Well, I'm not even sure where to start. I have often thought about this blog, but I really haven't had the energy or mindset to think of tackling the update...because since I last blogged, in mid-April, both my mother-in-law and my Daddy has passed away.
Death. Silence. Stillness.
I've often heard the phrase, the silence is deafening. Well, it is.
My mother-in-law, Nanny, died about a week after my last post. She died on Good Friday. The Friday before Easter. She never came home from the hospital. I never got to see her fully alive because of all the chaos going on in my own life. The details are a bit vague in my mind, except to say I was called to the hospital that Friday from work. She was back on the vent...and she wasn't coming off or waking up. It was a dreadful drive. Basically all the family was on their way in and I was the last person to make it there before she died. We stood in the ICU room waiting for her to breathe her last breath. Six months and six days after Daron's dad did the same thing. Six months. Six days.
Daron just kept repeating, "I don't have any parents." No biological parents. Although I felt the sting of that statement, I really had no idea. None. I just thought I did.
After his mom passed, they asked us to leave for a few minutes so they could disconnect everything. So, all of us, cramped into the "family" room off the ICU corridor. Almost immediately two family members felt the need to get on their cells and call everyone and their brother to say that "Geraldine had passed away." I mean really? I thought heads were going to roll. My husband was about to blow his top. How rude! If you want to do that, leave the room. These folks should be old enough to know what common courtesy is, but clearly they had a lapse in judgement. My husband and his sister just lost their mom. They need time. They need space. They have to process this.
Also, within 15 minutes, the cornea transplant people had called Lib (Daron's sister). Knowing that none of her other organs would be transplant worthy, we all agreed that if they wanted her corneas, they could have them. I think this was more acceptable because Daron has a kidney from a deceased person. Sort of a way to give back. Nanny would've liked that. She would've approved.
We all went back in and told her goodbye once they had disconnected everything. For once in her life, she looked peaceful. Shortly afterwards, much of the family went to Logan's for dinner. It was a good time despite our loss. We needed one another in ways we did and didn't understand.
Lib told us that Daron's dad had taken out a "Brown Policy" on Nanny back in the 70's at Radney Funeral Home. We had no idea what all that covered (or didn't cover) and we were very concerned about what we were going to have to pay out of pocket. She had about one thousand dollars in the bank because she had received a check since she had been in the hospital.
To be continued...
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Second Chances...and Other Hysteria
Since a week ago Monday, this thought has crossed my mind on many occasions. Time is not always on our side or the side of someone we love. We are selfish. We want someone we love deeply to be there, to have life. But what if that life is limited or even hard?
I think about all my husband's mom, my mother-in-law (MIL), has been through. She has COPD, PKD (Polycystic Kidney Disease) which also affects her liver, she is on dialysis three days a week and just this week they've added Pulmonary Fibrosis to the list. Wow. Doesn't that hit home? My Dad has the same thing. I wasn't even sure what to say after we found out. Not only does she have trouble exhaling, but now inhaling as well. Gee.
At one time she lived with us and that was definitely a "God thing." She asked to live with us and she lived at our house for less than a year's time. God had a plan in it. While she lived with us, my husband received his life-gaining kidney transplant. She was able to manage our household (to the best of her ability and despite an on-going control battle with my eldest stepson), cook for our kids (and me when I came back home), and rearrange our kitchen. That last part is definitely still a little touchy subject with my husband. He did not like his kitchen being rearranged. He is the cook and I can understand that. The kids and I had no idea where anything was. Plus, one night, a night the kids will never let their Nanny live down, is when she served them spaghetti with vegetables. After that night I think they thought she had really lost it, gone off the deep end. They were convinced she had really lost her marbles! Or her meatballs...
I kept reminding them to consider that she was under a great deal of stress and if she requested anything that seemed odd to them just to go with it. I reminded them, time and again, that she had not been in a role with such responsibility in a L-O-N-G time. Of course, as kids (teens) often do, they tried to take advantage of her on several occasions mainly because they thought she "hadn't a clue." Oh, but she was much smarter than they gave her credit for. I applaud her for that!
For example, she told them not to go out of the yard because she wanted to be able to see them (and I can't blame her for that). She doesn't drive and she couldn't of found them if they didn't show back up for dinner. Although she was known to feed them at 5 or so as opposed to our regular dinner time of around 7:30. They were not hungry at 5 and they let her know. Obviously, it didn't phase her. She kept right on feeding them early. I think the control might of gone to her head just a bit.
