Grief, I've discovered, takes interesting turns along the way. It is two weeks until the first anniversary of my mother's passing from pancreatic cancer. (If you click on the "grief" label and/or the "cancer" label, you can read that whole saga.)
I've had a hard time this last week, with a significant burden of sadness weighing me down as the anniversary approaches. I miss her so very much still.
Backing up: about a month ago, I received a call from Patti, a friend here in Pocatello. Patti is a breast cancer survivor -- not once but twice over! She is truly amazing. She had called me because the annual Pink Tea breast cancer fundraiser was on the horizon -- an event that she heads up -- and she wanted me to sing a couple of songs during the event.
We'd been trying to arrange this for a few years, but scheduling conflicts always got in the way. This year, the schedule was clear and I accepted the invitation with gratitude.
As I mentioned above, a weight of sadness had descended on me in the last week. I knew it was grief over my mother's passing. And I wondered how I'd get through the Pink Tea, given that the room is filled with cancer survivors and their supporters.
I'd already chosen the two songs for the Pink Tea before this grieving season had come upon me again. I knew those were the right songs for the occasion, so I didn't change anything, despite my very real fear that I'd lack the strength to get through them.
How Could I Ask for More, written by Cindy Morgan
You Raise Me Up (which everyone knows, thanks to Josh Groban and Celtic Woman). The best version of that one is here: Celtic Woman singing You Raise Me Up (embedding of that video was disabled, so you have to follow the link).
Strangely enough, as I spoke before two hundred people at the Pink Tea about how the support of so many had been crucial to me through the journey with my mother, I found myself gaining ever more strength. And a peace. That I'm still carrying with me.
I want to take this opportunity to say thank you to all my blog readers, friends, and online friends for all the support you have shown me on the journey. Suffice it to say that God is good and He does provide all that we need. I certainly needed you!
- Catherine
Showing posts with label cancer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cancer. Show all posts
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
My friend's fight for her life
As I note on the sidebar of my blog page, I am tracking along with a young friend fighting breast cancer. Lani lives in Nashville, so I do not have the opportunity to participate in person in her life. She is in her mid-30s, with three children, a husband, and a vibrant career as a mathematics education professor. She has generously shared with her friends the feelings, the treatment, the hardships and even the joys of her journey through cancer. At this point in time, she is facing her surgery after a preliminary round of chemo.
Today, I refer you to a guest blog post she wrote about parenting through treatment. http://www.thecancerwarrior.blogspot.com/
Her own blog is at chemobabe.com -- a place where she focuses her energies to help others with cancer.
I'm privileged to count myself among her friends and to track her in prayer daily.
I love you, Lani, and am still standing with you every day. You go, girl!
- Catherine
Today, I refer you to a guest blog post she wrote about parenting through treatment. http://www.thecancerwarrior.blogspot.com/
Her own blog is at chemobabe.com -- a place where she focuses her energies to help others with cancer.
I'm privileged to count myself among her friends and to track her in prayer daily.
I love you, Lani, and am still standing with you every day. You go, girl!
- Catherine
Monday, November 30, 2009
More odd shades of grief
I miss my mother. This morning I drove down to Salt Lake City, getting back to my regular work schedule of two days in the Salt Lake office each week. I ALWAYS talk to my mother right after I get on the Interstate in Idaho.
This was the first time I'd made the drive since returning from Pennsylvania after her funeral.
I miss my mother when I'm driving.
I also miss her in the little, funny things of life. We shared a similar sense of humor (which it took me to adulthood to understand, quite frankly -- but that is another, much more angst-laden blog post). So, it doesn't surprise me that, even as her body was shutting down this life on earth, there was a humorous moment along the way.
Background: The timeline of my mother's illness and decline is that she was still up and around for several hours each day until the four days before she passed. She passed on a Sunday. The last time she was on her feet was the Thursday morning before. By Thursday afternoon, we knew she wouldn't be getting up again, and the hospice nurses made arrangements for a hospital bed to be brought in on Friday. And so it was, and mother was able to walk the five steps from one bed to the other, and that was pretty much it for her.
On Saturday morning, she woke me at 5:15 or so -- I forget why. Her eyes were still closed -- she was so weary at this point -- but she motioned to the hospital bed that she was lying in and said something I couldn't quite catch. After asking her to repeat it another two times, I finally realized that she was asking me, "Did he bring this in by himself?" Of course, my rejoinder was, "Did WHO bring this in by himself? Gus?" (meaning her husband). "No," she replied, "your father."
Well, now... that's a wee bit awkward.
In the split second that followed, I realized I had three options. 1) Remind her that she had not been married to my father for the last THIRTY FIVE years (what ARE you thinking, Mom???), 2) Remind her that my father had passed away nearly three years ago, or 3) Assure her that, indeed, he hadn't brought it in by himself. I opted for #3 and smothered a smile. If Mom had been up to it, she'd probably have enjoyed the humor of my situation there.
And when I remember that moment, I miss her so darn much that I can hardly breathe for a second or so.
- Catherine
This was the first time I'd made the drive since returning from Pennsylvania after her funeral.
I miss my mother when I'm driving.
I also miss her in the little, funny things of life. We shared a similar sense of humor (which it took me to adulthood to understand, quite frankly -- but that is another, much more angst-laden blog post). So, it doesn't surprise me that, even as her body was shutting down this life on earth, there was a humorous moment along the way.
Background: The timeline of my mother's illness and decline is that she was still up and around for several hours each day until the four days before she passed. She passed on a Sunday. The last time she was on her feet was the Thursday morning before. By Thursday afternoon, we knew she wouldn't be getting up again, and the hospice nurses made arrangements for a hospital bed to be brought in on Friday. And so it was, and mother was able to walk the five steps from one bed to the other, and that was pretty much it for her.
On Saturday morning, she woke me at 5:15 or so -- I forget why. Her eyes were still closed -- she was so weary at this point -- but she motioned to the hospital bed that she was lying in and said something I couldn't quite catch. After asking her to repeat it another two times, I finally realized that she was asking me, "Did he bring this in by himself?" Of course, my rejoinder was, "Did WHO bring this in by himself? Gus?" (meaning her husband). "No," she replied, "your father."
Well, now... that's a wee bit awkward.
In the split second that followed, I realized I had three options. 1) Remind her that she had not been married to my father for the last THIRTY FIVE years (what ARE you thinking, Mom???), 2) Remind her that my father had passed away nearly three years ago, or 3) Assure her that, indeed, he hadn't brought it in by himself. I opted for #3 and smothered a smile. If Mom had been up to it, she'd probably have enjoyed the humor of my situation there.
And when I remember that moment, I miss her so darn much that I can hardly breathe for a second or so.
- Catherine
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Odd shades of grief
Woke up sad and can't seem to get out of my own way this morning. I have no patience with this process. I've got stuff to do - work, home, family (not necessarily in that order).
I don't have time to sit here crying over last night's dream that my mother and I were on one of our fun trips together (we loved traveling together). I don't have time to weep over the ending of the dream, when I realized that she was going to have go home and die again. Again? Yes - in the dream I knew that I was on borrowed time with her. The added grief at the end (after our lovely trip) was that I'd been at her home with her for her "first" death, and now, because we'd been traveling, I didn't have enough vacation time to go back to her home with her again, for the event that we surely knew was coming.
I woke up sobbing and I've been sitting at my computer ever since, with a short foray to the kitchen to get the oatmeal going for breakfast. Because there is still life to be lived here.
Oh my gosh, how I hate this.
- Catherine
I don't have time to sit here crying over last night's dream that my mother and I were on one of our fun trips together (we loved traveling together). I don't have time to weep over the ending of the dream, when I realized that she was going to have go home and die again. Again? Yes - in the dream I knew that I was on borrowed time with her. The added grief at the end (after our lovely trip) was that I'd been at her home with her for her "first" death, and now, because we'd been traveling, I didn't have enough vacation time to go back to her home with her again, for the event that we surely knew was coming.
I woke up sobbing and I've been sitting at my computer ever since, with a short foray to the kitchen to get the oatmeal going for breakfast. Because there is still life to be lived here.
Oh my gosh, how I hate this.
- Catherine
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Stages of Grief
Dear God,
I’ve read before that there are stages of grief – some say three, some say five, some say seven – whatever, it’s all the same concept: Grief is complicated and is (often) a lengthy period of working through a wide range of emotions, making progress and then backtracking, making progress and backtracking.
I’m tired of the grieving process already. I am not sleeping well (which You already know, since I’ve been talking to You about it). I wake up in the middle of the night feeling just flat out sad. Not even specifically thinking about my mother – just overwhelmingly sad. Days are better because I have things to keep me busy, despite the sadness.
