UNTO US A CHILD IS BORN...

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOODNIGHT!

My First Christmas Card
Mommy & Me

On a cold snowy winter's night in Detroit, Michigan, a child was born. My mother was dressed as Santa because of her big baby belly. She Ho-Ho-Ho'd one too many times delivering gifts and her water broke. Mommy then delivered her most precious Christmas gift ever, Me!

I wrote this for my mom as a gentle reminder of that exhausting Christmas day:

Hello Christmas!
by Brian N. Walin

It’s all warm and cozy, my cheeks nice and rosy. I cuddle and coo, like most babies do. I want to stay in here, with my mother so near. It’s just a small bedroom, though could use more headroom.

I hear noise surrounded, I’m kind of astounded. The music I hear is about a reindeer. I hear my Dad bellow, and Mom shakes like Jell-O. They’re having so much fun, but it’s my time to be Son.

I squirm and I kick and I even pick. And all I can hear are words of St. Nick. On Dasher, on Prancer, I’m sure you all know. But my Mom is showing, it’s my time to go. The party must stop now, it’s my time to drop now. I haven’t a care, I soon will be there.

So off we go rushing it’s my party now. I can only imagine, Mom feels like a cow. She turns and she twists, she’s barring down hard. I can only hope now, I won’t pop in the yard. We get to the Doctor he’s waiting inside, I’m kind of excited about this whole ride.

It’s my time to jump out, but I still have some doubt. I think I will stay in here, if just for one more year. It’s really not that bad, but I can hear my Dad. “Let’s go you small squirt. I want to see my lad!”

So out I go bouncing it’s so good to see, that I have become part of this family. It’s so great to see you, you’re all here for me. Then out of my eyes I spy a small tree. All of the sudden, a nip and a tuck, this just can’t be happening, it must be bad luck. A slap on the ass follows this all, and then I feel pain and I start to ball.

Why did you do that? I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve really been so good, all evening long. There’s no need to hit me, I’m sure you will see. I’ll try to be real good, for this family. Don’t hit me now, I just want to stay. I promise I’ll brighten all of your day. Just give me a chance and teach me real well. I promise I’ll try not to put you through hell.

This day has been trying and awfully hard, but I thank God now, I’m not in the yard. I really can’t tell what had gone wrong, but I’ll always remember the deer from that song. It seems to be clear about those reindeer. That’s how it all started with me being here.

A swoop and coddle with cloths that do swaddle. I’m warm and I’m cozy my cheeks again rosy. I just need some sleep, I won’t make a peep, just let me drift off and start counting my sheep. This room is much bigger, it just seems so right. But I need my sleep now, I bid you good night.

December 25, 1960

©2005 Brian N. Walin (All rights reserved)

First day on the job and already napping. I just popped out and boy am I exhausted!

It's Never Easy To Say Goodbye

As the moon settles to slumber, the sun arrives to begin anew. I yield to yet another anniversary of sorrow. As the passage of time heals the pain, the memories still flourish within the transition.


Peace B

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOODNIGHT!

My First Christmas Card
Mommy & Me

On a cold snowy winter's night in Detroit, Michigan, a child was born. My mother was dressed as Santa because of her big baby belly. She ho-ho-ho'd one too many times delivering gifts and her water broke. Mommy then delivered her most precious Christmas gift ever, Me!

I wrote this for my mom as a gentle reminder of that exhausting Christmas day:

Hello Christmas!
by Brian N. Walin

It’s all warm and cozy, my cheeks nice and rosy. I cuddle and coo, like most babies do. I want to stay in here, with my mother so near. It’s just a small bedroom, though could use more headroom.

I hear noise surrounded, I’m kind of astounded. The music I hear is about a reindeer. I hear my Dad bellow, and Mom shakes like Jell-O. They’re having so much fun, it’s my time to be Son.

I squirm and I kick and I even pick. And all I can hear are words of St. Nick. On Dasher, on Prancer, I’m sure you all know. But my Mom is showing, it’s my time to go. The party must stop now, it’s my time to drop now. I haven’t a care, I soon will be there.

