights in a row and was just sleeping it off.  But Dad had to be taken to the hospital for a very serious case of constipation that actually blocked him from even being able to urinate.  The next night, she wanted to get up to use the toilet at about 1 a.m., and she couldn't get up even with help from me.  I called Ann down to see if the two of us could get her up, but we still couldn't get her legs to support her.  

Then there's the delirium.  It started during the summer during one of her rehab stays.  Then it popped up briefly here and there, but only during hospital or rehab stays.  During the last couple of months though, it's been present at home also, to varying degrees.  When we were trying to get her up for the toilet, she was having one of those forgetful times, wondering why Dad wasn't helping us - we had to remind her that he was in the hospital.  

We eventually called 911 to get her over to the ER.  Ann and I have watched this pattern repeat a number of times, so we told the crew that we suspected kidney failure, and explained why.  (She always loses the ability to support herself on her legs when her kidneys start to go.)  It was Ann's turn to accompany a parent to the ER (I took Dad the night before), so she went and got her admitted. They started her on fluids and did all the tests, x-rays and labs they always do, then admitted her.  No, they did not put our parents in a room together. (Apparently, they've done that in the past and had one of the people tank, and couldn't get the other one out of the room so they could handle the emergency.  It did not go well.  So they don't do that anymore.)

The next morning, Dad got a nurse to wheel him down to visit Mom and she didn't recognize him. She's had moments of lucidity, but has mostly either slept or floated around in her own world. Today, I walked in her room and she was having a quite animated discussion (with absolutely no one) about an elephant that was supposedly at the end of her bed. I tend to laugh at a lot of them, because I know if I concentrate on how serious the issue is, well. Yeah. 

Aside from the delirium, we are facing the very serious issue of her heart and kidneys being at odds with each other.  When Ann and I visited together and spoke to the Care Manager/Head RN, he told us they couldn't work on the kidney issue until they got the fluid out of her lungs and away from her heart. (We didn't know about the fluid yet.) I spoke to her doctor the next day and he advised that there really isn't anything they can do when it comes to an issue with either of those organs.  The reason is that draining the fluid from the lungs and heart puts additional strain on the kidneys, which causes her labs to get dangerously high numbers in all the wrong places.  If they treat the kidneys, it causes an increase in the fluid on her heart and lungs.

It's been decided (mainly by the doctor and Dad, but with agreement from Ann and me) that with the increasing occurrence and severity of delirium, the recurring UTI's, and the inability to balance heart and kidney needs, that we should have her on Hospice care at home rather than any more rounds of hospital/rehab/home/hospital. So the Hospice representative at the hospital has begun filing the necessary papers - to get her Hospice care approved by Medicare, to get her a hospital bed so maybe she can really rest when she's supposed to rest, and a number of services available to Hospice patients. 

So, you think when you hear "Hospice" that it automatically means end-of-life care.  That's what we thought.  But there are two ways of approaching Hospice.  The one everyone hears about the most is actually called Comfort Care, and it is intended to simply keep the patient as comfortable as possible, but stops all life sustaining medications so that the body can perform the processes of shutting down.  It reduces a person's life expectancy to weeks at most. What we will most likely do is the other kind, which name I can't remember.  In this version, her life sustaining meds are continued, Hospice personnel come in to help with her during the day, and if she has a serious down-slide, we all meet and discuss switching to the Comfort Care version.  

I say most likely because I think that Dad probably prefers to take the Comfort Care option right from the start.  I understand why, and I don't fault him for wanting that route.  He has lived with my Mother since 1961. He knows what a sharp mind resides inside that stubborn head, and what a loving spirit resides inside her soul.  Seeing her slowly lose her independence over the last 10+ years has been very difficult for him.  More so than it has been for her four children, though we have all noticed it and felt badly about it as well.  My brother has a hard time visiting her because he can't bear to see her in such a state.  Each time I see her in the kitchen, making anything at all, it is a moment to rejoice, even though it aggravates Ann because it's always something she shouldn't be eating, and she makes an awful mess that we have to clean up. But for that brief time, she is herself, almost the way we remember her from our youth.  

All of this is going to go away.  It's going to hurt.  A lot.  It already hurts a lot to think that she will be gone.  

Ann and I went to the store this afternoon, where someone had asked about Mom, and Ann got upset while I responded. In the car coming home, I told her that it was OK to grieve.  We know it's going to come, and it's normal to hurt when we think about it.  So, go ahead and grieve.  But also, since she is still here with us, love her and try to find those moments of joy without getting bogged down in the negatives. We are going to lose her.  We have not lost her yet.  

It sounds really pretty coming out of my mouth (or off my keyboard), but it's really all I can do to keep from crying when I talk about it.  I know people are wondering why I'm not crying more.  It's not that I don't want to, it's that I don't want to unless I know I can stop.  It will come.  It does come, at very inopportune times, of course.  But I try to keep it at bay while I have to function.  I have to work, I have to take care of people.  I have to keep myself healthy. 

And on top of all of this, there's Yaw.  He wants to come up so we can try being together again.  I want him to come up.  I miss him, and I could really use his support right now.  He told me that he planned to come up early in January, and he had me scrambling to find us a place to live.  Then, in usual Yaw fashion, needed to delay a week, then another week.  Now it might not be until March, and try as I might to be positive, it's hard to imagine he will even come then.  He does things in his own time, regardless the effect that has on those around him.  It's not really surprising, just annoying. I like to plan things, then set the plan in motion, and then be done with that plan and enjoy the results.  

I think I have said all I can say for now.  The tears have decided to make an appearance at last, and I need to let them have their party tonight so that I can function tomorrow.