Sunday, December 11, 2011
A month without my mother
Sunday, November 20, 2011
When your mother dies
My mother passed away just over a week ago, and I've learned many things about myself and her, since then. I've learned how important my roll as a mother is to me. I thought I knew, but, there's always room for more knowledge, especially self knowledge, I guess.
My mother was 83, so she had made arrangements to cover the cost of her cremation, etc. She had written emails for my brother to send, once she was gone, telling each of us how much we meant to her, and what she wanted us to do with a few hundred dollars she was leaving each of us. My mother never had much money, and her favorite gift was the checks I sent her, on special occasions, holidays, etc. when she could go shopping for something she wanted and the pictures I sent her. Otherwise, she seemed content with the visits, emails and cards we all sent. She was elderly when she learned how to email, and happily forwarded everything that was sent to her.
After she had taught herself how to use an older computer, my brother bought her a new one, and it opened up the world for her.
This past year, she was having more confusion, especially at night, and falling.
As she lived far from all of us (it wasn't that we never tried to get her to live closer or with us, it was just that she enjoyed living near her sister. Even when she briefly lived with my one sister, she was glad to return to Texas).
Then, my aunt started making irate phone calls to my brother because "you all aren't doing enough. One of you needs to move here and take care of your mother." Needless to say, with family commitments, jobs, etc. of our own, that wasn't practical. So with the help of the internet, my medical training (I'm an RN), telephone calls and some fighting with my aunt, we started doing what we could.
We found out part of the problem with our intervention, was medications my mother was taking. My sister spent several days there, trying to figure things out with my help, and just when everything seemed under control, a day after she returned to Kansas, my mother fell, breaking two bones in her leg.
She didn't react well to medications they used for pain, and then after a long distance family meeting, my brother drove from Georgia to Texas and convinced my mother that the rehab hospital in Georgia near his home would be better for her. She also agreed to live near him, with a live in caregiver, "since Georgia is warmer than where the girls live" (Pennsylvania, Kansas) We all helped with the move, either physically or financially.
So he moved her there, got medical care for her that didn't involve multiple doctors prescribing for her, and she got better.
My mother asked if she could move in with him, after the hospital, and he agreed. She was so happy living with him! We thought we would have her for awhile longer. One of my sisters was going to stay with her for a couple of weeks in December, so my brother could go on a vacation he had been planning for over a year. I had planned a trip to Georgia in the spring, when I could afford to go.
Then, she started having TIA's (mini strokes), one after the other, until, within a few days of getting her hairstyled, going shopping with a new friend, having a great time in general, she no longer knew who my brother was. It was his birthday, and she had no idea who he was.
The doctor gave choices - aggressive treatment that wouldn't change her condition, or hospice. My brother, at this point was making all the decisions about treatment, but, we all agreed, hospice was what she would want, so it started.
As the strokes got worse, she became more and more confused. I talked with her on the telephone, and one of the few understandable words she could say, was my name.
Then abruptly she was gone, with her decline, and hospice all within a week when the trouble started.
Regrets are the hardest. I wish I'd done more, understood more, let the past go sooner.
That I did what I could, with what I had, matters to me. That I wrote her a long letter before her health failed, telling her that our arguments and misunderstanding from the past didn't matter, and I loved her, and that she read it, meant much.
I wish she would have lived a while longer, so that I could see her again, selfishly. Not, to suffer, but, to enjoy the peaceful place she found the last few months of her life.
I finally realized that she just didn't know what I needed from her, and I never told her, because I didn't realize what it was myself, until now.
Mother and daughter relationships are fraught with love, misunderstandings and memories.
I have three grown daughters, and I will be telling them, that they need to tell me what they need, if emotionally I'm not giving it, because I don't always know the right path, the right words. I have a good relationship with them, and love them dearly, but, I don't want them to regret anything about us, someday.
Perhaps, that is the true legacy of my mother leaving.
My mother was 83, so she had made arrangements to cover the cost of her cremation, etc. She had written emails for my brother to send, once she was gone, telling each of us how much we meant to her, and what she wanted us to do with a few hundred dollars she was leaving each of us. My mother never had much money, and her favorite gift was the checks I sent her, on special occasions, holidays, etc. when she could go shopping for something she wanted and the pictures I sent her. Otherwise, she seemed content with the visits, emails and cards we all sent. She was elderly when she learned how to email, and happily forwarded everything that was sent to her.
After she had taught herself how to use an older computer, my brother bought her a new one, and it opened up the world for her.
This past year, she was having more confusion, especially at night, and falling.
As she lived far from all of us (it wasn't that we never tried to get her to live closer or with us, it was just that she enjoyed living near her sister. Even when she briefly lived with my one sister, she was glad to return to Texas).
Then, my aunt started making irate phone calls to my brother because "you all aren't doing enough. One of you needs to move here and take care of your mother." Needless to say, with family commitments, jobs, etc. of our own, that wasn't practical. So with the help of the internet, my medical training (I'm an RN), telephone calls and some fighting with my aunt, we started doing what we could.
We found out part of the problem with our intervention, was medications my mother was taking. My sister spent several days there, trying to figure things out with my help, and just when everything seemed under control, a day after she returned to Kansas, my mother fell, breaking two bones in her leg.
She didn't react well to medications they used for pain, and then after a long distance family meeting, my brother drove from Georgia to Texas and convinced my mother that the rehab hospital in Georgia near his home would be better for her. She also agreed to live near him, with a live in caregiver, "since Georgia is warmer than where the girls live" (Pennsylvania, Kansas) We all helped with the move, either physically or financially.
So he moved her there, got medical care for her that didn't involve multiple doctors prescribing for her, and she got better.