So off we go rushing it’s my party now. I can only imagine, Mom feels like a cow. She turns and she twists, she’s barring down hard. I can only hope now, I won’t pop in the yard. We get to the Doctor he’s waiting inside, I’m kind of excited about this whole ride.

It’s my time to jump out, but I still have some doubt. I think I will stay in here, if just for one more year. It’s really not that bad, but I can hear my Dad. “Let’s go you small squirt. I want to see my lad!”

So out I go bouncing it’s so good to see, that I have become part of this family. It’s so great to see you, you’re all here for me. Then out of my eyes I spy a small tree. All of the sudden, a nip and a tuck, this just can’t be happening, it must be bad luck. A slap on the ass follows this all, and then I feel pain and I start to ball.

Why did you do that? I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve really been so good, all evening long. There’s no need to hit me, I’m sure you will see. I’ll try to be real good, for this family. Don’t hit me now, I just want to stay. I promise I’ll brighten all of your day. Just give me a chance and teach me real well. I promise I’ll try not to put you through hell.

This day has been trying and awfully hard, but I thank God now, I’m not in the yard. I really can’t tell what had gone wrong, but I’ll always remember the deer from that song. It seems to be clear about those reindeer. That’s how it all started with me being here.

A swoop and coddle with cloths that do swaddle. I’m warm and I’m cozy my cheeks again rosy. I just need some sleep, I won’t make a peep, just let me drift off and start counting my sheep. This room is much bigger, it just seems so right. But I need my sleep now, I bid you good night.

December 25, 1960

©2005 Brian N. Walin (All rights reserved)

REPOST FROM LAST YEAR

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

KNOCK KNOCK

Anybody home? Guess I’ve been away longer than I realized. Things have been so crazy on this end just trying to keep up with everything…and you know what they say: “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” Guess I’ve been a little grumpy lately.

After mom died I spent the summer trying to get her house cleared out and ready for sale. It’s been on the market for months and the added responsibilities and expenses are not always easy to deal with. It’s all very draining, emotionally, physically, and monetarily. I am starting to see the dust settle and I’m feeling better with more energy than I have had in months.

I want to thank all of you who have posted and sent emails wondering how I was, THANK YOU! I guess for me it was easier to pretend cancer wasn’t a part of my life while I dealt with some of my life’s other realities.

TRICK OR TREAT!

Last year my mom so badly wanted to hand out candy for the Trick or Treater’s. I just didn’t think it was such a great idea to be exposed to so many people with both of us not being well. But mom was insistent and so I brought Dr. Swill to life with mother as my patient and that would be our Halloween costumes.

Dr. Swill Lives!

So, I put on some scrubs, a mask, glasses, teased up my hair, and rolled mom out the front door with her oxygen and an IV pole in tow and prepared to greet the little buggers. Mom and I both had so much fun that night. That was the last time we shared a holiday together without her either being in the hospital or a rehab facility.

During the evening a little boy dressed as Superman approached mom on the porch with a puzzled look on his face. In a very serious tone he asked me, "Are you a real doctor?"

"No." I said, "Just a pretend one."

Then he asked mom, "Are you really sick?"

"Yes," She replied "I'm really a very sick patient."

Without hesitation he jumped at me pointing a finger, "You shouldn't go around pretending to be a doctor. Doctors help people. She needs a real doctor now and you can't help her!"

For a brief moment I almost forgot it was Halloween. The situation became too real. All pointed out by a pint sized Superman with an attitude. SNAP! Mom asked sweetly, "Don't you want any candy?"

"Sure!" he growled as he disapprovingly scowled at me. His father, standing behind him just shrugged his shoulders and smiled as I smartly quipped, "Your son's going to be a great lawyer someday." (Anybody know where I can buy some kriptonite?)

This year sadly, I’m not in the mood to play doctor or greet goblins so the lights will stay off and I’ll watch a scary movie with popcorn. I just don’t think it would be any fun. Next year I promise to set up a killer haunted house and have some fun.

Happy Hauntings…Peace

B

After a While

After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn
that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always mean security.

And you begin to learn
that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with grace, not the grief of a child
and you learn to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.

