Life doesn’t always act the way we think it should. I blame Hollyweird and all the myths about life, relationships and living that it has built up. The Brothers Grimm and Hans Christen Anderson were very very brutally honest about life’s inequities, and yet somehow the stories have been turned into froo-froo bullshit. Child protective services in this country would have a field day with Cinderilla’s step mother, and PETA would go nuts about the abuse of animals for human greed!
But I jest.
It’s good to find out that my quirky sense of humour is more or less intact. There are days when I feel like the world is closing in around me and I can do nothing to stop it.
Mary’s condition is drastically changing, so much so that the oncologist urged Dad to get Hospice involved NOW. That sort of shook him I think. The pain med patch they had spoken of though won’t work on Mary, because she’s down to skin and bones- less than 85 lbs, and refusing to eat most of the time. Hopefully the liquid meds will help some , if she can be made to take them.
And my brother’s cancer is early early stages. He has chosen to go with a form of radiation treatment that has fewer potential side effects, and better recovery time. His lust for life is still high, and that is good. Attitude can make a great deal of difference in the battle.
Dad’s doing okay, though finally admitting that this is tougher than he first thought. no one should be expected to raise a child alone, nor care for the elderly/dying alone. Both are emotionally and physically draining, to the point of losing one’s self. I know it well.
Speaking of which, I am off to go help him get away for a bit. It‘s about all he lets folks do , but he’s getting better at that since Mary tires out very swiftly these days. He knows he has to have time to get things done.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Saturday, January 19, 2008
One Never Knows
In the last 24 hours, my dad has shown me a side I would never have believed him capable of. All the insistence about getting Hospice to start helping them out has met with a brick wall, partly because of serious, albeit illogical, objections on my step mom's part. My father has shown that his love for her exceeds the need for anyone else to be there, no matter the possible physical detriment to himself. He hasn't been eating right as far as I am concerned, nor getting the relaxation time or exercise he has always been used to. It is his choice.
Dad has always been able to put the fear of god into just about anyone with little more than a glance, and while he has mellowed a LOT in the last 20 years, he can still be a real prick. I admire Mary no end for not only putting up with him, but for calling him down when he was completely out of line. He did some serious emotional harm to all of my sibs and me, without even being aware of the damage I think. He is respected by a lot of people, but not always liked. I have a lot of him in me, and can say similar things of myself I suppose. I, after all,learned to deal socially with the world thru him.
Anyway, he has chosen to say no to the hospice thing for the time being, and my step sister has decided to back down. I will follow suit. No one can tell my dad what to do anyhow, and I suspect he knows best what it will take to give Mary a calm and peaceful last few months. She has her good days, and her bad days. There are days of complete calm, and then days where the temper flares for no discernible reason. I have compared it to dealing with a five year old, but it may be even younger than that. I got a small taste the other day, reacted as I would with a child, and it all calmed down pretty quickly. Short event, but long lasting lesson.
Mary doesn't DO much anymore. A few things get her attention: jigsaw puzzles, music and dominoes. The doctor told Sandy that Mary is living in a world of patterns, which is why those things appeal. I witnessed Mary keeping nearly flawless time to the instrumental music she turned on "for me." She tapped her feet, patted on her knee, even hummed along, and it seemed to bring her clarity of mind for awhile. i was amazed.
The jigsaw puzzles are an interesting thing too. Most of us would use colour or pattern on the picture, say, flowers, or sky, or what have you, to work on the puzzle. Mary almost exclusively uses the shape of the pieces themselves! I "helped" with one awhile back, noting that she got flustered if I was doing better than she was, and instead talked with her while she searched for the piece shapes. The speed with which she finished that 100 puzzle was amazing, considering she has trouble remembering much from the day before. Patterns mean more to her world that things.
Now the dominoes.....Sandy calls it insane dominoes when she plays with Mary. I agree. I only know that one is supposed to put like numbers butt to butt. There is a version that uses this starting point, usually the double nines. Everything starts off normally, but Mary's idea of rules is wild. She's all over the place about some things, and OCD(obsessive-complusive disorder) about others. It is really hard to judge sometimes. The one big catch is the other player MUST abide by the rules, even if Mary doesn't. Sound familiar? It's that small child thing.