My mother asked if she could move in with him, after the hospital, and he agreed. She was so happy living with him! We thought we would have her for awhile longer. One of my sisters was going to stay with her for a couple of weeks in December, so my brother could go on a vacation he had been planning for over a year. I had planned a trip to Georgia in the spring, when I could afford to go.
Then, she started having TIA's (mini strokes), one after the other, until, within a few days of getting her hairstyled, going shopping with a new friend, having a great time in general, she no longer knew who my brother was. It was his birthday, and she had no idea who he was.
The doctor gave choices - aggressive treatment that wouldn't change her condition, or hospice. My brother, at this point was making all the decisions about treatment, but, we all agreed, hospice was what she would want, so it started.
As the strokes got worse, she became more and more confused. I talked with her on the telephone, and one of the few understandable words she could say, was my name.
Then abruptly she was gone, with her decline, and hospice all within a week when the trouble started.
Regrets are the hardest. I wish I'd done more, understood more, let the past go sooner.
That I did what I could, with what I had, matters to me. That I wrote her a long letter before her health failed, telling her that our arguments and misunderstanding from the past didn't matter, and I loved her, and that she read it, meant much.
I wish she would have lived a while longer, so that I could see her again, selfishly. Not, to suffer, but, to enjoy the peaceful place she found the last few months of her life.
I finally realized that she just didn't know what I needed from her, and I never told her, because I didn't realize what it was myself, until now.
Mother and daughter relationships are fraught with love, misunderstandings and memories.
I have three grown daughters, and I will be telling them, that they need to tell me what they need, if emotionally I'm not giving it, because I don't always know the right path, the right words. I have a good relationship with them, and love them dearly, but, I don't want them to regret anything about us, someday.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Multitasking your way to failure and exhaustion
I am a multitasker from childhood, I think. Sometimes I even overwhelm me! My daughters seem to have inherited the pesky quirk, and I have learned much about myself from watching them. My youngest daughter who is impressive in her bright, energetic whirl of accomplishments taught me something this week. Still in college, she has done climate research, completed a grant proposal (which she had to present to the committee) done a presentation on the Salton Sea research she and a team did last summer at the annual GSA meeting, and carries a full load of math and science at school, does volunteer work and committees - well I'm tired just thinking about it all. So this week she had to drop out of another grant proposal for the climate research because Calculus is kicking her butt. Okay, I never took Calculus, especially college Calculus, but, I think it is HARD stuff. So there she is, feeling bad because she can't do it all. Guess what, none of us can do it all. As I heard myself reassuring her of this, and praising her ability to prioritize what she needs to do this semester, I learned something. She prioritizes better than I do. I would have failed Calculus before I figured out why I was so exhausted. Instead, she spoke with her mentors, her advisor, got tutoring for the Calculus, and made the very adult decision to drop the one grant proposal, because she didn't have the time. She also went to the gym twice this week.. How did I get such a smart kid? Did I mention that she and her High School sweetheart are also "taking a break". I'd be huddled under the covers of my bed. But, not her. I hope that means she's learned from watching me crash and burn a few times. I already know she's smarter than me.
So why do we work ourselves into oblivion? I always do more work, at work, than my peers. I have responsibilities that exceed what I'm actually required to do. Yes, my boss "loves" me. I work hard, efficiently and accomplish much. I earn the decent wage I'm paid. I take one break a day - lunch (which took a long time for me to figure out didn't mean eating at my desk). I'm not a smoker, so I'm not busy taking multiple other breaks throughout the day, as are a few others. Why do I care that they feel entitled to all those breaks? Human I guess. But, I am trying to allow myself more down time lately and it helps. Because I need a break once in awhile, too.
I'm not trying to work through a headache or exhaustion anymore. If my body says "enough" it means it. If a break doesn't fix it, then maybe it's time to go home.
This is my sweet baby girl doing her presentation at the big to do in Minnesota. (in the picture)
So why do we work ourselves into oblivion? I always do more work, at work, than my peers. I have responsibilities that exceed what I'm actually required to do. Yes, my boss "loves" me. I work hard, efficiently and accomplish much. I earn the decent wage I'm paid. I take one break a day - lunch (which took a long time for me to figure out didn't mean eating at my desk). I'm not a smoker, so I'm not busy taking multiple other breaks throughout the day, as are a few others. Why do I care that they feel entitled to all those breaks? Human I guess. But, I am trying to allow myself more down time lately and it helps. Because I need a break once in awhile, too.
This is my sweet baby girl doing her presentation at the big to do in Minnesota. (in the picture)
Friday, September 30, 2011
Update on THE PROJECT
Angry People and Kindness
Why are some people so angry? They blow the horn at you if you pause too long after the light changes, bump you with their cart in the check out line (now really, is it going to make the underpaid cashier check me out any faster if you bruise my leg?), complain loudly when the underpaid waitresses, short order cooks, cashiers of the world aren't fast enough. Do they kick their dog when they go home? Do they want their kids treated the way they treat others?
The world is a hard place on a good day. I learned to be more patient with others as I've grown older. I've learned to tip more after my daughters served others before finishing college. I learned to be patient with the new checker who is struggling to remember a multitude of details, because this is someone's child. They are trying to be a productive member of society. Most low paying jobs are mind numbing at best, terrifying at worst. I worked my share before I found out I needed a real education to do more than survive in this world. Let's all be a little more patient, a little kinder.
The world is a hard place on a good day. I learned to be more patient with others as I've grown older. I've learned to tip more after my daughters served others before finishing college. I learned to be patient with the new checker who is struggling to remember a multitude of details, because this is someone's child. They are trying to be a productive member of society. Most low paying jobs are mind numbing at best, terrifying at worst. I worked my share before I found out I needed a real education to do more than survive in this world. Let's all be a little more patient, a little kinder.
Friday, August 19, 2011
The reason for the project!
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
My project continues
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)