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hard hit
May 23, 2012
Uncle passed away in hospice on Mother's Day afternoon. We all knew it would be
soon--he didn't even go in until that Friday, but the time had definitely come. He wasn't
going to survive that third stroke. Auntie had called on Friday to let me know that
our Mother's Day flowers had arrived at precisely the right moment., because they
had just taken Uncle to the hospice facility, and just when she was at her lowest,
when the florist showed up.
They wanted him in-house, because it was time for the hourly morphine and
anti-anxiety meds, and the care they can do best in their own place. I guess my
cousin stayed with him constantly from the time he was admitted until the nurse
took her aside and explained that as long as she wouldn't leave him...he wasn't
going to leave her. Hard to deal with, I know. But Dr. Cousin handled it as only
she can, and gave him permission to go.
I can't deny that I'm glad and relieved that he is done with the suffering. The pain
and the confusion and the physical restriction and the 34 pills a day...all of which
were a prison for him.
But from a purely selfish standpoint, I'm wrecked. And why does it always seem to
be a holiday?
People don't love me. I'm not trying to be all pity-party with that....just a truth. I
am not a person who is adored. I don't attract--I don't WANT to attract--the
type of people who fawn over one.
But here's the thing. There is a deep and abiding sense of comfort and security in
knowing that there are people who think you are just the shit. Who love you, with
no qualifications, no conditions, no reservations, no baggage, no ifs, ands, or buts.
The kind of love that just quietly and sensibly shoves all that crap out of the way
and presents it self, pure and clean and real.
I have I only shared love like that with a few people in my life..Interestingly, they
have all been on on my mom's side of the family. Must be a "Johnson thing".
And now there is another gone. I won't say they are all gone, because Auntie and
my dear cousin still seem to love me that way. The sent me a most beautiful thank
you note for the love and attention I gave Uncle in his last years...and they packed
it in with a gorgeous pair of amethyst & diamond earrings set in white gold.
Yeah. That's one hell of a thank you.
But you needn't assume that is the only reason I haven't posted lately. Things
don't happen for me singly; they come in sets. And on May 21st, my
mom had her second (left this time) total knee replacement. As soon as she gave
me a surgery date, I had requested two days off so I could come down and be with
my folks--this is a huge deal for a couple of 75-year-olds to deal with all by
themselves. Especially with my mom's hugely complicated medical profile, and all
the many, many miles that have to be covered between their home and the
hospital (about 40 miles each way, and the majority of it on a shitty, winding,
two-lane road next to a river.)
So--they have three kids & four grandkids to help share the load, right?
Umm...as of LAST NIGHT, my mom had seen ONE of her children (that would
be her only daughter) and heard from ONE of her grandchildren (that would be
her only grand-daughter). I went down there, and have been on the phone ever
since. My niece has called, texted, and sent flowers. ZERO visits from the two
sons, and as for three grandsons? Not even a friggin' phonecall. Even AFTER I
got on their shit about it.
I am NOT a happy auntie at the moment.
Anyway--I drove down on the afternoon of the 20th, because she was scheduled
to be at the hospital for check-in at half-past five, for a 7:30 surgery. As I
mentioned, the trip to the hospital isn't a short one, so we had to be up at
O-dark-thirty & hit the road. So I dropped the Taurus at the dealership for some
maintenance, Dad picked me up, and we tooled down to their house. We had a
nice visit Sunday evening, and went to grab a bite at the local cafe--where my mom
and I had tenderloins (food of the gods!)--and Mom promptly managed to bust a
tooth out of her upper partial.
Leave it to my mother. Sigh. Another thing that would have to get dealt with,
that's all. And she was a bloody wreck to begin with--the anxiety was rolling off
her in waves, you could see she hadn't eaten or slept worth a crap for days, and
this was just the old straw-and-camel's-back scenario. Daddy tried to assure her
that he would deal with it and it wasn't going to be a big deal--but she was in no
mood to believe that he was going to follow up. So I told her that I,
PERSONALLY, would deal with it, if she would just give me the name, phone, &
address of her dentist.
