A Warped Stability

Don'tcha jus' luuuuuv stability?

I'm not talking about the stability found in most homes--the rhythmic perc of the Mr. Coffee machine, the gentle sizzle of eggs in the frying pan, the soothing hum of a quiet nap on the front porch, the pitter-patter of little children. Oh no,no,no, I'm talking about a whole different kind of stability. Like beauty, art, and pizza, it's a relative term to be sure. But I realized yesterday afternoon that finally (FINALLY!), after three weeks post-rehab, my mom, my dad, me, the two dogs, and now, the two cats, had settled into a satisfying, (Although I hesitate to say "peaceful" and it goes without saying that it's anything but "normal") routine.

Ahhhh stability--Dad napping in his recliner, his mouth randomly opening and closing, closing and opening, then suddenly snapping shut, then slowly falling open again; Mom half-asleep in her recliner, eyes fixed on the living room TV where CNNHD pretends to enlighten us with more trivial details than anybody wants to know about the slimy mess in the Gulf; the just-slightly-unsynchronized echo coming from CNNHD playing from the TV in Mom's bedroom; Emily, the bulldog, sprawled out in front of the glass door where the sunshine warms her characteristically-yet-weirdly-porcine-like canine torso, her left lip fluttering with each exhale; Uma, the field-bred spaniel poised in perfect attention outside on the deck, her gaze fixed on the ground below the birdfeeder where, she hopes, some unfortunate pigeon will come to peck up seeds spilled from above; the two cats, Peter and Rufus, curled in typical feline fashion on their newly-claimed favorite spots--the top of the carpeted climbing structure for Peter, the chair next to the window seat for Rufus; and me, reflecting on the serenity that has, at long last, been achieved after three weeks of ups and downs and semi-sleepless nights, and medication changes for Mom.

I glance at the clock. Four hours until Mom gets her 2 oxycodones, which she now takes every six hours, and which she starts asking for at exactly thirty minutes BEFORE she's due to take them. The 10am, 4pm, 10pm schedule appears to be working for her (Of course, that's 2 oxycodones on top of the three other anti-depressants, AND the twice-a-day oxycontin. Is it any wonder that I'm repulsed by addiction and dependency of any kind?).

All living things are stable. It's a little weird, but I'll take it.

The Bell....

I've attempted to write a new blog entry three times now in the last three weeks. Never got further than the first sentence in any of 'em. That's got to be indicative of something, right? I mean.......right? And if you just agreed with me, will you tell me what it is? Cuz I'm at a loss.

Maybe I'm exhausted.

Maybe my brain is fried.

Maybe I just don't care.

Maybe all of those are true.

All I know is...........for the last two weeks, I've spent more one-on-one tutorial time with my mother and that damned (Now see........that's a bad sign.......swearing right out of the gate like that....) tv remote control than I care to recall. Lemme just say that I HATE DEMENTIA. (Uh oh, see? All caps.........another bad sign.......). But what I despise even more is.........having to conduct these little tv remote tutorials at 1:30 IN THE MORNING..........for the THIRD TIME SINCE MIDNIGHT!!!!! (Arrrrgh! And now, the repeating exclamation points.......this is deteriorating rapidly.)

okay. Deep breath. (Please pause as I take revisit my kriya yoga deep-breathing technique.)

All right. As I was saying...............It's just been very difficult for me to figure what to write about...........and then, HOW to write about it even if I COULD figure out what it was I should write about! (Note the single exclamation point.)

And then there's.....The Bell. The sweet little antique silver bell Mom uses to ring when she needs me to come help her go to the bathroom. At least, that's what the bell is SUPPOSED to be used for. The. Bell. The bell. The bell. ThebellthebellthebellTHEBELLLLLL! The freakin', stinkin', stupid-ass, g.d., m.f., c.s. BELL!!!!!!!! Do you know how many times I get awakened out of completely sound and deliciously deep sleep by that @#$@#% bell???? (Oh f___ the repeating punctuation!!!!!!!!!! Screw the swearing!!!!!) Crawled out of my nice comfortable bed, staggered in my sleepy stupor to the other end of the house to see what "emergency" I was being summoned to address........only to find out that Mom couldn't remember how to change the F----ing channel from CNN to the Western channel........when it's already ON the f______ Western channel??????

"Ringy,ringy,ringy,ringy,ringy!"

Oh.

My.

God.

She's ringing her bell for me RIGHT NOW! While I'm sitting here trying to write (finally) a blog entry!!!!

Ringy, ringy, ringy, ringy, ringy!"

And again........

Does this count as a blog entry?

Spanikopita

Okay.

So it's yesterday afternoon, Friday. I'm standing in the cereal aisle at Central Market in Poulsbo. Somewhere around the yogurt section I had thought to check my watch and do some quick math. That's when it occurred to me that it wasn't going to make sense for me to drive to Sequim to check in on Mom before having to turn around and leave again at 4pm to make 5pm rehearsal in Port Townsend (...which was my original plan. But that was before I had to sit in Tacoma traffic for an unplanned fifteen minutes that morning on my way to SeaTac to pick up my daughter, and then another half hour on my way back from SeaTac at noon.).

So, like I said, I'm standing in the cereal aisle, staring at the Kashi boxes when I decide I'd better call home to let Dad know I won't be coming home before I go to rehearsal. (Even though the caregiver is scheduled to be there from 4-10, I had thought I would just check in before rehearsal, to make sure everything was okay.)

Yeah. So.....it seemed like a good idea to call home and just let Dad know that my plan had changed. "Seemed" is the operative word here.

Because........Mom answers the phone. And that's where it all unravels. We exchange hello's, and as soon as she knows it's me, Mom's anxiety dam breaks loose and floods into my left ear.