After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn...
© 1971 Veronica A. Shoffstall

The Circle of Life - Part 5

February 15, 2010

The phone rings. I remember looking at the clock, seeing 6:00 and thinking …dang I must have fallen asleep in the afternoon and I need to make dinner. As I drew the phone to my ear, a women softly says, “Mr., Walin, your mother has just passed. I went into her room at 4 AM and she was sleeping comfortably, but when I went into her room five minutes ago, she was gone.”

“WHAT? WAIT? She died? She’s dead? She was only there to control her pain meds.” I was confused, it was actually 6 AM. I’m in shock. The nurse says, “Take your time and drive carefully, please don’t rush.”

My mother just died…I began to cry. My first thought was to call my cousin for help. “There is no way I can do this alone. PLEASE come with me,” I beg her. Within 20 minutes my cousin was there and another 35 minutes we arrived at the Hospice Center.

Mother was still in the room she was so impressed with, looking as though she was quietly sleeping. A foul odor filled the room as we entered. I thought, “Does a body begin to smell so soon after death?” Then it dawned on me, the odor became familiar. I asked my cousin to leave the room for a moment.

“Why? What’s wrong?” She asked. “Just give me a minute and leave the room.” I said in a half angry tone.

As she left the room, I put on a pair of rubber gloves and inspected mother’s colostomy bag. It was full and I mean brimming full! I sent four replacement bags with mom when she went to Hospice House. When I located the spare bags, none of them were used! They had not changed mom’s bag in 4 days - 4 DAYS! I was fucking pissed. “HOW DARE YOU TREAT MY MOTHER THIS WAY!!!!!” my mind said as my grief turned to raging anger.

I removed the overflowing bag, cleaned mother up, and attached a clean bag. I was so angry, I stormed down to the nurse’s station with my arm stretched out, bag held high above my head filled with mother’s steaming excrement, and angrily barked at the nurse, “DISPOSE OF THIS!”

The nurse gasped in horror when she realized what I was holding and apologetically said, “We would have taken care of that for you!” To which I angrily snapped, “I would have thought you would have done that BEFORE we got here. You had an hour to do it. I need air freshener NOW!”

After this issue was attended to we were left alone in the room with mom. In fact, it was a very long time. For the first time in 8 years, I was sitting in a room with my mother in peace. Pure silence engulfed us, no oxygen generator surging, no blaring TV, no loud nebulizer, not a sound. She looked so peaceful, almost happy. Her skin looked beautiful and her color was good.

My cousin and I spent hours with mom, talking about her and holding her hands. She honestly looked good. You would have never known she was dead. It was so very strange.

I sat back on the couch. As I tearfully viewed my mother so peacefully at rest before me, I finally realized what I believed she was trying to tell me the day before. She kept repeating the word, “Wood.” I couldn’t understand why.

As I stared at the bed, I realized it was made of wood. Even though it was an adjustable bed, it looked like fine Scandinavian furniture. There were 4 tree trunk wooden posts that supported the bed, no wheels, no bulky rails, no metal in sight. The sides were trimmed in wood and the bed appeared to be an oversized, perhaps a full size. This was not a hospital bed. I realized this must be what she was trying to tell me. I would have this in my own home. It was beautiful.

I wondered why we were left alone for so long. I was waiting for someone to come in and tell us what to do next and the staff was waiting for us to finish saying good-bye. Mother stayed warm for 4 hours, and looked as if she was only sleeping. Her fingers were nimble and her color looked normal. But when she began to feel cool, I couldn’t take it any longer. I was done with my goodbyes and it was time for the next step.

I went in search of an employee and asked, “What do we do now?” She asked what her plans for internment were. “Mom wants to be cremated and buried with the family in Michigan.” I explained.

“Well, which crematory are you using?” She kindly asks. This was a subject brought up two weeks ago by the visiting hospice Chaplin, who promised to give us some local options. Another ball dropped by this hospice group. He never got back to us.

After being given 3 options, we made a decision. Within 20 minutes mom was removed from hospice, draped by a royal blue crushed velvet blanket. This would be the last time I would ever see my mother.