The experts say that the grief one feels after a loved one dies shouldn’t be put off, shouldn’t be swept under the carpet or denied. You must expeeeer-ience (Nora Desmond drama here) the grief to move beyond it.
With all due respect to the experts, this is an expeeeer-ience I could live without.
I. Don’t. Have. Time.
It used to be that there were specific things one did socially that helped to mark the grieving process: wear black clothing and/or a widow’s cap, refrain from going out in public for a set period of time, wear a black armband, etc. I’m beginning to see some wisdom in those artificial constructs, because they seem, in my opinion, to help the subconscious mind benchmark the process as it unfolds, and provide a glimmer of hope in that life will return to normal at a specific point in time – normal clothing, normal social interaction, etc.
I have a busy career that demands all of my faculties be in working order. I have a husband and son who need me to be in the game at home. I have grown kids who, in varying ways, need me as a fully-functioning member of the family, too. And I have the sinking feeling that I am just in the beginning of this grief thing, with no mile markers to guide me on the trip.
Frankly, there isn’t time for grief, and it scares me and frustrates me to think that I’m going to have to make time, whether I want to or not. Absent the man-made markers that we used to observe, what is this going to look like as it plays out in my life? Brain fog? Uncontrollable weeping? Lack of interest in life? Wishing for death? All of the above? It’d be easier to wear black clothing for three months, a black armband for another three, and then call it good, thank you.
I’m a little bit like my mother in that I want to plan it all out so I know what to expect and when. What is this going to be like – I want to know. Now. And I want it to be over. Now. I’m looking forward to the day when, as Roberta Temes states in her book, Living with an Empty Chair, “Life is no longer one frantic anxiety attack.”
Temes separates the grief stages into behaviors:
Numbness (mechanical functioning and social insulation)
Disorganization (intensely painful feelings of loss)
Reorganization (re-entry into a more 'normal' social life.)
My Father, as You already know, right now I’m into Disorganization -- with the occasional retreat to Numbness. Here’s to Reorganization coming soon, yes?
And maybe I’ll go find myself a black armband, too.
Love,
Catherine
I’ve read before that there are stages of grief – some say three, some say five, some say seven – whatever, it’s all the same concept: Grief is complicated and is (often) a lengthy period of working through a wide range of emotions, making progress and then backtracking, making progress and backtracking.
I’m tired of the grieving process already. I am not sleeping well (which You already know, since I’ve been talking to You about it). I wake up in the middle of the night feeling just flat out sad. Not even specifically thinking about my mother – just overwhelmingly sad. Days are better because I have things to keep me busy, despite the sadness.
The experts say that the grief one feels after a loved one dies shouldn’t be put off, shouldn’t be swept under the carpet or denied. You must expeeeer-ience (Nora Desmond drama here) the grief to move beyond it.
With all due respect to the experts, this is an expeeeer-ience I could live without.
I. Don’t. Have. Time.
It used to be that there were specific things one did socially that helped to mark the grieving process: wear black clothing and/or a widow’s cap, refrain from going out in public for a set period of time, wear a black armband, etc. I’m beginning to see some wisdom in those artificial constructs, because they seem, in my opinion, to help the subconscious mind benchmark the process as it unfolds, and provide a glimmer of hope in that life will return to normal at a specific point in time – normal clothing, normal social interaction, etc.
I have a busy career that demands all of my faculties be in working order. I have a husband and son who need me to be in the game at home. I have grown kids who, in varying ways, need me as a fully-functioning member of the family, too. And I have the sinking feeling that I am just in the beginning of this grief thing, with no mile markers to guide me on the trip.
Frankly, there isn’t time for grief, and it scares me and frustrates me to think that I’m going to have to make time, whether I want to or not. Absent the man-made markers that we used to observe, what is this going to look like as it plays out in my life? Brain fog? Uncontrollable weeping? Lack of interest in life? Wishing for death? All of the above? It’d be easier to wear black clothing for three months, a black armband for another three, and then call it good, thank you.
I’m a little bit like my mother in that I want to plan it all out so I know what to expect and when. What is this going to be like – I want to know. Now. And I want it to be over. Now. I’m looking forward to the day when, as Roberta Temes states in her book, Living with an Empty Chair, “Life is no longer one frantic anxiety attack.”
Temes separates the grief stages into behaviors:
Numbness (mechanical functioning and social insulation)
Disorganization (intensely painful feelings of loss)
Reorganization (re-entry into a more 'normal' social life.)
My Father, as You already know, right now I’m into Disorganization -- with the occasional retreat to Numbness. Here’s to Reorganization coming soon, yes?
And maybe I’ll go find myself a black armband, too.
Love,
Catherine
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Prayer works!
My stepfather apologized both to his niece and to me today at my mother's funeral. This is a miracle, plain and simple.
Thank you, all, for your prayers -- I believe they got us through what has been a very, very difficult situation. My stepfather found my mother's Bible by her chair yesterday and began to read it. He told us that he found her handwritten margin notes interesting. He is, at this time, still an unbeliever. But we're planning to pray him into the Kingdom.
The funeral is over, my mother's body has been buried, and Tim and I will be on our way home tomorrow morning (driving -- and I'm so glad he's with me!). I've got a car full of heirloom china, a boatload of church music, and, residing on my right hand ring finger, my great-grandmother's cherished wedding band.
I may never see this town again, but I will, for sure, see my mother again when we are all at the feast.
- Catherine
PS: I'll be back with the "Random Dozen" meme next Wednesday -- I just couldn't get to it today.
Thank you, all, for your prayers -- I believe they got us through what has been a very, very difficult situation. My stepfather found my mother's Bible by her chair yesterday and began to read it. He told us that he found her handwritten margin notes interesting. He is, at this time, still an unbeliever. But we're planning to pray him into the Kingdom.
The funeral is over, my mother's body has been buried, and Tim and I will be on our way home tomorrow morning (driving -- and I'm so glad he's with me!). I've got a car full of heirloom china, a boatload of church music, and, residing on my right hand ring finger, my great-grandmother's cherished wedding band.
I may never see this town again, but I will, for sure, see my mother again when we are all at the feast.
- Catherine
PS: I'll be back with the "Random Dozen" meme next Wednesday -- I just couldn't get to it today.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
In Memoriam
My mother, Luella Ohl, passed away peacefully at 8:45 p.m. yesterday (it is Monday morning as I write this). Her passing was so incredibly gentle and quiet that I can't do much more than rejoice that the long battle is over and she is truly well and whole at last. She is home with her Lord, now engaged in the endless dance with her beloved Savior.
"Well done, thou good and faithful servant..."
- Catherine
"Well done, thou good and faithful servant..."
- Catherine
Saturday, October 31, 2009
In the twilight
In the twilight, I watch my mother sleeping. She’s been in and out of it all day, barely awake enough to eat a few bites for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The hospital bed that was delivered to the house today has made her more comfortable, but it seems to me that she is sinking fast. Her vital signs are still good, but she is so weak that she can hardly take, even with strong assistance, the three baby steps needed to get to the bedside commode. Her mind is wandering a bit. Twice in the last hour she has asked to do things that are part of her morning routine and has been surprised when I’ve told her that it is evening. “It is?” she asks wonderingly – but her eyes are not open and she is clearly not quite here. Once she called out my name, but when I asked what she needed, she muttered that she didn’t know.
She crashed so quickly. A mere two days ago she was still doing some of her housework, still planning and preparing some meals, still using the toilet in the bathroom, still spending the night by herself in her bedroom. I think she will not be long in this world and I fight the choking sensation that I get when I think of life on this earth without her. Tonight, for the first time, there is the smell of decay and death in the room.
My brother is driving out again on Sunday, but, in truth, I’m not sure she will still be with us.
She may rally. My brother actually believes that, or at least so he keeps telling himself… and me. I suppose it’s possible that Mom may come back a bit, but I think my brother is in denial. Maybe that’s because I am here with her, watching the struggle, seeing the decline as it gathers speed with every passing minute.
I miss my husband so much. I miss my kids and my dog. I miss my home.
There is a part of me crying out in grief for the loss. I keep that part quiet during the day because she needs me to be strong. But she can't hear me in the middle of the night, and that's when the grief is probably most acute anyway.
It feels good to be needed -- Mom had always been so very independent -- and I wouldn’t have missed this precious time of ministering to her needs for anything.
