It's been months since I've written here and my life has certainly changed since my last post. So here goes:
I worked very hard on the Southwest Washington Walk to End Alzheimer's. And all the work certainly paid off.
On a beautiful fall day, Sept. 22, we had 111 walkers at the Port of Kalama's Marine Park. We had sponsors, Cowlitz Indian Tribe drummers who also blessed the Walk, and even Hawaiian dancers. Kalama High School students from the band and leadership class provided wonderful music and lots of help. Mom would have been proud.
The only thing I missed was Martha, who texted me the night before the walk to say she wasn't coming. She claimed that she wasn't feeling well, but I don't believe it, because the day after the Walk, she went to Mr. Bill's for breakfast.
It was during the Walk that I was going to tell Martha I was moving. I got a job at the Whitman County Gazette in Colfax where I grew up and packed up everything and moved. I told the nursing home folks I was moving and gave them my new address, but I wanted to tell Martha in a special way, to let her understand that I needed to do this. I started my new job on Oct. 1, just a little more than a week after the Walk.
As I was packing the Monday after the Walk, there was a knock on the door and Martha walked in. A UHaul truck was parked in the driveway so it was obvious what was going on. But she acted so offended that I hadn't told her and claimed she only stopped to see how the Walk went. When will the lies stop?
I had gathered a few things for her and put them in a box. And my friend, Dennise, who was packing me up, happened to be at the house when Martha arrived and heard the whole conversation. Martha asked if she had to sign some papers to take care of Mom and I said no, nothing had changed. But the next day, the nursing home folks called to say Martha had informed them that she was to be the first one to be called if something happened to Mom. I said I would talk to Martha and get it straightened out and that I was still the Power of Attorney and Martha wasn't. So I called Martha who was just getting out of school. This is the day before I was to leave for Colfax. I told her I had talked to the nursing home and that I will remain the first to be informed if something happens to Mom. I reiterated that she was not the Power of Attorney and she had no authority to do anything. She claimed she was never asked to be a Power of Attorney and I replied that wasn't true, that she said at the time she didn't want anything to do with it. That's when she hung up. I tried calling her back, but she wouldn't answer her phone. It made me sad to leave town with that phone call the last conversation we would have. But I can't control her actions, only she can.
As I was packing along with getting ready for the Walk, my little Yorkie boy, Mattie, got really sick. The Thursday before the Walk, I took him to the vet, Dr. Katie. I just had a feeling he was going to leave me. He couldn't walk and wasn't eating or drinking. Dr. Katie took an x-ray and said she had never seen anything like it. Mattie's little spine was so deformed that she said she was surprised he had lived as long as he did. She said she couldn't do anything for him, so they brought him to me wrapped in a soft towel and I held him as he left me. I told him to find my Abby and she would take care of him until I could be with them. My heart still is heavy with his loss as I write this. He was such a sweet little soul. He was only 11 months old.
Three days after the Walk, early on the morning of Sept. 26, another beautiful fall day, Lizzie (my little Yorkie girl), Gigi, Dennise and I took off for Colfax. We had a good trip and arrived safe and sound, although pretty tired, in Colfax early in the afternoon. Friends met us and unloaded the things in the truck into two storage units. Gigi and Lizzie seemed to like our new temporary quarters which was the home of a high school classmate. The day after we got to Colfax, I met a friend in Naches who took Dennise back to Longview. And on Monday, I started my new job at the Gazette.
Wow, I felt so good to be back home.
I felt a little sad about leaving Mom, but I also know that I have done all I can do for Mom. And I know in my heart that she would want me to do this. I didn't feel one bit sad about leaving that house and I don't care really what happens with it. That never really was my home.
The second day of work, I came down with a cold which only got worse as the week wore on. My upper back began hurting, indicating that I probably had walking pneumonia. By the following Monday, I was very sick and missed work all week. By Friday, Oct. 12, I thought I felt better, and was going to try to go to the office. God had other plans.
