That’s what all the people say (part 3)

So you ride the roller coaster of life.  A new baby grandson and some challenges with MIL as she works through some health issues. I guess I forgot to mention that my father (91 years old) was in the hospital with pneumonia. As Kaffee said, “the hits just keep on coming.”

I finish up my part in the MIL caper (see previous post) and head for summer camp with the scout troop.  I had MIL ensconced in a nice facility with her loving daughter (my wife) looking in daily on her with compassion and concern and dad seemed to be on the mend in the hospital. I felt pretty confident that all was as right with the world as was possible with a parent of 91 and a MIL of 88, 2 kids and a grandson out east and couple of dogs who would still be asleep if I did not get back from summer camp for a month! So I left for camp that morning figuring a nice warm 10 days at camp would be just what the doctor ordered. Boy, how wrong one person can be.

I checked in with the lady that owns me, via cellphone, almost every day to make sure everything was OK on the home front.  MIL was being visited ever day and we were having some, “I am new to the place and have not yet adjusted” issues that my wife was handling pretty well for the caustic nature of the attacks. Unfortunately it looked like time was the only healer for these wounds. As the camp events started to ramp up and we got into some stuff where I have pretty heavy involvement I was less diligent in my calling home.  So if I called and did not get my wife I waited until tomorrow to try again rather than try again later that day. So we reach the mid point in camp and I decide to check my phone for messages before heading to campfire and I have a VMX and a text message from my brother indicating he needed a call as soon as I was in a place where I could do that. So I went to a location where I could get reliable service and gave him a call.  The word was not good on my dad.  His pneumonia had worsened and his CO2 level had risen significantly. He had become unresponsive and bro thought I should consider coming home.  There is no way to tell where this was going but my brother was really diligent in getting in touch with me and letting me make the call with the facts as he knew them.

Well, I looked at the situation and decided this was one of those times where you are better safe than sorry and I packed and left camp within the hour.  I made the two hour drive to the city and spoke with my wife on the way preparing her for an unexpected visit and the havoc I would be creating during my brief stop over. I arrived just at dark and proceeded to unload all of my camp stuff into the living room and repack the truck with stuff I would need for a ??? day trip to Iowa. I then ran into the bathroom and did the best thing one can do after 5 days at scout camp, I took a long soothing shower and considered the situation I was in and what the alternatives were. I think it is pretty obvious that you leave things open ended and hope it all works out somewhere in the middle.

So with a good nights’ sleep behind me I arose early and headed for Iowa. I arrived 6 hours later and checked into my motel and proceeded to the hospital to see pop.  As I headed into his room the door was closed and it would not open so I stopped at the nurses station and asked if there was a reason that his door was locked and they say “oh, just give it a tug, it gets stuck sometimes.” So I did and it did and I went in to see my dad. As indicated earlier he was unresponsive and so I decided it was time that dad and his oldest son had a talk.  We discussed our kids, the situation at home, the situation with MIL, the status of Andrew and everyone out east, the flooding in Cedar Rapids and everything else I figured he might want to know about.  We talk on the phone every weekend so I just made this a face to face conversation of all of the things he and I discussed when I called each week.  I guess the difference was that I told him I did not understand where he was on his current situation, but I was going to back his play whichever way he decided to take this. If he wanted to fight this thing, I was there to help with the fight, and if he did not want to fight it any longer I would back that play as well. So the ball was in his court but I had his back whichever way it went. Then I sat and cried for a while then I went and just watched him with his labored breathing. Gosh that can be really tough.

So about 90 minutes later a nurse came in and introduced herself and said she had some ministrations she had to do and asked if dad was responsive.  I indicated he had been unresponsive since sometime yesterday.  She said, “well then let’s get him awake and see how he is doing.” She got right in pops’ face and said loudly, “Russ, Russ, can you hear me, your son is here.” To which dad opened his eyes and looked around the room like Grandfather Clock (reference to Captain Kangaroo, Bob Keeshan, children’s TV show)) until he saw me.  He always did respond well to female authority figures. He began answering the nurses questions and for the next couple of days he interacted with myself and my brother and his wife on a regular basis.  He was clearly on the mend and the physicians began discussing removal of the feeding tube and weaning him back to solid foods and the longer term nature of his rehab and future living requirements. An interesting event occurred during the afternoon on Thursday when he recognized my brother and I and called us to his side and held our hands and told us he loved us and began to cry.  He remained very emotional for several minutes and then seemed to compose himself.  

