My mom often used to say it during those times I was complaining about the seeming inequities of life as perceived by my then childish mind and screaming that she wasn't being fair. "Life is not fair," she would say. I didn't understand what that meant then. I thought I learned what that meant in the years since. But I had no idea what that really meant until today.
A person should not have to outlive their mental faculties and physical capabilities. Children should not have to commit a parent to a nursing home against their will.
My parents and my uncle, who flew in from out of state, set out this morning to take my grandmother back to her former home state of Nebraska, to try to get her in to see her former doctors and to be closer to other family members and amid familiar surroundings for the final sad chapter of her life. They had to grudgingly admit that they are no longer able to care for their mother.
Hour to hour, minute to minute, she doesn't know who the people are that are around her, not even her own children. She sometimes masks the unfamiliarity by refusing to use people's names. She can be chatty and friendly, but the conversations are non-specific. She shows the cracks in the mental armor when asked specific questions or in other subtle ways.
Last night she was confused and scared, thinking that "her people" had dropped her off and hadn't come to take her home, even though we, her family, were gathered around her. She did not know who we were and it wasn't completely clear that she knew who she was.
This morning, she was lucid, and even chipper for a while. But when talk came of preparing to leave for their long journey, she got very upset and said she didn't want to go. She wanted to stay with her family. She knew she had been living there for years and said "This is my home."
She calmed down after a while and seemed downright chipper even. But when the time came for them to leave, she grew very agitated and upset.
"I don't want to go to Nebraska... This is my home... I want to stay with my family."
In turns my father and uncle tried to explain to her why they were doing what they were doing. They tried using reason to explain the unreasonable behavior she had been exhibiting. But she was beyond reason.
"You are killing me. You are killing me. Oh, no. Please, God no. ... God won't allow this to happen. He won't let you get away with this."
Amid the tears -- hers, theirs and our -- my dad and uncle pleaded with her to get into the wheelchair. She cried all the way to the car and once we got her into the car. I sat with her, my arm around her, while the final preparations were made, the last few items were placed in the car. It seemed such an empty gesture, but all I really could come up with to try to let her know that amid her pain and anguish that she was loved. I held things together until it was time for the final goodbyes.
As I got out of the van so my mom could slide in, I hugged my mother goodbye and held her as she sobbed. I told her it was going to be OK, though I had no conviction it would ever be OK again for any of us.
Showing posts with label homecoming. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homecoming. Show all posts
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Grandma, I'm comin' home
It's only about a four-hour drive, but I have a feeling the next time I make it it's going to seem a whole lot longer.
This weekend I will probably be driving to my parent's house to say goodbye to my grandmother, a woman so important to my early life and who now I don't know nearly as well as I should. Worse yet, she usually doesn't know me at all when I do see her. At 93, her memory and her body are failing her. On one of my last visits my mom asked my grandmother if she had said hello to me and grandma said, "Oh, no one introduced us."
When I spend time with my grandmother, I will talk with her about whatever she wants to talk about. Her memories now aren't her own. The stories she tells are vivid and filled with drama, but they are no more based in fact than an elaborate work of fiction. The repetition of her tales gives the illusion they must be true, but the wiring of her brain has shorted out, connecting disparate facts in a mad jumble. She doesn't know where she is and often doesn't know who the people are she lives with, specifically her daughter -- my mother.
It's been very difficult on my mom to see her mother deteriorating and to be a stranger to her own mom.
In addition to the memory problems, there is pain that makes for sleepless nights for everyone in the house, particularly mom and grandma. The doctor recommended that my mom and her siblings consider putting their mother in a nursing home to provide a level of care they can no longer provide in the home. Grandma was in a nursing home several years ago but hated it, so my uncle moved her from Nebraska to his home in Nevada. She didn't like it there either. So my parents took her in. She isn't happy there either.
Her world has gotten very small. My old bedroom is now hers. With the aid of a walker, she would make the short trip from her bed to a glider rocker in the living room where she would spend her waking hours and take her meals. Then back to her room. Her view of the outside world is limited to a large picture window in the living room and a television stationed across a wide expanse of carpet. Since my last visit just two months ago, the walker is no longer enough to manage even that short trip and she needs the help of a wheelchair to make it.
But in spite of her limited mobility she's getting ready to make an extended trip. My parents are planning to take my grandmother back to Nebraska, perhaps as early as next week. So, I am going to make a little road trip myself of about 250 miles to see her while she is still close by.