I took the girls outside so they could do their business about 7 a.m. I sat on the steps enjoying a beautiful fall day, looking at the gold hills of the Palouse. But when I tried to get up, my body wouldn't respond. I just couldn't get up. The friend I was staying with went to Pullman to shop and when she came back, and I was still on the steps, she called 9-1-1. I pleaded with her not to call them because I have no insurance, but the EMTs came. They checked my blood pressure and then took blood and my blood sugar was 800. Normal levels should hover around 100. They immediately took me to the Colfax hospital. After more tests, chest x-rays and and I don't know how many other tests, the doctors decided that I indeed had pneumonia and probably had diabetes. My mind just couldn't wrap itself around all that. Then the doctor informed me that his superiors were too nervous to have me stay in Colfax and they wanted me to go to Spokane. I just kept thinking about the cost and how I was going to pay for it and on and on and on. The Colfax ambulance was not available so I rode in a MedStar helicopter. Great. I had never been in a helicopter before and I certainly didn't want my first ride to be as a patient, but I didn't have a choice. So into the back of this helicopter I went with two wonderful men hovering over me making sure I made the trip to Spokane. I got into the Sacred Heart ICU later that evening and immediately was greeted by an army of nurses and doctors. They pumped fluids into me and began insulin and checking my blood sugar hourly, or almost hourly. At the time, I didn't really even realize I was in Intensive Care and didn't understand until my friend, Susie, told me later. I remained in the hospital for 11 days. I received excellent care and the best part was that I received Communion every day. Susie came to visit me almost every day. Leanna Brake called almost every day and Fort Wright College classmates, Diane Lobe and Lauriel Kramer Fouquette, came to the hospital to see me.
Three days before doctors said I would probably be discharged, the friend I was staying with called to say that I couldn't come back to their home and I had to make other arrangements. I was so hurt and shocked, but I contacted another friend and got a place to land that night. I made arrangements for the girls to stay with a friend in Spokane and Susie brought them from Colfax to Spokane the next day. Susie worked hard to make my new home as welcome as possible. She stocked my cupboards with pots and pans and silverware and food and brought a couple of chairs and an end table and cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. By the time she got me home, it was warm and almost inviting, as inviting as an old single-wide trailer in a trailer park can be. But it's a roof and shelters us from the weather and keeps us warm.
My friend, Mary Perry, kept the girls for more than two weeks as I recuperated at home. I was on oxygen for several days after I got home. Susie came every day to check on me and Tonijo checked on me too. I went back to work on Oct. 31, thankful that my dear publisher kept my job for me.
God is so good to me. I know I am blessed to be alive and healing. It will take me a while to get completely well, but I am getting stronger every day. I give myself insulin shots in the morning and evening after checking my blood sugar levels. My blood sugar has settled down to the point that the docs have decreased my insulin by 20 units a day. The goal is to be able to quit the insulin at one point.
Gigi and Lizzie are still adapting to life here in Colfax. And I LOVE it. I love seeing old friends almost every day, renewing those friendships. And my job is going very well. I am feeling more confident in my writing skills. I love my publisher, Gordon, and my editor, Jerry. God is good.
Martha keeps in contact a little better, although I think she begrudges me this move. And Mom is still the stranger in the nursing home. She has had three skin tears recently and I called to leave a message with the social worker about my concerns about it. Mom will not end up like Grandma Dora. That I am certain. If something happens to Mom, like Grandma Dora getting injured, I will contact an attorney and sue their ass. I will not hesitate.
Nursing homes need to have a different role than they do now. But that's for another blog post.
I spent Thanksgiving with the Hopkins family and had the best time. I thought about friends on the West side, but not for long because I was genuinely happy. And with Tonijo's baby, little "Peanut," on the way, it's going to be a great New Year.
I have a small Christmas tree on a chair in front of one of the windows that cheers me up on these long nights. And I decorated the front porch with tiny solar lights and some little trees.
So that's my story. For now. God has more plans, I know. All I have to do is say, "OK, Lord, take the reins." And then listen.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Being Lonesome
My heart is aching. I think about that old country song that wails, "I'm so lonesome, I could die."
This is the first Fourth of July without Mom, yet another first since she left me. And even though this particular holiday wasn't a real big deal to us, we still shared it.
I'd take Mom to the parade and afterwards, if it wasn't too hot, we'd go to see all the vendors surrounding parts of the lake. If it was too hot, we'd come back home and I usually barbecued hamburgers. Sometimes friends would come to share our meal. And then we'd watch the neighbors' fireworks. Last year, she was too sick to remember what the Fourth of July was, but she still liked seeing the brightly colored sparkles as neighbors celebrated.