So on Friday evening my brother and I said our good byes and I told dad I was going to head home tomorrow.  I indicated I would stop up and see him if Interstate 80 was open and probably would not stop by if I had to take a detour through central Illinois to get home. He nodded that he understood and I kissed him and told him I love him and he me and I walked out the door of his hospital room.

That was the last time I saw my father alive.  As I packed the truck to leave the motel on Saturday morning I received a phone call indicating he was gone.  Just 8 hours before he was interactive and seemingly on the mend and now he was gone. Wow, that hits you like a punch. You feel everything in your body just take the shock almost as if it were physical and then you begin life without parents!

I know that sounds kind of odd, but it is exactly what I was thinking.  I had been without my mother for about 13 years and living 6 hours away from my dad it was similar to him not being there. But I had always had a parent. Someone who gave me roots, and purpose and a history. Someone who could provide an opinion for some life decision that needed to be made. I did not always follow his suggestion, but I sought his wisdom and guidance and sometimes received his wrath when some slight was sensed. Especially when we had to move him out of the house and into a retirement living facility. A parent also provides a sense of groundedness.  It gives some framework to who you are, why are that way, and how you will go forward. Now I don’t mean to say that you lose those things with the loss of your parents but it is now different and the real comparisons are gone and are forever frozen as they were that moment when the phone rang and I first realized that dad was gone.

For the next couple of days you make preparations.  Mental and physical.  The good news was that dad had everything pretty well planned out and even had it paid for so a 45 minute meeting at the mortuary and we had most of the arrangements made. If you get nothing else from this, here is the take away.  Get your affairs inorder, paid for and all of the selections made so your kids or spouse do not have to do this at the worst possible time. This is the kindest thing you can do for your family.

Well, the next couple of days went pretty much like you would expect.  My family gathers from across the country and we prepare for a visitation and then a funeral.  Boy we westerners sure have an odd set of customs about saying goodbye to our family and friends. So you shake all of the hands of folks you mostly don’t remember and have not sen for 30+ years and you hear some great stories of better times and places when the world was new and perfect and everything was possible. You cry some, you laugh a lot (dad and mom had a long and full life and htheir kids got to enjoy the upsides and the downsides of that longevity) and eventually you find a few moments to say your good byes and begin life without parents. Not life without mom and dad (they stay in your heart forever) but without parents.

And that is what the cycle of human life is really about

Let’s talk soon, Love dad. There is a lady on the Yellowstone net whose handle is Lone Eagle Woman. Her sign-off is Creator Bless! Interesting way of saying goodbye. 

 

Hopefully we can discuss dog behavior and training next, I need to get this blog on an upbeat, for a change. And I will let Sean or Heather tell you about bar hopping in the west end of Davenport.  Way too good a story to not be told, but, better told by the injured, than anyone else.

That’s life (part 2)

Reeling in the euphoria of a new baby in the family and the phone rings…..

Mother-in-law (MIL) who is 88 years if age, has fallen and broken her hip.  Had to be rescued from her house by the fire department. She could not get up to open the door to let them in. Surgery tomorrow.

A little background will assist us here.  MIL lives in Davenport, Iowa and daughters live, respectively, in Michigan, Alabama, Nebraska and Kansas, any questions so far? Alright, moving ahead, MIL has had onset of dementia for several years and the kids have been struggling with how long mom could live by herself and properly take care of herself.  This is a real dilemma for us all.  Our folks want to live by themselves and be independent.  For some if they stay living alone long enough they eventually do not have the decision making skills to decide for themselves and believe they can remain independent and get very angry when challenged. So we kids get to “do the right thing” and really piss off our parents at a time in their lives when they are not very good at coping with change and adapting to new things.  Heck a new telephone or toaster oven is a major disruption a new living environment is a disaster and besides, “they don’t need it, they were just fine living by themselves.” Mind you, they were probably not able to handle basic hygienic issues, the house was really getting dirty and financial affairs were in “disarray.” But “I can take care of myself”, thank you very much.