She crashed so quickly. A mere two days ago she was still doing some of her housework, still planning and preparing some meals, still using the toilet in the bathroom, still spending the night by herself in her bedroom. I think she will not be long in this world and I fight the choking sensation that I get when I think of life on this earth without her. Tonight, for the first time, there is the smell of decay and death in the room.
My brother is driving out again on Sunday, but, in truth, I’m not sure she will still be with us.
She may rally. My brother actually believes that, or at least so he keeps telling himself… and me. I suppose it’s possible that Mom may come back a bit, but I think my brother is in denial. Maybe that’s because I am here with her, watching the struggle, seeing the decline as it gathers speed with every passing minute.
I miss my husband so much. I miss my kids and my dog. I miss my home.
There is a part of me crying out in grief for the loss. I keep that part quiet during the day because she needs me to be strong. But she can't hear me in the middle of the night, and that's when the grief is probably most acute anyway.
It feels good to be needed -- Mom had always been so very independent -- and I wouldn’t have missed this precious time of ministering to her needs for anything.
Friday, October 30, 2009
A Bad Day
Thursday: I arrived at 12:10 today – I wish I could have gotten here sooner but I had things to go over with my assistant, and it just wasn’t possible to get away from my work any earlier. At 12:10 my mother was already lying down on top of the bed and she was miserable. Feeling cold (despite the 80 degree heat in the house) and feeling sick. When I went in to say hello, she began to cry. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to eat anything all day, and she knows that loss of appetite is a strong indication that the body is in decline. I think she was momentarily scared – mostly because she felt so very, very unwell.”Don’t leave me,” she cried.
I hugged her frail frame for a moment, pressed my cheek against hers, reassuring her that I am here to stay. I reminded her that we are not bodies that have souls, we are souls that have bodies. The transition, when it happens, will be easy, I said, although the journey to that point is physically uncomfortable.
She calmed down and we talked about the turkey breast that needed to be put in the oven for dinner. Once that was accomplished, I helped her pull on her nightgown, cranked up the heated mattress pad, and tucked her between the sheets. Snuggled in, she thought she could eat an omelet, and would I make her one? I don’t think there is anything special about my omelets, but she always has liked them a lot. I hastened to prepare the food, and then I fed her forkful by forkful while she rested in her bed, too weak to sit up. She ate most of it and drank some water, too.
She feels like she’s making me into a maid. I keep telling her that I am happy to be doing all of this and that she is not to worry about anything. I mention that she’d have done the same for her own mother. She is silent.
Later I remember that her mother (who died when my mother was 24 years old) had been ill with heart disease for many years before her death in 1954, and that my mother had had to take over the housekeeping AND look after her mother AND go to college at the same time. All that with no help from her sister, who also lived at home but who refused to do anything but please herself. I suspect that, in her early 20s, my mother had found that burden too much and had resented her mother. She didn’t hesitate to move away from home within a few months of college graduation, leaving the household and the family to get along without her.
Maybe the “chickens have come home to roost” here and she is feeling bad about her feelings at the time, afraid that I resent her as she resented her own family? Pure speculation on my part, but seems likely.
I would like to ask her, but I don’t think I can. She’s got enough on her plate. In the meantime, I reassure her and reassure her and reassure her – I am happy to be here. Even on the bad days.
Friday – bad night for Mom. The worst pain yet, and we had to give her a dose of morphine. She also had a fever of 102.7. This morning seems better – she still doesn’t have any pain as I write this, and her temperature has returned to normal. They are delivering a hospital bed today. When she finally agreed to the hospital bed, she asked me, "Does this mean I have to be bedridden?" "Not if you don't want to be, Mom," I replied. This morning, so far, she's shone no inclination to get out of bed. But her legs feel better today than yesterday, so she might get up yet.
And so it goes.
Let me say, again, how very much your comments and prayers mean to us in this situation. Mom was touched when I told her that people all over this country are praying for her. It means the world to me, that's for sure.
- Catherine
I hugged her frail frame for a moment, pressed my cheek against hers, reassuring her that I am here to stay. I reminded her that we are not bodies that have souls, we are souls that have bodies. The transition, when it happens, will be easy, I said, although the journey to that point is physically uncomfortable.
She calmed down and we talked about the turkey breast that needed to be put in the oven for dinner. Once that was accomplished, I helped her pull on her nightgown, cranked up the heated mattress pad, and tucked her between the sheets. Snuggled in, she thought she could eat an omelet, and would I make her one? I don’t think there is anything special about my omelets, but she always has liked them a lot. I hastened to prepare the food, and then I fed her forkful by forkful while she rested in her bed, too weak to sit up. She ate most of it and drank some water, too.
She feels like she’s making me into a maid. I keep telling her that I am happy to be doing all of this and that she is not to worry about anything. I mention that she’d have done the same for her own mother. She is silent.
Later I remember that her mother (who died when my mother was 24 years old) had been ill with heart disease for many years before her death in 1954, and that my mother had had to take over the housekeeping AND look after her mother AND go to college at the same time. All that with no help from her sister, who also lived at home but who refused to do anything but please herself. I suspect that, in her early 20s, my mother had found that burden too much and had resented her mother. She didn’t hesitate to move away from home within a few months of college graduation, leaving the household and the family to get along without her.
Maybe the “chickens have come home to roost” here and she is feeling bad about her feelings at the time, afraid that I resent her as she resented her own family? Pure speculation on my part, but seems likely.
I would like to ask her, but I don’t think I can. She’s got enough on her plate. In the meantime, I reassure her and reassure her and reassure her – I am happy to be here. Even on the bad days.
Friday – bad night for Mom. The worst pain yet, and we had to give her a dose of morphine. She also had a fever of 102.7. This morning seems better – she still doesn’t have any pain as I write this, and her temperature has returned to normal. They are delivering a hospital bed today. When she finally agreed to the hospital bed, she asked me, "Does this mean I have to be bedridden?" "Not if you don't want to be, Mom," I replied. This morning, so far, she's shone no inclination to get out of bed. But her legs feel better today than yesterday, so she might get up yet.
And so it goes.
Let me say, again, how very much your comments and prayers mean to us in this situation. Mom was touched when I told her that people all over this country are praying for her. It means the world to me, that's for sure.
- Catherine
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Mixed Bag
It’s 4:20 a.m. and sleeping is just not an option, I guess. I went off to sleep well enough at 10:00 or so, but I got awake around 3:30 and that seems to be it for the night.
Partly it’s the weather, I think – warm and rainy and so humid that it’s hard to breathe sometimes. This is weather that I do not have to deal with in my new hometown out West, and this is weather that I have not missed since I moved away from the East Coast seven years ago. Ugh.
Yesterday was a mixed bag. I arrived at Mom’s around 11:30 a.m. to find her feeling pretty awful – weak, mostly, but she’d also had a good deal of pain in the morning and had taken a painkiller. The Hospice nurse arrived shortly after I did and she had a long talk with Mom about the various painkillers that are available if/when her present painkiller isn’t enough. She also persuaded Mom to order the oxygen generator so that it would be immediately available in the house should Mom need it (which she most assuredly will at some point). She failed to persuade Mom to order a hospital bed. There was frank talk about how Mom’s condition could decline very quickly at any time, and the nurse seems set to come every day from here on out.
I spoke with the nurse out on the porch afterward. She suspects that the cancer has spread to the lymph system and that possibly the kidneys are starting to shut down. We probably don’t have much time left.
Once the nurse had gone, I came back inside the house to find Mom still sitting at the table, but with her head down and resting on her arm. I helped her up and we slowly made our way to her bedroom. On the way, she gave me some instructions about clothes she wanted brought downstairs for good (her bedroom now is the former living room on the main floor). Once I got her settled in bed, I headed out to pick up some items that we could use to organize her clothing plus another pair of soft shoes that would accommodate her swollen feet. Thankfully, the current trend of “ballet slipper” shoes works perfectly for our purposes, so I purchased a pair that is two sizes larger than Mom’s normal shoe size. She loved them!
Mom was still in bed when I returned with my purchases, but she was awake and expressed amazement that she had slept so long. She said she’d slept deeply during those 90 minutes and she felt much, much better. She also remarked that the next time she felt that bad in the morning, she’d simply go back to bed. I agreed. At her request, I stayed for dinner – a dish that we always called “Glop” when I was growing up. (It’s a mixture of ground beef, cooked macaroni, canned tomatoes, onions and seasoning, all stirred up in one pot. It’s pretty tasty, actually, depending on how you make it. The name “Glop” stems from the sound it makes when you dish it onto your plate.)
Mom cracked a few jokes and ate really well. My stepfather was very affable and helped me with the dishes. I cleaned up and then headed back to my temporary home in town well before dark.
