The best day, worst day and longest day scenario

         My brother-in-law’s sister had returned home from a lesson on perspective (I think) and posted a thought about her best and worst Christmas – both which had taken place in 2005. It was a great thought, and I asked permission to share it on my blog.  She said that her understanding was that it was up for Church publication and it would be best if I did not share.  I figured when it was published in Ensign magazine, I could refer to the link.  But I don’t see any evidence of publication thus far.

         I saved a copy to my own personal files, but seem to have misplaced the ubs or it somehow got deleted or something.  I’ll find it eventually.  Meanwhile I have my own thoughts about one of the longest days of my life (starting out with a trip to the Medford Temple and ending with waiting for Greyhound)

         June 5, 2015.  What a day.  Denise and I had actually left the motel room early because she had wanted to go through the Medford Temple.  It was her main insentive for having had driven the much shorter but scarier route.  She had gone online to learn how late the temple would be open on Thursday night.  She failed to look at the hours of operation on Friday.  It was closed.  The gates were locked.  We had driven all that way and couldn’t get inside.  The temple in Medford doesn’t open until 3:00 p.m.  That seemed like the latest time that Denise would have had to leave Roseburg and be on her way to Newport. We had missed going inside.

         I had had a rental car lined up, but had cancelled believing Roland’s understanding of having someone physically take me to the address.  My main reason for being in Oregon was to secure a rental that was waiting for us outside Roseburg.  I had called the property management several times to let them know I was coming.  I was hoping that Denise would be able to drop me off at the rental and I would be able to get a ride back to Century 21 to sign the papers. 

         They didn’t get any of my messages.  We weren’t communicating at all.  I would still have to have a rental car.  What was I thinking?  I called a car rental in Medford, but they did not have anything.  They referred me to their location in Roseburg.  I thought I was all set until they called me back asking for either a major (non-debit) card and/or an Oregon driver’s license – neither of which I had.  So they had to cancel my reservation.  So I called the agency I had initially booked with.  They couldn’t find a car for me until 7:30 that night.  Property management would have been closed by then.  And it didn’t give me enough hours of sunlight that it was worth renting a car for. I can’t drive in the dark.  I decided that I would just take a bus home (originally I had wanted the plane – but the bus was a third of the cost – plus I didn’t have a way to the airport)

         Payments had to be in form of Money Order or a Courtsey check from the bank.  Oh, great.  I have two checks from a credit union that have branches in Utah and Nevada – not in Oregon.  I was frantic.  I did have a bank account number that Corey had given me.  There was a branch not far from Century 21 that I went to – but I had to open my own account and ask Corey to work with me from Las Vegas.

         The procedure seemed long.  I had a deadline for getting back to Century 21 and barely made it.  The girl who assisted acted like she had been put out.  Really?  What about me?  I had traveled three days to get there.  And then they wouldn’t accept my check.  I had to open an account.  It had been very painful.  And the day was not close to over.  Little did I know that I wouldn’t be leaving Roseburg until 2:30 the following morning!

         The location of the bus pick/up had changed.  We drove around the same street three times before Denise pulled over and I went into a sevice station to ask.  Denise hated the GPS and Siri and will probably never use again.

         She pulled up to a service station and had me go inside to make certain I’d really be able to purchase a bus ticket.  If you read my earlier post, you may recall that the bus was scheduled to come at 5:58 – but I had been told that it would be running late.  I did not share that information with Denise or Roland however as I did not want them to worry. 

         As the sun was setting, I started crying, knowing (or thinking) that Denise was still on the road and has bad night vision like I do.  I spent the last 6 hours of the fifth at the service station waiting for the bus.

         As long and horrible as I believed the day had been, there was so much that I needed to feel grateful for:

A kind sister (who was planting flowers near the gate) opened the gate to let us inside and Denise took several pictures and the sister took pictures of Denise and I sitting in front of the temple. 

Denise stayed with me.  She sacrificed several hours of being on the road.  She drove me to Roseburg to get the key and then to back to Mayberry to look at the house – which really is a nice house by the way.

Denise drove me to the bank. She waited for me for over an hour (that is what it felt like anyway) and Corey waited in line in Las Vegas to assist me with my problem.  And it worked.  We had cut it very close bringing me back to Century 21 to sign papers. 

Denise waited for me.  I had called a cab so that she could be one her way. But she chose to stay with me and take me to the bus stop.  She did not get back on the road until after 5:00.  Heavenly Father blessed me big time through both Denise and Corey.

Though the bus had been late, I did not have to wait for it alone.  Jake kept me company for the first five hours – one hour after the station was closed. I also had the protection of Heavenly Father and a good book to read.

After an 8 ½ hour wait, I hadn’t missed the bus due to falling asleep or waiting on the wrong side of the building.  I was safe.