Before I can duck into an empty aisle (in this case, the paper-goods aisle), my mother is in the throes of a full-on panic attack. On the phone. In my ear. I have a moment when I look around at all the shoppers roaming up, down, and past where I'm standing. I'm thinking how not one of these people could possibly imagine the hysteria taking place in my left ear. I mean........Don't you ever wonder, when you see somebody talking on a cell phone, "Gee, I wonder who they're talking to. I wonder what they're talking about." Don't you ever wonder that? Wait. Is that just me? Okay, anyway.....back to Mom on the phone in my ear.........

"COOOMMMEEEE HOOOOOMMMMEEEEE!"

That's all she keeps saying, wailing really, with an "I CAN'T BREATHE" or a "YOU NEED TO GIVE ME SOMETHING TO CALM DOWN" thrown in for flavor.

Between wails, I manage to extract Dad's whereabouts. Apparently he's out on the deck....which is weird.....but, whatever.

Mom keeps on--past the cereal aisle, past the beer aisle, and through the entire bakery section. It's not until I reach the deli section that she finally says, "HERE'S DAAAAAD" and hands the phone off to him.

Okay. Now this is how Dad answers the phone. (And by the way........I happen to be checking out the ethnic food-to-go counter just as Dad gets on the phone.) "What a beautiful day!" he says with triumph and unfettered joy. And then he just kept going, "The air is just warm enough outside! I was out there soaking up some rays! Beautiful! "

Can I just point out how much I love that my 94 year old father says "....soaking up some rays"?

Anyway. So I ask him, "Hey, Dad, it's Denise. How's Mom doing?"

And, I kid you not, he says, "She's great!"

And then I hear Mom, from the background, yelling, "NOOOOO-I'M-NOOOOOT! I CAN'T BREEEEEEEEATHE!"

I notice the Spanikopita looks pretty delish.

Dad is suddenly confused. "Oh. I guess she's not so great."

In a nutshell.......Mom had a pretty serious meltdown yesterday. Well.....actually it started on Thursday and lasted through Friday night (last night). Her first day back from the nursing home was fantastic with no incidents whatsoever. Then, sometime Thursday afternoon, she started to slip and slide, head first, down her personal slimy slope of fear and panic. Essentially, she (and therefore I) didn't sleep for more than three or four hours over a two night period.

I finally got home last night, only to find the caregiver and Dad beside themselves trying to calm Mom down. (Not a very happy home last night.) I finally resorted to giving Mom two of her "as needed" pain pills. By 11pm she was fast asleep. She just now woke up.........twelve hours later........with a big ole' smile on her face to boot! "Oh I feel so much better!" she announced proudly.

"Me too, Mom!" I threw back at her. "Yay for us! We both slept through the night!" And then, like a spontaneous point of punctuation to our mutual moment of glee, I said, "High Five Mom!" and held my palm up in front of her. And, yes, Mom and I high-fived........for the first time, and, I suspect, probably not the last time.

Think I'll break out the Spanikopita for breakfast.

Swans

Well, the visit home with the Mom and the occupational therapist went splendiferously. Better yet, I was able to drive Mom back to the nursing home without tears or hysterics. So....big "whew" for that.

Now it looks like Mom is finally coming home on Wednesday. I was in her room this morning to tidy up, visualizing the new routine with the commode which is positioned right next to Mom's bed, and see where the new ceiling-to-floor Transfer Pole should go. I noticed the empty birdfeeder hanging outside the window and made a mental note that I need to remember to fill it up before Wednesday. Then I glanced over at the wall to the right of the window, where Mom's framed degree from Northwestern hangs. Next to that, a plaque that the four of us kids made for her on her 60th birthday. Below that, the ceramic vase of blue silk flowers. And to the left of the flowers, a framed document that I suddenly realized I've ever really noticed before. I know it's been there, but I don't ever recall really reading it. So I walked in closer for a better look.

It's a beautiful silver and gold scrolled 11" x 13" frame. The top of the document, printed in what looks like a Lucida font, reads "In poetry and fairy tales, swans are a symbol of enduring love." Then it goes on to talk about how swans are mated for life, how they exhibit an undying commitment and devotion to each other, etc. etc. The bottom says, "Stanley and Patricia Fleener; In commemoration of their 60th Wedding Anniversary, September 16th; 1943-2003."

I'm thinking maybe this was a gift from my sister or one of my brothers. I'm not sure. And I can't believe I've never noticed it before. Funny how and when things happen, because as soon as I read the Swan Document, I thought of a moment that happened at the nursing home yesterday...

Dad, Mom, and I were sitting under the skylight at the nurse's station of the nursing home, soaking in the rare afternoon sunshine, and watching all of the typical post-lunch nursing home comings and goings. Mom was in exemplary spirits yesterday. Seriously. Joking with the nurses, commenting on this and that nurse, and randomly interjecting how excited she was to be coming home on Wednesday. Dad's right hand was resting gently atop Mom's left hand on her wheelchair's armrest.

Then Mom all of sudden blurted out, "Ohhh I'm so excited to come home!"

To which Dad replied, patting her hand, "Well honey, we're excited too!"

There was a short pause before Mom kind of moaned and pouted, "I don't like it when we're apart."

Dad didn't hear that one the first time, so Mom had to repeat it, louder, which got the attention of a couple of the aides and nurses standing behind the big desk at the nurse's station.

And Dad, bless his heart, didn't miss a beat. I'll be darned if that big ole' softy didn't lean over to Mom, take hold of her hand in both of his and say, "But honey, don't you know? We're never apart, because you're always in my heart. "

Tissues!