Letting go

Time, slipping away

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Despite our best efforts, we didn’t make it on time.

Yesterday morning Darryl and Paul went to the nursing home to be with Martha. They each held her hand and spoke of what to do next. The nurse came in and said that she had 3 days left if they left her IV in and about 24 hours if they took it out.

They called Martha’s remaining siblings and family in for a final visit last night and decided to keep the IV in until the family came for one last visit. Then Paul and Darryl left to tie up some things at work intending to return later.

The kids were on their way home early from school and we were going to leave once they got home.

Paul received the call while we were still at work that his mother had passed moments before we were ready to leave.

We thought we would have more time.

When we got to the nursing home we went into her room and said our final good byes. It seemed so surreal. I tricked my mind into thinking she was still with us. Martha looked like she was asleep.

We had a little good bye service in the nursing home chapel.

While this was all happening, my son became seriously ill (I think he will be okay now). It was horrible timing. I was debating whether or not to take him to the ER.

I felt terrible ignoring the family to deal with another crisis.

It was one of the worst days of my life.

We almost got into two car accidents. Someone came close to sideswiping me and someone pulled out right in front of us. Then on the way home I called the doctor’s office, almost hit a fox all while driving on empty.

I felt like I was on empty too.

It was late when we finally got home.

I made a doctor’s appointment for my son first thing this morning.

I feel so sad.

My family is having a hard time dealing with this. My husband feels so lost without his mother. He said he misses her so terribly much already.

This weekend we will be picking our daughter up from college for the funeral. She is on tour right now with the music department. She was going to surprise her grandma by having the choir sing her a song, but there wasn’t enough time.

I had to stop myself from crying at the doctor’s office this morning.

I feel so confused. I’m forgetting the details which rarely happens to me. I feel like I am running on auto pilot without thinking.

I missed planning the funeral arrangements because I was at the doctor’s office.

Then I needed to stop for groceries. We have nothing to eat in the house. We have been making the hour and a half round trip to see Martha almost every day this week. There hasn’t been time to take care of all the little things.

At the store, I saw a daughter helping her elderly father shop. I almost started crying again.

This has been so emotionally and physically exhausting. We haven’t been sleeping well.

At least Paul had the chance to say good bye. Last week, he had the opportunity to visit his mother alone. He told her he loved her, that she was a good mother, and that he appreciated the sacrifices she made for him.

He said it was one of the hardest things that he has ever done, but it was a very special moment.

He wanted to put it off, thinking that he had more time.

But time has a way of slipping away faster than we can keep our hands on it.

 

 

 

Family time

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We haven’t been stopping to see the birds anymore..

Since we last talked, we have been to the nursing home twice.

The first visit was the hardest. Martha drifted in and out of sleep. When we talked to her, she responded with answers that didn’t make much sense. She seemed restless.

The absolute hardest part that night was leaving. When we told Martha we were leaving her eyes snapped open and she gave us the saddest most terrorized look that will forever haunt me.

I have been trying to get Martha’s last look out of my head but I can’t seem to do that. It was like she was pleading with us to stay. When I start to forget, something reminds me. Yesterday I was on the way to the gym and I saw a van with her nursing home’s name plastered on the side.

If I couldn’t fix things with my mind, I wanted to fix things with my might. After the nursing home reminder, I felt so angry. As I was working out, I imagined that I was taking cancer into a dark alley and kicking the living shit out of it.

So far I have found that fighting and fixing hasn’t helped anyone cope but myself. It just gives me a false sense of control over a situation I have no control over.

Last night’s visit was much more peaceful. Martha did not wake up at all. She seemed totally oblivious of our presence. We still spoke to her and played songs of Angel singing. I feel bad because Angel is really busy at college right now. She will not be able to make the 5 hour drive to come out to say good bye. She doesn’t even have a car there. But we were able to face time her while her grandma was still up and talking.

We are hanging in there, but it hasn’t been easy..

Since this original draft, we received word that it is time to call in the family. Tonight after the final good byes, they are going to remove her IV. It won’t be much longer after that.

A lot of praying, without a prayer

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Playing the waiting game is never the fun and games it sounds like.

Yesterday my mom and Paul’s mom had doctor appointments.

As expected, my mom had the best news. The doctor wasn’t sure if she has glaucoma. She will have to do more waiting. But she does have cataracts and needs surgery.

