Booby-trap

I felt like a wall hit me....a wall of pain....when I opened the door to my parent's house.

I fought to get by it.....then stood in their family room. How could they both be dead? And dead so soon? Not even 90 days have passed since dad's stroke....and they are gone. I can still see their faces, especially my father's.....I can still see us holding hands...and watching TV in his room or going outside to listen to the wind chimes and watch the birds.

All this stuff.....the pictures...the slippers under the couch...the books....the coffee...the microwave.....all belong to people who don't exist anymore.

35 years in this house.....35 years of life and living and memories and it's gone. The lamp they placed on the end table is no longer the lamp my dad liked but just a lamp. The couch from the old outdoor porch is just a couch....the clothes....are just clothes... not the favorite comfy jacket or the warm hat. The people that bought these things, cherished these things...loved these things are gone ...so everything .....even things I know ....feel aloof and alien. My mother's recliner is not my mother's recliner....it has all become past tense...it was her recliner not is her recliner.

I am not doing so well up here... I don't want to poke or clean or go through the house. I often find myself sitting on the bed...or just staring into a room....forcing the idea into myself that both my parents are gone. I wish I could turn my house keys into someone and just walk away....but all this stuff demands attention.....and now even if it's alien stuff....it's my stuff.

I guess it's the last thing I will do for my parents. The distribution of the things they lived with...and cherished. It's so final.....and so disorienting to realize the stuff they loved and cherished is nothing without them.....it's like dealing with a million skeletons.

I'm glad I'll only be up here for a few more days. But I will have to come back ...and stay here a while and move things along.

Maybe it will be easier next time.

the week after.

I lived the week after mom's death like I was flicking a light switch.

I turned the switch on and went to work and oriented the new person who took my position. I smiled at people, laughed.......tried to download the information about my job to my replacement...even felt grateful to be among familiar people who would give me bear hugs.

I'd leave work ...get in the car and turn the switch off.....then I was quiet....exhausted....sad.

The last two months have gone so slowly and so fast at the same time.....heartbreak....pain....they slow the clock down so even a second feels like a year......business...all the financial and legal business....I start making phone calls, pulling out the calculator...look up and hours have flown by.

Today.....trouble....dad is coughing, exhuasted, wincing in pain. He has entered the hospice program....I can not believe it maybe time to go through this again....it has arrived so quickly....time is moving slow again.
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Another ending......

I sat in the car on this windy cold spring night and rested my head on the steering wheel.

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"Ouch"

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In a week full of ouches....I could hardly believe there was one more to feel...actually I was surprised I was capable of feeling any more.

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My mom's minor leg infection...started a cascade of medical events....and after a conference with all her doctors midweek....we decided to make her a hospice patient.

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My dad suffered the massive stroke.....and is paralyzed and unable to speak....but my mom started sliding medically downhill also in the last couple of weeks.

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It is heartbreaking....with a capital H...to visit and interact with them.

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No matter how hard I try to keep myself a float....I hit the exit door of their facility....and feel a knife ripping through me.

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Tonight.....I had to run into work....a place I have ignored for weeks....to empty my desk and shove the few decorations I have in a box...so the next manager, who will replace me, can begin with a clean slate Monday morning.

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There's no way I can work right now....but still....running into the store in my jeans in the evening....reminded me of the many times I ducked into work in my grubbies....to finish a project or read emails....or get a head start on my week or even catch a little end-of-the-week gossip.

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My office mate was there tonight....and so was his sandwich.

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Months ago....he left a sandwich wrapped in plastic from the cafe on his desk. I'd watch the thing week after week...thinking ...damn....we put too many peservatives in our food.

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One day....I couldn't resist...I poked the sandwich to see if it was getting squishy....but it wasn't soft....it was hard.....it was also made of wax. I actually felt relieved we weren't selling sandwiches with a 100 year shelf life. I thought for a second about chucking it in my memento box.....but couldn't figure out if that would be considered employee theft....I'm sure somewhere in some company booklet there's a..."thou shall not covet and remove thy office buddy's wax food" clause.

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As I walked down the aisle towards the exit, juggling my memento box, I could hardly believe I've worked at the store for 7 years...or that I worked as a manager these last 8 months....the place and people seemed so far away.....so other worldly....I wondered if I was making my employement history up.