There are six beginning slots on this centre piece she uses, but goddess forbid any but the three she wants used should be attempted by anyone: Tantrum. If she finds she is losing, and she is very aware of how many tiles each player has, tantrum. If anyone but her tried to play a tile out of sequence (i.e., not matching numbers) even if she just did that herself, tantrum. And sadly, jokes are not part of her mentality anymore. I was at a hopeless impasse in one game, unable to get rid of even one tile, but having many that could have interlocked. I jokingly said I would just play over here by myself, and all hell broke loose. Things started being pushed and thrown, so I just sat back and looked at her. When she tried to start a different game, I did what I would with a child in that situation. I said no thanks, I think I'm done, I will go over there, and left the table. No nasty words, no trying to reason. I just left. I went back in the living room, sat down, and continued work on something I had been doing before. To my surprise, she turned all the tiles face down, gathered all of it up, and came out to sit with me. The whole ordeal was over. I was flummoxed. Had it been a completely rational person, I'd have reacted totally different, but with her, I had to drop it, and act like it had never happened.
That is the nature of vascular dementia, and Alzheimer's. Other than her general frustration over not being in control of her life, I have no explainations for the tantrums. Her more frequent naps now may help this, but I feel sorry for dad. He is putting up with the abuse because he remembers, even if she doesn't. That, my friends,is true love. All the rest is just selfish bullshit. Tom Stoppard, american playwrite, said something once that takes it home: "It is easy to love someone when they are at their best. True love is loving someone when they are at their worst."
Horrible abuse of the English language, Mr. Stoppard, but very very insightful.
I just have to wonder if my dad understands how much I have grown to love him, watching him go thru this hell, all for love.
Dad has always been able to put the fear of god into just about anyone with little more than a glance, and while he has mellowed a LOT in the last 20 years, he can still be a real prick. I admire Mary no end for not only putting up with him, but for calling him down when he was completely out of line. He did some serious emotional harm to all of my sibs and me, without even being aware of the damage I think. He is respected by a lot of people, but not always liked. I have a lot of him in me, and can say similar things of myself I suppose. I, after all,learned to deal socially with the world thru him.
Anyway, he has chosen to say no to the hospice thing for the time being, and my step sister has decided to back down. I will follow suit. No one can tell my dad what to do anyhow, and I suspect he knows best what it will take to give Mary a calm and peaceful last few months. She has her good days, and her bad days. There are days of complete calm, and then days where the temper flares for no discernible reason. I have compared it to dealing with a five year old, but it may be even younger than that. I got a small taste the other day, reacted as I would with a child, and it all calmed down pretty quickly. Short event, but long lasting lesson.
Mary doesn't DO much anymore. A few things get her attention: jigsaw puzzles, music and dominoes. The doctor told Sandy that Mary is living in a world of patterns, which is why those things appeal. I witnessed Mary keeping nearly flawless time to the instrumental music she turned on "for me." She tapped her feet, patted on her knee, even hummed along, and it seemed to bring her clarity of mind for awhile. i was amazed.
The jigsaw puzzles are an interesting thing too. Most of us would use colour or pattern on the picture, say, flowers, or sky, or what have you, to work on the puzzle. Mary almost exclusively uses the shape of the pieces themselves! I "helped" with one awhile back, noting that she got flustered if I was doing better than she was, and instead talked with her while she searched for the piece shapes. The speed with which she finished that 100 puzzle was amazing, considering she has trouble remembering much from the day before. Patterns mean more to her world that things.
Now the dominoes.....Sandy calls it insane dominoes when she plays with Mary. I agree. I only know that one is supposed to put like numbers butt to butt. There is a version that uses this starting point, usually the double nines. Everything starts off normally, but Mary's idea of rules is wild. She's all over the place about some things, and OCD(obsessive-complusive disorder) about others. It is really hard to judge sometimes. The one big catch is the other player MUST abide by the rules, even if Mary doesn't. Sound familiar? It's that small child thing.
There are six beginning slots on this centre piece she uses, but goddess forbid any but the three she wants used should be attempted by anyone: Tantrum. If she finds she is losing, and she is very aware of how many tiles each player has, tantrum. If anyone but her tried to play a tile out of sequence (i.e., not matching numbers) even if she just did that herself, tantrum. And sadly, jokes are not part of her mentality anymore. I was at a hopeless impasse in one game, unable to get rid of even one tile, but having many that could have interlocked. I jokingly said I would just play over here by myself, and all hell broke loose. Things started being pushed and thrown, so I just sat back and looked at her. When she tried to start a different game, I did what I would with a child in that situation. I said no thanks, I think I'm done, I will go over there, and left the table. No nasty words, no trying to reason. I just left. I went back in the living room, sat down, and continued work on something I had been doing before. To my surprise, she turned all the tiles face down, gathered all of it up, and came out to sit with me. The whole ordeal was over. I was flummoxed. Had it been a completely rational person, I'd have reacted totally different, but with her, I had to drop it, and act like it had never happened.