My mom has always been the best driver that I ever knew, up until recently that is. I noticed little changes, like pulling out in front of traffic when she really didn’t have enough time or showing greater than necessary hesitation.

She is starting to forget little things too. She forgot my sister-in-law’s birthday. She forgot about my daughter’s holiday concerts. I found myself so busy at work that I didn’t have time to remind her either. The gradual decline is troubling at times.

My mother-in-law Martha’s decline has been more of a steep descent lately. She wanted to die at home which is not going to happen. She slept during her oncology appointment yesterday. The doctor decided to stop all treatment and keep her at the nursing home. He used words like keeping her comfortable.

I did start writing about two sentences of a eulogy. Oh, I already wrote it. I wrote it in my head while I was driving, running, and trying to sleep but I can’t seem to write it down on paper.

I started going through the old pictures. I didn’t realize how poor quality they are. The smiling images are not centered, blurry, or dark more often than not. I have gotten used to taking 50 images of the same event and deleting the ones that are not perfect. It’s not like the good old days where we took one or two pictures in an effort not to waste film and having them all turn out bad. I can’t part with the less than perfect images because that is all I have left besides the fading memories.

I feel depressed. Tomorrow is the anniversary of my grandma’s death, next week is the anniversary of the death of Aunt Grace. The despair of death and dying is surrounding me. It makes me feel nostalgic and melancholy on these bleak days of midwinter. This is the month that I lost the most loved ones and another will soon be added to the list.

We last visited Martha at the nursing home on Sunday. How I hate it there. I wondered how the young employees could work there day in and out without pondering their future fate. It seems like a nice place. I haven’t seen anyone mistreated.

What I hate is the joy that is robbed from having no hope. There is no hope that she is going to get better. There is no hope that her life will ever be the same. The despair of not having any hope left is emotionally draining. There is nothing we can do about it. Every time we see her, she is getting worse.

I have always clung to hope in the darkest times, but there isn’t a prayer although there is a lot of praying.

It was hard seeing Martha on Sunday. When we got there, she was laying in an uncomfortable position. We worked together to move her body. I lifted her shoulder while supporting her head. Her words came out in a mumbled whisper. She pointed and we guessed what was being said. She kept saying that her mouth was dry but she didn’t want to drink. She rummaged through her purse for aspirin although she just got pain medicine. She faded in and out of sleep.

Before we leave, we always take her for a walk to see the birds. The nurse carried her into a wheelchair and hooked her up to her portable oxygen tank. Paul pushed the wheelchair as I walked alongside with the IV. You would think that it would be easy to push the IV along but it rolled along like a shopping cart with a messed up wheel. I swerved around as I tried to avoid obstacles trying not rip or twist up her cords that were everywhere.

The birds flitted about in a relaxed manner. The residents spoke of the birds. They spoke of a man that comes around to clip the birds nails and clean out the cages. They spoke of this with great importance. They weren’t in a hurry, they were content to sit and watch the birds like it was the most important thing in the world.

It seemed like a mystery to me. The residents didn’t seem worried or to live in the hustle bustle world of deadlines and time constraints like most of us do, yet they have less time..

Tonight Paul and I will visit Martha. Darryl said that her condition has deteriorated considerably since our visit two days ago. We sense the urgency and are nervous when we hear the phone ring.

It could be any time now..

 

 

 

Good note endings

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For me, it is the anticipation of an event that causes excitement, apprehension, or foreboding. The planning of a vacation. Waiting for a special day. Saying good bye..

It is not always a bad thing to know that your loved one is dying. I think of a friend whose mother died unexpectedly right after an argument. We have been given this special time to mend relationships, to end things on a good note..

Friday night we took Angel to say good bye to her grandma before leaving for college. Friday my son Alex came down with strep, the second in our household. I didn’t want Angel to leave without saying good bye to her grandma. I admit I was worried that although Paul, Angel, and I weren’t symptomatic that we could be carriers of strep into a nursing home full of vulnerable people. It wasn’t a good feeling. I asked the nurse and pharmacist, but they didn’t give me a straight answer. We decided to go anyway, since this would probably be Angel’s final visit with her grandma.