There was also something strange going on with the boys' mom. She called A LOT during that time. She text me repeatedly telling me how much easier this would be if the eldest had a driver's license. After about five or six of these text, I replied to her that I didn't know why she kept telling me about it because I had no control over when he got his license. This was something she needed to discuss with my husband, but not at this time since he was trying to recover from a kidney transplant. I swear that woman is blonde sometimes...she jumped my case about that saying I was "difficult to work with" and basically she didn't know why she even bothered. Well, whatever. Quit texting me.
Then the one time I needed their mom to be helpful, oh no, she was over the top difficult. I had to drive back from Birmingham to our town, run several places to pick up/drop off this or that, wait for the kids to get home from school and pack so they could spend their weekend with her, and drive them back to Birmingham because they hadn't seen their Dad since the transplant earlier that week. I asked her if she could meet me closer to Birmingham and she kept saying she could only meet me at the appointed time in the appointed place which was an impossibility for me. I told her I couldn't do that because there was no way for me to drive 1.5 hours back just to meet her at our regular spot. How lame. That wasn't even logical. So, after some rearranging with her eldest son, she agreed to meet me at another place in Alabama...little did I know it was right up the road from her house, but I STILL had to drive OVER an hour to meet her. Yeah, thanks for meeting me closer to Birmingham. Not. I appreciate your willingness to work with me. Not. I do have to respect my eldest stepson, who for the most part I have a VERY strained relationship with, he was mad at his mom because he knew I had spent lots of hours on the road already and she was just not being nice about the whole thing and he did not like that. I appreciated his support. When I finally met her she said to me, "I appreciate your willingness to work with me." Really? It probably would've just been better if she hadn't said a dang word. I was so mad at her I thought I'd never get over it. I really wanted to get out of my car and tell her how I really felt, it took all that was within me to just drive away. I mean really? Don't ever call me out for not working with you. Humph!
So, anyway, my MIL lived with us until just after my husband returned home about a month after his transplant. I really think she wore herself down and ended up with pneumonia. Our next door neighbor had died, a man who was our next door neighbor twice, sweet, kind man who was often run-over by his family. I felt for him. Anyway, earlier that day and days before we had asked Nanny if she needed to go to the doctor, ER, etc. No, she was okay. Well, she wasn't okay. The night of the funeral, we live in a cul-de-sac and people were parked in front of our driveway (which I never understand at ANY time why people think it's okay to block someone's driveway), she had called and left a message on my cell phone while we were at dinner saying she wanted us to take her to the ER after we got back from dinner. Of course, that sent us into somewhat of a panic. So, once we got home to our blocked driveway, after we managed to find the person who was blocking said driveway and ask them to leave, we loaded her up and took her to the ER. This would be the first in a series of hospital visits which are still occurring. She would come back to our house one time after that. There was a lot of strain between us (my hubs, myself and his mom), I can't really remember why, but there was. We brought her home after a couple of weeks in the hospital and she couldn't climb the front stairs. We literally had to carry her up the stairs. We asked her to call her doctor and TELL him she NEEDED to go to rehab. That she had no strength. Later that evening, she proceeded to call everyone she knew and tell them that she had no idea how to run her oxygen machine (that was now at the house), but she never asked us about it. We knew how to run it because the man had come and shown us before we went to pick her up that day....but she was in a mood and didn't want to talk to us. I felt sorry for her, but at the same time I wasn't sure what to do. I guess I might say I was ashamed of the way I handled (or rather didn't handle) her. But she was mad at us. Why? I'm still not sure if I know. Maybe she was just mad at how life had treated her.
So, she went to rehab and then back to her daughter's house where she had lived prior to living with us. She has never been back to our house because she can't climb the stairs. We offered to have a ramp put in for her but she wanted it that day and that just wasn't a possibility or reality. So, we didn't get the ramp. We still don't have a ramp because it was pointless. She wasn't coming back. I doubt she'll ever come back. And it's sad. I doubt my Dad could climb those stairs and I doubt my Dad will ever be back either. And I have to quit typing now because I am in tears.
I think about all my husband's mom, my mother-in-law (MIL), has been through. She has COPD, PKD (Polycystic Kidney Disease) which also affects her liver, she is on dialysis three days a week and just this week they've added Pulmonary Fibrosis to the list. Wow. Doesn't that hit home? My Dad has the same thing. I wasn't even sure what to say after we found out. Not only does she have trouble exhaling, but now inhaling as well. Gee.