I miss my best friend.
I miss sitting on the patio talking about the flowers and how it must be time for some Miracle Grow. I miss hearing her voice, hearing her noise in the house - she was one of noisiest people I've ever known - hearing her laugh, talking on the phone, reporting on neighbors' activities. I miss all this and much more.
And Alzheimer's, that damned disease that has no cure, took my best friend away from me.
I am slowly finding my own way in life, such as organizing the Southwest Washington Walk to End Alzheimer's, which is keeping me busier than I thought, and trying to find a job and just surviving one day at a time.
But it's not easy.
I think about what Mom would do in the same situation. I know she would pick herself up by the boot straps and keep on going. Mom was so tough. I realize I am not her. I'm not nearly as tough as she was and in some ways, still is.
I also know she isn't happy, knowing something is wrong and can't quite figure out exactly what it is. I know that must irritate her and bewilder her.
I hope and my daily prayer is my God comes to get her soon and takes her Home where she will be happy and at peace.
This is the first Fourth of July without Mom, yet another first since she left me. And even though this particular holiday wasn't a real big deal to us, we still shared it.
I'd take Mom to the parade and afterwards, if it wasn't too hot, we'd go to see all the vendors surrounding parts of the lake. If it was too hot, we'd come back home and I usually barbecued hamburgers. Sometimes friends would come to share our meal. And then we'd watch the neighbors' fireworks. Last year, she was too sick to remember what the Fourth of July was, but she still liked seeing the brightly colored sparkles as neighbors celebrated.
I miss my best friend.
I miss sitting on the patio talking about the flowers and how it must be time for some Miracle Grow. I miss hearing her voice, hearing her noise in the house - she was one of noisiest people I've ever known - hearing her laugh, talking on the phone, reporting on neighbors' activities. I miss all this and much more.
And Alzheimer's, that damned disease that has no cure, took my best friend away from me.
I am slowly finding my own way in life, such as organizing the Southwest Washington Walk to End Alzheimer's, which is keeping me busier than I thought, and trying to find a job and just surviving one day at a time.
But it's not easy.
I think about what Mom would do in the same situation. I know she would pick herself up by the boot straps and keep on going. Mom was so tough. I realize I am not her. I'm not nearly as tough as she was and in some ways, still is.
I also know she isn't happy, knowing something is wrong and can't quite figure out exactly what it is. I know that must irritate her and bewilder her.
I hope and my daily prayer is my God comes to get her soon and takes her Home where she will be happy and at peace.
Monday, June 25, 2012
In the meantime ...
Mom continues to decline. She weighs less than 100 pounds, down about 10 pounds from when she was admitted to this latest facility in March. Staff is doing everything they possibly can to make Mom eat, but she is just not interested.
This also is part of the last stages of Alzheimer's. The Alzheimer's victim can't tell you if they're hungry because they no longer recognize the feeling of hunger. Sometimes, they even forget how to swallow. But eventually, if something else doesn't happen to their bodies, they starve to death. And that's what is happening to Mom. Her body is shutting down. The nurses tell me she would rather feed her stuffed animal that she constantly carries than eat herself.
I can't stand to see her like this. Although I have been battling a wicked flu bug, I haven't seen Mom in almost a month. And I'm not sure I want to. I don't want to spend the rest of my life remembering Mom like she is now. I want to remember her with a big smile on her face, outside in the sun snipping roses and bitching about the thorns while at the same time taking deep whiffs of the roses' scents. I want to remember her dancing in the kitchen when she thought something was funny. I want to remember her carving our Thanksgiving turkey and proudly taking it to the table where candlelight glimmered against our good china. I want to cherish and keep all those memories close to my heart.
Not the memory of some old woman I don't know who spends all her time in a wheelchair and doesn't know who I am. My last memory of my Grandma Dora, Mom's mother, is in a hospital bed in a nursing home saying she peed her pants. She didn't know Mom or me and then she died. I don't want that memory to be my last one of Mom. It's bad enough to remember Mom being wheeled out of the house and into an ambulance on a dark, stormy night. It's bad enough seeing her in a nursing home. I call and talk to nurses about how Mom is doing, and they call me if something happens. For now, that's good enough.
Surprisingly, Martha visits Mom more often than she ever has. I don't understand why, but at least she's stepping up to the plate.
