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.

I am anonymous

OK so you know no I'm not. I have this page linked multiple places. Anonymous Spaghetti was Harold's invention and frankly he's still not telling me where it came from.

No what I'm talking about now is anonymous comments. I've left my different blog platforms open to non screened comments and yes I allow anonymous ones. I usually have to delete them as they're frankly spam but I get a few I let through.

Here's the deal though: why would someone comment - why would someone go through the effort of commenting -- and then leave it as 'anonymous'? Are they frightened of their own name? Are they in the witness protection program? Could they not come up with a decent alias?

---or--- is it just because they're trolls

Oh yeah right first time ;)

**the photo above was taken at the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire in 2006 of a wonderful sculpture at a shop.

Waiting waiting waiting

Last week I joined a gym. It had been a long time coming and it was really needed. Since I've moved here I've been pretty sedentary what with no yard to mow, no cows to milk, no huge gardens [side note - my back yard is smaller than my smallest garden in Kansas] ... you get the drill. I'd been sitting on my butt ...

....which has gotten bigger and bigger. Add to that the fact that I quit smoking via the cheezits method (a box a day for a while --- I wish I was kidding but hey I've been smoke free for 6 years this March 24th) and my shape was not a good shape.

I'm also worried about the health concerns. I'm a near-to-mid-40s female. If I don't fix it now it won't ever get fixed.

So yes --- I ponied up the $$$ to join Golds. I even ponied up a few more $$$ to get a personal trainer for a few sessions. I figure in for a penny in for a pound and all that jazz...besides it had to be done so I gritted my teeth ....

....and found I actually like it. No really -- there's just something rather wonderful about doing something for yourself and no one else ! Even if other people have to wait --- they have to wait :) That hour per day is mine and whoa does it ever go FAST ! However, I came home last night to find that Jon had started supper for me and everything. That hasn't happened in forever.

Maybe this gym thing has some other extra perks eh?

Maybe sometimes being a little bit selfish isn't a bad thing after all .....

**the picture above is of Archimedes -- my oldest son's Russian Blue. I took that last summer and it's of Archimedes watching for his 'daddy' to come home. Oddly - the Ford Escape he's looking at happens to *be* Robert's car ......