And here I am, at 4:45 a.m., sitting up in bed and writing my blog. My mind began racing as soon as I woke up and there seemed no point in tossing and turning. I usually pray when I can’t sleep, but I couldn’t get my thoughts to be anything but frantic and scattered, so I finally turned on the light and my computer. Now that I’ve done some writing, perhaps I can also have a lucid conversation with my Creator.
Yesterday was a mixed bag. Stay tuned for the next report…
Once again, I send my love and gratitude to all of you who are supporting me in prayer and tracking me through this journey. I could not do it without you!
- Catherine
Partly it’s the weather, I think – warm and rainy and so humid that it’s hard to breathe sometimes. This is weather that I do not have to deal with in my new hometown out West, and this is weather that I have not missed since I moved away from the East Coast seven years ago. Ugh.
Yesterday was a mixed bag. I arrived at Mom’s around 11:30 a.m. to find her feeling pretty awful – weak, mostly, but she’d also had a good deal of pain in the morning and had taken a painkiller. The Hospice nurse arrived shortly after I did and she had a long talk with Mom about the various painkillers that are available if/when her present painkiller isn’t enough. She also persuaded Mom to order the oxygen generator so that it would be immediately available in the house should Mom need it (which she most assuredly will at some point). She failed to persuade Mom to order a hospital bed. There was frank talk about how Mom’s condition could decline very quickly at any time, and the nurse seems set to come every day from here on out.
I spoke with the nurse out on the porch afterward. She suspects that the cancer has spread to the lymph system and that possibly the kidneys are starting to shut down. We probably don’t have much time left.
Once the nurse had gone, I came back inside the house to find Mom still sitting at the table, but with her head down and resting on her arm. I helped her up and we slowly made our way to her bedroom. On the way, she gave me some instructions about clothes she wanted brought downstairs for good (her bedroom now is the former living room on the main floor). Once I got her settled in bed, I headed out to pick up some items that we could use to organize her clothing plus another pair of soft shoes that would accommodate her swollen feet. Thankfully, the current trend of “ballet slipper” shoes works perfectly for our purposes, so I purchased a pair that is two sizes larger than Mom’s normal shoe size. She loved them!
Mom was still in bed when I returned with my purchases, but she was awake and expressed amazement that she had slept so long. She said she’d slept deeply during those 90 minutes and she felt much, much better. She also remarked that the next time she felt that bad in the morning, she’d simply go back to bed. I agreed. At her request, I stayed for dinner – a dish that we always called “Glop” when I was growing up. (It’s a mixture of ground beef, cooked macaroni, canned tomatoes, onions and seasoning, all stirred up in one pot. It’s pretty tasty, actually, depending on how you make it. The name “Glop” stems from the sound it makes when you dish it onto your plate.)
Mom cracked a few jokes and ate really well. My stepfather was very affable and helped me with the dishes. I cleaned up and then headed back to my temporary home in town well before dark.
And here I am, at 4:45 a.m., sitting up in bed and writing my blog. My mind began racing as soon as I woke up and there seemed no point in tossing and turning. I usually pray when I can’t sleep, but I couldn’t get my thoughts to be anything but frantic and scattered, so I finally turned on the light and my computer. Now that I’ve done some writing, perhaps I can also have a lucid conversation with my Creator.
Yesterday was a mixed bag. Stay tuned for the next report…
Once again, I send my love and gratitude to all of you who are supporting me in prayer and tracking me through this journey. I could not do it without you!
- Catherine
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Update AND the Random Dozen for Wednesday
So, the update is that my mother had a good day yesterday, and so did my stepfather! I went over around 11:45 a.m. to help her clean out the refrigerator and then get her settled for her nap. She was almost sprightly, she felt so good! Well, as sprightly as you can be when you're dragging around an extra 30 pounds of fluid weight. She'd had a good night's sleep on her heated mattress cover (her first) and woke feeling better than she has in a while -- she said her bones didn't ache when she got up. She was able to stay awake all morning (which tells me that some of that daytime tiredness has been from not getting a good night's sleep).
I asked how my stepfather was and she said he'd woken up grumpy but that she'd been grumpy, too, and that they'd grumped at each other all morning long. He finally said, "You're contrary today." And she replied, "Yes, I am. But I'm on my two feet!" After that, he went outside to haul wood.
Wise man.
He came inside while I was there and was very affable. Of course, I also was careful not to overstay my welcome. I stayed just long enough for the Hospice nurse's visit -- about an hour and a half.
The Hospice nurse measured my mother's ankles -- they were 1/2 inch more swollen than the day before. Looks like the edema is about at the "Plus 3" stage -- on a scale of 1-5, that is. Soon, the fluid will rise high enough to affect her lungs and heart. She may die of complications from the fluid or she may die from the cancer on her liver. It's anyone's guess right now. Her kidneys aren't working very well, either -- her urine output is minimal, so it seems that things are shutting down.
In the meantime, yesterday was a good day.
And now, for the Random Dozen, thanks to Lid at 2nd Cup of Coffee:
1. Tell me something about your favorite teacher.
I’ve had some great teachers in my life, but my first grade teacher, Mrs. Schlamp, is the one that stands out in my memory when I hear the phrase “favorite teacher.” Sharp, intelligent, kind and fair are the words that come to mind. She was no pushover, nor was she one of those elementary school teachers who treated her students like they were “precious.” My brother had had her the year before, but she never held that up as a comparison for me, in my memory. And she treated me like I had worth and was intelligent – a situation I’d not really experienced before. I just loved her dearly and was sad to leave her classroom.
2. Tell me about one pivotal moment in your life.
After years of rebellion and trying to stand on my own two feet – and making a perfect hash-up of the whole thing – I had it out with God one afternoon. I’d been a saved Christian since I was a teenager but had developed into a very self-reliant, independent adult whose life had spiraled out of control because she didn’t lean on and learn from her Lord and Savior. I’ll never forget the absolute quiet that succeeded that storm of tears and sobs. I wondered if He was still there – I’d been pretty rough in my anger and rage. And He was, indeed, still right there. My attitude changed immediately, and I dove deeper and deeper into an authentic faith in the living Lord, a journey I'm still on and always will be.
3. About favorite colors--a lot of people will ask you what it is, but I want to know why it is. What feeling or memory does it evoke?
Favorite color to wear – pale pink. Why? Because I think it softens my strong facial features (square jaw, large nose, etc.) and makes me look more feminine.
4. What's a sure sign that you're getting older?
The fact that I struggle to get up off the floor and that I audibly groan along with my complaining joints when I do so.
5. Please don't sermonize, but Halloween--is it a yes or no for you?
Yes for little kids trick or treating in fun and non-evil costumes. No for teens/adults having drunken bacchanals or getting into satanic stuff.
6. What's your favorite musical?
South Pacific. It has an absolutely glorious score (“Wonderful Guy” remains one of my all time favorites) and there is still a timely message in the story (“You’ve got to be taught to hate and fear….”)
7. Are you more of a city mouse or country mouse?
Country. The city wears me out and makes me feel hemmed in.
8. Did you know that it is possible, for a small fee, to name a real star after someone? (It's true! Google it!) If someone were to name a star for you, would you appreciate it for its whimsy and romance, or would you say, "Are you kidding me? For $19.95 we could have gone to the movie and actually bought popcorn."
I’d truly appreciate it from a close friend (or friends) and think it was a complete waste of money from anyone else.
This question comes from Paula at His Ways Are Not Our Ways.
9. What's the craziest thing you've ever been doing and texted during it? I only thought of this b/c I was about to try to text during my walking video but I didn't.
During rehearsal with my church’s praise band, when I’m playing the keyboard, I ignore incoming phone calls and text back the words “In rehearsal.” That’s about as crazy as it gets, I’m afraid.
10. "It's not a party unless _______."
it includes family and good food!
11. When you're stuck in traffic or a waiting room, what do you do to pass the time? PS: There are no magazines available.
I have a “Crackberry.” ‘Nuff said.
12. If you weren't yourself, would you be friends with you?
That’s a tough one. I think I’d like the fact that I’m loyal, funny and frank (not mean or rude, just frank). Maybe I wouldn’t like the fact that I don’t keep up with my friends as much as I should. Hmmm… that really is a tough question.
I asked how my stepfather was and she said he'd woken up grumpy but that she'd been grumpy, too, and that they'd grumped at each other all morning long. He finally said, "You're contrary today." And she replied, "Yes, I am. But I'm on my two feet!" After that, he went outside to haul wood.
Wise man.