Not only do I have to deal with Mom, I have to deal with running out of money. I am still not employed and my farm income is just about gone. I know God has a plan - I just wish He'd let me in on it! I feel like I'm treading water and have no real direction.
And I pray daily that God takes Mom in her sleep, that He comes into her room, cradles her in His Arms, and takes her Home. I pray this not for myself, but because I know Mom would be happier.
Mom continues to decline. She weighs less than 100 pounds, down about 10 pounds from when she was admitted to this latest facility in March. Staff is doing everything they possibly can to make Mom eat, but she is just not interested.
This also is part of the last stages of Alzheimer's. The Alzheimer's victim can't tell you if they're hungry because they no longer recognize the feeling of hunger. Sometimes, they even forget how to swallow. But eventually, if something else doesn't happen to their bodies, they starve to death. And that's what is happening to Mom. Her body is shutting down. The nurses tell me she would rather feed her stuffed animal that she constantly carries than eat herself.
I can't stand to see her like this. Although I have been battling a wicked flu bug, I haven't seen Mom in almost a month. And I'm not sure I want to. I don't want to spend the rest of my life remembering Mom like she is now. I want to remember her with a big smile on her face, outside in the sun snipping roses and bitching about the thorns while at the same time taking deep whiffs of the roses' scents. I want to remember her dancing in the kitchen when she thought something was funny. I want to remember her carving our Thanksgiving turkey and proudly taking it to the table where candlelight glimmered against our good china. I want to cherish and keep all those memories close to my heart.
Not the memory of some old woman I don't know who spends all her time in a wheelchair and doesn't know who I am. My last memory of my Grandma Dora, Mom's mother, is in a hospital bed in a nursing home saying she peed her pants. She didn't know Mom or me and then she died. I don't want that memory to be my last one of Mom. It's bad enough to remember Mom being wheeled out of the house and into an ambulance on a dark, stormy night. It's bad enough seeing her in a nursing home. I call and talk to nurses about how Mom is doing, and they call me if something happens. For now, that's good enough.
Surprisingly, Martha visits Mom more often than she ever has. I don't understand why, but at least she's stepping up to the plate.
Not only do I have to deal with Mom, I have to deal with running out of money. I am still not employed and my farm income is just about gone. I know God has a plan - I just wish He'd let me in on it! I feel like I'm treading water and have no real direction.
And I pray daily that God takes Mom in her sleep, that He comes into her room, cradles her in His Arms, and takes her Home. I pray this not for myself, but because I know Mom would be happier.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
The Journey Continues
And the journey's not getting any easier.
In fact, it's getting more and more difficult.
Tomorrow, Mother's Day, marks yet another first in my journey since Mom left me to reside in a nursing home. Truthfully, I kept thinking she would come back to me some day and I could continue some how, some way, to care for her. But that didn't happen. In March, she came back up to a Longview nursing facility that is a thousand times better than the previous one.
When we found her a primary care physician because Hospice dropped Mom as a client, the doctor said she was doing physically very well. Her heart's good, lungs are good, circulation seems fine. And all the while I kept thinking, "Damn."
After her doctor's visit, I just couldn't see Mom any more. That sounds horrible, doesn't it? I mean, who doesn't want to see their own Mother?
Me.
Because, Mom isn't my Mom any more. When I look into her eyes, they are just blank. And they didn't used to be blank. My Mom's eyes are very, very blue, and had this Irish spark in them that you could see a mile away.
Sometimes, I didn't want to see that spark because I knew I was in trouble. But most of the time, it was a fun-loving spark that twinkled with delight and mischief.
Not any longer. Mom's eyes are still blue, but they are dull. No life, no spark, no Irish mischief.
How I miss that.
So today, I made myself go up to the nursing home to see Mom and take her some summer shirts to wear since the weather decided to be warm. I also took a little green toy piglet that oinks and walks when turned on.
I waited until after lunch, because I was procrastinating. I washed my hair, couldn't decide what to wear and finally just made myself go out the door and make the 15-minute drive.
When I arrived, Mom was sleeping soundly and I didn't want to wake her. She looked so peaceful - and so thin.
