103

One hundred and three. That's the age of my maternal grandmother. She has been in a nursing home for the past 15 years. She went in shortly after my grandfather did. He went because he had a stroke. I remember being there when my mother told her that he has passed away. I was sure that she would be right behind him. But she lingered. Well, I guess you can't really call in lingering when she has outlived him by 16 years. She is frail and weak. She doesn't talk and hasn't eaten in the last couple of days. I'm guessing it will only be a matter of time. My prayer is that she will go in her sleep, peacefully and in no pain. Isn't that how we'd all like to go.

Seeing her started me thinking about my mother when she passed away. That was 8 years ago. Man, it's crazy how fast time goes by. She was in the hospital for the last 18 days of her life, the last 10 in hospice. Her room was at the end of the hall, right next door to the hospice lounge. The lounge had a couple of couches and some tables and chairs, a TV and a small kitchen area with a sink, mini fridge and a microwave. My father, sister and I basically moved in and took over the place. We rearranged the lounge. My father bought new lamp shades for the lamps. I slept on the couch, while he slept in the chair next to her bed. I'd wake up in the morning and go sit with her, while he took a shower and went downstairs to have something to eat. We were with her around the clock. My brother came when he could. My uncle spent a few days there as well. My husband brought Chinese food from Fort Erie one night. My brother brought Anchor Bar chicken wings another. We lived there. The thought of leaving her there alone was unbearable to me. I felt that it was the least I could do to stay and help take care of her. There were times when she was lucid, but she was in a lot of pain so they had her pretty heavily medicated. We spent a lot of time sitting around her bed, telling stories. I got to witness my fathers love for her. She was forever kicking her socks off and her feet were always cold. He'd stand at the foot of her bed and put her feet under his shirt, against his stomach. It was one of the sweetest things I've ever seen. And he'd talk to her, reminding her of all the great things that they had done in their life together. They didn't wait for tomorrow, they did things today.

The night she died, my sister and I were with her. My father, uncle and brother were in the lounge watching something on the television. She had been pretty quiet, but she became very alert, looked off into the corner of the room and then took her last breath. Just like that. One breath in, alive. One breath out, gone. I counted it a great privilege to be with her for that. She saw me into the world and I saw her out. She was 67.

And probably, in the next few days, it will happen for my grandmother. Just like that. This is just a temporary life. Even if you live it for 103 years, it doesn't last forever. We need to make it count. We need to do great things now and not wait until later. We need to remind ourselves of the wonderful things that we have in our lives. We need to connect to the people around us, the people who love us and tell them how much they mean to us. Here, I'll go first. I love you my friends and family. You make me a better person, you put up with all my nonsense. You have my back. I am grateful for all of you. See, that's how you do it. Just like that.

time

I make really great rice krispie treats. I'm not bragging, I really do. Ask anyone. You would think something as plain as a rice krispie treat wouldn't be very hard to make, but you'd be mistaken. The trick is not to let the butter burn and to melt the marshmallows over low heat, just to the point where there are about a quarter of them still whole. Turn the heat off and beat them with a wooden spoon. The residual heat in the pan will be enough to melt the rest. Stir in the rice krispies and you are all set. But it takes time. You can't rush it or you'll end up with rice krispies that turn hard the next day. And who wants that?

I find that I have no problem being patient while waiting for butter to melt, but not so much with other things. The person at the red light ahead of me, who hesitates a little to long when it goes green. The person ahead of me in the grocery store, rifling through her purse looking for a coupon or change or a pen or her bonus card. Or my children when they take longer than I think they should to do something. As badly as I feel when I make remarks under my breath to the strangers who annoy me, my heart aches when I realize I have hurt my kids.

After going through all the firsts of a new baby; steps, words, sleeping through the night, it's easy to kind of gloss over the firsts they continue to go through. The fact is that we all continue to go through firsts in our lives. By definition, a first is something that we haven't experienced yet. So there should be some excitement attached to going through it. And there should be some leeway given to getting it right the first time. But the older you get, the less leeway you are given. I know that when I get the 'eye roll' from someone who is explaining something to me for the first time, I want to pop them one. Give me a chance for pete's sake. And yet, I think I do that to my kids. When what I should be doing is just giving them a chance.

And a rice krispie treat.

rude

When I was growing up, my parents taught me how to be polite. How to say please and thank you. How to sit up straight at a dining room table, keeping my elbows off it and my napkin in my lap. How to properly answer a phone and take a message. How to address those who were older than me. It seems this is a lost art.

Working in an medical office environment, I deal with a lot of different people. Old and young, rich and poor, all different ethnicities. And so many of them absolutely rude. Whether it is rolling their eyes when they are asked for their insurance card or throwing paperwork back at me when asked to fill it out. Now I realize that paperwork is a pain in the ass. I know that you have been coming here for a million years. But what you don't seem to realize is, I have a job to do. I have been asked by my employer, your doctor, to take care of certain things at the desk, so he doesn't have to. So things get billed properly through your insurance. So we have the correct information to send to your primary doctors. So you ultimately get the correct and prompt treatment.