I know that it's likely to be the last time I see her in this life. She may not know me, but I want to see her and spend a little time with her. I want to look for a few signs of the vital, robust larger-than-life figure I knew in my youth peaking out of the tiny, frail frame my grandmother now inhabits.
As a small child, a visit to grandma and grandpa's house was a Sunday ritual broken when my parents moved my brothers and me to Oregon shortly before my 8th birthday. Our family was divided, living on opposite ends of the Oregon Trail. Return trips to the Cornhusker State have been very few and far between. My last three visits to Nebraska were for funerals -- my mother's father, then her sister and most recently for one of my father's brothers.
I'm not looking forward to my next trip back there. I can't say I'm really looking forward to the trip to my parents' home either. But I would rather see my grandmother now, with what life she has left, than have our next meeting involve an even longer trip and her in a fancy box.
A couple of summer's ago I took my daughter to her first, and probably only, meeting with her great-grandmother. Much of my time with my daughter is spent with her mother's side of the family. But I wanted her to see a little more of my family. I wanted her to have an opportunity for some sort of memory with my grandmother and a bit more exposure to the other part of her heritage. I wish she would have got to know my grandparents, my grandmother and my late grandfather. But maybe that's because I wish I got to know them more and spend more time with them and with my father's parents, who both died when I was young.
So, my attempt to blog every day this month may come to a screeching halt this weekend. I may be on the road and not have an opportunity to post to the Fishwrap. I've enjoyed trying to get back into the writing groove again. But this weekend I will have something more pressing and important to do that will take priority.
Hang in there grandma, I'm coming home. I'll get there just as quick as I can. We'll both be home real soon.
This weekend I will probably be driving to my parent's house to say goodbye to my grandmother, a woman so important to my early life and who now I don't know nearly as well as I should. Worse yet, she usually doesn't know me at all when I do see her. At 93, her memory and her body are failing her. On one of my last visits my mom asked my grandmother if she had said hello to me and grandma said, "Oh, no one introduced us."
When I spend time with my grandmother, I will talk with her about whatever she wants to talk about. Her memories now aren't her own. The stories she tells are vivid and filled with drama, but they are no more based in fact than an elaborate work of fiction. The repetition of her tales gives the illusion they must be true, but the wiring of her brain has shorted out, connecting disparate facts in a mad jumble. She doesn't know where she is and often doesn't know who the people are she lives with, specifically her daughter -- my mother.
It's been very difficult on my mom to see her mother deteriorating and to be a stranger to her own mom.
In addition to the memory problems, there is pain that makes for sleepless nights for everyone in the house, particularly mom and grandma. The doctor recommended that my mom and her siblings consider putting their mother in a nursing home to provide a level of care they can no longer provide in the home. Grandma was in a nursing home several years ago but hated it, so my uncle moved her from Nebraska to his home in Nevada. She didn't like it there either. So my parents took her in. She isn't happy there either.
Her world has gotten very small. My old bedroom is now hers. With the aid of a walker, she would make the short trip from her bed to a glider rocker in the living room where she would spend her waking hours and take her meals. Then back to her room. Her view of the outside world is limited to a large picture window in the living room and a television stationed across a wide expanse of carpet. Since my last visit just two months ago, the walker is no longer enough to manage even that short trip and she needs the help of a wheelchair to make it.
But in spite of her limited mobility she's getting ready to make an extended trip. My parents are planning to take my grandmother back to Nebraska, perhaps as early as next week. So, I am going to make a little road trip myself of about 250 miles to see her while she is still close by.
I know that it's likely to be the last time I see her in this life. She may not know me, but I want to see her and spend a little time with her. I want to look for a few signs of the vital, robust larger-than-life figure I knew in my youth peaking out of the tiny, frail frame my grandmother now inhabits.
As a small child, a visit to grandma and grandpa's house was a Sunday ritual broken when my parents moved my brothers and me to Oregon shortly before my 8th birthday. Our family was divided, living on opposite ends of the Oregon Trail. Return trips to the Cornhusker State have been very few and far between. My last three visits to Nebraska were for funerals -- my mother's father, then her sister and most recently for one of my father's brothers.
I'm not looking forward to my next trip back there. I can't say I'm really looking forward to the trip to my parents' home either. But I would rather see my grandmother now, with what life she has left, than have our next meeting involve an even longer trip and her in a fancy box.