To save time and understanding how I emotionally handle issues like this, we immediately head over to the crematory to make all the arrangements. I have always had a delayed reaction with my feelings. I’m fine during a major issue, solid as a rock some say, but give me time to think about it and allow it to sink in…well then I fall apart and often become a major mess. So, this had to be done now, today, while I’m in my “take care of business zone.”

I know mother was going to die, but 4 days ago she was flipping through a Pottery Barn catalog to buy furniture and only went to Hospice House to “regulate” her pain medication!

This all happened too quickly. Perhaps for the best, but I can’t help thinking mistakes were made, people were irresponsible, and I was just too tired to keep up with it all. I did the best I could, given my own health issues.

The nursing home failed to send mother to the hospital when she requested. She was wrongly sent to the hospital on a “non-emergency” and redirected to a hospital that was unfamiliar with her case history. Then, hospice failed ME miserably. But, to be fair they did take good care of mother with the exception of not changing her colostomy bag, which I will never forgive them for.

When I finally unpacked mom’s bag that was sent home with all of mom’s personal effects, I had a good long cry. The Valentine’s Day card and huge heart shaped box of candy were never opened. It broke my heart.

I have been asked by a few people why I would air such a personal story for all to read. It was actually moms’ idea. When she was in the hospital, just before she agreed to hospice, I took a picture of her in her hospital bed.

She asked me to make a video for my blog. When I asked, “Why would you want me to do that?” She responded by saying, “If I can save just ONE person and get them to quit smoking, it would be worth it. I know I did this to myself, but smoking killed me and my second hand smoking might have caused your cancer. I want people to learn from my mistakes.”

I love you momma, rest in peace.

The circle of life continues...another is born.



I can still hear my mother saying, "I gotta pee!" Benjamin Franklin once said, "In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes." After watching this video and seeing the circle of life beginning anew, I'd have to add... "and ya gotta pee!"

Pee
B

The Circle of Life - Part 4

The Reprieve - 2 or 3 Days

Friday - February 12, 2010

Mom is doing really well, but I am exhausted. A Hospice nurse, Trisha calls and informs me that mother’s paperwork was not properly filled out and she would like to swing by the house and take care of the matter.

When she arrived I expressed my disappointment that I am not getting any help with my mom. I was told they were a large organization with a lot of resources and I would get plenty of support. I was told on Wednesday a volunteer was finally scheduled to arrive on Saturday, so I could get out and get some grocery shopping done.

Trisha expressed her concern and called the office to verify the volunteer would indeed arrive tomorrow. She was informed the volunteer could not make it. This angered me. When were they going to tell me? Hospice sucks!

What gets me the most angry is that I have resources to help. Mom's long time nurse is waiting to return to work. Mom has used private care giving services in the past. They aren't cheap, but they are available with one phone call. We haven't called in the troops because of all the promises of all the help and support we would be given by hospice.

I've explained countless times...I'm sick myself. I don't know anyone here and the family is non existent at the moment. I'm doing this alone, at great risk to my health, and I need help!

I'm learning a very good lesson: Always cover your ass and if the promises come through, you're just further ahead. Hum... That's one of the first rules of business...I've already learned this lesson many years ago. I can see I'm not thinking clearly enough right now or maybe I've just heard so many great things about hospice, I really believed in them.

When my aunt died in my arms of cancer many years ago, hospice ruled. They were well organized, plentiful, and in her home 24 hours a day. They were so helpful, I almost felt useless. I guess that's why I thought this would be no different. I was wrong. I should have called in my own staff from day one!

Mom has been reading her mail and awake most of the day today. She's been more talkative than usual and has even taken the time to talk to several family members on the phone, giving all her latest news. Trisha asks mom what her pain level is on a scale of one to ten, a question repeatedly asked. Mom answers swiftly, “Five.”

“Oh that’s not good.” Trish replies. I try to explain, “Mom’s five is your two, her eight is your five and if she says ten, she is really in pain…AND if she knows the "candy man" is coming, the number will rise.” Mom is an addict with good reason, but an addict nonetheless. She has been on such heavy doses of pain medication for so many years, she calls Tylenol, M&M's.

I have been cautious to find the right balance that keeps her pain to a minimum, but not over medicating her.

