Sometimes it's just another day

No I don't subscribe to the whole Mother's Day being a Hallmark Holiday. However, sometimes it *is* just another day.

Last year we took Mom to Rusty Scupper for Mother's Day Brunch. Mother's Day was a big thing to her. Let's be honest: any day where she got flowers and candy and taken out to eat was a big thing to her. Last year Robert lived here.

This year Mom is gone. This year Robert is in Virginia working and with the price of gasoline I can easily see him not coming to visit. This year Montana is apparently (at least according to the ex) too busy all day long to call.

This year it's just another day.

Yesterday we did our out-to-eat at The Cheesecake Factory. That way we're not fighting the crowds today. Yesterday we did our visit to The Mall in Columbia, again so we're not fighting the crowds today. Jon and I are both rather pragmatic. On present days we simply take each other to go purchase what we wish. He has taught me that part of the joy is in watching me pick and choose. Of the plunder yesterday were a great pair of canvas peep toe sling back sandals, a bright red purse, and some rather lovely pieces of silver jewelry.

Today I am working on organizing the garb and turning Mom's old room into the garb room. Today I am moving around her furniture: some to stay in the room to be used, some to be moved to other places in the house. Today I am going through her jewelry another time to find homes for some of it and through her pictures to get them sent to friends and family.

Just another day.

********

I took that photo last year on Mother's Day of Rusty Scupper.

Whatever happened to ????

I have to wonder whatever happened to customer service. I see it in so many different little ways, where we - as the customer - should be grateful to be helped.

However, I'm finding in the land of donated items it's worse.

Mother had an odd request: before her death, she had requested her clothing, shoes, etc be donated to AmVets. Attempting to honor that request, I sent an email to the AmVets website with an explanation that my mother - a Korean era Army Veteran - had requested her personal items be donated with them and that she had quite a few nice items.

I received an impersonal email stating to call ###-###-####. I called. I go through the schpiel again. I am interrupted to be informed that they won't have a truck available until sometime in June.

June? oooookkaaaayy. So I think, well - maybe a Veterans Affiliated donation place would work eh? What about Purple Hearts?

They have never returned my call. Yes I left the schpiel.

What about the Vietnam Vets place in Silver Spring? Well I emailed them because the online request for pickup gives a server error. They were supposed to acknowledge if they were available for pickup this Thursday. That's their scheduled date in this area but you just never know.

I have yet to hear from them either.

Seeing as how she had over 15 bags full of shoes, bags and coats and other sundry items in EXCELLENT shape and that I would just LOVE to donate, you would think I could find someone who would come get them? Maybe someplace to tell me where I can even drop them off?

Apparently not. Apparently free items are just a bit too much effort.

Her garb is not up for donation - it is already promised at her request - to the MS Prepare For Faire Sale. I will say this; if I don't hear from the last Vets place this week, I'll catch Cyd and see if our local MS chapter is interested.

*******

the photo was taken July 4, 2007 when a storm system came though.

Baby steps

I have a ton of different blog ideas roaming my brain but the urge to put them down just isn't there at the moment. I'm hoping the ideas stay until the desire to blog returns. If not then perhaps others will fill the vacuum.

I'm not certain how much of this apathy is the turmoil of the last 6 months and how much is the fact that my favorite blogging platform just isn't available at the moment. For those who know Harold, you remember he isn't fond of angst and being the picky muse he is, he decamps when I'm feeling emotionally out of sorts. For those who know Yahoo 360, well you know that it is all but dead in the water at the moment. Perhaps the new platform will renew a spark.

Baby steps: I think I have most of the paperwork surrounding Mom's estate taken care of save for a possible life insurance policy. Fortunately it was more simple in ways that I had assumed it would be. The years of contributing increasing amounts to Mother's expenses (as well as providing room and board gratis) is not without a tiny reward. Something about providing funeral home expenses being a tier 1 expense --- which translates to we pay ourselves first. Sadly there's not even enough to do that. Then again, I didn't step up for possible reward. It's just what you do.

We're also doing the slow conversion of 'her' room into the garb room. Don't get me wrong, Mom will still have her place on her dresser but I'll be moving the renfaire things from the other room to 'hers'. That will free my guest bedroom. Now to attempt to find a donation place to come get her things and hold her faire items for the MS Prepare for Faire sale. Bulk pickup is today.

Baby steps.

