My dear mother in law passed away on Sunday night. She allowed me to get home from being out of town for the weekend, before she took her last breath. She passed away peacefully, in her sleep, in her own bed next to her husband of 61 and a half years. A real blessing. She was in no pain and didn't suffer, for which I will be eternally grateful.
When I started dating my husband and he would tell me stories about his childhood, he would sometimes refer to the "black-haired" Emma. I don't know that she was actually mean. It may be just a child's perspective. She was trying, most of the time in vain, to discipline four kids while her husband spent most of his time working or in the hospital. As a religious woman, she would try to use the threat of the saints to curtail her kids behavior. Unfortunately, they would sometimes use it against her and tease her about it. She told them that if they ever raised their hand to their mother, an angel would grab it and hold it so they couldn't hit her. So. Tell that to boys and you know what is going to happen. Them running up to their mother with their arms held up in the air, screaming that they couldn't put them down because some unseen force was holding them there. I don't know if she ever chased them with a rolling pin. Or even laid a hand on them. But the "black-haired" Emma had a reputation.
I only knew the "white-haired" Emma. In most of my earliest memories of her, she had one volume. Loud. When Emily was born, Paul's mom called her Bupa (sp?). Doll, in Italian. but she didn't say bupa quietly, she said BUPA! in her face. We used to have to pre-condition Em to it before we came up to visit, by yelling BUPA at her so she wouldn't startle. The other famously "yelled" word was JIMMY! Usually directed at her husband. But sometimes at her son when he was stealing mushrooms out of her sauce.
Some other things I remember about her. She always had her nails done. And her hair. She loved purses, jewelery and shoes. She told me one of the first time I met her that I could call her mom. After we got a priest to stand up at our wedding and bless us, she never, ever had issues with me not being Catholic or Italian. She loved being a grandmother. She loved my kids. She loved me.
After losing two sons, being moved out of her home, being run over by her husband on his scooter and then being moved again into our home, she was diminished. She was physically smaller after loosing so much weight. She was mentally smaller because of the losses she had incurred. She was vocally smaller because of a cough she developed that would take her air away as she was talking. Although even a few days before she died, she could be heard yelling JIMMY at her husband. She was emotionally smaller, I think because of just having using it all with such abandon throughout her life. But she still had a spark. Every once in a while, I could see it in her eyes. That little glint of what I imagine the "black-haired" Emma to be like.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
parenthood
I love my children. I love being a mom. But there is probably no job out there that is as frustrating. Or stressful. And you do it without getting to see the results sometimes for years. It's not like other jobs. A heart surgeon has a lot of stress and I'm sure can be frustrating. But you pretty much know as soon as you take the clamps off whether it is a success or not. An auto mechanic knows when he puts the key in and tries to turn over the engine, whether the job he performed was a success. There are many things that you do as a parent that you can see the results fairly quickly. But there are huge things that you deal with that take months and sometimes years to prove out. So instead of getting immediate feedback to justify what you are doing, or at least give you a bit of insight as to whatever you are doing is working, a lot of time you are left laying there in the middle of the night questioning everything you did that day.
And don't get me started on the guilt. You feel guilty for everything you do. Even when they turn out alright. You still go over them, thinking of ways you could have handled it better.
It is a vicious cycle.
I wonder as I watch my inlaws going through the final stages of their lives, if they still feel that way. Do you always worry about your kids? Do you still second guess your decisions? Do you lay awake at night and wonder if you did it right or at least well.
Is there ever a point in your life where you can deem the job successfully done?
And don't get me started on the guilt. You feel guilty for everything you do. Even when they turn out alright. You still go over them, thinking of ways you could have handled it better.
It is a vicious cycle.
I wonder as I watch my inlaws going through the final stages of their lives, if they still feel that way. Do you always worry about your kids? Do you still second guess your decisions? Do you lay awake at night and wonder if you did it right or at least well.
Is there ever a point in your life where you can deem the job successfully done?
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Hospice
So. We had a meeting with a Hospice coordinator today. What a wonderful woman. It truly takes someone special to be involved in the process of dying. She went through everything that Hospice can do for my MIL. She took her time explaining everything to us. My FIL had a hard time hearing (what else is new) but once he put a new battery in his hearing aid, he could follow along with the conversation.
When we reached the part of the conversation that had to do with end of life wishes, the dreaded DNR came up. My MIL said she didn't want to be hooked up to any machines. My FIL agreed! That is the first time I have ever heard him talk about such things!