At one time she lived with us and that was definitely a "God thing." She asked to live with us and she lived at our house for less than a year's time. God had a plan in it. While she lived with us, my husband received his life-gaining kidney transplant. She was able to manage our household (to the best of her ability and despite an on-going control battle with my eldest stepson), cook for our kids (and me when I came back home), and rearrange our kitchen. That last part is definitely still a little touchy subject with my husband. He did not like his kitchen being rearranged. He is the cook and I can understand that. The kids and I had no idea where anything was. Plus, one night, a night the kids will never let their Nanny live down, is when she served them spaghetti with vegetables. After that night I think they thought she had really lost it, gone off the deep end. They were convinced she had really lost her marbles! Or her meatballs...
I kept reminding them to consider that she was under a great deal of stress and if she requested anything that seemed odd to them just to go with it. I reminded them, time and again, that she had not been in a role with such responsibility in a L-O-N-G time. Of course, as kids (teens) often do, they tried to take advantage of her on several occasions mainly because they thought she "hadn't a clue." Oh, but she was much smarter than they gave her credit for. I applaud her for that!
For example, she told them not to go out of the yard because she wanted to be able to see them (and I can't blame her for that). She doesn't drive and she couldn't of found them if they didn't show back up for dinner. Although she was known to feed them at 5 or so as opposed to our regular dinner time of around 7:30. They were not hungry at 5 and they let her know. Obviously, it didn't phase her. She kept right on feeding them early. I think the control might of gone to her head just a bit.
There was also something strange going on with the boys' mom. She called A LOT during that time. She text me repeatedly telling me how much easier this would be if the eldest had a driver's license. After about five or six of these text, I replied to her that I didn't know why she kept telling me about it because I had no control over when he got his license. This was something she needed to discuss with my husband, but not at this time since he was trying to recover from a kidney transplant. I swear that woman is blonde sometimes...she jumped my case about that saying I was "difficult to work with" and basically she didn't know why she even bothered. Well, whatever. Quit texting me.
Then the one time I needed their mom to be helpful, oh no, she was over the top difficult. I had to drive back from Birmingham to our town, run several places to pick up/drop off this or that, wait for the kids to get home from school and pack so they could spend their weekend with her, and drive them back to Birmingham because they hadn't seen their Dad since the transplant earlier that week. I asked her if she could meet me closer to Birmingham and she kept saying she could only meet me at the appointed time in the appointed place which was an impossibility for me. I told her I couldn't do that because there was no way for me to drive 1.5 hours back just to meet her at our regular spot. How lame. That wasn't even logical. So, after some rearranging with her eldest son, she agreed to meet me at another place in Alabama...little did I know it was right up the road from her house, but I STILL had to drive OVER an hour to meet her. Yeah, thanks for meeting me closer to Birmingham. Not. I appreciate your willingness to work with me. Not. I do have to respect my eldest stepson, who for the most part I have a VERY strained relationship with, he was mad at his mom because he knew I had spent lots of hours on the road already and she was just not being nice about the whole thing and he did not like that. I appreciated his support. When I finally met her she said to me, "I appreciate your willingness to work with me." Really? It probably would've just been better if she hadn't said a dang word. I was so mad at her I thought I'd never get over it. I really wanted to get out of my car and tell her how I really felt, it took all that was within me to just drive away. I mean really? Don't ever call me out for not working with you. Humph!
So, anyway, my MIL lived with us until just after my husband returned home about a month after his transplant. I really think she wore herself down and ended up with pneumonia. Our next door neighbor had died, a man who was our next door neighbor twice, sweet, kind man who was often run-over by his family. I felt for him. Anyway, earlier that day and days before we had asked Nanny if she needed to go to the doctor, ER, etc. No, she was okay. Well, she wasn't okay. The night of the funeral, we live in a cul-de-sac and people were parked in front of our driveway (which I never understand at ANY time why people think it's okay to block someone's driveway), she had called and left a message on my cell phone while we were at dinner saying she wanted us to take her to the ER after we got back from dinner. Of course, that sent us into somewhat of a panic. So, once we got home to our blocked driveway, after we managed to find the person who was blocking said driveway and ask them to leave, we loaded her up and took her to the ER. This would be the first in a series of hospital visits which are still occurring. She would come back to our house one time after that. There was a lot of strain between us (my hubs, myself and his mom), I can't really remember why, but there was. We brought her home after a couple of weeks in the hospital and she couldn't climb the front stairs. We literally had to carry her up the stairs. We asked her to call her doctor and TELL him she NEEDED to go to rehab. That she had no strength. Later that evening, she proceeded to call everyone she knew and tell them that she had no idea how to run her oxygen machine (that was now at the house), but she never asked us about it. We knew how to run it because the man had come and shown us before we went to pick her up that day....but she was in a mood and didn't want to talk to us. I felt sorry for her, but at the same time I wasn't sure what to do. I guess I might say I was ashamed of the way I handled (or rather didn't handle) her. But she was mad at us. Why? I'm still not sure if I know. Maybe she was just mad at how life had treated her.