Trish asked mom if she wanted to go to the Hospice House for 2 or 3 days to get her pain medicine regulated and then she could return home. This would allow me a few days recovery, the ability to get some shopping done, and give some time to myself.



Mom's Medication Shrine



3:00PM
It sounded like a good idea, mom agreed. Trish ordered transportation and then completed the paperwork. I had arranged for a much needed massage at 6 PM and was promised that mom would be at the Hospice House by 5 PM so there should be no problem keeping the massage appointment. I packed up an overnight bag for mom complete with directions, all her medications, a spreadsheet of how they are administered, and a four day supply of colostomy bags.

6:00PM
Well you guessed it…the massage therapist arrived to set up and mom is still here pouring over a Pottery Barn catalog, looking for bedroom furniture. I’m not really sure what she must have been thinking. The phrase, "You can't take it with you" comes to mind.

6:05PM
Transportation arrives…who wants a massage anyway?? Dammit nothing goes to plan. They had three hours to get here! They prepare to move her from her bed to the transportation gurney.

One of the people was a young woman small in stature. Mom begins to get testy. “You can’t handle me. You’re just a little girl! You're not strong enough! I don’t want you to drop me! Brian, help them or get someone else.” Mom complains. The young girl responds with a smile, “Don’t worry ma'am, I can handle you.”

I explain to mom that the young lady is a professional and she and her male partner know exactly what they are doing. Mom has her doubts.

With one quick swoop mom is shifted effortlessly onto the gurney and mom exclaims pointing to the young lady, “You’re hired!” Mom was pleasantly surprised and we all laughed.

As mom is rolled out of the family room, she hands me the Pottery Barn catalog and points to a dresser, directing me to order it for her. In disbelief I choked out, "I will, when you come back home momma.”

6:15PM
I’m on the massage table pretending the last 10 days never happened. It was heaven and so very needed.

7:30PM
The phone rings as I’m still on cloud-9 from my deep tissue workout. It’s mom! “Brian, you have to see this place. It’s beautiful. There are heartfelt sayings on the walls. It’s so tranquil here. My room is huge, with a dining table, a wall unit with TV, a large couch, a comfortable recliner, and a beautiful bed!” She made it sound like a suite at the Ritz.

“Mom,” I responded, “You make it sound like a resort. People go there to die!” She continued with, “Do you want my phone number?” She was really enjoying this. I had to chuckle as I said. “No ma, I know where you are. I will call you tomorrow.”

Saturday - February 13, 2010

This day never existed to me. I slept through the entire day, right through the next morning. I didn’t eat and don’t even remember getting up to go to the bathroom! My body finally gave into the much needed, uninterrupted sleep.

Sunday - February 14, 2010
VALENTINE'S DAY

I awoke to the disbelief that I slept through all of Saturday! Since it was Valentine's Day, I had to get a BIG traditional heart shaped box of candy and a card for mom. I arrived to the Hospice House bearing gifts. Mom was right, the establishment was peaceful and well appointed. Her room was located at the end of the hall and was even larger than she described. Each room was given a theme and mom's was "Listen." Scrolled above her bed was the phrase, "Listen with your heart and you will understand."

This was written above Mom's hospice bed

The hospice nurse explained that mom just had a bath and her hair was still damp. With her hair trimmed and freshly painted nails I did for her on Wednesday, she looked good, but something just wastn't right.

The temperature of the room felt cold to me. Mom was sitting up in her beautiful bed. On the tray table before her was the most expertly prepared meal. It was presented and appeared as appetizing as anything you’d find in a five star restaurant. I was VERY impressed.

Mom spotted me and said, “I like your sweater.” “Thanks mom, you’ve seen this before,” I responded with a puzzled look. There was a very strange look on mom's face. I was facing her, but it was if she looked right through me. It was a glassy, expressionless stare without blinking.

The nurse began to cut her meat and I said, “You better not expect me to cut your meat when you get home. Don’t get used to this.” Normally I would get a smartass response, but my comment was met with that cold stare.

I sat at the dining table watching her begin to eat her meal. She stabbed a piece of meat…and pressed…and pressed…and pressed. She pressed so hard, she bent the talons of the fork!