I think the feeling that I came away with was one of relief. Someone was here to help. It has been a strange thing to see. We put the word out to family and friends after we got the diagnosis and there have been no visitors since! I know people are busy and have lives of their own. But here is this poor, little woman. Sitting at home, day after day. And none of her friends or family have come to see her. Now to be fair, they both have outlived a lot of their friends. But still it is sad. I hope that with the help of Hospice and the visiting Angel woman, they will have some company.
Again, we are faced with the ending of a persons life and yet the dull, dreary daily routine of life keeps chugging along. Groceries have to be purchased and laundry needs to be done. Pills have to be refilled and sheets changed. Maybe it is the repetition of these seemingly meaningless tasks that actually keep us on track. The familiarity of daily life and its routine keeps us moving forward. Every day, moving forward. And little by little we move past the hardship or the hurt or loss that is in the now. Here's hoping that there is some happiness and peace in the future.
When we reached the part of the conversation that had to do with end of life wishes, the dreaded DNR came up. My MIL said she didn't want to be hooked up to any machines. My FIL agreed! That is the first time I have ever heard him talk about such things!
I think the feeling that I came away with was one of relief. Someone was here to help. It has been a strange thing to see. We put the word out to family and friends after we got the diagnosis and there have been no visitors since! I know people are busy and have lives of their own. But here is this poor, little woman. Sitting at home, day after day. And none of her friends or family have come to see her. Now to be fair, they both have outlived a lot of their friends. But still it is sad. I hope that with the help of Hospice and the visiting Angel woman, they will have some company.
Again, we are faced with the ending of a persons life and yet the dull, dreary daily routine of life keeps chugging along. Groceries have to be purchased and laundry needs to be done. Pills have to be refilled and sheets changed. Maybe it is the repetition of these seemingly meaningless tasks that actually keep us on track. The familiarity of daily life and its routine keeps us moving forward. Every day, moving forward. And little by little we move past the hardship or the hurt or loss that is in the now. Here's hoping that there is some happiness and peace in the future.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Friday again
Sitting here at my computer after what seemed like the longest week of my life. How come some times they fly by and other times the drag? I think this one dragged because it felt like I just couldn't catch a break all week. It's exhausting!
MIL is doing ok. She keeps saying how good she feels. I think she is worried about when she might start to feel badly. What it will feel like as the disease progresses. We have promised her that with her doctors help, she would be pain free and not alone.
We are hiring someone to come in twice a week, to start, and help out. Not entirely sure how that is going to go over with them. FIL still feels he is capable of taking care of them both. The woman we spoke to was really nice. She kept telling us that all the things we don't have the time (or patience) to do, they will. Because that is what they are here for and it's what they do. He likes to cook? They will cook stuff with him, side by side. He likes to play cards, they'll play cards with him. They will listen to the stories that they haven't heard a thousand times before, like we have. When they asked what MIL likes to do, I said she likes to sit in front of the fire and watch TV. I felt like a bad mother who sits her kids in front of the TV all day!! But she likes her stories and since she isn't reading anymore, this is how she gets them. As a matter of fact, as we talked to this woman, it became increasingly apparent that he is the one who needs the supervision. He is the one who is always wanting to do something.
So as I said, we will see how it goes.
But it has to go, because the husband needs to get out of this house and do some normal-type stuff. You know, put on his big boy clothes and go make some sales calls or something.
I asked the husband last night if there was any feeling of relief, getting the diagnosis for his mom. I didn't want to be offensive or anything, but I admit I feel some relief. Knowing that we were not facing 6 years of her failing health, both physically and mentally, makes this easier for me to handle. And I feel better for her. As someone who has a grandmother who is 101 and in a nursing home, who doesn't know who she is or who we are, I don't want to see my MIL go through that.
Is that selfish? It probably is on some level. But sometimes in life, you have to be a little selfish to survive.
MIL is doing ok. She keeps saying how good she feels. I think she is worried about when she might start to feel badly. What it will feel like as the disease progresses. We have promised her that with her doctors help, she would be pain free and not alone.