So, she went to rehab and then back to her daughter's house where she had lived prior to living with us. She has never been back to our house because she can't climb the stairs. We offered to have a ramp put in for her but she wanted it that day and that just wasn't a possibility or reality. So, we didn't get the ramp. We still don't have a ramp because it was pointless. She wasn't coming back. I doubt she'll ever come back. And it's sad. I doubt my Dad could climb those stairs and I doubt my Dad will ever be back either. And I have to quit typing now because I am in tears.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Sideways Mornings: A Raw, Real Look at Life When It's Ending
Life is not always kind, nor is it always unkind. Life is a long road of twists and turns and up and downs and ins and outs. Just to set the record straight, I am a Christ-follower. I believe that our earthly life begins at conception and ends at our final breath, but I believe in the glorious ever-after as well.
In the last few years, I have experienced life in overwhelmingly wonderful ways and in terribly sad and depressing ways. I have laughed and I have cried. I have mourned before and after death. I have held my tongue at times and at others I have expressed my innermost thoughts, feelings. I've let it all out. And it's not always pretty.
As I begin this blog, to help me cope with everything that is going on around me, this life I have known for some time, goes on. My husband, the recipient of a life-gaining kidney nearly two years ago, has definitely been my light throughout this era of depressing months. Tonight he is sitting with his momma who is in the hospital for the third time since last September battling another infection in her lungs. Last night I arrived home from Florida for the second time in a week. My daddy passed out and had to be revived a week ago today. My family sped down there as fast as we could, a 5.5 to 6 hour trip, in a horrible rainstorm the entire way, so we could spend about 30 minutes with him in ICU before my mom was ready to go home.
Yesterday we received word that my step-mother-in-law would soon (very soon...like before the end of the month soon) be moving back to a town some 45 minutes north of us, and that we needed to have our storage building moved off the property. Okay. Thanks for the heads up. The warning. As usual, we are the last to know. Especially since Donald is sitting at the table eating the feast and worshiping at Jesus' feet.
Let me tell you a little about Donald, my father-in-law. A man I didn't get to enjoy for long enough. He was a man of great faith although, in the end, I would say he struggled with that faith and I think I would've, too. He was a vibrant individual who loved his family, his grandkids and even his "favorite" daughter-in-law. He loved people. He loved God and served his church faithfully. He did what he wanted. He lived life.
He had, from my understanding, for years dealt with what we now know to be acid-reflux disease. There were a lot of things he couldn't eat or keep down. So he ate eggs. And ice cream. And when those things wouldn't stay down he had to search for an alternative solution. Surgery. Early December a short few years ago he had that surgery. He had complications. He lost weight. Lots of weight. He still couldn't eat. He was in and out of the hospital a few hours away. We drove to see him every time. He had multiple tears in his esophagus from multiple shunts/stints in his throat. He had feeding tubes. They fell out. He was told not to drink sodas or he would aspirate. He drank sodas. He aspirated. He emancipated. Doctors talked of a esophagus transplant. Doctors said he was too weak. It was too late. Family members held a birthday party with a full on buffet in front of a man who couldn't eat. I didn't eat. He ate cake. He loved the cake. I didn't eat the cake. I didn't eat the buffet. I barely drank the soda.
Less than two months later I was leading the closing hymn at his funeral.
Through worldly eyes it is hard to accept the inevitable that is coming. Death. O death where is your sting? I recently read where someone questioned why this scripture was used at funerals. I have to agree. Death's sting is the worst of all. It is final. I know that I will see him again, but it doesn't mean a piece of me didn't go in the ground with him.