He came inside while I was there and was very affable. Of course, I also was careful not to overstay my welcome. I stayed just long enough for the Hospice nurse's visit -- about an hour and a half.
The Hospice nurse measured my mother's ankles -- they were 1/2 inch more swollen than the day before. Looks like the edema is about at the "Plus 3" stage -- on a scale of 1-5, that is. Soon, the fluid will rise high enough to affect her lungs and heart. She may die of complications from the fluid or she may die from the cancer on her liver. It's anyone's guess right now. Her kidneys aren't working very well, either -- her urine output is minimal, so it seems that things are shutting down.
In the meantime, yesterday was a good day.
And now, for the Random Dozen, thanks to Lid at 2nd Cup of Coffee:
1. Tell me something about your favorite teacher.
I’ve had some great teachers in my life, but my first grade teacher, Mrs. Schlamp, is the one that stands out in my memory when I hear the phrase “favorite teacher.” Sharp, intelligent, kind and fair are the words that come to mind. She was no pushover, nor was she one of those elementary school teachers who treated her students like they were “precious.” My brother had had her the year before, but she never held that up as a comparison for me, in my memory. And she treated me like I had worth and was intelligent – a situation I’d not really experienced before. I just loved her dearly and was sad to leave her classroom.
2. Tell me about one pivotal moment in your life.
After years of rebellion and trying to stand on my own two feet – and making a perfect hash-up of the whole thing – I had it out with God one afternoon. I’d been a saved Christian since I was a teenager but had developed into a very self-reliant, independent adult whose life had spiraled out of control because she didn’t lean on and learn from her Lord and Savior. I’ll never forget the absolute quiet that succeeded that storm of tears and sobs. I wondered if He was still there – I’d been pretty rough in my anger and rage. And He was, indeed, still right there. My attitude changed immediately, and I dove deeper and deeper into an authentic faith in the living Lord, a journey I'm still on and always will be.
3. About favorite colors--a lot of people will ask you what it is, but I want to know why it is. What feeling or memory does it evoke?
Favorite color to wear – pale pink. Why? Because I think it softens my strong facial features (square jaw, large nose, etc.) and makes me look more feminine.
4. What's a sure sign that you're getting older?
The fact that I struggle to get up off the floor and that I audibly groan along with my complaining joints when I do so.
5. Please don't sermonize, but Halloween--is it a yes or no for you?
Yes for little kids trick or treating in fun and non-evil costumes. No for teens/adults having drunken bacchanals or getting into satanic stuff.
6. What's your favorite musical?
South Pacific. It has an absolutely glorious score (“Wonderful Guy” remains one of my all time favorites) and there is still a timely message in the story (“You’ve got to be taught to hate and fear….”)
7. Are you more of a city mouse or country mouse?
Country. The city wears me out and makes me feel hemmed in.
8. Did you know that it is possible, for a small fee, to name a real star after someone? (It's true! Google it!) If someone were to name a star for you, would you appreciate it for its whimsy and romance, or would you say, "Are you kidding me? For $19.95 we could have gone to the movie and actually bought popcorn."
I’d truly appreciate it from a close friend (or friends) and think it was a complete waste of money from anyone else.
This question comes from Paula at His Ways Are Not Our Ways.
9. What's the craziest thing you've ever been doing and texted during it? I only thought of this b/c I was about to try to text during my walking video but I didn't.
During rehearsal with my church’s praise band, when I’m playing the keyboard, I ignore incoming phone calls and text back the words “In rehearsal.” That’s about as crazy as it gets, I’m afraid.
10. "It's not a party unless _______."
it includes family and good food!
11. When you're stuck in traffic or a waiting room, what do you do to pass the time? PS: There are no magazines available.
I have a “Crackberry.” ‘Nuff said.
12. If you weren't yourself, would you be friends with you?
That’s a tough one. I think I’d like the fact that I’m loyal, funny and frank (not mean or rude, just frank). Maybe I wouldn’t like the fact that I don’t keep up with my friends as much as I should. Hmmm… that really is a tough question.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Cold Light of Day
I won't pretend that our family relationships are all smooth sailing here. It would be nice to have the fantasy of tying up all the loose ends as my mother's life on earth comes to a close, but that really isn't happening on a widespread basis in my corner of the world.
My mother and I are fine, and that's the biggest blessing, of course.
My stepfather and I are not so fine, however. I still, to this day, have not the slightest idea when and how his enmity toward me began, but he is an unforgiving man, unfortunately -- once you cross him, that's it. He's been my stepfather since I was 17 years old -- I never lived with them, but no doubt I crossed him at some point. I don't know when. I just know that he resents my presence and that our good weekend was due solely to my brother being around. My stepfather likes him.
Now that my brother has gone home and it's just me, the real feelings are coming out again.
He is not a man that you can talk to. There are no discussions about feelings. There is just scorn and animosity as far as the eye can see, and any attempts at making amends would be greeted with derision. As I said, once he is crossed, he writes that person off.
I wouldn't care so much except that his temper sometimes gets the better of him and then my mother suffers (not physically -- there is no danger of that). She wants me here with her. My stepfather has been taking good care of her, but he IS 83 years old and he is tired. He cannot keep up with all of it and there are some aspects of her care that he's really not willing or able to do.
This is a long whine, I know. I'm not asking for sympathy -- just prayer that the miracle of God's grace will cover this situation so that my mother is protected and comfortable.
Many thanks to all of you for tracking me on this odyssey. Your support means the world to me!
- Catherine
My mother and I are fine, and that's the biggest blessing, of course.
My stepfather and I are not so fine, however. I still, to this day, have not the slightest idea when and how his enmity toward me began, but he is an unforgiving man, unfortunately -- once you cross him, that's it. He's been my stepfather since I was 17 years old -- I never lived with them, but no doubt I crossed him at some point. I don't know when. I just know that he resents my presence and that our good weekend was due solely to my brother being around. My stepfather likes him.
Now that my brother has gone home and it's just me, the real feelings are coming out again.
He is not a man that you can talk to. There are no discussions about feelings. There is just scorn and animosity as far as the eye can see, and any attempts at making amends would be greeted with derision. As I said, once he is crossed, he writes that person off.
I wouldn't care so much except that his temper sometimes gets the better of him and then my mother suffers (not physically -- there is no danger of that). She wants me here with her. My stepfather has been taking good care of her, but he IS 83 years old and he is tired. He cannot keep up with all of it and there are some aspects of her care that he's really not willing or able to do.
This is a long whine, I know. I'm not asking for sympathy -- just prayer that the miracle of God's grace will cover this situation so that my mother is protected and comfortable.
Many thanks to all of you for tracking me on this odyssey. Your support means the world to me!
- Catherine
Monday, October 26, 2009
Weekend wrap
The weekend is over and we are all back to real life.
Except that I'm 2000 miles from home in a coffee shop in the middle of Pennsylvania.
And my mother is dying.
The weekend went well, really. My brother and sister-in-law arrived shortly after noontime on Saturday, bringing with them a magnificent pot roast dinner that my sister-in-law had cooked at home the night before. Amazing meat, gravy, carrots, etc., etc., etc... you get the picture. We feasted, and Mom ate quite well.
She was really happy to see everyone there. But her strength gives out so quickly these days that we took a couple of breaks to drive into town simply to give her the opportunity to have a nap in her chair in peace and quiet.
My sister-in-law, Donna, is a home health aide, so she wrapped mom's legs for her - and taught me how to do it, too. The legs are terribly swollen with fluid, and they are red and starting to blister where the fluid is trying to escape through the skin. Wrapping them in non-stick pads helps to relieve the pain and irritation, and Mom was much more comfortable after we did that.
Comfort is the name of the game now. Last night we purchased a heated mattress cover, which will help keep her warm at night and decrease the need for lots of blankets (which are too heavy for her). With the heat from the mattress cover underneath her, she should be able to use a light comforter and be much more comfortable.
Tonight I'll be 'babysitting' while my stepfather attends a meeting (he's a township supervisor). My relationship with him has been good since I arrived, and I'm praying that it remains so. I feel terrible for the loss that he is going to endure -- my mother is the love of his life and his best friend in all the world. They've been together for 33 years, through thick and thin. The hole in his life will be huge.
Mom is slowing putting her things in order. She's closed her bank accounts and put all the money into my stepfather's accounts (to avoid complications later). She and I will be packing up the contents of her china closet this week - all the family china and heirloom pieces come to me. She and my stepfather have planned her funeral, picked out her casket, talked to their pastor about music and scripture, etc.
A good but bittersweet weekend, all in all.