We are hiring someone to come in twice a week, to start, and help out. Not entirely sure how that is going to go over with them. FIL still feels he is capable of taking care of them both. The woman we spoke to was really nice. She kept telling us that all the things we don't have the time (or patience) to do, they will. Because that is what they are here for and it's what they do. He likes to cook? They will cook stuff with him, side by side. He likes to play cards, they'll play cards with him. They will listen to the stories that they haven't heard a thousand times before, like we have. When they asked what MIL likes to do, I said she likes to sit in front of the fire and watch TV. I felt like a bad mother who sits her kids in front of the TV all day!! But she likes her stories and since she isn't reading anymore, this is how she gets them. As a matter of fact, as we talked to this woman, it became increasingly apparent that he is the one who needs the supervision. He is the one who is always wanting to do something.
So as I said, we will see how it goes.
But it has to go, because the husband needs to get out of this house and do some normal-type stuff. You know, put on his big boy clothes and go make some sales calls or something.
I asked the husband last night if there was any feeling of relief, getting the diagnosis for his mom. I didn't want to be offensive or anything, but I admit I feel some relief. Knowing that we were not facing 6 years of her failing health, both physically and mentally, makes this easier for me to handle. And I feel better for her. As someone who has a grandmother who is 101 and in a nursing home, who doesn't know who she is or who we are, I don't want to see my MIL go through that.
Is that selfish? It probably is on some level. But sometimes in life, you have to be a little selfish to survive.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Hodgkins Lymphoma
We saw the oncologist today and MIL has been diagnosed with Hodgkins lymphoma. The doctor was wonderful. Very compassionate and very good at helping us to understand what we are dealing with. He explained that in a younger, stronger person, this type of cancer is highly treatable and curable. Unfortunately, given my mother-in-laws age and physical condition he does not feel that she could handle the months of chemotherapy that would be required. We agree and don't feel that it is necessary to put her through that. It comes down to quality of life over quantity.
She said she felt like she knew it was coming. My father-in-law, on the other hand is playing his same tune. If you eat enough, if you have a positive attitude, you can overcome anything. His determination is amazing! He has these feelings and his feeling is telling him she is going to be ok. So who am I to tell him that she isn't?
On the other hand, I get the feeling from my MIL that she really is trying to process this whole thing. I think she wants to go through the emotions of it. And he keeps shutting her down. So we are back to that conundrum. Who's rights or wishes are more important?
When my mother was sick, there were a lot of times that I wanted to ask her to go to Roswell Cancer Institute. I mean if you are lucky enough to live in a city that has one of the top cancer hospitals in the country, why would you go anywhere else? But she chose not to. She wanted to stick with the medical group she knew and was comfortable with. And she died.
Now, do I think that if she had gone to Roswell, she wouldn't have died? Of course not. Small cell lung cancer is fatal. Period.
But I wonder if it would have bought her more time. I wonder how things would have been different if I had spoken up and asked her more questions or talked more openly about what she was going through. But in the end, it was her choice.
When my brother in law was in hospice in Las Vegas, my husband was the only one to be there with him. He forbid his parents from coming out. They wanted to, but didn't because my husband told them not to. He felt his brothers wishes were more important. His brother was basically non-responsive and probably wouldn't have even known they were there. My husband said it would have been too hard on them to see him like that. But he was their son. Didn't they have a right to see him like that? And I don't buy the "I want them to remember him when he was healthy" statement. The memories I have of my mother, or my grandmother, or my brother in law are memories from a whole bunch of different times with that person. They are not only of the last time I saw them. So should they have gone? Should they have been allowed to see him and grieve over him and do whatever parents do when they are faced with the death of one of their children, even when that child is 50?
Who's wishes take precedence?
I think that we are in for a bumpy ride as we progress through this disease with my MIL. Mostly with how my FIL deals with it. I hope that she will be able to come to terms with it. To grieve her loss. To talk about it and cry about it, without being made to feel like she is giving up. And I hope my FIL can come to terms with it as well. Sixty one years is a long time to share your life with someone else.
She said she felt like she knew it was coming. My father-in-law, on the other hand is playing his same tune. If you eat enough, if you have a positive attitude, you can overcome anything. His determination is amazing! He has these feelings and his feeling is telling him she is going to be ok. So who am I to tell him that she isn't?
On the other hand, I get the feeling from my MIL that she really is trying to process this whole thing. I think she wants to go through the emotions of it. And he keeps shutting her down. So we are back to that conundrum. Who's rights or wishes are more important?