We arrived at the nursing home late on Friday night. It was a big complex and we didn’t know where to go. The outside doors were locked and we ended up walking around outside in the bitter cold on icy sidewalks trying to find a way in. I felt exhausted and cold. I was so tired that I didn’t want to be there, but it wasn’t about me.

We were finally able to find the main entrance. It was warm, empty, and inviting. There was a video showing a happy elderly couple entering their new home. It pleasantly reminded me of a time share commercial. We were the only visitors there on a Friday night, with the exception of my mother-in-law’s husband Darryl.

It was quiet there. The employees talked about when they were going to take their cigarette breaks. Curious elderly people wandered over to Martha’s room to see the excitement of visitors on a Friday night.

Martha was in her bed hooked up to oxygen. She looked good. Darryl said that his mother was in the nursing home now because she can no longer take care of herself. The conversation got too close to the truth of Martha’s situation. We talked of funerals that we attended together of other family members and Darryl’s moms declining health.

Martha wondered why she was in the nursing home like her husband’s mother. She told us that she was going home soon. She said that they were going to start her on Chemo all over again. She was so convinced of this that I almost believed her. I wanted to.

Martha told us how great Darryl has been to her all of these years. She said that her only regret was that she didn’t meet Darryl sooner. She wished she could have given Paul a father when he was a child. Martha held Darryl’s hand and told him how much she loved and appreciated having him in her life.

When it was time to go, Angel sang a prayer. It was very peaceful and calming. There weren’t any tears or sad good byes like I was expecting.

Our visit ended on a good note..

Saying good bye?

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I have often wondered why we say the words good bye. What is ever good about parting with someone that you care about?

This morning I said good bye to Angel as she left to go back to college. I won’t be seeing her again until March.

Last night Angel said good bye to her grandma, probably for the last time.

It was a rough week. Darryl called earlier this week very distraught. The doctor told him that Martha was never going to go back home again. She was going to be transferred from the hospital into a nursing home. They thought that she was going to beat this terminal stage 4 cancer thing. It is hard to blame them for feeling that way as they don’t have the internet at home and we are all new to this stage 4 cancer thing.

Living with her day to day, I’m sure that Darryl didn’t see how the cancer eroded her body like we did. Losing 100 lbs isn’t as noticeable if you lose it 1 lb a day. It broke Paul’s heart to see his step-dad break down and start talking about final wishes and funeral arrangements. We knew we had to arrange one last visit with Angel and her grandma before she left.

The night that Darryl called, Paul cried. Before all of this, in the 20+ years I’ve known Paul, he has only cried a handful of times. Mainly when his grandma, who helped raise him, died. Dealing with his mother dying has brought out a whole new range of emotions, some of them not very good. I want to fix things, but I can’t.

Sometimes I worry about Paul. He takes on too much responsibility. He is a great leader and everyone wants his help on this board, committee, or that. I find that most people care more about what he can do for them instead of him.

Besides Paul and my friend Cindy (who keeps calling and asking how I am doing), I have been pushing everyone in my life away. When things get difficult I shut everyone out. No personal Facebook statuses for me. I don’t want anyone to know. It surprises me that I even talk to you. Sorry, no offense, I’m sure you are a great person.

Instead of dealing with my emotions, I put more things on my plate. No, not food, if I’m really stressed I barely eat. Working long hours…yes…trying out for a part in the play…yes…signing up for an 18 mile trail run…yes…another marathon…yes, yes, yes….a half iron…yes, yes, oh yes!

Keeping very busy has always been a tactic of mine.

I’m not sure I can keep going at this pace. But I am afraid. If I stop juggling all of these busyness balls, I will surely drown.

I will keep going. I am determined to persevere. And I am going to keep writing (take you along on this journey with me)! Lucky you! XOXXO

 

 

A flame’s last few flickers 

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Yesterday I spent the evening in the ICU.

My mother-in-law Martha collapsed on her way to her doctor appointment. An elderly friend of Martha was taking her to her appointment, pulled over when Martha said she was going to be sick, and couldn’t get her back in the car.

The rescue squad transported her to the nearest hospital where they had no room in their ICU. Then they transported her to a hospital a couple of hours away. This was good news for us because Martha was 20 minutes away versus 2 hours away. 

