A Tale of Two Mamas
Trying to keep someone IN timeout
Archive for Life and Death
March 9, 2008 at 7:14 pm · Filed under Cancer, Life and Death
We just got back home, unpacked and half-bathed (I have yet to bathe). I’m glad to be back home, and away from the hospital insanity. My dad seems to be recovering well–he’s awake, his stats look good, and is on pain medication. The down side is that he’s starting to get depressed: he’s upset that the surgery didn’t go quite as he expected, the tumor was more aggressive than anyone had thought, and he now has an ileostomy and a colostomy. I think he’s also starting to realize that he will be fighting this the rest of his life, on some level or another.
It’s hard because I’m just relieved that he made it through surgery–both of them–and seems to be healing up well. I kept thinking the past two days that he seemed stronger, healthier and better off now than how he was when I drove down last week. There is also something reassuring about him being in the hospital–being cared by others than himself.
I have to admit I was a bit appalled by the hospital he is in–and am greatly appreciative of our local hospital. The hospital is pretty run down, not even up-to-date with HIPAA regulations and privacy screens, and worst of all: it had some of the filthiest bathrooms I have ever been in, including interstate rest stops! We made sure to wash our hands frequently, but half of the hand sanitizer dispensers were empty. I know we bitch and moan about our hospital, but even before the recent renovations, our hospital was so much cleaner and well-maintained. I just hope that my dad’s hospital makes up for their maintenance in quality of care. The nurses in the surgical ICU were fabulous–most of them were Filipina, which was nice for us: my aunt and my dad both worked the Filipino connection with them.
Hopefully my dad will get to talk with his surgeon tomorrow (he hasn’t seen him since his surgery, which is surprising), and maybe he’ll be moved to a regular bed.
February 23, 2008 at 6:45 am · Filed under Cancer, Life and Death
I cry all the time now–I cry at work, I cry when I get home, I cry when I wake up and can’t sleep any more. I don’t want my dad to die, I don’t want to bury 2 parents in less than a year. Then I start thinking about my mom, and I start missing her–the idea of her, I guess. I google her, and I find articles she’s written, people she used to work with. I google those people–I vaguely remember meeting some of them in her lab. I remember spending Saturdays at the lab with Dennis, our only entertainment the stinky mice they studied and beakers.
I toy with the idea of emailing those people. I want to know who she was…but then I wonder if I should just let it lie, and let the dead stay dead. Would they even remember her? How could they not…to spend years of research together, and then have a partner (in so many ways…) just vanish. Did they call? Did they wonder? I was too young to wonder or notice.
And then last night I thought of where I want to spread my mom’s ashes: Wave Hill, along the Hudson River waterfront where we grew up. My mom used to take us there–one of the few remaining memories I have. Respite for her on a weekend, rolling down hills and playing around the koi pond for Dennis and me. I also thought it would be an interesting counterpoint to what I do for a living–it would be interesting to revisit it now as an adult and a landscape architect. Different eyes. I wonder if that huge beech tree is still there, if the gardens are still the same. I just remembered how in high school a friend and I made pesto at home for lunch, and then drove over there to have a picnic.
My dad, my poor dad. It’s not fair, he just finally kicked all the drugs, and we’re just starting to rebuild our relationship. More around Graem now. I watch him interact with her, and it reminds me of how he was when Dennis and I were kids. He was a great dad, once. He was the one we always wanted to play with and spend time with, not my mom. He was just more fun.
I can’t remember when he became so frail, it was a few years ago. I guess it must have happened when I moved out of the house for college, and came to visit less and less. All my memories of my dad are of a strong, arrogant, garrulous person with a sometimes fiery temper. When Dennis and I were about 2 and 5, he could lift the two of us, one in each hand, arms outstretched. The push-ups, the chin-ups, the martial arts that he would show off to us and encourage us to do…and now he spends most of his time in his massage chair, or in bed. I suppose the loss and pain in his life, the drugs, the cancer–all have diluted him to what he is now. I just missed when it happened.
I hope–pray–that he kicks this. I feel like we’re so close, he has struggled through so much with the chemo and radiation, suffered so much nearly alone. He just has to make it to this surgery–then all will have been done, all that could have been done. The rest is up to the universe.
September 21, 2007 at 6:15 pm · Filed under Health, Life and Death, PP
I can honestly say that this group of thirty something’s isn’t quite the party type. In fact, it’s 7pm on a Friday and we’re watching Maisy (cartoon) while hanging out in our undies after a home cooked meal.
Now there’s a reason to throw a party!
The Alzheimer’s Association is a non-for-profit organization that we wholeheartedly support. They offer assistance for families and also provide funding to research for a cure. I have been the chairperson for our local Memory Walk in the past and we have seen how Alzheimer’s has affected the people that we love and care for.
Now they are hosting Purple Party for World Alzheimer’s Day! You can go right to ActionAlz.org and sign up instantly. You promise to raise $150 to go towards the Alzheimer’s Association and they send you party supplies! It’s really simple and you can actually make your donation online.
The best part about donations in the month of September is that they will be matched dollar to dollar by the Harrah Foundation. Which means that if you donate $150 then $300 will go to find the cure for Alzheimer’s.
Have your Purple Party today and help make a difference one memory at a time.
September 21, 2007 at 5:14 am · Filed under Life and Death
I can’t believe it, but I’m still sad about Peanut dying. I miss that damn cat, and am sad that my last interaction with him alive was kicking him of Grammy’s bed. He was such a big, hairy oaf–the nemesis of my asthma and allergies. Every time I vacuum I feel like I’m getting rid of the last remnants of him!
Shawna told me that yesterday Grammy said, “Peanut was my best friend.” God, it breaks your heart!
September 20, 2007 at 2:58 pm · Filed under Life and Death
Well, I’ve been pretty low key these past few days. Peanut dying has been hard on all of us. At first I didn’t know how Grammy was doing. It came pretty sudden and although she knows about death I wanted to make sure that she was comfortable with talking about.
So when we went to the grocery store the other day we talked about how Peanut got ran over and how we had to bury him.
Then we got home and she went into the spare bedroom where Murphy (our “special cat”) was sleeping. Graem closed the door. I went to the bathroom.
Through the walls I heard Graem say “Murphy, Peanut died today. He got ran over by a car and we had to bury him. It’s alright.”
Then I walked in and Graem was lying on the futon inches from Murphy’s face. It was so sweet and endearing. It was sad that Grammy had to break the news to Murphy about her buddy Peanut.
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