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At customer service....I hugged employees...smiled at a familiar customer......but felt disjointed and removed.....the type of feeling you have at a reunion where you hug people you have known but at the same moment realize how far you've traveled without them.

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And I have a done a lot of traveling in the last few weeks....

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yes...literally....between here and Chicago.....but also in myself....in my very core.

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Whatever rough edges I have and have had....have been beaten smooth.......

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when you watch two people you love... struggle and hurt each day.....trust me you feel beaten.....but oddly enough......it's not a negative message that comes pounding down on your head.....but rather a lesson....that's weighs on you.........something about kindness......about how unnecessary ....grudges...meanness.... objectification is ....in your dealings with people.

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Every day I go someplace and say something like....I'm doing this or that or not doing this or that because I have ill parents...and someone says to me.....oh I've been there....oh my sister is dealing with that....oh my son was ill.....my daughter was....my husband.....and I look at these people and go damn.....everyone has their struggles beyond their public persona.....and I look back and feel like a jackass for all the times I've been insensitive.....or missed chances to be thoughtful..

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So my career as a manager ends tonight.....and tomorrow I will get beaten up again.....and the universe will tell me to be kinder and better....

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and I just wonder.....

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where I am going and what will happen next.

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tough peasant stock

I walked into my parent's room a few days ago and found my mother slumped in her chair. Her head hung down....saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth.....she didn't respond when I called her name.

I ran out into the hallway and yelled for a nurse.

Two aides came running towards the room to help... we placed my mother in her bed. I called my hub and simply said, "Please come."

I thought she had another stroke....the unresponsiveness...her loose jaw...the yellow-gray of her skin....all added up.

The nurse asked if I wanted to call the doctor ...an ambulance or did I just want to sit with her. She has a do not resuscitate order as per her living will......but I could override it.

"We'll stay with her," I said....my hand went over my heart to control the emotional pain....I imagined something would happen to my father first....not my mother.

My hub came and we sat around her bed. Her breathing rate dropped....her heart rate slowed.

There was a moment..... a very long minute ....when her chest didn't rise and she looked so pale.....I started crying.....after all the trouble of the last couple weeks I still wasn't ready for this.

My mother gasped and then gulped for air......which is not uncommon near death......she gasped again and one more time......and then started breathing ....regularly.

In a couple minutes......her eyes fluttered open....she tried to lift her head......then her lips trembled...she struggled to say something.

"I..... need......."

"I need......."

"What mom...what do you need?"

She took a few deep breaths.......she raised her head again and looked at me.

"I need.....a toothpick."

"What?"

She laid back and closed her eyes then put her finger to her mouth.

"I need a toothpick"

I felt like someone hit me with a wet sandbag.....my knees buckled....I sat down in the chair so I wouldn't fall over.

"Right here"......her finger pulled her lower lip down and she showed me her teeth. "Something's here....I need a toothpick."

"I don't have a toothpick Mom." I felt this crazy exasperation....I don't carry toothpicks....there's none in the room.....and who knew the need for a toothpick could bring a person back from the other side.

"I need a toothpick."

"Do you have one?" I asked Hub. He looked startled too and shook his head.

"I'll bring one tomorrow....maybe you can just brush your teeth now."

"Okay" she said......as if we had been sitting around the dinner table and the need for a toothpick just came up.

We sat for a while....she asked for juice and water.....a blanket.....finally the startled aides returned and said they would get her ready for bed.

I kissed her forehead.... said good night.....drew the curtain back which separated my parent's beds.

My father glanced at her....."She's fine dad...she just needed a toothpick"

He raised his hand up.....a kind of.....well of course she needs a toothpick ...gesture.

I left the room....and headed for the door. I was so shell-shocked I couldn't remember the electronic code to exit. I kept punching the key pad and getting my # and my * confused.

When I reached my convertible.....I was too weak to open the door and drapped myself over the hood.

Did this really happen?

Did I really just find my mother unresponsive and close to death ....and then she perks up and asks for a toothpick?

I shook my head....this whole event went into the "I can't believe this " column ...which is getting mighty long.

"I need...."

"I need a drink," I said to myself.
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More.....

I am sitting here waiting for my phone to charge.

I will need it today.

I woke up....and for the first time in many weeks actually slept through the night. Although there is much stress with my parent's condition....I visit once or twice a day....my family visits also..... we have an eye on them in terms of their care and comfort. Everything is easier to handle when you are at home in your familiar surroundings.