I talked to one of the nurses who said Mom now weighs 102 pounds, down from 108 pounds last month. The nurse said Mom eats a little and then tries to feed her stuffed animals. Mom is to the point now that she even tries to make her stuffed animals drink the Ensure they give her.
That's part of this insidious disease. How I loathe this Alzheimer's Disease. I HATE what it's doing to my Mom. And I HATE that I can't do a damned thing about it. I just have to sit and watch my Mom, who was one of the strongest women I know, deteriorate into this person who is not familiar to me in the least.
And anyone who reads this may think I am a monster for thinking this, but I wish Mom would die. I just don't understand why God wants her to remain here on Earth declining daily. He and I are going to have a very long conversation about this when I get to see Him.
This is yet another first in the last five months that I have endured. My first birthday without Mom, my sister's first birthday without Mom, the first Easter without Mom and now Mother's Day. Memorial Day will be difficult because Mom and I shared so many trips over to Colfax for that day, carrying pots filled with colorful flowers for our family's graves. On June 8, it will be her 92nd birthday. Not looking forward to that either.
And I don't want to remember my Mom like she is now. I want to remember the fiesty Irish woman who loved to laugh and play jokes and dance around the kitchen and watch John Wayne movies and work in the yard and tend to her garden and carefully groom her roses so she could see their big blooms and smell the roses' individual fragrances. I don't want to remember her as the shriveled old woman, lying in a nursing home bed, not knowing my name or her name and not being able to even talk to me.
I don't know when I'll force myself to make another trip to that place. I guess I better start praying now for God to give me the strength to make it up there again.
In fact, it's getting more and more difficult.
Tomorrow, Mother's Day, marks yet another first in my journey since Mom left me to reside in a nursing home. Truthfully, I kept thinking she would come back to me some day and I could continue some how, some way, to care for her. But that didn't happen. In March, she came back up to a Longview nursing facility that is a thousand times better than the previous one.
When we found her a primary care physician because Hospice dropped Mom as a client, the doctor said she was doing physically very well. Her heart's good, lungs are good, circulation seems fine. And all the while I kept thinking, "Damn."
After her doctor's visit, I just couldn't see Mom any more. That sounds horrible, doesn't it? I mean, who doesn't want to see their own Mother?
Me.
Because, Mom isn't my Mom any more. When I look into her eyes, they are just blank. And they didn't used to be blank. My Mom's eyes are very, very blue, and had this Irish spark in them that you could see a mile away.
Sometimes, I didn't want to see that spark because I knew I was in trouble. But most of the time, it was a fun-loving spark that twinkled with delight and mischief.
Not any longer. Mom's eyes are still blue, but they are dull. No life, no spark, no Irish mischief.
How I miss that.
So today, I made myself go up to the nursing home to see Mom and take her some summer shirts to wear since the weather decided to be warm. I also took a little green toy piglet that oinks and walks when turned on.
I waited until after lunch, because I was procrastinating. I washed my hair, couldn't decide what to wear and finally just made myself go out the door and make the 15-minute drive.
When I arrived, Mom was sleeping soundly and I didn't want to wake her. She looked so peaceful - and so thin.
I talked to one of the nurses who said Mom now weighs 102 pounds, down from 108 pounds last month. The nurse said Mom eats a little and then tries to feed her stuffed animals. Mom is to the point now that she even tries to make her stuffed animals drink the Ensure they give her.
That's part of this insidious disease. How I loathe this Alzheimer's Disease. I HATE what it's doing to my Mom. And I HATE that I can't do a damned thing about it. I just have to sit and watch my Mom, who was one of the strongest women I know, deteriorate into this person who is not familiar to me in the least.
And anyone who reads this may think I am a monster for thinking this, but I wish Mom would die. I just don't understand why God wants her to remain here on Earth declining daily. He and I are going to have a very long conversation about this when I get to see Him.
This is yet another first in the last five months that I have endured. My first birthday without Mom, my sister's first birthday without Mom, the first Easter without Mom and now Mother's Day. Memorial Day will be difficult because Mom and I shared so many trips over to Colfax for that day, carrying pots filled with colorful flowers for our family's graves. On June 8, it will be her 92nd birthday. Not looking forward to that either.
