ONE MOON

Tears still grace my cheeks almost daily even though it has been a month since my mother made the transition to the next existence. Sometimes it is only sniffles but other times I sob. Noise still agitates me so my door remains mostly closed at work. I shifted the deadbolt to the extended position so the door remains ajar by a half an inch. I live-stream the Sidney Public Radio classical orchestra Australian music station since their overnight show is usually mellow.

Sleeping a bit better. I occasionally procure a 5-6 hour rest but still plagued by insomnia. It’s pitiful to be tired when I am supposed to be waking up and then falling asleep at my desk at work. I have used some sick time due to exhaustion in the afternoon. I make certain that the vital tasks are completed and then venture home. I nap on the couch with the cats frequently. People have been observing that I appear “worn out.” Sorrow is brutal.

Friends are checking in less frequently. Sporadically receiving a belated condolence card. I am up to seventeen now. I have sent in the donations to Alzheimer’s Association and direct it towards research only. I don’t want the money going to other programming or administrative costs. Utilized the other funds toward gas costs. I spend about $30 for each trip to my parent’s home.

Apprehensively returned to my Dad’s home five weeks after Mum died. Cried as I passed the cemetery, filled with dread. Strange to state Dad’s house, I am accustomed to saying Mom & Dad. They were always an inseparable unit. Singular is an uncomfortable expression. Dad hated going to the doctor so Mom always feared that he would die at a young age. His family has longevity since his fraternal aunt lived to 105, mom to 97, and siblings are still alive at 99 and 97.

Arrived in the afternoon. Dad invited Betty over for supper. We looked over some of Mom’s notebooks. It was apparent that she realized that she was having memory problems nine or ten years ago. She would write over and over the names of the kids, grand-kids, and great-grandkids. She kept notes on all types of things. She always wrote a synopsis of sermons but stopped in January 2011. The arthritis in her back would hurt more during winter so she didn’t like going out in the cold. By the time she returned to church, she stopped taking notes.

Dad was very sad when he came across an envelope marked “music for my funeral.” We only sang one song Mom wanted, “How Great Thou Art.” I wish that the service would have been taped and then the version given to the family could have contained her desired songs with a montage of photos. He had diligently planned his funeral but never bothered to ask her what she wanted. Too late now.

To be continued.

Funeral plans are good.
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved

MEMORIES OF MOM

Mischievous, she delighted in the proverbial “pulling of the leg.” My mother especially liked it when someone asked for a “little” of something. She loved placing a teaspoon of ice cream in a large bowl. The extremeness of Minnesotan politeness caused the person to thank mum which made her laugh and then return with a single scoop, per the person’s request. It was her favorite joke.

July 31, 2011 was the first time we cried together about her diagnosis of Alzheimer’s. I had visited for a couple days and was packing to leave. She came into the guest room to say that I should look through her jewelry (costume, nothing expensive). “I don’t know how long I’ll have my mind,” mom stated and I burst into tears. She began to cry too. We sobbed into each other’s arms for several minutes. Oddly, it felt good to release the pain.

She had been so angry about the diagnosis two years previously and would not say the word Alzheimer. I’ve told her repeatedly that she did nothing wrong, she does not deserve to have this disease. During 2011 she began repeating herself more and only remembered about half of what occurred during the day. I’ve already written about when I cut my hair in May 2011 and she didn’t recognize me. In a way, this is worse than a terminal illness like cancer. I will be losing her twice, first her mind and then her body, which could be years later. Prolonged grief.

Mom said that she didn’t have physical pain in 2011 but not being able to remember hurt her heart. I feared that she would slip into oblivion quickly, but it was gradual. The twinkle in her eye, her personal spark, dissolved and the confused look became permanent. I hoped that she will fade into happy oblivion but she is fearful and confused in the nursing home. Her physical pain has grown and I worry that the prescription of Vicoden won’t be strong enough. It might be easier for her to be medicated into a coma. I hate to see her suffer.

I hope that a cure or vaccination for Alzheimer’s will be developed soon. I know that it is too late for my mother. I fear that my siblings, their kids, grandkids and I may carry the gene since my mother’s older sister also has the disease. I wish that the US’s National Institute of Health would provide guidelines to reduce the possibility of this awful condition. Are there herbs or supplements that I should take? Are there things that I should avoid? I am not interested in folklore but actual studies that have proven that these alternative medicines work. Somehow we are causing the gene to activate, what is causing it?

Don’t waste a day.
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved

DYSFUNCTION JUNCTION CLAN

My mother has always been a bit “flighty.” She was considered to be of lesser intelligence. My father and sisters derided this trait. I considered it a ruse because she really was smart but did not show it on purpose. My father is the domineering type and would be threatened by her brain. She submitted since she did not want a divorce like her parents.

About ten years ago my mom became absent minded. She would occasionally forget things and would be easily distracted. She was in her late 60s so no one was worried. About six years ago the condition became worse and I urged my dad to get her to a doctor. The regular doctor was an idiot and he finally took her to Mayo Clinic. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s or a related dementia in 2009.