When my mother was sick, there were a lot of times that I wanted to ask her to go to Roswell Cancer Institute. I mean if you are lucky enough to live in a city that has one of the top cancer hospitals in the country, why would you go anywhere else? But she chose not to. She wanted to stick with the medical group she knew and was comfortable with. And she died.
Now, do I think that if she had gone to Roswell, she wouldn't have died? Of course not. Small cell lung cancer is fatal. Period.
But I wonder if it would have bought her more time. I wonder how things would have been different if I had spoken up and asked her more questions or talked more openly about what she was going through. But in the end, it was her choice.
When my brother in law was in hospice in Las Vegas, my husband was the only one to be there with him. He forbid his parents from coming out. They wanted to, but didn't because my husband told them not to. He felt his brothers wishes were more important. His brother was basically non-responsive and probably wouldn't have even known they were there. My husband said it would have been too hard on them to see him like that. But he was their son. Didn't they have a right to see him like that? And I don't buy the "I want them to remember him when he was healthy" statement. The memories I have of my mother, or my grandmother, or my brother in law are memories from a whole bunch of different times with that person. They are not only of the last time I saw them. So should they have gone? Should they have been allowed to see him and grieve over him and do whatever parents do when they are faced with the death of one of their children, even when that child is 50?
Who's wishes take precedence?
I think that we are in for a bumpy ride as we progress through this disease with my MIL. Mostly with how my FIL deals with it. I hope that she will be able to come to terms with it. To grieve her loss. To talk about it and cry about it, without being made to feel like she is giving up. And I hope my FIL can come to terms with it as well. Sixty one years is a long time to share your life with someone else.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Sunday
I sit here at the computer looking out on the gloomy, rainy day. As much as people complain about the weather in Buffalo, it does make you appreciate the spring, summer and fall. Of course I wish they lasted longer than 1/2 a year like winter seems to.
I do like the change in the seasons. I have never been a person that liked things the same all the time. I think I get some of that from my dad. He is always rearranging furniture and changing pictures that are hanging. I do that too. It makes it seem like a new room for no cost other than the a days work. Plus it gives me a chance to vacuum under the sofa!
I am drawing plans for a powder room. We lost the downstairs bathroom to the inlaws and it gets to be a pain to have to run upstairs every time you want to pee. The powder room will go where my washer and dryer are right now. So that means they need to move. More change! It's good, though. This house has gone through so many changes since we moved in. Walls went up and came down depending on where we needed a room. We've raised three kids in this house, plus all their friends. Housed my sister in law for a couple of years while she was getting back on her feet. And now Paul's parents. There have been home offices, pantry closets and coat closets that have all made room to become other areas. My father has a saying that "it is just like a Hollywood set". Things can change as you need them to.
Growing up we had a table saw in the dining room. We would finish dinner and then construction or destruction would start. It probably was in the dining room for 8 months, but it seemed like longer to me. I'm glad I grew up like that. Where things a little unsettled and messy. I think it has allowed me to be able to cope with things better. While I was going through chemo my mantra became "it is what it is". Not that I think you should lay down and let life run over you, but there are a lot of things that you have no control over. However you can control how you respond to them. I guess I have always felt that pitching a fit was a bad use of energy and it doesn't usually change anything anyway. So you roll with what life hands you and hopefully keep your head above water so you can see what is over the next wave.
I do like the change in the seasons. I have never been a person that liked things the same all the time. I think I get some of that from my dad. He is always rearranging furniture and changing pictures that are hanging. I do that too. It makes it seem like a new room for no cost other than the a days work. Plus it gives me a chance to vacuum under the sofa!
I am drawing plans for a powder room. We lost the downstairs bathroom to the inlaws and it gets to be a pain to have to run upstairs every time you want to pee. The powder room will go where my washer and dryer are right now. So that means they need to move. More change! It's good, though. This house has gone through so many changes since we moved in. Walls went up and came down depending on where we needed a room. We've raised three kids in this house, plus all their friends. Housed my sister in law for a couple of years while she was getting back on her feet. And now Paul's parents. There have been home offices, pantry closets and coat closets that have all made room to become other areas. My father has a saying that "it is just like a Hollywood set". Things can change as you need them to.