I even had a chance to sit with my parent's cat for a while this morning...she is recovering in our bathroom. We had her spayed and declawed....she lived mostly in a cage by my mother's recliner in the den....a choice showing my mom's deteriorating mental status rather than true cruelty.

She doesn't know much about being a cat or getting lots of love and attention....so we decided to give her a chance in our household....I sat down on the plush carpet near the sink and she curled up on me and purred..... I felt happy and hopeful that there was a small part of the world coming together.

Then the phone rang....and the nurse from the nursing home called to talk to me. "We believe your mother had a slight stroke this morning."

"My mother?"

"Yes....it's mild but she is having difficulty using her right hand....and is wobbly on her feet. Her vitals are stable, we called the doctor."

I sat for about 5 minutes...trying to digest this....my mother had a small stroke.

I visited her late last night...she was already in bed and I tucked her in and kissed her....fully realizing our role reversal....me leaning over to kiss her good night....me tucking her in bed.

Her dementia may have been caused by multiple small strokes...this episode....might be a bigger manifestation of smaller events which have happened over the last couple years.

Still I am in awe at the slippery complicated slope we are on......

how everything is cascading....how there's no plateau yet....just new challenges to face.

A few more minutes.....a bit more charge in the cell.....and off I go.
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Crossing the threshold.............

I feel like I've crossed some type of threshold the last few weeks.....like my heart and soul and character have moved into a new place.

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I often feel I've had some type of Bar Mitzvah.....where I've walked over to the podium and proclaimed to the world that I am now an adult.....a particular type of adult.....an adult that has passed through bonding and babies and is now dealing with endings and dying.

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I feel the circle of life in a unique way.....I am responsible for my children....and I am responsible for my parents.

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I sense time and generations.

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I am acutely aware that I span two different shores.....that I have seen and known my children's great grandparents.....and that my own children are forming bonds that may lead to marriage and babies of their own.

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I have an intense desire to remember and write down what I've seen and heard....because as my father's breathing worsens and his body thins with only tube feedings....I am fully aware his voice is gone... and I am the only one left to write down who he was and what he did with his life.

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It feels like such a solemn responsibility.....to gather the details....to spin the stories.....to push what I know of him forward to his grandchildren and perhaps their children.

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I can see how you lose generations.

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How so little can move forward on one level and how much moves forward on another.

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Tonight my hub scraped my dad's inner cheeks for his DNA....for a piece of his code.... for genealogy testing.

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Dad was always fascinated by these tests and I realized if we didn't do this now.....we would lose a portion of who we are.

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This place I am in now.... feels a bit sacred.....I have reached a point....where I can sense the basics of wisdom.....I can look in each direction and see the feelings, trials and challenges of both the young and the old.

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There should be some kind of ceremony for arriving at this point....some kind of feather you could wear in your hair or tattoo to mark you.....some party you should give for yourself to celebrate surviving and morphing into a bridge between generations.

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I only pray that I am a strong bridge....like the beautiful ones I crossed in the Bay area of California....graceful....strong ....but able to sway and dance with wind.

Damn....I feel so grown up.

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A change of Positions.....

My parents house is dark and quiet except for the little orange night light on the kitchen table.

There's a couple of inches of fresh white fluffy snow .....creating this insulated.....womb-like feeling.....around the house.

My dad's wind chimes play sweetly outside the window......such pretty music seems to belong to summer instead of a cold winter night.

My parent's made it....they are safe and sound in a facility near my house....but my dad is not very responsive.....talk of physical therapy and speech therapy maybe just talk....not reality.

My dad is aware of people for short periods of time during the day ...he squeezes my hub's and son's hands.....and tries to say something with a mouth that will not obey him.

My mother is bored and wants to take a "streetcar" home....she has two quarters in her purse and constantly tries to bum another quarter from the staff so she can hit the road.

I feel like a thousand pound weight has been lifted off my shoulders....now that my parents are secure...but there is still so much to do .....with the house .....and the stuff of 40 years.....that I curl up mentally and wonder if it will all be settled some day.

I'll be here for a couple more days before I head down south....their finances ....such a mess I need a few more business days to visit banks and other financial institutions.

I have spent the entire day de-trashing my parent's kitchen....but I'm only half done .....with many more cabinets to explore.