There is a blog in here somewhere about what it's like to be an empty nester for the first time in my life; to have a string of days where I don't have to check in on someone, where I don't have to bank sick days for another's potential illnesses. Perhaps another day.

******

the photo above is of The Wharf Rat in Fells Point (Baltimore) taken during the Pirate Invasion/Privateer Day this year. A good friend of mine held a toast to Granny here. As The Wild Granny was Keeper Of The Rum, we had a rum toast. She would've approved.

Happy Easter

What a different Easter this one is.

Last year I had Robert and Mom for here for Easter. I remember trying to find things that Mom would want to eat (picky eater) and listening to her remember back when we colored dozens of eggs for the kids to hide ... Easters on the farm, Easters back in Newkirk.

This year it's just Jon and myself. This is my first holiday without Mom. Yes that sounds strange but Mom never had husbands -- or inlaws -- for very long so holidays revolved around making her feel welcome and not alone. Especially as an adult, holidays were held at my house and yes Mom was always in attendence.

Jon did suggest going out to eat but I need to see who/what I am when I'm not tayloring holiday meals around someone who doesn't like pasta, doesn't like scalopped potatoes, doesn't like ham . This year for Easter it's ham, macaroni and cheese (homemade thankyouverymuch), green beans, salad, and carrot cake and to be very strange, part of this morning will be spent at the gym.

OK so it's different - yes I realize that - but it *is* a start.

**the picutre was taken last year @ Easter and you'll notice we had a bit of a snowstorm. This year it's forecasted for flurries but I don't see that happening ......

The mist of dreams

or perhaps in the midst of dreams?

In coming to grips with my mother's passing, I find at times I'm coping so much better than expected and at other times not coping at all.

Yes it's difficult to write that even now.

For the first week I felt so very fragile that Jon was basically concerned about leaving me alone for more than a few moments. It was a new feeling to me. Fragile. I'm never fragile nor have I ever been.

Thankfully that feeling has passed.

In its wake though are the strangest forms of dreams. Most revolve around me having to convince my mother she truly is dead. Her reply is always the same "Stephanie you are so full of shit your eyes should've been brown." Tacky tacky but a favorite phrase she used to use on me when I was a child. So I tell her repeatedly that no I held her hand while she slipped away and I watched her stop breathing and I even checked her carotid pulse to see if/when it stopped. At that point she always (in my dream) tells me "You just don't know what you're talking about." (said quite sarcastically - again another favorite of hers). So I argue with her and finally tell her she's in a box on her dresser in her room and I'll just take her in there to show her.

And -- in the dream -- I do. And when I see the box her reflection in the mirror is gone.

Then I wake up.

They're not quite as startling as one would think -- especially from a veteran of nightmares and night terrors. Typically one would also think that this means she's still roaming about ... I don't think so.

I think this is really *me* trying to convince myself she's gone. For one thing most of the sarcasm wasn't directed at me at the last --- she was quite frightened and I was literally her life preserver. That meant she tempered her temper with me. Also the Mom of my dreams is the visage from about 3 years ago ... right about the time she moved out here. Back when she was vibrant and full of life.

Maybe I want so very badly to remember that time that my dreamworld is reminding me it's not the case.

Maybe I'm just not quite ready to let go - even though I know I should, even though I know it's time, even though I know she is finally at peace.

the photo above was taken spring of 2006 from the Clipper City Clipper Ship cruise Jon and I took. It's of the lights in Baltimore Inner Harbor as we returned back. Mom didn't go on that cruise because she was afraid of being that long without extra oxygen and by the time the next one came around she was too ill to go anymore.

The long night's journey into day

It is amazing the changes that just a few days can make in your life.

Mom passed away yesterday afternoon. She had appeared to be making a rally attempt last weekend and was able to talk (instead of being hoarse ala laryngitis) and was pretty critical of life -- in other words rather like her normal self. Monday night I noticed she was pretty weak and shakey but still a bit demanding so I wasn't that concerned. I figured she was just very tired -- she was also on some new medications.

Then late Monday night she was sent to the hospital in respiratory distress. She wasn't conscious or responding really. Due to her advance directives she wasn't supposed to be intubated but that information wasn't available to the emergency physicians -- at first anyway.

I will say as soon as they realized they asked what I wanted done. Since she wasn't conscious so I couldn't ask her, I went with what we'd discussed the week before and what her papers said ... no extraordinary means.