Now back to our story – surgery went fine, daughters drove in from far and wide to cope with Mom’s new situation and were confronted with the fact that it is finally time to address the issue of what happens to Mom when she comes out of physical therapy?  Well she needs to be in some facility that is close to one of the girls and on that we all agree, pretty much. Now who, OK, our place is fine let’s begin the process of finding a place that 1) mom would like, 2) we believe is the right place with the best facilities for what mom needs, 3) is affordable. Don’t over look the last one.  If you have not looked into assisted facilities or nursing facilities or even retirement facilities, brace yourself. $2K a month is where things get started and they quickly head north from there. A nice facility is going to run $5K – $6K per month if special services are required.

Well not to worry, we have 3 – 6 weeks before MIL is out of physical therapy. So on Thursday of the first week of therapy we have a status phone call with the PT folks and “it is too early to make an assessment of when MIL will be released.” So we begin the process of finding a place for mom. We figure we have plenty of time to locate, assess, and prepare for MIL’s arrival. That was Thursday, Friday  morning we get a call from the PT folks, they will be releasing MIL next Wednesday. She is not making progress and “by law” they must release her if she is not making progress. Wrap your head around that, if she is not making progress then they need to terminate her therapy. So in 24 hours she went from “too early to call” to “not making progress.” The incompetence here is outrageous (Good Samaritan of Davenport, Iowa, my guess is MIL really hated this place and the folks who ran it, so she would not learn out of spite.) (MIL has had almost constant PT since arriving here and she has been continually “making progress” and it is obvious to this writer that progress is being made and I only see her a couple times a week.) A simple example of Good Samaritan vs Sunrise of Overland Park.  Good Sam, she spent every day in Depends, Sunrise, that is a last resort and one that has not been offered since she arrived. It is not too tough to see the quality of life issues that might get you down if you were on the other end of this decision!

So my Scouting stuff is now officially on hold while we, get a U-Haul trailer, drive to Iowa, load the trailer, return home, deliver and install all of MIL’s stuff in her new apartment and emotional prepare for a “new hobby, MIL.” Meanwhile the rest of the family are each crawling through similar Cheerios trying to make a trip to Iowa to assist in getting mom moved out of her house, go through her stuff, and figure out how we get her to our place without renting an ambulance which costs around one million dollars by everyones’ estimate for a private service to make the 800 mile trip.

She is here, we are seeing her every day and we are fielding calls on a regular basis, from her, asking when she is going home and why are we being so mean to her and “she is bored” and every other excuse one might imagine. Unfortunately her dementia is at a stage where she seldom remembers that you were there or called in the morning, so she will call and indicate she is lonely, scared, bored and several other emotions all a result of the lapses of her mind.  Mind you her facility has 7 planned activities every day which she chooses not to participate in!

Let me tell you it is really tough to watch sometimes.  It is even tougher to watch your spouse go through this with her mother. I would much rather be the one directly going through this versus being the supportive spouse. Little did I know I would have issues of my own to deal with as the next 90 days rolled out.

With that said, MIL is making some progress, but this will be a long term home for her. On her good days she knows she is well cared for and that she is there because her family loves her.  On her bad days, well, you get what you get. So we look forward to the good days and tolerate the bad days. The real message here is these are tough decisions that families must wrestle with and no matter what determination you make the ultimate consumer here (MIL) ain’t gonna be happy and you are seen as the cause of the problem rather than the solution to the problem. Folks at this age are very good at playing the victim (that is all they see on TV and in the media, their two primary stimulants) so they play that card and we feel so much guilt over having to preside over this situation that no one can deal with the issues. Instead we work on the emotional stuff and everyone ends up in a lather. So we are supportive and helpful and let life roll on.

A word to the wise here.  If you are an adult with spouse, children and or other family and do not have a will, enduring Power of Attorney and a living will with instructions on resuscitation and life sustaining measures then you are walking the tightrope of life without a net. Please look into this and put these documents in place.  They are pretty inexpensive (less than $500 for the whole set) and they give your loved ones some rights and guidance if you should ever need them.  MIL was, thankfully, well prepared, so we could use the POA to execute things on her behalf with ease and simplicity, except for the government which would not accept POA, go figure.