My parents saved everything. In a dainty tea cup, I found my mom's hospital admission ID bracelets from 6 years ago......a large coffee mug stored every extra button from every blouse or shirt for years........6 giant soup ladles and 10 casserole dishes were cramped in another cabinet...even though my mother never cooked.

I talked to my cousin in Tampa, Florida tonight. She called my mother frequently.....between my story of my parents and other people's stories of my parents.....I am beginning to piece together who they were and how they lived their life...you would think a child would know their parents.....but that's not always the case.

My cousin tells me my mom cried and told her I never called and visited her.....I tell my cousin how my mother in two years never phoned me and how she told me not to visit her.....My cousin says my mother wondered why I hated her.... I tell my cousin I wonder why my mother hated me.....

I visit a friend of my parents to update her on their status..... she grabs my hand and tells me she has kept a secret for my mother for many years.

"You know your mom and I have been friends since kindergarten."

"Yes yes..."

"Well I'm going to be 88 in March"

I'm not sure why she is telling me this....until a bell rings and the logic part of my brain says....if my mother and her friend attended kindergarten together they are the same age.

"You're 88????"

"Yes ......and so is your mother."

"What?"

"But all her records say she's 80......all her documents say the same birth year."

"Your mother was clever and fixed them. This was before computers....you could hide things. She never wanted you or anyone to know your father had married an older woman. That's why you're an only child....your mother had you late in life."

"But...but...so what if she is older?"

"It was important to her..... even your own family kept quiet about it."

My mother 88 years old.

She looks damn good.....and always has......

I'm confused but.... it explains a lot.....my mother's constant irrational fear my dad would leave her for a younger woman....the thousands of jars of face creams......a basement full of exercise machines before any one had exercise machines.

My cousin warns me I will find out a lot of things about my parents.....she is ten years older than I am.....and perhaps knows more........there's a long pause between us .......she adds nothing.

It seems like my parents and I have switched places....they are safe and secure now......and I am the one who is disoriented and faltering.
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Hoping to see the light.........

I'm sitting here with a knot in my stomach.

It's going to be here for another 9 hours.

At 4:30 in the morning, I placed my parents....in a creamsicle orange and white ambulance and sent them 700 miles south to a nursing facility near my house.

My dad was discharged from the hospital on Tuesday and within 24 hours of being in a skilled nursing facility.....he was taken to the emergency room because he pulled his feeding tube out and later was found on the floor less than an hour after he returned to his room.

Scared and angry....and fearing the facility ....not the consequences of his stroke would kill him.....I called the social worker at a nursing home we eventually wanted to settle my parents in and pleaded with him.....find a way to get my parents down now.

Hours later.....there was a plan..... I grabbed my purse, my cellphone, my keys and my dog and drove back to Chicago.

I went to the each of my parent's facilities and signed papers and told my parents about the arrangement---an ambulance ride, a good facility near my home....and they could be together again.... share the same room. After 60 years of marriage.....I felt this was important and vital to their care and well-being.

They seemed happy.....my dad laughed when I told him he was headed down south....and my mom....well... she just wanted to be near my dad.

When the ambulance pulled away in the dark and rain.....I cried as I waved goodbye.....I cried because I hoped they would have a safe journey and because I have pulled them away from the city they were born in....the house they lived in....and the few friends they still have.

But even camped out here at their house, I found I couldn't manage the situation. I didn't know the area, the facilities, the reputations.....I didn't have connections....and Chicago is so big....I felt like I was a broker in an impersonal elderly meat market.....where there are thousands of little old folks like my parents.....needing help....needing care.....with scattered families.....and small sad stories.

I pulled them away but I also pulled them into something....a community.....which holds me and my family...our connections....and a solid university system ....to manage their health care.

My hub and son will meet them when they arrive .....I'll stay up here for a few days.....and begin to settle their house and estate.

I'll bring their TV and some small furniture down....and in a couple more weeks I'll haul down their favorite easy chairs....the pictures which hung on their bedroom walls .. the god-awful mechanical singing birds my mother seems to adore.....my dad's radio.

It is the beginning of a plan....my feeble attempt to stabilize their lives and mine............I feel an odd kinship to people who have gone through an earthquake.....oh the longing for the ground to be stable and for everything to stop shaking.

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