And I don't want to remember my Mom like she is now. I want to remember the fiesty Irish woman who loved to laugh and play jokes and dance around the kitchen and watch John Wayne movies and work in the yard and tend to her garden and carefully groom her roses so she could see their big blooms and smell the roses' individual fragrances. I don't want to remember her as the shriveled old woman, lying in a nursing home bed, not knowing my name or her name and not being able to even talk to me.
I don't know when I'll force myself to make another trip to that place. I guess I better start praying now for God to give me the strength to make it up there again.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Battlefields
Ever since Mom became a resident of the nursing home in Battle Ground, I've had a fight on my hands.
And about stupid, silly, meaningless things, but important to my Mom.
I requested Mom have Ensure, a dietary supplement added to her meals. After requesting this three or four times or maybe even more, even having the dietician making note of my requests, I still had to fight the aides and the nurse on duty about giving Mom an Ensure with her lunch and dinner. Finally, they granted my numerous requests.
Then they couldn't figure out why Mom wasn't eating a very good lunch. I requested a sandwich and soup for Mom's lunch and after numerous requests, they began giving her what she wanted and she began eating very well.
Then it was getting Mom's fingernails trimmed and cleaned. They were so awful, I just barely could bring myself to touch her hands.
Mom grew attached to a stuffed bunny that I had given her years before. She took that bunny everywhere, talked to it, petting it, letting it rest on her lap. Then one day, the bunny disappeared. The staff said they looked high and low and could not locate the bunny. My sister finally bought Mom a new one and Mom seems satisfied with it.
The next battle was about Mom getting bathed. Their normal schedule is twice a week, so I asked Hospice to come in to give Mom an additional bath. The nursing home staff stopped bathing Mom, saying Hospice took over. What a bunch of BS.
I met with three of the nursing home staff yesterday, and, through my tears, after trying to explain to them how difficult it is just coming to see Mom, how emotionally draining it is to see her now, that I was just plain tired of fighting them about stupid things. They brought in her chart and said they would fix things.
But, when lunch was served, just a few minutes later, the cook fixed Mom a full meal. Again, I requested soup and a sandwich, after the cook explained she was new and didn't know. Ya, right. If I hadn't been there, Mom wouldn't have eaten. How many times had that happened?
As I walked out of the nursing home, after helping feed Mom her lunch, I felt so defeated and discouraged. How many people in that place suffer because no one advocates for them? What would happen if I didn't see Mom.
I shudder to think. But I know my God is watching her and will keep her safe. And He will give me the courage and strength to take care of my Mom.
And about stupid, silly, meaningless things, but important to my Mom.
I requested Mom have Ensure, a dietary supplement added to her meals. After requesting this three or four times or maybe even more, even having the dietician making note of my requests, I still had to fight the aides and the nurse on duty about giving Mom an Ensure with her lunch and dinner. Finally, they granted my numerous requests.
Then they couldn't figure out why Mom wasn't eating a very good lunch. I requested a sandwich and soup for Mom's lunch and after numerous requests, they began giving her what she wanted and she began eating very well.
Then it was getting Mom's fingernails trimmed and cleaned. They were so awful, I just barely could bring myself to touch her hands.
Mom grew attached to a stuffed bunny that I had given her years before. She took that bunny everywhere, talked to it, petting it, letting it rest on her lap. Then one day, the bunny disappeared. The staff said they looked high and low and could not locate the bunny. My sister finally bought Mom a new one and Mom seems satisfied with it.
The next battle was about Mom getting bathed. Their normal schedule is twice a week, so I asked Hospice to come in to give Mom an additional bath. The nursing home staff stopped bathing Mom, saying Hospice took over. What a bunch of BS.
I met with three of the nursing home staff yesterday, and, through my tears, after trying to explain to them how difficult it is just coming to see Mom, how emotionally draining it is to see her now, that I was just plain tired of fighting them about stupid things. They brought in her chart and said they would fix things.
But, when lunch was served, just a few minutes later, the cook fixed Mom a full meal. Again, I requested soup and a sandwich, after the cook explained she was new and didn't know. Ya, right. If I hadn't been there, Mom wouldn't have eaten. How many times had that happened?
As I walked out of the nursing home, after helping feed Mom her lunch, I felt so defeated and discouraged. How many people in that place suffer because no one advocates for them? What would happen if I didn't see Mom.
I shudder to think. But I know my God is watching her and will keep her safe. And He will give me the courage and strength to take care of my Mom.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
True Friends
During this journey with Mom, I'm sure finding out who my friends really are.