A couple of summer's ago I took my daughter to her first, and probably only, meeting with her great-grandmother. Much of my time with my daughter is spent with her mother's side of the family. But I wanted her to see a little more of my family. I wanted her to have an opportunity for some sort of memory with my grandmother and a bit more exposure to the other part of her heritage. I wish she would have got to know my grandparents, my grandmother and my late grandfather. But maybe that's because I wish I got to know them more and spend more time with them and with my father's parents, who both died when I was young.
So, my attempt to blog every day this month may come to a screeching halt this weekend. I may be on the road and not have an opportunity to post to the Fishwrap. I've enjoyed trying to get back into the writing groove again. But this weekend I will have something more pressing and important to do that will take priority.
Hang in there grandma, I'm coming home. I'll get there just as quick as I can. We'll both be home real soon.
Friday, April 06, 2007
Not-so-good-Friday
I've been home from work for less than an hour and I'm already going stir crazy. I week ago I was running all over the place, seeing people, spending time with friends. There wasn't enough time for anything.
Today, I have more time than I know what to do with and I have nothing to do and nowhere to go.
It has been difficult to make friends here, a realization that has been heightened by spending several days with friends recently in another city. It was like I was a completely different person. I was outgoing, outspoken, vivacious and maybe even a little flirtatious. It wasn't just like going to a new place. It like was inhabiting a different person. I liked the person I was there and then. I'm not such a big fan of this person I've somehow become. It's as if somehow returning to my former home state was like returning to that shy, quiet, insecure person I was as a teen. It's not that I didn't have some timid times or bad days when I lived in California. But somehow swimming in a bigger pond made me a bigger fish too.
I'm looking forward to spending time with family this weekend. While it's possible to feel isolated and lonely in a crowd, sometimes it's being alone that forces you to realize how lonely alone really can be.
Today, I have more time than I know what to do with and I have nothing to do and nowhere to go.
It has been difficult to make friends here, a realization that has been heightened by spending several days with friends recently in another city. It was like I was a completely different person. I was outgoing, outspoken, vivacious and maybe even a little flirtatious. It wasn't just like going to a new place. It like was inhabiting a different person. I liked the person I was there and then. I'm not such a big fan of this person I've somehow become. It's as if somehow returning to my former home state was like returning to that shy, quiet, insecure person I was as a teen. It's not that I didn't have some timid times or bad days when I lived in California. But somehow swimming in a bigger pond made me a bigger fish too.
I'm looking forward to spending time with family this weekend. While it's possible to feel isolated and lonely in a crowd, sometimes it's being alone that forces you to realize how lonely alone really can be.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Something's missing
I've been reminiscing a lot lately. Obviously it was the trip to the old desert stomping grounds. That place, those people, have a profound effect on me.
I spent my 30s in the deserts of Southern California. In many ways, I came of age there. I learned and grew a lot professionally, achieve some successes and endured some setbacks. It was a bit of a mixed bag socially. I made some great friends, and strengthened some key friendships, but the dating life was disappointing, except for a couple of adventures and one romance spectacular in its emotional highs and lows.
I am not deluding myself. It was not all sunshine and roses. But there was a lot of sunshine and I love the sunshine.
Fortunately the sun was shining today and spring is in the air, at least for a few days. But I miss the friendships built over the California decade. I miss working in a big office filled with people and energy, excitement, enthusiasm and ideas. I miss nights spent dining out or talking under the stars.
I miss the me I was there. I miss the me I could see myself becoming.
Fortunately, I'll be spending Easter with my daughter and her family. I'll take unconditional love and acceptance where I can get it.
OK, maybe I made a play to buy a little of that love with my daughter's birthday present, an inscribed silver bracelet that came in a distinctive blue box. Better to be bankrupt than disappoint my one and only child on her Sweet 16!
I spent my 30s in the deserts of Southern California. In many ways, I came of age there. I learned and grew a lot professionally, achieve some successes and endured some setbacks. It was a bit of a mixed bag socially. I made some great friends, and strengthened some key friendships, but the dating life was disappointing, except for a couple of adventures and one romance spectacular in its emotional highs and lows.
I am not deluding myself. It was not all sunshine and roses. But there was a lot of sunshine and I love the sunshine.
Fortunately the sun was shining today and spring is in the air, at least for a few days. But I miss the friendships built over the California decade. I miss working in a big office filled with people and energy, excitement, enthusiasm and ideas. I miss nights spent dining out or talking under the stars.
I miss the me I was there. I miss the me I could see myself becoming.
Fortunately, I'll be spending Easter with my daughter and her family. I'll take unconditional love and acceptance where I can get it.