They removed the intubator and just put her on 15 litres of O2 (via rebreather mask) and IV (in case she needed pain meds ), and placed her in the hospice room upstairs. It's a nice quiet private room with comfy sofas and chairs and no monitors. A nice room -- except for the reason for it that is.

Jon and I were there when she began the long journey that night and we were there when it ended yesterday afternoon.

I know it's actually a blessing this has went all so very fast -- only 3 weeks really -- from the original ambulance call late on a Wednesday night 3 weeks ago to the dismissal from the hospital to the rehab hospital 1 1/2 weeks ago to her death yesterday. We only found out about the lung cancer last week. She was due to have an oncology appointment next Tuesday when we'd discuss hospice and palliative care options. We were still working on paperwork.

I know it's a blessing in my head -- realli I do. My heart just knows she's gone.

*****

***the photo above was taken in February 2006. Mom loved the snow and would take pictures and pictures of it (though this picture is mine -- she preferred the non digital method). Earlier this week I noticed a few spring flowers trying to peek through the cold ground and I realized Mom would probably never see the spring. Sadly I was right.

Sharing a memory

sometimes things just happen - I prefer to think they're more than coincidence.

Yesterday evening Jon and I went to Team Wench's 2008 Privateer Feast (for breast cancer research) which is basically where a bunch of us dress up like pirates, eat food, drink whatever we brought, share stuff, hug, cry, and listen to some great music. It is all for a great cause and one that we're very happy to help support

It just so happened as I was wandering through the raffle room - seeing what I might want to purchase tickets for - that I heard this song:





Of course this will probably not mean much to most of you but for me it was a memory of Mom's portable record player and the boxes and boxes of 45s. The man singing the song (Son of Strum - John Durant Jr.) was rather baffled by my mouthing allll the words. But then again this was one I knew very well as it was one of Mom's favorites. It gave me a happy moment. Those have been so very few and far between recently.

I just wish I would've thought to phone her during the performance and had her listen -- she would've loved it.

the photo above was taken at the last song when all the acts get on stage to sing at once.

Guilt, recriminations, and the mantle of responsibility

We finally have a definitive diagnosis on Mom: primary lung cancer with mets to the lymph nodes and possibly other areas/organs. We're waiting on a PET scan for that.

I find it a tad ironic that there are visits with an oncologist and discussions of chemotherapy when the woman weighs 90 +/- pounds and has no reserves. She'd never survive the treatment...even if it was an option.

Hospice is the next order of business. Well next after she is released (if she is released) from the rehab hospital.

I will quite possibly find myself caring for my mother while she breathes her last. This is not something to take lightly given the - at times - the friction in our relationship. However, she knows as well as I that I'm trained to do it -- I did this for years. It's not something that is easy.

It *is* possible though.

We don't know how long she has left. Well not officially. I look at her and wonder if 'months' is being overly optimistic. Her time left could easily be measured in weeks or even days.

I'm so very thankful for Jon. The poor man understands me well enough to know that I need to be able to plan and think to table the grief for a bit. He knows, he understands, he allows me to deal with this the best way for me.

For that I will love him always.

the picture above was taken on the Duck's Tour Washington DC 2007 on the Potomac River.

Guilt

Mother has been in the hospital the last few days -- near to a week in fact. Again, bad choices made in her youth, unwise choices made as an adult, and other contributory factors are involved. The choices we may have to make aren't easy ones.

So why are Jon and I having guiltful pleasures? Simply put, it's a rare moment when I've not had someone dependent upon me. In fact, in my entire adult life, I've nearly always had someone dependent upon me for one thing or the other. First it was Robert, then Montana, and now Mother.

I try to devise menus that incorporate foods she will deign to eat though she usually won't. We adjust our eating times for the optimal time for her to eat (again even though she usually won't). We adjust our lives around Mom's schedule.

This weekend Jon and I cooked what we chose, ate late, lingered at the table talking .....

...ahhh here comes the guilt.

Yes I know it's not being perfectly horrid to enjoy a day or two free of the mantle of caring for someone who is - quite frankly - a real bear to care for. Make her mad and you'll dance to her tune for literally weeks until her tissy fit subsides. Let her get bored and she'll call either her doctor or the ambulance. She's very sad and it takes come rather creative contortions to keep her happy and in some semblence of health. Sadly this has been my responsibility since birth and this responsibility will not cease until she breathes her last. It's a heavy weight but one I'm quite used to. I've over 40 years experience ....