“Mom, you’re stoned!” I laughed

She looked up at me, fork swinging in the air as if she had Parkinson's and proudly announced with a big smile, “I’m on dope!”

“You sure are.” I chuckled, a bit concerned.

The fork waved in front of her face. She was shaking. I asked if she was cold. I got a very quick whisper, “Yeah.”

I draped her blanket firmly around her neck as she began to chew…and chew…and chew. I stared in amazement. She chewed that one piece of meat for ten minutes, maybe longer. “Are you going to swallow?” I asked with concern. No response. “Mom, you are absolutely stoned!” I said and again no response.

I went down to the nurse’s station to complain about the cold room and insisted on seeing mom’s med list. I was told by an aid they were unable to adjust the room temperature and because it was a Sunday, maintenance could not fix the problem until tomorrow.

I demand to see the med list and I was handed a copy of the same list I sent with mom. “No, I want to see what she is currently on.” I aggressively demand. I’m told that IS what she is on.

“NO, this is her regular list. She came here to “regulate” her pain medication. I want to know what changes you have made. That’s not my mother in that room. She’s stoned off her ass. I can’t even communicate with her. Get me someone in charge of this facility, NOW!”

Nervously the aid went into an office and spent five minutes talking with a nurse about my issues. The flustered nurse appears, nervously explaining that indeed mom’s Fentynol has been increased and morphine has been administered to relieve her pain.

I had a very uncomfortable feeling, like they were trying to hide something. I know my nerves are riding high, so I'm sure it's just me. I get a response from the nurse that I have repeatedly been given for weeks, in a very Stepford Wives tone..."This is the process." Well I got news for ya Joanna... I don't like "the process!"

I asked to speak with a doctor and once again I'm given a line that nothing can be done until tomorrow. “Tell the doctor I want to speak with him first thing in the morning. I understand my mother needs pain relief, but I want to be able to communicate with her!”

When I got back to mom’s room her meal was removed and a huge piece of chocolate cake rested before her untouched. She is still sitting upright, but her eyes are closed. “Mom, Mom…do you want me to feed you?” I quietly asked. All I got was a soft, quick, breathy, “No.”

I show her the heart shaped box of candy. “Look mama, I brought you something.” I say as I place an envelop with her Valentine's Day card in her hand. With a smile she says, “Goodies!” She held the card out as far as her arm would extend. Her arm slowly dropped to her side with the envelop standing up as she fell asleep.

Throughout our visit, mom kept repeating a single word that sounded like, "Wood." I couldn't understand what she meant.

I took this time to step out of the room and call the family to give them an update. After about 45 minutes I went back in the room and mom was still sitting up, card in hand, candy at her side, sleeping.

I reclined her bed to allow her to sleep more comfortably and lowered her lights. The movement of the bed woke her up and I began to massage the crown of her head and tell her how much I loved her. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she smiled. I said, “Your expression reminds me of how happy the dog was when I rubbed her belly!” Mom drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.

I left the candy by her side and card still in her hand hoping that when she woke up she would read it. I turned, preparing to leave as she loving said, “Don’t leave me.” These words will resonate within me forever.

I spent another 45 minutes on the couch watching her rest, reviewing our last 3 years in my head, thinking how hard this all must be for her; The never ending hospital visits, years of rehab, nurses, doctors, and medications, the isolation and worry as her son maneuvered his way through cancer losing his tongue. It was all too overwhelming to recall.

I waited until I knew she was soundly sleeping before I crept away. On my way out I again announce to the nurse, “I will be back in the morning to discuss the regulation of mother’s pain medication!”

More to come...
Peace B

The Circle of Life - Part 3

The Final Homecoming

Wednesday - February 3, 2010

Wednesday afternoon, medical equipment arrived to mom’s home. In came a wheelchair, an electric hospital bed with air mattress complete with side rails, and a potty chair. Odd there were no linens and I just realized there are none in the house that would properly fit a Twin XL bed. So, we’ll have to make due.

Within an hour mom arrived by ambulance with two burly men. As they attempted to get her into bed, she just sunk to the ground with no strength in her legs to help. Fortunately, they caught her and were able to secure her in her new bed with no harm.