Mom was angry and denied that the doctors could be correct. It took her almost two years to finally accept that she was “losing her mind.” Her sister has Alzheimer’s. Dad was angry that he would have to take care of her. He blamed her and was rude. He implied that she got sick on purpose. I convinced him to attend a support group and he has finally accepted the prognosis. Unfortunately, his health is becoming frailer.

I live a couple hours away and call every week or so to check in. I always offer to come down and help with whatever they need. My sister #2 lives in town but her hubby despises our parents so she doesn’t see them very much except during times of need. I haven’t had a good relationship with my sister for about a decade. Our oldest sister makes up lies about me and has managed to alienate me from the family. I get along with our parents but I don’t even attempt to contact my sisters. No matter what I say or do, its wrong.

This all came to a painful point last year. Mum hasn’t been feeling well for months. I kept urging dad to take her to the doctor to talk about exhaustion but he wouldn’t. Neglect, maybe. She stopped eating and wouldn’t get out of bed. Emergency room. Diagnosed with pneumonia. Wrong. Diagnosed with blood clots in legs and lungs. Life threatening situation. She spent three days in the hospital and was released with intensive blood thinners. Factor V diagnosis.

I spoke with dad daily and he wanted me to come down after she was released. I made the plan. My sister then called and started yelling at me. She screamed that we were “at war” and that I “hated her husband” neither of which are true. I feel apathy for her and her husband, which is probably worse than acrimony. I asked her to calm down and said that she was over-reacting. I told her that I take orders from dad not her. Oops. She screamed, “You’re an asshole.” I hung up.

With great trepidation I traveled to my parent’s home. My sister is volatile and her family has guns. I am afraid of them. I am in fear that they will shoot me. I helped my parents that afternoon and my sister came over during supper. I was grilling outside when she came out. Panic. At least I had the meat pitchfork to defend myself. She didn’t mention the horrible conversation and was almost demure. I told her again that I was there to help mom and dad with whatever they needed.

I stayed busy with grocery shopping, cleaning the bathroom, washing clothes, baking, and other chores. Mom needed help to the bathroom and bed. We had to keep her awake and entertained because she wasn’t supposed to sleep too much. She was on oxygen and that was the biggest challenge to refrain from tripping on the cord. The machine made a loud whirring noise so it was stored in the bathroom. It was a big production to get her to the clinic for a two-day check-up and determine her blood-clotting factor. It was up to 1.7 and they wanted it above 2.0.

All went well until the morning of my departure. At 4:30am mom got up to go to the bathroom. She went okay and was returning to bed when she lost her balance and feel down next to the bed. I heard a noise and went running into the room. Dad and I had been sleeping. Thankfully, she wasn’t bleeding and seemed okay. I was worried because she will bruise due to the medication and could bleed internally. I asked dad about calling the hospital and he said no. I helped mom into bed and hoped for the best.

I was too upset to sleep so I packed my gear. I waited until mom was awake at 7am and checked for bruising and tenderness where she fell. Great sigh of relief that all seemed fine. I was jittery so I departed. I was so happy to be returning to my home. I am poor, underemployed, and lonely at times but at least I feel better when away from them. I have an intense fear reaction to my siblings who are bullies. They are kryptonite to my self-esteem. They have husbands and children to back them up. I have friends but my friends would not join me for family events.

Utterly exhausting experience. I was rattled from the unrelenting stress. I knew enough not to isolate or I would fall into depression. I joined my book-club for lunch and friends for dinner. I had to talk about the trauma. I had to get it “out” and writing is helpful, too. I mourn for a positive relationship with my siblings. It pains me to be distant from them, my nieces-nephews, and grand-nieces/nephews. I am not perfect but I have done nothing to deserve this treatment. I’ve tried to mend relationship with my sisters but they won’t listen. I gave up. I might as well be an only child. It hurts to be so alone.

Family divorce needed.
Copyright © 2013 by Ima B. Musing; All rights reserved.

THE CONDITION

Provider Orders for Life Sustaining Treatment (POLST)
Do Not Resuscitate (Allow Natural Death)
Limit Interventions and Treat Reversible Conditions
Trial of Intubation, 14 days (when condition is reversible)
Antibiotics and Nutrition/Hydration only when condition is reversible
Comfort Care when the condition is terminal
Terminal, isn’t that a train station?
I’ll be transferring from this life to the ensuing experience
All aboard, I’m not afraid to di - - - drive into what’s next!

NOTE: Plan for the worst-case scenario. Contact your lawyer or check online for your state’s POLST directive. You should add it to your Will documents. Give a copy to the executor of your estate and file with the local government, if appropriate.

Period. End of Discussion.
© 2013 Ima B. Musing

EXPIRATION DATE

Sometimes I’m afraid to be alone.
What if I should fall down the stairs?
What if I should die?
How long would it take for my broken body to be discovered?
Will the cats eat me? Shall they die of dehydration?
I’ve made a Will. My best amigo is in charge.
She knows that I have a nasty family.
I feel sorry to have deserted her to their ire.
Alas, I don’t plan to choose when I expire.

POLST yourself.
© 2013 Ima B. Musing