OK, maybe I made a play to buy a little of that love with my daughter's birthday present, an inscribed silver bracelet that came in a distinctive blue box. Better to be bankrupt than disappoint my one and only child on her Sweet 16!
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Craving a U-turn
I'm back from the desert, just in time for freezing overnight temperatures. Lord have mercy.
Is it too late to turn around and go back?
Is it too late to turn around and go back?
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Home is where the fart is
I'm back and it looks like Brat took decent care of the place while I was away. And it's nice to see she didn't paint the walls and rearrange all the furniture, so I can still find my way around.
She got a little mushy there on that Valentine's Day post, but I'll forgive her that, especially now that I know it's OK to let'er rip with a hearty belch -- or fart -- now and again.
Homecoming
She got a little mushy there on that Valentine's Day post, but I'll forgive her that, especially now that I know it's OK to let'er rip with a hearty belch -- or fart -- now and again.
Homecoming
Saturday, June 04, 2005
What are those things in the sky?
After about 1,100 miles and 17 total hours of travel time, the trek to Oregon is completed.
I was greeted in the Salem/Portland area with the sky filled with large grey puffy objects that looked like soiled wads of cotton. I was told those were clouds, threatening rain. Funny, I don't remember seeing any of those on the entire drive up the spine of the Golden State.
The exposed skin on my arms and legs experienced an odd sensation upon exiting the vehicle. The skin had this tingling sensation and mysterious little bumps appeared all over the place. I have had a similar sensation when opening a refrigerator door or the air from the air conditioner blows directly on me. I guess that is cold. The radio report said the high temperature was in the 60s here about the time of my arrival.
Didn't anyone tell the weather gods in this part of the country that it is June? Isn't it supposed to be hot outside? It certainly was on Friday when I was carrying stuff from my old apartment to my truck. Did I drive through some passage to the Twilight Zone? I must have missed that sign somewhere along the way.
I also almost missed the "Welcome to Oregon" sign on my journey. My plan was to stop and take a photo of it for the blog, maybe even try to take a picture of myself in front of the sign. Unfortunately, the sign at the Oregon state line on Interstate 5 is on a curve as you are climbing the Siskiyou Mountains. I was in the left lane passing a slow-moving truck when the sign came into view. So, there was no way to pull over and stop in time without causing a crash. So, sorry folks, no photos of the momentous occasion of the prodigal Oregonian's return to the Beaver State. It was a poignant moment though.
All throughout the drive today I was flooded with memories of previous journey's up and down I-5, and previous traveling companions, including hung over frat brothers, a photographer buddy from college, and maybe even an old girlfriend or two.
It's good to be home. Even if it doesn't seem like home yet. I'm very much a stranger in a strangely familiar land.
Moving
Weather
Homecoming
I was greeted in the Salem/Portland area with the sky filled with large grey puffy objects that looked like soiled wads of cotton. I was told those were clouds, threatening rain. Funny, I don't remember seeing any of those on the entire drive up the spine of the Golden State.
The exposed skin on my arms and legs experienced an odd sensation upon exiting the vehicle. The skin had this tingling sensation and mysterious little bumps appeared all over the place. I have had a similar sensation when opening a refrigerator door or the air from the air conditioner blows directly on me. I guess that is cold. The radio report said the high temperature was in the 60s here about the time of my arrival.
Didn't anyone tell the weather gods in this part of the country that it is June? Isn't it supposed to be hot outside? It certainly was on Friday when I was carrying stuff from my old apartment to my truck. Did I drive through some passage to the Twilight Zone? I must have missed that sign somewhere along the way.
I also almost missed the "Welcome to Oregon" sign on my journey. My plan was to stop and take a photo of it for the blog, maybe even try to take a picture of myself in front of the sign. Unfortunately, the sign at the Oregon state line on Interstate 5 is on a curve as you are climbing the Siskiyou Mountains. I was in the left lane passing a slow-moving truck when the sign came into view. So, there was no way to pull over and stop in time without causing a crash. So, sorry folks, no photos of the momentous occasion of the prodigal Oregonian's return to the Beaver State. It was a poignant moment though.
All throughout the drive today I was flooded with memories of previous journey's up and down I-5, and previous traveling companions, including hung over frat brothers, a photographer buddy from college, and maybe even an old girlfriend or two.
It's good to be home. Even if it doesn't seem like home yet. I'm very much a stranger in a strangely familiar land.
Moving
Weather
Homecoming
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