That is the nature of vascular dementia, and Alzheimer's. Other than her general frustration over not being in control of her life, I have no explainations for the tantrums. Her more frequent naps now may help this, but I feel sorry for dad. He is putting up with the abuse because he remembers, even if she doesn't. That, my friends,is true love. All the rest is just selfish bullshit. Tom Stoppard, american playwrite, said something once that takes it home: "It is easy to love someone when they are at their best. True love is loving someone when they are at their worst."
Horrible abuse of the English language, Mr. Stoppard, but very very insightful.
I just have to wonder if my dad understands how much I have grown to love him, watching him go thru this hell, all for love.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
1000 Marbles
1000 Marbles
Author: Unknown
The older I get, the more I enjoy Saturday mornings. Perhaps it's the quiet solitude that comes with being the first to rise, or maybe it's the unbounded joy of not working. Either way, the first few hours of a Saturday morning are most enjoyable.
A few weeks ago I was shuffling toward my office downstairs with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other. This was before Reinee's knee surgery. What began as a typical Saturday morning, turned into one of those lessons that life seems to hand you from time to time.
I turned the computer on in order to listen to a Saturday morning voice chat room. Along the way I came across an older-sounding chap with a tremendous golden voice. You know the kind, he sounded like he should be in the broadcasting business. He was telling whoever he was talking with something about "a thousand marbles." I was intrigued and stopped to listen to what he had to say.
"Well, Tom, it sure sounds like you're busy with your job. I'm sure they pay you well, but it's a shame you have to be away from home and your family so much. Hard to believe a young fellow should have to work sixty or seventy hours a week to make ends meet.
Too bad you missed your daughter's dance recital." He continued, "Let me tell you something, Tom, something that has helped me keep a good perspective on my own priorities."
And that's when he began to explain his theory of a "thousand marbles."
"You see, I sat down one day and did a little arithmetic. The average person lives about seventy-five years. I know, some live more and some live less, but on average, folks live about seventy-five years."
"Now then, I multiplied 75 times 52 and I came up with 3900 which is the number of Saturdays that the average person has in their entire lifetime. Now stick with me, Tom, I'm getting to the important part."
"It took me until I was fifty-five years old to think about all this in any detail," he went on, "and by that time I had lived through over twenty-eight hundred Saturdays. I got to thinking that if I lived to be seventy-five, I only had about a thousand of them left to enjoy."
"So I went to a toy store and bought every single marble they had. I ended up having to visit three toy stores to round up 1000 marbles. I took them home and put them inside of a large, clear plastic container right here next to my gear. Every Saturday since then I have taken one marble out and thrown it away."
"I found that by watching the marbles diminish, I focused more on the really important things in life. There is nothing like watching your time here on this earth run out to help get your priorities straight."
"Now let me tell you one last thing before I signoff with you and take my lovely wife out for breakfast. This morning I took the very last marble out of the container. I figure if I make it until next Saturday, then I have been given a little extra time. And the one thing we can all use is a little more time."
"It was nice to meet you Tom. I hope you spend more time with your family, and I hope to meet you again here on this computer chat room."
You could have heard a pin drop when this fellow signed off.
I had planned to work on the computer that morning, and then I was going to meet up with a few buddies for tennis. Instead, I went upstairs and woke my wife up with a kiss.
"C'mon honey, I'm taking you to breakfast."
"What brought this on?" she asked with a smile.
"Oh, nothing special, it's just been a long time since we spent a Saturday together. Hey, can we stop at a toy store while we're out? I need to buy some marbles.
*****************************************************************************
This story has apparently become a book- lots of ideas about what to do with your last 1000 Saturdays.
http://www.amazon.com/000-Marbles-Little-Something-Precious/dp/0740715534
Author: Unknown
The older I get, the more I enjoy Saturday mornings. Perhaps it's the quiet solitude that comes with being the first to rise, or maybe it's the unbounded joy of not working. Either way, the first few hours of a Saturday morning are most enjoyable.