- Catherine
Except that I'm 2000 miles from home in a coffee shop in the middle of Pennsylvania.
And my mother is dying.
The weekend went well, really. My brother and sister-in-law arrived shortly after noontime on Saturday, bringing with them a magnificent pot roast dinner that my sister-in-law had cooked at home the night before. Amazing meat, gravy, carrots, etc., etc., etc... you get the picture. We feasted, and Mom ate quite well.
She was really happy to see everyone there. But her strength gives out so quickly these days that we took a couple of breaks to drive into town simply to give her the opportunity to have a nap in her chair in peace and quiet.
My sister-in-law, Donna, is a home health aide, so she wrapped mom's legs for her - and taught me how to do it, too. The legs are terribly swollen with fluid, and they are red and starting to blister where the fluid is trying to escape through the skin. Wrapping them in non-stick pads helps to relieve the pain and irritation, and Mom was much more comfortable after we did that.
Comfort is the name of the game now. Last night we purchased a heated mattress cover, which will help keep her warm at night and decrease the need for lots of blankets (which are too heavy for her). With the heat from the mattress cover underneath her, she should be able to use a light comforter and be much more comfortable.
Tonight I'll be 'babysitting' while my stepfather attends a meeting (he's a township supervisor). My relationship with him has been good since I arrived, and I'm praying that it remains so. I feel terrible for the loss that he is going to endure -- my mother is the love of his life and his best friend in all the world. They've been together for 33 years, through thick and thin. The hole in his life will be huge.
Mom is slowing putting her things in order. She's closed her bank accounts and put all the money into my stepfather's accounts (to avoid complications later). She and I will be packing up the contents of her china closet this week - all the family china and heirloom pieces come to me. She and my stepfather have planned her funeral, picked out her casket, talked to their pastor about music and scripture, etc.
A good but bittersweet weekend, all in all.
- Catherine
Saturday, October 24, 2009
The Visit - Day #2
I’ve found a terrific coffee shop down the street from where I am staying in Lock Haven, PA – free Wifi and good coffee. So, I’ll be doing my blog updates and email from here each day (well, not Sundays)
I arrived safely around 2:00 p.m. yesterday. It rained in the morning, as it had the day before, but once again it was dry by the early afternoon.
Strangely, I encountered the same phenomenon at the Ohio/Pennsylvania border that I’d encountered at the Illinois/Indiana border – namely, a reduced speed limit that resulted in people driving like it was NASCAR. It’s like they are throwing themselves at the border or something. Bizarre.
I’d forgotten just how beautiful are the river valleys of Pennsylvania, especially during the Fall foliage season. Despite the gloomy clouds, the countryside as you drive along I-80 is just a sight to behold! The rolling hills and deep ravines are completely smothered in yellows, reds and oranges. I reveled in it, I must say.
I found my mother both cheerful and tearful. As she slowly advanced onto the front porch, she held out her arms and said “Oh, Cath, I’m just so glad to see you.” It’s been a hard time for her, these last few months. My stepfather has been taking very good care of her, and that is totally evident to anyone who visits them. But she missed me, and I have to admit that that felt good.
I spent quite a lot of my drive across country in conversation with God. My relationship with my stepfather has been pretty darn tense at times through the years, and I prayed that we would find a way to stay on an even keel for Mom’s sake. It’s early days yet, but yesterday we were off to a good start. I will continue to pray that God helps my attitude remain in the right place and that, as much as possible, my stepfather and I would get along well while I am here.
It’s been very difficult to mentally and emotionally process my mother’s declining health. To have her hobbling around instead of bouncing through the house is a sight I’ve never seen before in my life. Her body is wrecked by the cancer – from the waist down she is horribly swollen from all the fluid retention. She can’t wear regular shoes – instead she has a pair of Crocs that have been slit up the sides – and her feet just barely fit in those. Her legs are so full of fluid that they have begun to weep through the skin. Hospice is coming today to show her how to bandage them to catch the fluid.
My brother and his wife will arrive later today and stay overnight in town. My brother is having an even harder time than I am with the imminent death of our mother, and I hope this visit will give him some peace. When our dad died, he was able to stay with him at the end. In fact, it was my brother who talked my dad through to the end. It’s upsetting Ed that he will not be able to do the same for our mom, due to distance and work schedule.
Perhaps it isn’t appropriate to speculate, but I have a feeling that when my mother dies, she will slip away in the middle of the night. She absolutely hates emotional scenes, and I think she will simply pass away when everyone else is asleep.
So, I’m off to my mother’s house now. I told my stepfather that I’d watch the college football game with him this afternoon (Penn State playing Michigan).
- Catherine
I arrived safely around 2:00 p.m. yesterday. It rained in the morning, as it had the day before, but once again it was dry by the early afternoon.
Strangely, I encountered the same phenomenon at the Ohio/Pennsylvania border that I’d encountered at the Illinois/Indiana border – namely, a reduced speed limit that resulted in people driving like it was NASCAR. It’s like they are throwing themselves at the border or something. Bizarre.
I’d forgotten just how beautiful are the river valleys of Pennsylvania, especially during the Fall foliage season. Despite the gloomy clouds, the countryside as you drive along I-80 is just a sight to behold! The rolling hills and deep ravines are completely smothered in yellows, reds and oranges. I reveled in it, I must say.
I found my mother both cheerful and tearful. As she slowly advanced onto the front porch, she held out her arms and said “Oh, Cath, I’m just so glad to see you.” It’s been a hard time for her, these last few months. My stepfather has been taking very good care of her, and that is totally evident to anyone who visits them. But she missed me, and I have to admit that that felt good.
I spent quite a lot of my drive across country in conversation with God. My relationship with my stepfather has been pretty darn tense at times through the years, and I prayed that we would find a way to stay on an even keel for Mom’s sake. It’s early days yet, but yesterday we were off to a good start. I will continue to pray that God helps my attitude remain in the right place and that, as much as possible, my stepfather and I would get along well while I am here.
It’s been very difficult to mentally and emotionally process my mother’s declining health. To have her hobbling around instead of bouncing through the house is a sight I’ve never seen before in my life. Her body is wrecked by the cancer – from the waist down she is horribly swollen from all the fluid retention. She can’t wear regular shoes – instead she has a pair of Crocs that have been slit up the sides – and her feet just barely fit in those. Her legs are so full of fluid that they have begun to weep through the skin. Hospice is coming today to show her how to bandage them to catch the fluid.
My brother and his wife will arrive later today and stay overnight in town. My brother is having an even harder time than I am with the imminent death of our mother, and I hope this visit will give him some peace. When our dad died, he was able to stay with him at the end. In fact, it was my brother who talked my dad through to the end. It’s upsetting Ed that he will not be able to do the same for our mom, due to distance and work schedule.
Perhaps it isn’t appropriate to speculate, but I have a feeling that when my mother dies, she will slip away in the middle of the night. She absolutely hates emotional scenes, and I think she will simply pass away when everyone else is asleep.
So, I’m off to my mother’s house now. I told my stepfather that I’d watch the college football game with him this afternoon (Penn State playing Michigan).
- Catherine
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Day #3
Long day today -- I started out at 7:15 a.m. Central time and ended my drive at 8:45 p.m. Eastern time. That's more than 12 hours on the road, even allowing for the time zone change.
But.... I didn't drive that whole time. I did indeed leave at 7:15 a.m. in the pouring rain, and quickly realized that I couldn't drive an unfamiliar Interstate in the dark in the pouring rain. I pulled over three exits down and found a place to have breakfast until there was enough light for me to drive in the rain.
So, I left again at 8:00 or so. It rained all the way through Iowa -- and I mean, today it poured. Not fun. Not fun at all. BUT -- I noticed that I was still far more relaxed in the situation than I normally would be, so everyone's prayers are definitely doing me good.
I stopped for another 45 minutes for lunch in Illinois. Still raining at that point.
About the time I hit the Chicago area, the rain stopped and it was only overcast for the rest of the drive.
Did you know that the speed limit around the Illinois/Indiana border is just 55 m.p.h. Did you know that NO ONE does that speed? NO ONE! It was like the Indianapolis 500 on that section of I-80. I did okay (I did learn to drive in New Jersey, after all), but sheesh! It was like they all saw the speed limit reduction to 55 and immediately leaned on the gas pedal. Through a construction zone, no less!
I decided to take advantage of the dry roads this evening and pushed on to my target stop of Milan, Ohio. It's some 40 miles east of Toledo, putting me within about 5 hours of my mother. So, even if it rains tomorrow -- which it IS supposed to do, I might add -- I have time to go slowly if I need to and still arrive before dark.