We drove in nervous silence to the hospital. It was a long, windy, and bitterly cold day. It seemed like I had to park miles away from the door. The sharp winds whipped my face and stung. I ran to get in as fast as I could, but I really didn’t want to go. I was afraid of what I would find. I was afraid of how I might respond.

We searched for a long time down empty corridors for Martha’s room. We didn’t know where to go or what was happening. We weren’t sure what to expect. We had many questions and no answers.

We finally found the ICU. Only 2 visitors were allowed at a time. Paul and Angel went in first. While we were waiting, Martha’s husband Darryl arrived. Angel came out crying. My other 2 children went in. Angel sat on my lap and I held her in my arms while she cried. 

Darryl and I were the last ones to enter. Paul helped me tie on my gown and I put latex gloves on as was ICU protocol. Then I saw Martha. She was so weak, sick, and fragile looking. She asked me if I was okay since I looked so tired. Her concern for me was strangely touching as she was the one in the hospital bed hooked up to machines. She was getting a blood transfusion and had a couple more bags being emptied into her body. She had to sign a consent form but couldn’t quite remember how to spell her name. 

She told me that if she didn’t make it home, I should go through her items with the girls and take what I wanted even though she said she doesn’t have much. I told her I would.

It was all very beautiful and ugly at the same time. All of our previous issues faded away into the past. Yet I felt like I was in the way of the nurse. I didn’t know what to do. There was nothing I could do. Nothing but be there for her as her light starts to fade during her flame’s last few flickers.  

Soon our brief time together came to an end. I tore off my gown and threw it in the garbage along with my gloves. I washed my hands in the the sink. Martha told me that she loved me. I told her that I loved her back. 

After a long glance, I walked away and didn’t look back.     

On a day like today

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It happened on a cold December day like today.

It happened to a woman my age who had children the ages of some of my children.

I wonder what it would be like..to find out that I was pregnant unexpectedly. She was worried that her husband would be upset when she suspected. She told my mother that.

Her oldest child was already married and out of the house. Her youngest child was 8.

For a couple of months, her oldest child and her were pregnant at the same time.

It was in December many decades ago that her last child, a healthy baby girl was born.

My mom who was the second oldest, called her older sister the day after the baby was born.

“She’s dead”, my mom said. “The baby?”, asked her sister. “No, mom”.

Many decades, years, minutes, and seconds have passed since that cold December day. The oldest daughter has already passed away. Most of my aunts and uncles are reaching retirement age. But I still see them long for the mother that left them too soon. When they get together they still read the old letters she wrote. Tales of what was made for dinner the evening before. Stories about nothing important that makes the siblings laugh and cry.

I feel very thankful that I have had my mother in my life so long.

Paul and I are now approaching the loss of our first parent. It really forces us to face death. I thought about it a lot over the trip to Door County last month with my mother and a few of her siblings, especially when they spoke of the loss of their mother. (The picture above is of my mom and her sister).

My mother’s youngest brother, the 8 year old boy at the time of his mother’s death, said in Door County that some of his favorite movies today are the ones that his mother took him to see right before she died. It was really touching.

My oldest uncle was 16 when his mom passed away. I have a 16 year old son. He would be mortified if I told him I was pregnant. It is the age that most teenage boys don’t want anything to do with their mother. I suspect that my uncle felt the same way and felt guilty for wanting to separate from his mother especially after she passed away unexpectedly. He is currently going through a nasty divorce from a woman that I knew for my whole life to be my aunt. At this hard time, he yearns for his mother so much that he has been visiting a medium just to try to talk to her again. It is terribly sad.

My mother said to me many times growing up that she wished her mother was there. She knew that her mother would have helped her raise an autistic child.

I never met my grandma. I have only seen the impact she has had on her children. From this, I know that she was a good person.

I am so blessed to have my mother in my life for this long..

18. The most difficult thing to forgive

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Day 18: What has been the most difficult thing you have had to forgive?

First of all, I don’t like this question. Thing? Really?? I have people to forgive, but not necessarily a ‘thing’. These questions are really starting to make me feel edgy. Some are just downright stupid. I mean, who really cares about my daily routine?? I will finish what I started, but I might change things a bit.

I am going to change this questions to…Who has been the most difficult person to forgive? 

The long hard thought out answer to that question is ME. Yes, me!