It's what you came here for and it's what I am being paid to provide. So when you come through the front door at nine o'clock in the morning, looking for a fight, it makes my life very difficult.

I think most of us would agree that the health care system in our country leaves a lot to be desired. Insurance companies keep raising rates, which cause doctors to have to do the same. Technology gets introduced to help move the process along and hopefully make things easier on all ends, but that costs money too. You may have to provide information you think is not necessary, but that's not what your insurance company says. We have to play by their rules in order to see you. There is always someone further up the ladder calling the shots. But we are all just trying to do our jobs to the best of our ability.

So the next time you feel like you have to roll your eyes or make some crappy remark, take a second and think about who you are talking to. Just some poor woman who is trying to do her job and earn a living so she can go to her doctor and fill out forms and show her insurance card. We are all just trying to get through our day. It seems to me if we can be a little more civil to each other it would make the day go that much better.

focus

When my kids were in school, we spent lots of nights in the high school auditorium for band and choir concerts. One of the first choir concerst I remember going to was when my oldest daughter was 6th grade. They had the middle school choirs singing, but they also brought in the high school groups. I think it was to show the parents that if the kids stick with this, it gets better. A LOT better. The songs the concert choir sang brought tears to my eyes. They were wonderful. I could not wait for my kids to be in it.

Now I realize that a school concert is not like going to the philharmonic. You don't have to pay to see it. You don't have to get dressed up and drive downtown to the concert hall. But shouldn't you at least have a similar amount of respect for the performers? It never ceases to amaze me how rude some people were at those concerts. Letting their younger children make a lot of noise and run up and down the aisles. Parents carrying on conversations with each other. This always occurred just when my childs group was taking the stage.

Now fast forward a few years. My kids are all out of public school. But my sisters kids are working their way through. Concert night. Same deal. Only now you have people in the audience with their smartphones and electronic games. Tell me, what kind of society have we become when we can't unplug from our toys for an hour? What kind of children are we raising who can't sit quietly for an hour? It seems that if there isn't a constant barrage of noise and entertainment being thrust at them, they immediately go into meltdown stage.

I have come to a place in my life where those lingering moments of quiet are so lovely. And neccessary! Don't get me wrong, if I leave the house without my iPhone, I feel naked. But there are times when it needs to be put away and I need to be able to focus on something else. Like a group of kids who have a desire to sing. Or play the oboe. I wonder sometimes how much longer that will be the case. As this generation grows up, will they be able to sit still long enough to enjoy a concert in a music hall? Or worse, will there be anyone there playing?

ailments

I have developed acid reflux. I never had a problem eating anything. Now I do. I guess I get the spicy foods and acidy foods. But sometimes it's something seemingly bland. Even though I take medicine for it, I still find myself sitting up in bed at night for a while. My father had the same problem. So maybe it's partly genetic. But it's also age. My joints ache. My eye sight and hearing aren't what they used to be. My skin is dry in places and scaly in others. And I have heartburn. I don't stress about it. I could make better choices about what I eat or what time I'm eating and that would no doubt help the situation. But for the most part, I continue on the same path I have been for most of my adult life.

It's hard to give up the things that we are familiar with, whether that is a food or a habit. Those things that we associate with our youth, we try to hold on to for as long as we can. When you are young, it feels like it will last forever. Time has no real meaning because there is so much of it ahead of you. But the older you get, the more time you see behind you instead of in front of you, the more you grasp at those things that draw you back to your youth. Some of us let go of these things easier than others. Most of us think we will know when we have to give something up and we will be able to make that choice. But the truth is that we won't. We are able to fool ourselves into thinking that we still know what is best for us. I still see well enough to drive. I can still climb a ladder to clean out the gutters or reach something from a shelf in the garage. I can still eat pizza and chicken wings at seven o'clock at night and not feel the repercussion from it.

It would be helpful if we were able to realize this and make the necessary changes. It would take a lot of pressure off our children who end up having to do the dirty work. But it's such a control issue and for the most part, we as humans, don't like to give up control. Especially of our own lives. And yet most of us eventually get to a place where we have no control. Where someone else has stepped in to make the decisions. And we can choose to go willingly or we can drag our feet and bitch and moan the whole way. I think the challenge is to go willingly without a loss of dignity. There is a fine balance there, that takes understanding and patience on both sides. Something that is hard to achieve, no doubt, but is the most gratifying if you can do it. Having seen examples in my own family of people who have not done this well, I endeavor to try and be more gracious about it when my time comes. In the meantime, I endeavor to continue to eat pizza. I'll just try to do it earlier in the day. And when I don't, I thank God for Prilosec!