I have mourned for many years the death of my parents, who are both alive. My mom is in great health, my daddy is now struggling. But why? Why would I mourn someone who is still alive? Because I know it's coming. I know that someday I won't have any blood first kin. How do I know this? Because I am an only child and I don't have any children. Sure, I have a husband and stepchildren, but I am the last of my kind. My dad's brother adopted a daughter and this Newman generation ends with me. Hard to fathom.
I have been blessed with parents that I honestly never thought would still be around when I was 40. My mom had me at 41..you do the math. Although not always true, my mom is now my best friend. I talk to her everyday. And my daddy, he's pretty special, too. Although we grew apart when I grew up these last few years we have definitely rebonded.
Tired. Frazzled. Senseless. That's me. Amazed I have been able to keep it all going in the right direction. Arms supported by friends who've been there and understand. The prayers keep me going, they keep me sane.
In the last few years, I have experienced life in overwhelmingly wonderful ways and in terribly sad and depressing ways. I have laughed and I have cried. I have mourned before and after death. I have held my tongue at times and at others I have expressed my innermost thoughts, feelings. I've let it all out. And it's not always pretty.
As I begin this blog, to help me cope with everything that is going on around me, this life I have known for some time, goes on. My husband, the recipient of a life-gaining kidney nearly two years ago, has definitely been my light throughout this era of depressing months. Tonight he is sitting with his momma who is in the hospital for the third time since last September battling another infection in her lungs. Last night I arrived home from Florida for the second time in a week. My daddy passed out and had to be revived a week ago today. My family sped down there as fast as we could, a 5.5 to 6 hour trip, in a horrible rainstorm the entire way, so we could spend about 30 minutes with him in ICU before my mom was ready to go home.
Yesterday we received word that my step-mother-in-law would soon (very soon...like before the end of the month soon) be moving back to a town some 45 minutes north of us, and that we needed to have our storage building moved off the property. Okay. Thanks for the heads up. The warning. As usual, we are the last to know. Especially since Donald is sitting at the table eating the feast and worshiping at Jesus' feet.
Let me tell you a little about Donald, my father-in-law. A man I didn't get to enjoy for long enough. He was a man of great faith although, in the end, I would say he struggled with that faith and I think I would've, too. He was a vibrant individual who loved his family, his grandkids and even his "favorite" daughter-in-law. He loved people. He loved God and served his church faithfully. He did what he wanted. He lived life.
He had, from my understanding, for years dealt with what we now know to be acid-reflux disease. There were a lot of things he couldn't eat or keep down. So he ate eggs. And ice cream. And when those things wouldn't stay down he had to search for an alternative solution. Surgery. Early December a short few years ago he had that surgery. He had complications. He lost weight. Lots of weight. He still couldn't eat. He was in and out of the hospital a few hours away. We drove to see him every time. He had multiple tears in his esophagus from multiple shunts/stints in his throat. He had feeding tubes. They fell out. He was told not to drink sodas or he would aspirate. He drank sodas. He aspirated. He emancipated. Doctors talked of a esophagus transplant. Doctors said he was too weak. It was too late. Family members held a birthday party with a full on buffet in front of a man who couldn't eat. I didn't eat. He ate cake. He loved the cake. I didn't eat the cake. I didn't eat the buffet. I barely drank the soda.
Less than two months later I was leading the closing hymn at his funeral.
Through worldly eyes it is hard to accept the inevitable that is coming. Death. O death where is your sting? I recently read where someone questioned why this scripture was used at funerals. I have to agree. Death's sting is the worst of all. It is final. I know that I will see him again, but it doesn't mean a piece of me didn't go in the ground with him.
I have mourned for many years the death of my parents, who are both alive. My mom is in great health, my daddy is now struggling. But why? Why would I mourn someone who is still alive? Because I know it's coming. I know that someday I won't have any blood first kin. How do I know this? Because I am an only child and I don't have any children. Sure, I have a husband and stepchildren, but I am the last of my kind. My dad's brother adopted a daughter and this Newman generation ends with me. Hard to fathom.
I have been blessed with parents that I honestly never thought would still be around when I was 40. My mom had me at 41..you do the math. Although not always true, my mom is now my best friend. I talk to her everyday. And my daddy, he's pretty special, too. Although we grew apart when I grew up these last few years we have definitely rebonded.
Tired. Frazzled. Senseless. That's me. Amazed I have been able to keep it all going in the right direction. Arms supported by friends who've been there and understand. The prayers keep me going, they keep me sane.
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