I have to forgive myself. For all the stupid things I have done. And even for the things that I didn’t do that I should’ve done. The hardest thing about making mistakes is the inability to go back in time and make the right decision. The regret over making the wrong choice or taking the wrong fork in the road. 

When I was younger, I used to worry and ruminate over mistakes. I used to berate myself for not living up to my expectations of perfection. I tried harder to make up for the times I didn’t try hard enough.

Now that I am older, I don’t think I am any easier on myself. But I realized as I aged that there was nothing I could do to change things that happened in the past. I had to move on or go absolutely crazy from it. I had to forgive myself…let it all go…learn from the experience…and move on…

Even though I strive for perfection, I cannot attain it….I realize that now…only God is perfect….so I can hand it all over to Him and He can figure the rest out… 

And so it begins…

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It happened this past weekend. I was hoping with my last child I would have just a little more time..

Angel has been dating her boyfriend for almost 3 years.. Alex has had a girlfriend for the last 4 months…Thankfully, I approve of their choices!

I imagined Arabella staying single and living at home forever….hmmm… Maybe this type of thinking is an irrational coping mechanism?? Why can’t time just stop for a little while??

My friend Cindy was over this past weekend. One of her son’s is two days younger than Arabella. A group of neighborhood kids decided to go for a bike ride. One of the boys admitted to Cindy’s son that he has a crush on Arabella. Or maybe it was more of a ‘stay away I like her’ kind of thing.

Cindy’s son told Arabella that this boy has a crush on her. Arabella confronted this boy about his feelings towards her. The poor guy got so flustered that he steered his bike right into the ditch. He was crashed, crushed, hurt, and full of dirt calling out for his mother.

Arabella only likes him as a friend.

And so it begins…

Reel to real

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I awoke Saturday morning to the steady beat of pounding rain. I wanted to go back to sleep but signed up to do a 20 mile bike ride as part of a fundraiser for our church. For a brief moment, I had an internal struggle while watching the rain fall from my window. There was a brisk north wind and the temperature plummeted overnight.

Then I thought of my friends that were doing the Iron Man this weekend and my cousin that was running a 100k overnight while I spent the night sleeping. Reluctantly, I rubbed my bleary eyes and got up.

It was the least I could do for my church, right??

Once I got to the church, I paired up with another parishioner who decided to bike 20 miles. I eyed her skeptically to see if she would keep up with me since she was over ten years older than me. The funny thing is that she taught me a thing or two how to be a better bike rider while I struggled to keep up with her.

One big mistake that I made was deciding to wear a cheap plastic rain poncho to keep dry. The poncho flapped in the wind like a loose sail. It made a lot of noise and slowed me down. I ended up borrowing the other woman’s jacket at her insistence which I was rather embarrassed about. The ride went well despite the off and on rain. I checked 20 miles off my bucket list.

After the morning festivities, Paul and I spontaneously invited Ted and Cindy over for the rest of the day. It was Ted’s birthday, we had them over to grill out and have a fire even though we had plans to sail with them the following day.

Now, about the fire… A few weeks ago my mom gave me a box filled with my birth announcement, letters, birthday cards from the first two years of life, pictures, and a reel to reel of my first birthday that I need to check out. She gave this box to me right before my daughter left home. It seemed like a very hard time to go through this box.

After Angel left I did open the box. It was filled with cards from people that were long deceased, divorced, or people that I didn’t even know. I read a few letters, some mentioned the struggle between going back to work and staying home. Others talked of new recipes.

Letters seem so strange to me now. They seem so simple with talk of everyday life…baptisms…a new pair of shoes…food.. Maybe it is really not all that different if I printed off old emails or looked at everyone’s posts for the month on Facebook.

We are flooded with so much information day to day in our modern world, that maybe I just tune out things I deem as unimportant without realizing it.

A few things struck me from this box. One letter to my mother said that her life would never be the same again. That much was true, very true.

I also found some pictures of my mom right before she delivered me. My mother being as modest as she is was completely mortified. I called her and asked her if she actually looked through everything in the box before she gave it to me. She asked me to burn the pictures. There is a part of me that wishes that I never said anything because she was so young, beautiful, and full of life… Really it was nothing inappropriate or to be ashamed of…but to her it was an embarrassing reminder of younger days..

Saturday night I had a fire at my house. I burned away every trace of my mother’s life right before it changed forever..