Saying Good-Bye to Mom's Angel

I wondered which one of us (me or my brother Corey) would post about Harold first.  I came up with most of these thoughts and typed them in by 1:00 am this morning - but only drafted it as I had no title.

Last year we (my sibs and I) put mom into an assisted living program as she was in need of 24/7 care.  This time last year she was trying to escape.  She wore her coat and carried her purse and would walk around the doors and windows of the facility – looking for a way out.  She wasn’t happy there – not all the time anyway.

By mid April, mom had accepted her new home and was reading everything she could get her hands on.  She didn’t retain anything.  But she did read.

I don’t think it was until May when she developed an attraction to Harold and soon the two became inseparable.  I find it interesting that Corey created this post on June 3.  Mom has a boyfriend.  And just one month later I created this post indicating that he was not.  Depending on her mood.

Actually, I don’t ever recall mom referring to Harold as her boyfriend.  That was more from our point of view.  It really depended on mom’s mood and the turn of events that took place each day.

Harold had known that mom was diabetic and was not supposed to have sugar.  And some days he’d scold her or strongly advice against satisfying her “sugar eating desire” Those were the days when she would not even acknowledge Harold as a friend.  He became “that guy” – an intrusive resident. 

Other days (I’m finding in most cases) mom was infatuated so much that she would rather remain in the company of Harold than to have to leave him in order to visit with one of us.  Corey lovingly wrote this post about feeling like “second fiddle” – but not really.  It did seem somewhat comical at times.

In the beginning, Harold was just “an old man – old enough to be mom’s father” or so she’d say.  I figured there were probably a good number of years between them – nothing that drastic however.  I had asked Harold his age and learned it was a twelve-year difference.  The same as with my sister and her husband.

By August mom was beaming while telling people about her friend, Harold.  In her mind they were only five years apart.  I find it interesting that her mind had gone from one extreme to another in only two months.  For each month she lived there, she fully believed it had been another year.

Harold was quite bent over.  For the most part when I saw him, he was wearing blue scrubs.  He was very positive and always wore a smile on his face.  He and my mom were so very happy to have one another.  Funny how they never sat together for meals.  Except for mealtime, rarely was one ever seen without the other.

On September first, after mom was found upon the floor and rushed to the hospital, the staff told Harold to get rid of all of his candy.  Harold blamed himself for mom’s condition.  But it wasn’t his fault.  A few fun-sized candy bars would not have made her blood count go that high.  Two truckloads of candy would probably not have made her blood sugar go that high.

We thought she would die in the hospital.  Harold had made arrangements for one of his sons to bring him to the hospital to see her.  He was all decked out in suit and tie.  He came in to visit with mom and held her hand and talked to her with his loving voice. 

Mom didn’t wish to die in the hospital.  She wanted to return to the assisted living.  She lay in her room in a hospital bed and Harold would come to visit – knowing she would pass.  He was ever so gentle with her.  He loved her. And she him.

When he wasn’t in her room, he would visit with Joh and tell him things about his relationship with my mom.  Joh said it was my mom’s desire for she and Harold to wed and maybe have a child together.  Harold had reminded her that they both had spouses already.

At the funeral he rushed to the casket for one last good-bye.  I had never seen Harold move so quickly.  It was also the straightest I had ever seen his posture.

After she died, Harold tried to return to living without her.  He wanted to smile and help with the residents the way he had before.  And he did . . . for a while.  But in time the smile faded.  He missed mom!  There was no doubt about it.

Corey would call him.  Kayla and I would visit on occasion.  Jenna and I would take the bus.  We may have stopped when we no longer had bus passes.  But I would write to him and call him and let him know we would come see him when the weather cleared.

I thought we could go during Jenna’s Valentine/Presidents Day holiday – unfortunately she got sick.  And I am currently with my annual February sinus infection.  I planned to call him when my head cleared.  I guess there’s no sense in calling.  His daughter-in-law called me and told me that Harold is now on hospice.  That is a good thing really. 

The last two times that Jenna and I did visit was heart breaking.  Harold seemed so bent to the floor that it appeared his head was nearly in alignment with his feet.  He was banged up in different places each time we would visit.  He had taken I don’t know how many spills.  He would walk us to the door but he had slowed down.  But he’s going to be whole again pretty soon.  And he will finally be able to meet dad.  He and mom can have a reunion and the two couples can have a party.  It will be great!

I’m sorry that Harold declined so much after my mom passed.  I am sorry he became so sad.  He really didn’t enjoy living there.  And now he won’t have to anymore.  Thank you, Harold, for befriending mom and for allowing her to experience the joy.  May you share some great moments in the afterlife as well.

My Life as a Ball

My body is sooooo sore and has been for a few days.  I feel like I’ve been used as a ping-pong ball by two very expertise players.  But of course I could never be used as a ping-pong ball.