The real truth is no one is to blame here.  The misdirected anger and frustration is just one of life’s hardships. The situation is really nothing more than old age and the body we have relied on for all of our lives giving out one component (or more) at a time.  While it is easy to sit and say I wish the mind was still good no matter what the body can take, it is really no better that the reverse.  But all of that is avoidance.  You don’t get to vote, it is the way it is and we just have to cope, if we can , and if not it is going to be a bumpy ride.

But that is the story for another entry.

Love to all.

The strangeness of life (part 1)

Right off, I must admit that this is less than timely. First of all, it was necessary to figure out what all of this meant, then some life stuff got in the way and then some more life stuff got in the way and here we are approaching the first of July and it is time to get this on “paper.”

So what is the thing that has me so stymied that I had to wait 90 days to publish? Well, I am a Grandpa. I have yet to figure out exactly what that means and there are still a bunch of questions centering on this momentous event. At least I think it is momentous.  It is certainly important for my son and his wife.  It is certainly important for my wife and so in some strange way it has to be important for me, right? Well it is, but I need to express the issues that are racing through my head and maybe you and I may better understand what this means.

First off, let’s get this said, I am very happy to be the grandpa to a healthy bouncing baby boy name Andrew Frederick. I am sorry to be so far removed from him, that I will miss a lot of his growing up. That said, it is the way of our children to head off to live on their own and have their own lives in places we like to visit, but do not care to live. So the price we must pay is a distance that keeps us estranged of their everyday lives.  It might well be that we would be estranged if we lived 3 blocks away but it seems more problematic when the distance is greater.

That, in and of itself, is not the issue here.  I guess it is centered around the grandpa part.  First the implication that you gotta be old if you are a grandpa.  I will figure out a way to get through that but it was a hurdle, to consider that I am old. Second I am supposed to be proud of an event that I had absolutely nothing to do with, all right, lets get the giggles out of the way, I mean to say that this child comes into this world and I am to be proud.  Of what exactly? No actions on my part were a part of this event. No decisions I made were a part of this event. No suggestions I made were part of molding this event. In some strange way it is similar to being proud when your child gets a college degree or is recognized for some significant accomplishment.  I am happy for them, and proud of their accomplishments but I am pretty discombobulated about how I should feel. Maybe I am viewing this too narrowly and it is really just as simple as being proud that our family name will be carried on and some legacy is underway. As for the joy component it is challenging for someone who is really a hands on close contact individual to enjoy this little guys’ growth and maturation over the phone.

Now I don’t want this to sound like a poor little me piece. I am delighted for my son and his wife.  All are OK and doing great.  It is fun to watch my son talk through the issues of being a new father and parent (more on the difference between these in another entry) with the struggles one has to face as one balances work, family and the personal pieces of ones’ life.  It is amusing because I had almost the exact same feelings and difficulties making decisions about which is most important when my kids were born. You are no longer a man and a husband.  You are also a father and a parent and those two job descriptions are often in conflict with the other parts of your life.

So, to close this out, I am overjoyed at the birth of my grandson.  I am very proud of him and his mom and dad.  They are making good decisions and are being good parents even when they don’t necessarily have the skills to evaluate their own progress.  They are still using a yardstick they made as non-parental marrieds and that yardstick is no longer of much use to them, they just do not have a new one to use.

So I have to deal with the fact that at some level, this event shows another mile marker on the “you are not as young as you think you are” meter. Second, his development will be some how a bit more difficult to watch through technological binoculars. He will be raised primarily without much of Grandpa’s influence.  The jury is still out on whether that is a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe even more challenging is he will be raised by and significantly influenced by folks I don’t know well enough but have to trust my son and his wife  have made good decisions about. This, for a control freak, is a tough pill to swallow.

So to summarize, I don’t know how I feel.  I am elated, confused, worried, proud, hopeful, frustrated and caring about this new situation in my life.

Interesting, it almost exactly how I felt when the kids were born.

Love to all.  Thanks for helping with my therapy.