I've had friends give me turkeys for Thanksgiving when I couldn't afford one. I've had friends text me just to see how I'm doing and if my text sounds too sad, they call me. Friends will drop whatever they're doing just to let me cry on their shoulders, at all times of the day and night. On the other hand, I've seemed to drive away some people who I thought were friends and who I am now finding aren't really.
One friend in particular just astounded me with her behavior.
I was having a very difficult time on New Year's Eve. I tried watching television, catching a favorite movie, tried crocheting on a wedding gift I'm trying to get done before April, I tried everything and just couldn't shake a lonely, sad feeling.
I called one friend and we talked for quite a while. As I got off the phone, I realized I hadn't heard from a friend at Christmas, so I decided to call her. It was only 8 p.m. on New Year's Eve, and although I usually don't call people that late, I thought since most people stay up late, it would be okay to bend the rule just once.
What a big mistake, because I felt worse after talking to this person than I did before the call.
My friend answered the phone only after the answering machine picked up my call. She said she and her family were doing things and so she couldn't talk long. She asked how I was doing and I responded that I was having sad days and sadder days. She asked if I had found a job yet and I answered no, but I thought, what does she expect? She started talking about her son, and asked if she had told me that he had been the editor of his college paper. I had not heard this story and wondered why she chose this moment to tell me. She said the paper hired him as a "man on the street," whatever that means, and her son had worked his way up to editor and had to go through several interviews to get the position. I said good for him or something to that effect, still wondering why she chose to tell me at this particular time. Someone said something to her and she cut our conversation short, leaving me feeling like a real failure because I am no longer an editor of a paper, or even a writer for that matter, and because I was looking for someone to get me out of the sad feeling I was experiencing. As I hung up, I knew I would never attempt to contact her again.
I have not known this person for very long and our relationship has been a bit shaky. As Mom became more and more ill, this friend hasn't shown any sympathy or empathy. I try not to bother my friends too much with this part of my life, but sometimes I just need to talk and I really need support if I do call on friends. Most of the people I call friends understand this, but this so-called friend obviously does not.
God is so good to me, though. A couple of days later, I was surprised by a friend in Minnesota I had not talked to in years. She said she really missed me and filled our conversation with so many compliments, I left the phone call feeling wonderful. What a blessing.
It takes a lot for me to give up on a person, to not have them in my circle of friends, but I've given up on at least one friendship and there might be more down the road. Although I'm not crazy about this time in my life, God keeps teaching me very valuable lessons. Praise the Lord!
I've had friends give me turkeys for Thanksgiving when I couldn't afford one. I've had friends text me just to see how I'm doing and if my text sounds too sad, they call me. Friends will drop whatever they're doing just to let me cry on their shoulders, at all times of the day and night. On the other hand, I've seemed to drive away some people who I thought were friends and who I am now finding aren't really.
One friend in particular just astounded me with her behavior.
I was having a very difficult time on New Year's Eve. I tried watching television, catching a favorite movie, tried crocheting on a wedding gift I'm trying to get done before April, I tried everything and just couldn't shake a lonely, sad feeling.
I called one friend and we talked for quite a while. As I got off the phone, I realized I hadn't heard from a friend at Christmas, so I decided to call her. It was only 8 p.m. on New Year's Eve, and although I usually don't call people that late, I thought since most people stay up late, it would be okay to bend the rule just once.
What a big mistake, because I felt worse after talking to this person than I did before the call.
My friend answered the phone only after the answering machine picked up my call. She said she and her family were doing things and so she couldn't talk long. She asked how I was doing and I responded that I was having sad days and sadder days. She asked if I had found a job yet and I answered no, but I thought, what does she expect? She started talking about her son, and asked if she had told me that he had been the editor of his college paper. I had not heard this story and wondered why she chose this moment to tell me. She said the paper hired him as a "man on the street," whatever that means, and her son had worked his way up to editor and had to go through several interviews to get the position. I said good for him or something to that effect, still wondering why she chose to tell me at this particular time. Someone said something to her and she cut our conversation short, leaving me feeling like a real failure because I am no longer an editor of a paper, or even a writer for that matter, and because I was looking for someone to get me out of the sad feeling I was experiencing. As I hung up, I knew I would never attempt to contact her again.