So - to breathe a sigh of relief as the weight is passed -- if even for a fleeting moment -- to another. Guilt? yes. The guilt comes in waves. If she doesn't come home the guilt will be far worse I fear.

For now I breathe. For today I relax ... because I've no idea what tomorrow will bring.

**the picture above is of the February snow of 2006. They're predicting snow for today and I'm already dreading the drive to the hospital tonite.

The Wild Granny

Yes for those of you not familiar with The Maryland Renaissance Festival, that is what we call Mom - The Wild Granny. She's actually Keeper Of The Rum on the (virtual) pirate ship The Polly Dodger.

Mostly she just has fun. She dons garb, totes her mug, parks it at The White Hart (a pub with a stage inside the festival) and waits for visitors. You'd be shocked and amazed at how many people stop by to see her when she's there. She missed last year due to her stroke in October but the year before (autumn 2006) it was a steady stream of people until she decided she was just too tired and needed to go home.

Sadly - little did we realize then - that year was to be her last year. I can't forsee her being able to attend anymore. She can barely make it outside. She's been so very weak since her stroke. In essence she basically goes nowhere anymore. That is truly sad.

Today is her 71st birthday. After last October at times I wondered if we'd make it this far. Now I wonder if we'll make it to this milestone next year.

Enough of that: for this evening we hit Outback Steakhouse for her 2 favorites: steak and Death by Chocolate Martini. She'll come home to an icecream cake that she'll be too full to eat and will probably have some for breakfast tomorrow morning.

It is difficult to watch the passing of time knowing full well that you need to make your memories now because the tomorrows become more uncertain with each passing day. I will worry about that tomorrow --- for today we celebrate !

the picture above was taken summer of 2007 at the Virginia Renaissance Faire

Whine Whimper

bitch moan complain

I blame the cosmos

So I was doing a weekend roundup (yeeehawwww) of just what has gone on in the last 3 weeks and here it goes:

*Mom rushed to the hospital probable stroke
*Jon has Parkinsons
*Mom has emergency tooth extraction
*Jon discovers issues with his Mom's estate
*Mom emergency doctor's appointment (false alarm)
*My oral surgery (and the rather disgusting lisp I have obtained)
*Mom's insurance really screwwed up ('nuff said on that one)

This is just since the first week in October. Is there a wonder I'm not sleeping at night?

Yes I know it will get better...it HAS to.

I am finding a rather macabe sense of humour about the entire situation - I just tell people that clowns are the least of my concerns.

heh

Celebrating the day

Today is the last day of MDRF for the season. In a record breaking move, we've actually missed 4-6 days out of 19 this year. I vowed it would not happen again.

We missed Oktoberfest
We missed a very good friends proposal
We missed people down for only one weekend
We missed some of the best days of faire.

---basically for naught. Especially missing yesterday which was - according to her doctor describing the emergency office visit - "totally unnecessary".

We will be going today. I will celebrate this day with my husband knowing - as always - there's a risk this might be the last time he can enjoy faire.

I know the anger isn't healthy and doesn't do any good but dammit the escapades of a teenage (70 year old) drama queen is robbing me of precious time with my husband.

Today however I put the anger aside and celebrate an unusual 78 degree Autumn day.

Johnny Depp at 2:30 in the blessed a.m.?

ok anytime is a good time for Johnny Depp *weg*

So you might ask what I'm doing awake at 2:30 in the a.m. - drinking beer and eating pizza - watching Johnny Depp - the same 2:30 in the blessed a.m. that is the 2nd to the last day of faire - the same faire I look forward to each and every year.

You could ask.

It would appear that as soon as my husband left Mom alone for a moment yesterday, she ran and called her physician to schedule an emergency doctors appointment. Was it for yesterday? oh nay nay

For today. At 9 a.m.

Her prescriptions are scheduled to be picked up @ 5 p.m. Yesterday? nay nay

Today.

Saturday.

The 2nd to the last day of MDRF - the last WEEKEND of MDRF.

I set and look at my bodice knowing it won't be worn. I look at the DOW dress I borrowed knowing more than likely it will not be worn either.

I bemoan the fact that pictures weren't taken this year.