He turned out to be in friggin' ROCHELLE. But (cut to the chase) Mom's
catastrophizing to the contrary--Daddy and I got it dealt with, Mom's most lovely
& accommodating dentist had it out for repair and back from the lab before Mom
was even released from the hospital, and Dad even was able to have a friend pick it
up on their way home from work and save him a trip.
Back to the surgery story: We were all up in plenty of time and out the door when
we wanted to be (you have no idea how unusual that is with this bunch!) and got
to the hospital in good time, got mom checked in downstairs, and went upstairs to
check in again in the Surgical Dept. Mom and Dad decided that I should be the
one to go into pre-op with her; Dad was afraid he'd miss something it was
important to hear, due to his deafness, so I schlepped along to the tiny little room
they stuck her in. Where I found out I was in the land of Gowns and
Gloves--Mom being MRSA positive, all reasonable precautions were taken. Let me
tell you--it wasn't the last gown I donned.
Surgery went well--the surgeon used that loveliest of words to describe it:
"Routine". Routine is an exquisite word when describing surgery. Anesthesia
tolerance and recovery were also exemplary, which was even more good news,
considering her lung problems. Frankly, the surgeon looked relieved, and a lot less
gloomy than he did before the surgery! She did have a long recovery, as there was a
lot of pain and they didn't release her to the floor until they had it well in hand.
While she was being settled in her private suite (bed, bath, and antechamber come
your way when you're isolated for being MRSA positive, y'know), Dad and I
grabbed a donut and then suited up for the fun part--HANGING WITH MY
MOTHER IN A HOSPITAL ROOM WHILE WEARING A PLASTIC DRESS
& RUBBER GLOVES, WHILE SHE'S IN PAIN AND WHACKED OUT ON
OPIATES. We stuck with her through her liquid lunch, then she sacked out and
we made a break for Rochelle with her teeth, grabbed some lunch at a great
Mexican restaurant, and headed back to the hospital where she was asleep again
after a potty break.
About supper time, we bugged out and headed back to the house. We'd had such
a late lunch, and we were so exhausted, the two of us didn't even care about food,
so I unwound by debugging my parent's computer. I downloaded & ran CCleaner
and emptied five years worth of temporary files, recovering 803 megs of space. I
adjusted the screen resolution (800x600? what is this--1995?) so that my dad
doesn't go blind as well as deaf, defragged it (never been done, ever), ran a bunch
of XP updates, cleaned up his bookmarks, and adjusted his browser settings so
that the cache files & history will clear themselves. Then I linked his website to his
FB page so that his inventory is viewable on Facebook.
Yes, yes--none of that is in any way amazing or spectacular or hard. Unless you are
my dad (who is pretty darned good at computers for somebody of his generation,
I should say), who was amazed and delighted at the difference in performance.
And because I still couldn't calm down, I figured out how my mom's
a-year-old-but-never-been-used Keurig worked. And kinda fell in love.
While I was doing that, my dad was on the phone with my oldest brother, who
had all of his teeth removed the same day as Mom's surgery. He was still numb, so
he was being a smartass. When we finally got all settled down about 9:00 pm, and I
was close to being asleep--Dad's cell phone rang. He already had his aids out, so I
picked it up.
My cousin, checking to see how Mom was doing.
We talked for 45 minutes. It was good, and we needed to do it, but OMFG was I exhausted by the time I finally got what ended up being a few hours sleep. I swear that was one of the longest days of my life.
And even though I'd planned on coming home Tuesday, when I tried to say goodbye around noonihs, my mom started crying and my dad clutched my arm (so desperately he actually left a bruise) and cried out "don't leave me!". Yeah, that was fucking horrible. So I called my boss and told her I'd need an extra day. What the hell else was there for me to do?
Reading: "The Leftovers" (2011), by Tom Perrotta. A seemingly random, "rapture-like event" occurs, and those left behind cope as best they can. It's a sort of non-denominational occurence, so the religious nuts are as flummoxed as everyone else. First Perrotta title I've read, and it's got a vibe like Douglas Coupland meets Stephen King, when they're both having a good day. A good read.
Listening: Ray LaMontagne, Feist, Counting Crows, Gotye.
Surfing: .
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