I have not known this person for very long and our relationship has been a bit shaky. As Mom became more and more ill, this friend hasn't shown any sympathy or empathy. I try not to bother my friends too much with this part of my life, but sometimes I just need to talk and I really need support if I do call on friends. Most of the people I call friends understand this, but this so-called friend obviously does not.
God is so good to me, though. A couple of days later, I was surprised by a friend in Minnesota I had not talked to in years. She said she really missed me and filled our conversation with so many compliments, I left the phone call feeling wonderful. What a blessing.
It takes a lot for me to give up on a person, to not have them in my circle of friends, but I've given up on at least one friendship and there might be more down the road. Although I'm not crazy about this time in my life, God keeps teaching me very valuable lessons. Praise the Lord!
Taking a break
On my way to see Mom in Battle Ground yesterday, a little more than an 80-mile trip, I turned around. I just couldn't face seeing Mom.
Every time I see Mom, she seems to be worse. Her eyes are blank and she talks, but it really isn't to me. I have seen Mom for perhaps a second and then she's gone again. Those brief moments are few and far between and lately, not at all. She holds her white bunny, pets it and talks to it, and observes the world around her.
When I visit Mom, I usually go about noon so I can help her eat. I fought with that nursing home about feeding her soup and a sandwich at noon for weeks and finally they are serving her what she really likes for lunch. I didn't think it was that big of a deal to get her soup and a sandwich, but it turned into a battle that I got really tired of fighting. Another battle was getting her an Ensure to drink at lunch. And getting them to take Mom for a short walk instead of having her in a wheelchair all the time. I guess I'm tired of fighting too.
When I got home yesterday, I called a friend and she suggested I take a break. And, when I decide to go back, she suggested I do something fun such as go out to lunch or go shopping, making it more of a fun trip instead of something I feel obligated to do.
And that's the thing. I do feel obligated to see Mom. I want to make sure she is doing okay. And because I'm not her primary caregiver any longer, I feel like I still need to take care of her in some way, like Mom always took care of me.
But I am slowly realizing that I need to take care of myself too. I must find a job and a new place to live. I must take care of my kids, especially my new ones. I must organize the Walk to End Alzheimer's so it's the best walk in Western Washington. I must take care of my own health.
Mom is already gone from me. As much as I would like to think she still knows me, she really doesn't. She probably thinks that I'm just someone who shows up once in a while to visit with her. I really feel like Mom has already left me. And when the time comes for her to leave this Earth, I will feel relieved. She will be so much happier in Heaven. I will be happy knowing she is in the Arms of God.
Every time I see Mom, she seems to be worse. Her eyes are blank and she talks, but it really isn't to me. I have seen Mom for perhaps a second and then she's gone again. Those brief moments are few and far between and lately, not at all. She holds her white bunny, pets it and talks to it, and observes the world around her.
When I visit Mom, I usually go about noon so I can help her eat. I fought with that nursing home about feeding her soup and a sandwich at noon for weeks and finally they are serving her what she really likes for lunch. I didn't think it was that big of a deal to get her soup and a sandwich, but it turned into a battle that I got really tired of fighting. Another battle was getting her an Ensure to drink at lunch. And getting them to take Mom for a short walk instead of having her in a wheelchair all the time. I guess I'm tired of fighting too.
When I got home yesterday, I called a friend and she suggested I take a break. And, when I decide to go back, she suggested I do something fun such as go out to lunch or go shopping, making it more of a fun trip instead of something I feel obligated to do.
And that's the thing. I do feel obligated to see Mom. I want to make sure she is doing okay. And because I'm not her primary caregiver any longer, I feel like I still need to take care of her in some way, like Mom always took care of me.
But I am slowly realizing that I need to take care of myself too. I must find a job and a new place to live. I must take care of my kids, especially my new ones. I must organize the Walk to End Alzheimer's so it's the best walk in Western Washington. I must take care of my own health.
Mom is already gone from me. As much as I would like to think she still knows me, she really doesn't. She probably thinks that I'm just someone who shows up once in a while to visit with her. I really feel like Mom has already left me. And when the time comes for her to leave this Earth, I will feel relieved. She will be so much happier in Heaven. I will be happy knowing she is in the Arms of God.
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