A few weeks ago I was shuffling toward my office downstairs with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other. This was before Reinee's knee surgery. What began as a typical Saturday morning, turned into one of those lessons that life seems to hand you from time to time.
I turned the computer on in order to listen to a Saturday morning voice chat room. Along the way I came across an older-sounding chap with a tremendous golden voice. You know the kind, he sounded like he should be in the broadcasting business. He was telling whoever he was talking with something about "a thousand marbles." I was intrigued and stopped to listen to what he had to say.
"Well, Tom, it sure sounds like you're busy with your job. I'm sure they pay you well, but it's a shame you have to be away from home and your family so much. Hard to believe a young fellow should have to work sixty or seventy hours a week to make ends meet.
Too bad you missed your daughter's dance recital." He continued, "Let me tell you something, Tom, something that has helped me keep a good perspective on my own priorities."
And that's when he began to explain his theory of a "thousand marbles."
"You see, I sat down one day and did a little arithmetic. The average person lives about seventy-five years. I know, some live more and some live less, but on average, folks live about seventy-five years."
"Now then, I multiplied 75 times 52 and I came up with 3900 which is the number of Saturdays that the average person has in their entire lifetime. Now stick with me, Tom, I'm getting to the important part."
"It took me until I was fifty-five years old to think about all this in any detail," he went on, "and by that time I had lived through over twenty-eight hundred Saturdays. I got to thinking that if I lived to be seventy-five, I only had about a thousand of them left to enjoy."
"So I went to a toy store and bought every single marble they had. I ended up having to visit three toy stores to round up 1000 marbles. I took them home and put them inside of a large, clear plastic container right here next to my gear. Every Saturday since then I have taken one marble out and thrown it away."
"I found that by watching the marbles diminish, I focused more on the really important things in life. There is nothing like watching your time here on this earth run out to help get your priorities straight."
"Now let me tell you one last thing before I signoff with you and take my lovely wife out for breakfast. This morning I took the very last marble out of the container. I figure if I make it until next Saturday, then I have been given a little extra time. And the one thing we can all use is a little more time."
"It was nice to meet you Tom. I hope you spend more time with your family, and I hope to meet you again here on this computer chat room."
You could have heard a pin drop when this fellow signed off.
I had planned to work on the computer that morning, and then I was going to meet up with a few buddies for tennis. Instead, I went upstairs and woke my wife up with a kiss.
"C'mon honey, I'm taking you to breakfast."
"What brought this on?" she asked with a smile.
"Oh, nothing special, it's just been a long time since we spent a Saturday together. Hey, can we stop at a toy store while we're out? I need to buy some marbles.
*****************************************************************************
This story has apparently become a book- lots of ideas about what to do with your last 1000 Saturdays.
http://www.amazon.com/000-Marbles-Little-Something-Precious/dp/0740715534
Changes
"It's too late to alter course now, mateys! Dying is the day worth living for!"
Hector Barbosa
That line has been going thru my head all afternoon. It's actually a very insightful statement, though I doubt an eighth of the audience has caught it or understands.
Failing to live each day as though it is your last leaves a lot of people with regrets when they sit back and mull over what has gone before. Personally, I am hoping for a Viking or Klingon ending to this life- running headlong into battle in the cause of justice, freedom or protection of those weaker. No lingering until it is over.
My step mom is getting rapidly worse, and it is just a waiting game now. My dad is finally starting to realise he cannot do it alone, and I think my step sister will successfully talk him into Hospice help. They were a godsend for my own mom's last days. Mary has stopped being willing to swallow pills, for reasons that the dementia makes it hard to understand. As a result, her pain levels, which were already on the rise, are getting worse. She doesn't want to eat or drink. She cannot remember sometimes what she did or said 15 minutes before. Not so oddly, I have been reading a lot about brain function lately, and watching this progress as such a close proximity is scary. It takes so little for the essence of what and who we are to disappear.
I recognise one thing for certain: the not eating, the increase in sleeping, the desire to stop doing things that pleased some small part of the self....these are all signs of a dying creature.I have been through the same series of changes with dogs, cats, humans, birds, even fish. I think I would look at this differently if she has her mental faculties, but it really hit home today. I had not yet shed any tears over this. Mary made her own decisions about not fighting the cancer, and I respect that. I just hate seeing once so vibrant a person fade in this manner. The biggest blessing is that she doesn't remember. She doesn't even know she has cancer- the cause of the pain in her side. It's all such a mixed bag. She doesn't remember the cancer, but she is aware that she's dying. She told Sandy that she was going to go where her mom and dad are. When she said it, she was pointing at the family grave plot, but I do not believe that is what she meant. She was talking, without the words to say it that way, about dying.