I know that each day, each month, each moment that passes, Jon's condition worsens. I wonder what will happen if this *was* his last year at faire?

I wonder how I will forgive the self-important drama queen if she's robbed me of a last season with my husband. She has currently kabashed any out of town trips and vacations. She has dictated - by her actions - where we dare to go and when we dare not. We have missed many days this season.

I only hope - for her sake - that there are many more seasons ahead.

Each day is a gift. Each day should be lived - not served.

I am currently serving - not living.

at least Johnny Depp is still cute

Can't sleep clowns will eat me

Ok so maybe not the clowns but sleep? Please.

This will sound judgemental, harsh, and unbelievably childish. All I can say to the critics is you've not lived my life with this person - I HAVE.

Mother.

One of my earliest memories is she teaching me to pull the stool up to the hanging wall phone (rotary back then) and telling me to dial 0 for the operator if I came home and found her asleep on the floor with a bottle of pills or if she was in bed and I could not wake her up.

Judging from the fact I couldn't read yet it's a safe guess I was around 3 give or take. This wasn't the first time. I was taught to drive for when she had a 'spell' and would pass out behind the wheel. I was 9.

My life has been to serve her needs when she needs and be absent (but available) when not. She currently lives with my husband and myself because she sold her house and had previously lived with HER parents but her mother died and her father in essence kicked her out in favor of an assisted care living situation.

So - she moves out with me. It wasn't going badly until this year. Ok we had the typical fussy high maintenance stuff that goes with life with Ma - the competition with the children - the drama over her long distance phone relationship with her first husband (a blog for another time) - the normal stuff with her.

This year, however, she upped the ante a bit. On Friday the 5th of October she came downstairs (quite agiley I might add - that comes into play later) and said "Steph (side note - the winds ne'er blow well when she calls me steph - it's either to insult or to dramatize) we have a problem. I had a stroke Wednesday night". OK I'm thinking "really?". Then she baldly states: "oh damn you're going to miss faire [MDRF]". I'm thinking ahhhhhh so THIS is where this is going. Anyway so I talk to her for a bit while I attempt to get ready for work and tell her to call her doctor. At 9 a.m. she calls me to tell me she called an ambulance. Seems as though when she called her doctor HE was under the impression she lived alone. Charming. OK so yes she had at some point had a light stroke (possibly) and was admitted for 5 days (until Tuesday the 9th) because she 'wobbled' for Physical Therapy (as she told me - "I wobbled for them just a bit") and insisted on self-medication (never a popular thing with hospitals.

--side note #2 - I had scheduled oral surgery for myself for the 24-26 of October. It had been scheduled since way back in September.

So she's now out of the hospital and charmingly has scheduled her tests and physicians appointments for - yep you guessed it - October 24, 25, and 26th. OK so I saw that coming and we've worked around it.

Monday October 15th. "Steph - we got another problem. My tooth is broke and hurts. Its EXCRUCIATING." OK so I schedule an emergency dental appointment for her for that Monday. She has such a fit in the office that they refuse to touch her (telling various people she'd just had a stroke and could barely walk, her blood pressure was 'high erratic' and her doctor knew another stroke was on the horizon yadda yadda yadda). So they schedule her for the oral surgeon the next day. At this point she has thrown herself from the chair, is on the floor on her knees, and screaming. I'm nonplussed what to do. I pick her up, pay the dental fees, and take her home fussing all the way. Anyway on Tuesday the tooth is extracted and she has pain meds etc sent home with her.

More nights no sleep.

Fast forward to today: "Steph we have a problem". *sigh* "My first BM since the surgery [she meant tooth extraction but ok] and it's black and sticky. Those antibiotics are making my stomach hemmorage I just know they are." *sigh* I read it in my book they would do that. *sigh* I give her the standard schpiel - call your doctor yadda yadda yadda. She tells me "Well now I know it's the last weekend so I WANT you to go to faire ... even if I am in the hospital ... even if they do SURGERY ... EVEN IF I'M IN ICU. Oh and you HAVE to have your dentist appointment on Wednesday. Well you just do that and don't worry about me."

Anyone else see where this is going?

So now it's 6:35 a.m. = I came in extra early because I know I will be going home to rush her to somewhere where she will laugh and entertain or possibly scream and cry and tell people 'Good Old Steph' without a thought of anything or anyone.

Sound childish? Sound like I"m mean? No it just sounds like Life With Ma.