The update on my mother is that they won't be doing that procedure to draw off fluid from her abdomen. Her hemoglobin is so low that there is a big risk she would bleed to death. I think that's it for anything they could have done to relieve her discomfort. She's still not having much in the way of pain, but the fluid retention makes her very uncomfortable in her feet, in her legs, and in her abdomen.
I'm so glad I'm making the trip now and didn't wait any longer. I can see and feel God's timing in this -- just as I did when my Dad died in 2007. I do not know how much time we have, but I sense it isn't going to be very long, and I'm very glad that I get to spend it all with Mom now.
- Catherine
But.... I didn't drive that whole time. I did indeed leave at 7:15 a.m. in the pouring rain, and quickly realized that I couldn't drive an unfamiliar Interstate in the dark in the pouring rain. I pulled over three exits down and found a place to have breakfast until there was enough light for me to drive in the rain.
So, I left again at 8:00 or so. It rained all the way through Iowa -- and I mean, today it poured. Not fun. Not fun at all. BUT -- I noticed that I was still far more relaxed in the situation than I normally would be, so everyone's prayers are definitely doing me good.
I stopped for another 45 minutes for lunch in Illinois. Still raining at that point.
About the time I hit the Chicago area, the rain stopped and it was only overcast for the rest of the drive.
Did you know that the speed limit around the Illinois/Indiana border is just 55 m.p.h. Did you know that NO ONE does that speed? NO ONE! It was like the Indianapolis 500 on that section of I-80. I did okay (I did learn to drive in New Jersey, after all), but sheesh! It was like they all saw the speed limit reduction to 55 and immediately leaned on the gas pedal. Through a construction zone, no less!
I decided to take advantage of the dry roads this evening and pushed on to my target stop of Milan, Ohio. It's some 40 miles east of Toledo, putting me within about 5 hours of my mother. So, even if it rains tomorrow -- which it IS supposed to do, I might add -- I have time to go slowly if I need to and still arrive before dark.
The update on my mother is that they won't be doing that procedure to draw off fluid from her abdomen. Her hemoglobin is so low that there is a big risk she would bleed to death. I think that's it for anything they could have done to relieve her discomfort. She's still not having much in the way of pain, but the fluid retention makes her very uncomfortable in her feet, in her legs, and in her abdomen.
I'm so glad I'm making the trip now and didn't wait any longer. I can see and feel God's timing in this -- just as I did when my Dad died in 2007. I do not know how much time we have, but I sense it isn't going to be very long, and I'm very glad that I get to spend it all with Mom now.
- Catherine
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Greetings from the road - Day #2
So, Nebraska is a long state to drive from West to East, I must say. And nothin' but cornfields all the way. Wow! The landscape has the occasional ruined homestead -- a vivid reminder of the pioneer days of this country. But mostly it's just cornfield after cornfield after cornfield.
The temperature in Kimball, NE, this morning was about 35 degrees. In Urbandale, Iowa, this evening, it was 65. And it rained most of today, but there were enough breaks for me to be able to relax at the wheel for a bit before the next patch of rain started. Fortunately, none of it was pouring rain -- I'm very thankful I didn't have to deal with that.
I made it into Iowa today -- Urbandale is a suburb of Des Moines. Along Interstate 80 in Iowa are these absolutely enormous wind turbines -- modern windmills. And I mean, they are HUGE. And so high that the tops -- the windmill part -- were in the low-ceiling clouds, which meant that as I drove along down the highway, the enormous windmills loomed out of the mist and cloud. Very eerie and very cool. I wish I'd had a camera, but I wasn't about to stop driving just to take pictures today. Sorry!
Tomorrow my goal is to get to Ohio. We'll see. My left leg was pretty well cramped up by the time I pulled in tonight at 6:15 p.m. I'd driven for 10 hours today -- well, driving for a bit more than 9 hours because I did take time off for lunch. I don't know if I can do another 9 hour stint tomorrow. We'll see. The good news is that I am a bit more than half-way to my destination, so I should be able to finish it in the two remaining travel days and still get in before dark on Friday (in theory, anyway).
My mother is having an ultrasound done on Friday, and then they will draw off some of the fluid in her abdomen. That should make her more comfortable. No way I'll get there in time for the procedure on Friday, but that's okay -- I'll see her late in the day.
- Catherine
The temperature in Kimball, NE, this morning was about 35 degrees. In Urbandale, Iowa, this evening, it was 65. And it rained most of today, but there were enough breaks for me to be able to relax at the wheel for a bit before the next patch of rain started. Fortunately, none of it was pouring rain -- I'm very thankful I didn't have to deal with that.
I made it into Iowa today -- Urbandale is a suburb of Des Moines. Along Interstate 80 in Iowa are these absolutely enormous wind turbines -- modern windmills. And I mean, they are HUGE. And so high that the tops -- the windmill part -- were in the low-ceiling clouds, which meant that as I drove along down the highway, the enormous windmills loomed out of the mist and cloud. Very eerie and very cool. I wish I'd had a camera, but I wasn't about to stop driving just to take pictures today. Sorry!
Tomorrow my goal is to get to Ohio. We'll see. My left leg was pretty well cramped up by the time I pulled in tonight at 6:15 p.m. I'd driven for 10 hours today -- well, driving for a bit more than 9 hours because I did take time off for lunch. I don't know if I can do another 9 hour stint tomorrow. We'll see. The good news is that I am a bit more than half-way to my destination, so I should be able to finish it in the two remaining travel days and still get in before dark on Friday (in theory, anyway).
My mother is having an ultrasound done on Friday, and then they will draw off some of the fluid in her abdomen. That should make her more comfortable. No way I'll get there in time for the procedure on Friday, but that's okay -- I'll see her late in the day.
- Catherine
Monday, October 19, 2009
On the eve
Some thoughts on the eve of my trip East:
I'm leaving tomorrow morning as early as I can get on the road, hoping to make Ogallala, Nebraska, by tomorrow night.
I've checked the time zones and I'll still be in the Mountain time zone in Ogallala. I have a conference call scheduled in the afternoon; I'm not looking forward to having to pull over the car for the call, but that will be the safest thing to do.
The forecast, as of last night, was for rain most of this week -- basically it will be following me as I go East. Lovely.
I'm about a third of the way packed up right now. I'd like to get done in time to watch Monday Night Football with my husband this evening, so I'm not spending too much time on anything else (except cleaning the house, of course -- because it probably won't be cleaned very much while I'm away).
Okay. Next blog post from the road. Please know that I appreciate everyone's prayers for us. I have truly felt supported and lifted up! Include a prayer for my safety, please, this week. I'm not nervous, but it's a long drive when you're by yourself.
- Catherine
I'm leaving tomorrow morning as early as I can get on the road, hoping to make Ogallala, Nebraska, by tomorrow night.
I've checked the time zones and I'll still be in the Mountain time zone in Ogallala. I have a conference call scheduled in the afternoon; I'm not looking forward to having to pull over the car for the call, but that will be the safest thing to do.
The forecast, as of last night, was for rain most of this week -- basically it will be following me as I go East. Lovely.
I'm about a third of the way packed up right now. I'd like to get done in time to watch Monday Night Football with my husband this evening, so I'm not spending too much time on anything else (except cleaning the house, of course -- because it probably won't be cleaned very much while I'm away).
Okay. Next blog post from the road. Please know that I appreciate everyone's prayers for us. I have truly felt supported and lifted up! Include a prayer for my safety, please, this week. I'm not nervous, but it's a long drive when you're by yourself.
- Catherine
Saturday, October 17, 2009
And now for the car ride...
My mother did not sound good on the phone yesterday when I talked to her. And the email that I received after our conversation was even more disturbing. There is nothing that the medical establishment can do for the fluid retention she is experiencing or for the anemia. She can’t wear shoes, she’s exhausted and she’s very uncomfortable. Yesterday morning she could hardly do any housework because she was so weary – could barely get her few breakfast dishes done. Hospice told her that the body’s health will go downhill as her appetite and fluid intake decrease – and she admitted to me that her appetite has started to wane.
It’s time for me to go.
And when I spoke to her this morning and said I would be coming in a week, she agreed that it was time. So that cements it.
I need prayer for good weather and travel mercies along the route (the majority of which will be Interstate 80 from Wyoming to central Pennsylvania). I had originally thought to do it in 3 days, however I don’t think I’m up to driving 10-12 hours straight each day (it’s a 30 hour drive). I think I will stretch it to 4 days instead, leaving Tuesday and arriving Friday.