And she doesn't remember that she's slowly losing the ability to communicate. Mary's mom had Alzheimer's, and Mary was terrified of getting it after watching what it did to her mom. Ironically, Mary doesn't even remember that now.
My step brother Dave came home for a few days, and it was after his visit that things started a downhill slide. Mom wanted to see her boy again. Tying up loose ends sort of. My mom did the same thing. Once everyone had had a chance to visit, it was okay to let go. In hindsight, I started seeing the pattern, and I am seeing it now. All life passes from this place- it is the way of things. It is what grace we choose to use that marks the brave from the weak. The Buddha taught that all things we know in this life will be gone in 100 years. No matter how much we cling to the idea of immortality, what we are will end.
But...physics also has some wisdom. Energy does not die; it merely changes shape. What we truly are is compact energy, so while this body as we perceive it may dis purse to the four winds, what we truly are does not die. I will leave the religious ramifications of all that to the individual. I already know where I stand.
I am going to go look for a story sent to me once to post here. If you can, send a prayer to the Gods for my step mom's swift and as painless as possible passing. While not what some would want to hear, it is the best for all involved.
namaste
Hector Barbosa
That line has been going thru my head all afternoon. It's actually a very insightful statement, though I doubt an eighth of the audience has caught it or understands.
Failing to live each day as though it is your last leaves a lot of people with regrets when they sit back and mull over what has gone before. Personally, I am hoping for a Viking or Klingon ending to this life- running headlong into battle in the cause of justice, freedom or protection of those weaker. No lingering until it is over.
My step mom is getting rapidly worse, and it is just a waiting game now. My dad is finally starting to realise he cannot do it alone, and I think my step sister will successfully talk him into Hospice help. They were a godsend for my own mom's last days. Mary has stopped being willing to swallow pills, for reasons that the dementia makes it hard to understand. As a result, her pain levels, which were already on the rise, are getting worse. She doesn't want to eat or drink. She cannot remember sometimes what she did or said 15 minutes before. Not so oddly, I have been reading a lot about brain function lately, and watching this progress as such a close proximity is scary. It takes so little for the essence of what and who we are to disappear.
I recognise one thing for certain: the not eating, the increase in sleeping, the desire to stop doing things that pleased some small part of the self....these are all signs of a dying creature.I have been through the same series of changes with dogs, cats, humans, birds, even fish. I think I would look at this differently if she has her mental faculties, but it really hit home today. I had not yet shed any tears over this. Mary made her own decisions about not fighting the cancer, and I respect that. I just hate seeing once so vibrant a person fade in this manner. The biggest blessing is that she doesn't remember. She doesn't even know she has cancer- the cause of the pain in her side. It's all such a mixed bag. She doesn't remember the cancer, but she is aware that she's dying. She told Sandy that she was going to go where her mom and dad are. When she said it, she was pointing at the family grave plot, but I do not believe that is what she meant. She was talking, without the words to say it that way, about dying.
And she doesn't remember that she's slowly losing the ability to communicate. Mary's mom had Alzheimer's, and Mary was terrified of getting it after watching what it did to her mom. Ironically, Mary doesn't even remember that now.
My step brother Dave came home for a few days, and it was after his visit that things started a downhill slide. Mom wanted to see her boy again. Tying up loose ends sort of. My mom did the same thing. Once everyone had had a chance to visit, it was okay to let go. In hindsight, I started seeing the pattern, and I am seeing it now. All life passes from this place- it is the way of things. It is what grace we choose to use that marks the brave from the weak. The Buddha taught that all things we know in this life will be gone in 100 years. No matter how much we cling to the idea of immortality, what we are will end.
But...physics also has some wisdom. Energy does not die; it merely changes shape. What we truly are is compact energy, so while this body as we perceive it may dis purse to the four winds, what we truly are does not die. I will leave the religious ramifications of all that to the individual. I already know where I stand.
I am going to go look for a story sent to me once to post here. If you can, send a prayer to the Gods for my step mom's swift and as painless as possible passing. While not what some would want to hear, it is the best for all involved.
namaste
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