A bowling ball maybe.  And not one of those shiny ones that glide smoothly down the lane to shatter pins.

I would be one of those dust collectors that has a flaw so that there is no speed involved whatsoever.  Or perhaps I feel like the pin that has been hit over and over.

Beach balls, though big, are light and airy and can pop quite easily.  I am thin-skinned and have cut my fingers peeling back egg shells (on occasion)

I could never be a basketball or rubber ball or super ball.  I have no bounce – though I may have had at one time.  I’ve long since outgrew my ability to bounce.

I suppose I could be a soccer ball that’s been kicked too many times

Or pool ball that’s been poked and prodded. 

You ever experience body pain a few days after you’ve come down with a cold?  You ache all over. That is how I feel – except no cold.  At least not in the body.

It’s been below freezing - in most of the nation it seems.  I think that has contributed to my soreness – along with my unstable bed and body weight.  Plus I haven’t been walking to the bus stop on a daily basis.  I haven’t been trudging through snow or climbing.

The air is gunky right now.  I don’t want to go outside and get that in my lungs.  I suppose I could walk in place within the house.  I’d rather take a bath in Ben Gay.

I could be a medicine ball.  Heavy.  Kind of soft.  I don’t think I’m therapeutic however.

I should work at being an exercise ball and assist others if not myself.

Tomorrow we get our new bed base.  I think that will help ease the pain.

Indefinitely

My brothers Patrick and Corey have each taken a leave of absence from their jobs.  Since she fell, all four of mom’s children have been spending several hours with her – though I’m quite certain that I have given her the least. I am the only one of her children who has not stayed the night.  (She had requested that she not be left alone)

Patrick was with her all day Sunday – the first day of the month.  And Kayla and I were there on Labor Day.  I spent eight hours on Tuesday and Thursday.  Unfortunately I think she was alone on Wednesday from morning til mid afternoon.

I had gone to a funeral that day.  I’d gone to the hospital afterward but mom was in emergency surgery.  The doctors were trying to save her legs.  I had to go get Jenna before the surgery was over.  But other family members had arrived when mom returned from surgery to her hospital room.

She was full of conversation and smiles according visiting with family members.  She talked about the summer party and the sunset that they all saw.  Everyone said they had a really good visit.  Sunny told me that I should return. 

Jenna and I left the house on Wednesday but traffic was horrible. I didn’t return to the hospital until Thursday.  She had many visitors that day.  I did mention that on this post

Thursday night she was moved to a larger room.  All four of her children gathered around her on Friday morning and we had fun.  She smiled. Laughed.  We made plans.  When Corey asked her favorite hymn, she mischievously said that it was a secret.

We were told she would be in her hospice room for 48 hours.  But the social worker was concerned about whether we’d be able to move her during the weekend.  She really did want to go home. Perhaps it would be better to transfer her to Alpine Ridge on a weekday.  Friday.  And so it was done.  Kayla and I were with her at the hospital until she was moved.  And Corey and Patrick met her at Alpine Ridge.

She hasn’t eaten over a week now.  Her breath is slow and raspy.  Her pulse goes up and down.  She is still hanging on.  And the staff at Alpine Ridge (actually, it’s Alta Ridge) has been so good to us.  They love my mom.  They want for all of us to be comfortable. 

Last night I took some Aleve.  My back has been hurting and I have not slept well. All the ideas that I had for posts have vanished – at least the ones in my head.  There were some drafts that I was able to post.  There are some thoughts that I saved into documents.  All else not written down has disappeared.  I am numb.

Kayla, who is normally a rock, is an emotional wreck.  And I, who always produces more tears than Alice (from Wonderland) am a pillar for a change.  Though the events have made both Kalya and I somewhat flakey.  I think Patrick is ready to move the both of us in as mom’s room becomes available.  

Corey and Joh decided it would be okay if none of mom's children spent last night as they both believed that there were plenty from the other side who were with her. They were still with her when we arrived this morning and watched mom fight for her last breath. I would have posted this entry to my blog this afternoon had my keyboard been working.  My mom has since passed.  I hope that she’s dancing with daddy.

Still Waiting

Kayla and Corey spent Thursday night at the hospital with mom.  And on Friday morning all of her children surrounded her and enjoyed conversation – especially when mom would laugh at just the right moment as though she was laughing at our jokes, but sometimes it just felt like she was really listening to someone outside of our presence.