I need prayer, too, for the family that I am leaving at home. When the time comes, Tim will fly out for the funeral and then drive home with me. In the meantime, I’ll be missing him and our youngest terribly. (And Hank, too, who will not understand why I am leaving him for so long.)
And, finally, I need prayer for the situation that I will find when I get there. Family relationships can be tricky, and the stress of serious illness can make them even trickier. My hope is to walk softly through the coming weeks and to be helpful without intruding.
- Catherine
It’s time for me to go.
And when I spoke to her this morning and said I would be coming in a week, she agreed that it was time. So that cements it.
I need prayer for good weather and travel mercies along the route (the majority of which will be Interstate 80 from Wyoming to central Pennsylvania). I had originally thought to do it in 3 days, however I don’t think I’m up to driving 10-12 hours straight each day (it’s a 30 hour drive). I think I will stretch it to 4 days instead, leaving Tuesday and arriving Friday.
I need prayer, too, for the family that I am leaving at home. When the time comes, Tim will fly out for the funeral and then drive home with me. In the meantime, I’ll be missing him and our youngest terribly. (And Hank, too, who will not understand why I am leaving him for so long.)
And, finally, I need prayer for the situation that I will find when I get there. Family relationships can be tricky, and the stress of serious illness can make them even trickier. My hope is to walk softly through the coming weeks and to be helpful without intruding.
- Catherine
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
More steps on the journey
The thing that consumes me these days is the brutal fact that my mother is dying.
Back in the 1970s a book was written entitled “First, You Cry.” It was the memoir of a TV news journalist who had breast cancer, and I always thought the title was one of the best I’ve ever come across because it is so accurate and succinct. A diagnosis of cancer pretty much engenders the same response, whether it is your own life or that of a loved one: first, you cry.
When my mother told me last spring that the cancer had returned and was terminal, I cried. Since then, her spirits have been good for the most part, and she has, unknowingly, often carried me with her own good spirits.
Lately, though, I am finding myself tearing up at odd times.
Like the other day. While driving my car down the Interstate, I was mentally walking through my mother’s house, viewing once again the things quietly arranged (and meticulously dusted) on shelves, bureaus, dressers, etc. I saw again in my mind’s eye the grouping of mementos that has been on the bureau in her bedroom for years and years. Among that group is a small ceramic model of an open Bible, and I fell to pieces thinking about it.
I made that piece for her when I was in the 6th or 7th grade in Sunday School. The ceramic model was already cast when we started the project; we got to paint it and then put a decal on the front – the 23rd Psalm, as I recall. Being 1969 or so, we dutifully painted the outside “cover” black and the edges of the “pages” red, just as our own Bibles looked.
It’s not done very well – I had lousy eye-hand coordination and didn’t paint it very neatly, although I tried my hardest at the time. But my mother has always kept that piece on display. For some 40 years, it has been somewhere where she could see it. I never have asked her why. Perhaps I should.
The latest with my mother’s health is that she is retaining a lot of fluid in her abdomen, legs and feet. Still not much in the way of pain – just occasionally. The anemia and the fluid retention are pretty bad, though, and she sounds tired and a little depressed when I talk to her on the phone. Hospice is coming twice a week.
- Catherine
Back in the 1970s a book was written entitled “First, You Cry.” It was the memoir of a TV news journalist who had breast cancer, and I always thought the title was one of the best I’ve ever come across because it is so accurate and succinct. A diagnosis of cancer pretty much engenders the same response, whether it is your own life or that of a loved one: first, you cry.
When my mother told me last spring that the cancer had returned and was terminal, I cried. Since then, her spirits have been good for the most part, and she has, unknowingly, often carried me with her own good spirits.
Lately, though, I am finding myself tearing up at odd times.
Like the other day. While driving my car down the Interstate, I was mentally walking through my mother’s house, viewing once again the things quietly arranged (and meticulously dusted) on shelves, bureaus, dressers, etc. I saw again in my mind’s eye the grouping of mementos that has been on the bureau in her bedroom for years and years. Among that group is a small ceramic model of an open Bible, and I fell to pieces thinking about it.
I made that piece for her when I was in the 6th or 7th grade in Sunday School. The ceramic model was already cast when we started the project; we got to paint it and then put a decal on the front – the 23rd Psalm, as I recall. Being 1969 or so, we dutifully painted the outside “cover” black and the edges of the “pages” red, just as our own Bibles looked.
It’s not done very well – I had lousy eye-hand coordination and didn’t paint it very neatly, although I tried my hardest at the time. But my mother has always kept that piece on display. For some 40 years, it has been somewhere where she could see it. I never have asked her why. Perhaps I should.
The latest with my mother’s health is that she is retaining a lot of fluid in her abdomen, legs and feet. Still not much in the way of pain – just occasionally. The anemia and the fluid retention are pretty bad, though, and she sounds tired and a little depressed when I talk to her on the phone. Hospice is coming twice a week.
- Catherine
Monday, October 5, 2009
The Blog from the Campsite
I wrote this one yesterday, sitting in our camper near the river:
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It’s Sunday of our weekend away and we’ve had some wild weather today. Yesterday ended up warmer than expected, and the promised storm had not come by the time we went to bed. This morning I woke around 7:30 and took the dog out for a brief walk – still rather warm-ish, but now overcast. About an hour later, the wind suddenly roared down with gale-force strength, bending the trees and nearly blowing over another camper’s tent. Following hard on the heels of the wind was a violent rainstorm, after which came the dramatic drop in temperature. The rest of the day has proved to be windy, mostly – with times of rain and times of sun, but always the wind. And it has stayed cold.
I grew up near the Jersey Shore, land of hurricanes and nor’easters; I LOVE weather drama. Snug in the camper, I enjoyed it all.
Tim went off to the hot pools for one last soak today. I begged off so that I could indulge my desire to sit and read for a while. I finished one book and then started thinking about the program I need to put together for our upcoming women’s retreat. Pulled out my Bible in order to copy down some verses, plus spent some time searching for specific references with the help of e-Sword (love that software!). The hardest part of this is formulating good discussion questions, but I know God will bring some good ones to mind before the retreat actually takes place.
It’s been great to be away and not have to think about things to do around the house. Even when I take a Sabbath Sunday at home, I end up thinking about the endless to-do list. Here in the campsite by the river, I can just ignore all that until we get home later this afternoon. I needed the break, believe me.
Update on Mom: I talked to my mother this afternoon, and she is not in pain but is still, nevertheless, “feeling crappy.” There just isn’t any other word for it: “crappy” is really it. She’s tired, and tired of being tired. She is very grateful for the absence of pain, but she seems to be growing mentally and emotionally weary of being physically exhausted so easily and so much of the time. Can’t say I blame her. My mother was always a busy bee, even after she retired from working full time. The weakness she has now is depressing.
- Catherine
--------------------------------------------------------------------
It’s Sunday of our weekend away and we’ve had some wild weather today. Yesterday ended up warmer than expected, and the promised storm had not come by the time we went to bed. This morning I woke around 7:30 and took the dog out for a brief walk – still rather warm-ish, but now overcast. About an hour later, the wind suddenly roared down with gale-force strength, bending the trees and nearly blowing over another camper’s tent. Following hard on the heels of the wind was a violent rainstorm, after which came the dramatic drop in temperature. The rest of the day has proved to be windy, mostly – with times of rain and times of sun, but always the wind. And it has stayed cold.
I grew up near the Jersey Shore, land of hurricanes and nor’easters; I LOVE weather drama. Snug in the camper, I enjoyed it all.
Tim went off to the hot pools for one last soak today. I begged off so that I could indulge my desire to sit and read for a while. I finished one book and then started thinking about the program I need to put together for our upcoming women’s retreat. Pulled out my Bible in order to copy down some verses, plus spent some time searching for specific references with the help of e-Sword (love that software!). The hardest part of this is formulating good discussion questions, but I know God will bring some good ones to mind before the retreat actually takes place.
It’s been great to be away and not have to think about things to do around the house. Even when I take a Sabbath Sunday at home, I end up thinking about the endless to-do list. Here in the campsite by the river, I can just ignore all that until we get home later this afternoon. I needed the break, believe me.
Update on Mom: I talked to my mother this afternoon, and she is not in pain but is still, nevertheless, “feeling crappy.” There just isn’t any other word for it: “crappy” is really it. She’s tired, and tired of being tired. She is very grateful for the absence of pain, but she seems to be growing mentally and emotionally weary of being physically exhausted so easily and so much of the time. Can’t say I blame her. My mother was always a busy bee, even after she retired from working full time. The weakness she has now is depressing.
- Catherine
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