Growing up we had a table saw in the dining room. We would finish dinner and then construction or destruction would start. It probably was in the dining room for 8 months, but it seemed like longer to me. I'm glad I grew up like that. Where things a little unsettled and messy. I think it has allowed me to be able to cope with things better. While I was going through chemo my mantra became "it is what it is". Not that I think you should lay down and let life run over you, but there are a lot of things that you have no control over. However you can control how you respond to them. I guess I have always felt that pitching a fit was a bad use of energy and it doesn't usually change anything anyway. So you roll with what life hands you and hopefully keep your head above water so you can see what is over the next wave.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Control and other issues
So the FIL had a meltdown yesterday. He is railing against having no control in his life. As far as he is concerned, if he can no longer live on his own and own a car and a house he is as good as dead. Now that kind of reaction seems a little extreme to me. Here is a couple that for most of their lives, had things go pretty well. No major illnesses, no major tragedies. They travelled to Florida and Vegas and California. They pretty much lived life as they wanted to, with little regard to the consequences. Then Joe died. Then we moved them (read "stole") from their house. Then Jimmy died. Then he ran her over with the scooter and after a bout in rehab they ended up with us. From any perspective, the last year in particular has been pretty shitty. But if you can just pull back from it a little, the majority of it has been really good. Surrounded by family and good friends.
So, what causes the bitterness and despair? My father thinks that the closer you get to the end, the more magnified things become. So that things that you would have easily brushed off earlier in your life, become things you can't let go. I hope that it is not true for everyone. I would hate to end my life that way.
We had a funny conversation after dinner the other night. We asked them how they had met. Her mother used to buy groceries at the store on Grant Street. One day she brought Emma with her. When I asked her if it was love at first sight she said "No!" She thought he was arrogant and cocky. Although that didn't stop her from asking him to escort her to a dance. Of course that was after the guy she wanted to go with couldn't. So he did take her and then proceeded to fall asleep on a couch in the dance hall. She was so upset that she went home alone. We never did hear how they fell in love. He told a story about how he wanted to take her to the movies to see a cowboy picture and she didn't want to go. He told her that he would be there at 7 pm to pick her up and she better be ready to go. For some reason, she was! He took her to the show and just as she was beginning to enjoy it he said, ok lets go! I just wanted to prove that you should go! For all I am worth , I don't understand that mentality! It was a different time, I know, but still.
I am glad that my husband is not like that. I'd have to deck him.
On a side note, we were trying to find out who his favorite cowboy was. I found a great website that listed a lot of old cowboys, who played them, even what the name of their horses were. After naming off all the greats, Tex Ritter, John Wayne, Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, I hit upon Randolph Scott. He finally agreed that he thought that was who it was. A real man's man.
After doing some research about him online, it turns out that he was rumored to have had an affair with Cary Grant! Yup! A real man's man! If you get a chance, look up his wiki sight. There is a beautiful picture of him and Cary Grant in the pool. Two more beautiful men, there never were!
So, what causes the bitterness and despair? My father thinks that the closer you get to the end, the more magnified things become. So that things that you would have easily brushed off earlier in your life, become things you can't let go. I hope that it is not true for everyone. I would hate to end my life that way.
We had a funny conversation after dinner the other night. We asked them how they had met. Her mother used to buy groceries at the store on Grant Street. One day she brought Emma with her. When I asked her if it was love at first sight she said "No!" She thought he was arrogant and cocky. Although that didn't stop her from asking him to escort her to a dance. Of course that was after the guy she wanted to go with couldn't. So he did take her and then proceeded to fall asleep on a couch in the dance hall. She was so upset that she went home alone. We never did hear how they fell in love. He told a story about how he wanted to take her to the movies to see a cowboy picture and she didn't want to go. He told her that he would be there at 7 pm to pick her up and she better be ready to go. For some reason, she was! He took her to the show and just as she was beginning to enjoy it he said, ok lets go! I just wanted to prove that you should go! For all I am worth , I don't understand that mentality! It was a different time, I know, but still.
I am glad that my husband is not like that. I'd have to deck him.
On a side note, we were trying to find out who his favorite cowboy was. I found a great website that listed a lot of old cowboys, who played them, even what the name of their horses were. After naming off all the greats, Tex Ritter, John Wayne, Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, I hit upon Randolph Scott. He finally agreed that he thought that was who it was. A real man's man.
After doing some research about him online, it turns out that he was rumored to have had an affair with Cary Grant! Yup! A real man's man! If you get a chance, look up his wiki sight. There is a beautiful picture of him and Cary Grant in the pool. Two more beautiful men, there never were!
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