Corey asked mom if she had a favorite hymn.  She responded that it was a secret. She must have been conversing with someone on the other side.  Perhaps a suggestion had been made: “They are planning your funeral.  Can you believe it?  We should just make your pulse count go higher.  You outlive the two weeks you’ve been given.  We’ll show them”

Mom was laughing. It would make for a great final memory.  Her pulse went up. She spends most of the day just sleeping.  We can get her to drink sometimes but she won’t eat anything.  Hospice designed for making loved ones as comfortable as possible.  She was not comfortable wearing the oxygen tube and so we had it removed. She looks quite peaceful when she’s sleeping. 

Some of our conversation went a bit like this (though mine and Corey’s words are actual, the others are imagined)

Me:       So how long are you staying

Corey:    I can stay indefinitely

Angel:    Did you hear that?

Mom:     Coery is such a good son.

Angel:     He said “indefinitely” Do you want to test him?

Mom (smiling): That would be kind funny.

Her pulse went up and they have moved her back to Alpine Ridge where she will spend her final days. It almost felt like a cruel joke - though a joke she would have never gone along with, as she has never been one to toy with people’s emotions.  It’s highly probably that Joh may have to return to Vegas before mom passes on.

It would not be a very nice thing if Corey stayed for thirty days or so and return to Las Vegas and then return for the funeral. Mom wanted to return to Alpine Ridge before she returns to dad.  I will take Jenna to Alpine Ridge this morning.

Why Women Leak

         Actually, I don’t know why women leak.  We just do.  Perhaps not all women, but many of us.

Whenever we feel sadness or sorrow, compassion or joy, empathy or misconduct, our eyes tear up and flood our face. Whenever our child (or children) is hurting, we feel their pain.  Whenever we see a movie or read a book that reaches into our hearts and connects to our tear ducts.  Whenever our hormones happen to be on overdrive (or overload?) Whenever we feel misunderstood.

I have cried at the end of Toy Story 3, Despicable Me, and E.T. (to name a few) I wept through Alabama Moon and The Odd Life of Timothy Green.  I need an entire box of tissues each time I watch “Up” and I refuse to watch “The Notebook” ever again.  I’ve cried when reading Children’s books such as “The Robot and The Bluebird” by David Lucas or “You are Mine” by Max Lucado.  I cried during parts of “The One and Only Ivan” by Katherine Applegate and stories such as Monkeys and the Mangos (which has many versions).  

Tear ducts seem to be attached to the heart strings except in the case of chopping onions – that produces tears in which the heart is not involved.  Roland and Jenna can both seem to chop onions without tearing up. Jenna laughs when I chop onions.

Last night I cried during an episode of “Chopped” for crying out loud.  To me it just feels pretty silly to cry at the end of reality show.  What a dweeb. The female chef had burned herself and her competitor who claims he was arrogant and had stepped on others to climb to the top had made amends . . . and offered to pay for her plane ticket out of his winnings.

We’re a sorry case, I suppose.  But we’re also awesome at being able to feel.

A Complete Turn-Around

Over two weeks ago I created this post about my continuing struggle with mom and her childish behavior – which is still there – but now in a more positive light.

It was just four days ago when I posted about taking mom to the eye doctors.  It was the day that I left a sign in her room which she now reads on a daily basis and applies it to her life.  I am so completely happy with the results – as we all are – or at least all who have visited during the four days.

Mom is more than just content.  She is happy.  Her conversations with each of us have included involvement and the pluses for living at Alpine Ridge and how going “home” would not be a wise thing – after the entire house would be empty – if it still exists.

It is easier for Corey to hide his smile behind the phone than it is for me to prevent the silent giggle in person.  She told Corey that she gets three meals a day and “they’re all free.  They don’t charge us a thing.”

 

I remember having “free” things when I was a kid and quite surprised about the billing system and credit cards that took that “free” magic away.  Of course mom will never see the bills or would remember that they do indeed exist.  I suppose she actually could make resident of the month now.  What a complete turn around.  What an incredible change in her behavior.  Gosh – wish we would have all thought to try this sooner.  Wish we would have hung the sign up along with the pictures the day she moved in.

She reads the sign to everybody.  She didn’t make it.  She doesn’t know who did.  But there it is and now it’s a part of her.  She is safe and she is at home.  And she seems to have lost any desire she had to even want to escape.

She told me that she doesn’t even go outside anymore.  But she does.  There are scenic tours scheduled to take place at least twice a week.  At least once a month there is a special outing.  This month they went to the planetarium.

“See, there you are by the moon.” I pointed to a picture.

“Oh, yes.  And I pushed that man in his wheel chair.”

Mom always has assignment for pushing somebody.  Mom is fine physically.  She can walk on her own, shower on her own (though she needs a reminder that she needs to take a shower) and can still answer questions on subjects that were learned before high school.  Sometimes she forgets names but sometimes she remembers. 

I am so grateful to see my mom participate and be happy and can finally allow me leave the facility with an understanding that I’ll be back.  And it’s okay.  She’s where she belongs, and she’s accepted that.