Mom was pretty much out of it and slept until a nurse arrived that evening for “tuck in.” On the first night they often schedule a nurse to guide the family on how to adjust the bed, the usage of a “draft sheet,” and how to administer a bed pan, and change a pee pad.

The embarrassing part was learning how and why woman wipe front to rear and rotating the paper. Women… you know what I mean. Men… don’t ask! It gives a whole new meaning to "Shaken, not stirred!"

With her came a mysterious “emergency kit” that was to be placed in the refrigerator and not opened without permission. It was adorned with security tape. I assume we’re talking some heavy duty drugs here.

I purchased an intercom system from Radio Shack, so I could hear mom when she needs me. It’s very cool and has several ways to use it. It can be a standard Push-to-Talk intercom, it can be set like a baby monitor for constant listening, or it has a VOX capability which is the reason I bought this model.

This is not a cheap setup and works very well for our situation. I would highly recommend it. It can be plugged in, but it’s also compact and has the ability to charge rechargeable batteries, making the portability factor unlimited.

The system stays off until mom says something loud enough to trigger the microphone, sending the message to my intercom. It’s only flaw… it tends to miss the first word. If mother just calls my name alone, it doesn’t seem to trigger. So, I have taught mom to use a full sentence, so I know she needs me. On occasion it will pick up her all too loud TV programs, but there is an adjustment for that. So far, it works great.

Personally I don’t like the monitor function for adults. First, I feel it’s too invasive and second, I really don’t care to hear every thing from a nose being blown to farting! The monitor feature is best used for babies in my opinion.

At 1 AM I hear my first call to duty, “I have to pee!” followed by a series of calls about every 2 hours! They continue throughout the night. OMG!

The next few days we had a Social Worker, a Nurse, a Caregiver, and a Chaplin all visit. I need to install a revolving door! I am promised all kinds of help for both mother and myself.

Mom was a bit upset when the Chaplin spent almost two hours asking everything from what her religion was to what here burial wishes are and then never asked her if she wanted to pray. It seemed more like a business interview to me. She was very hurt. I didn’t even realize it until after he left and mom tearfully brought it to my attention. Shouldn't this have been his main objective? This would be one of many let downs from this hospice group.

I’m beginning to realize this is not going to be easy. I’ve been promised a lot of help and they just need time to get the right matches in place. They say they will find a woman to sit with mom, maybe read to her giving me time to run errands. I hope it’s soon. I’m already exhausted running back and forth with a bed pan! So far, no help for me.

Thursday – February 4, 2010

I ordered mom several sets of high thread count luxury sheets and Egyptian cotton towels along with some quilted washable pee pads. Hospice has provided cheap disposable thin plastic backed pads that aren’t acceptable to me. No expense is spared to pamper my mother.

This could be a long bedridden journey and I want her as comfortable as possible. Mother has always been spoiled in this department. She likes nice things and loves her comfort and luxury items. I’d call her a master shopper. She loves flea markets and has a love of JCPenny. As sick as she is, QVC and HSN dominate her viewing while awake. There was a time she had QVC on speed dial! Mom is a very compulsive shopper. The very reason QVC is in business!

Friday – February 5, 2010

Mom continues to chime like Big Ben, “I gotta pee!” She pees so often, but mostly just a dribble. I ask why she can’t hold it for a few hours and give me one good wiz. She keeps telling me, “The pressure, the pressure, I can’t stand the pressure.” I begin to rate her “work” on a scale of 1 to 10. Most are a 2, but when she does good, we celebrate. We are pretty twisted.

Saturday – February 6, 2010

Mom is resting better. I have called the on-call nurse a few times for advice. They sent out Xanax (Alprazolam) to keep mom calm and help her rest more comfortably. I wanted to know where mine was!!! Fortunately, my doctor has already prescribed my own. One thing I like about Hospice is that the have a 24 hour pharmacy with home delivery, and they even deliver late at night if necessary! Still no help for me. Even my family has failed to help at this point.

Sunday – February 7, 2010

Mom is eating well, not big meals. Today it’s been a bowl of cereal with fresh fruit, a half of a grilled ham and cheese sandwich and a strawberry Boost nutritional drink. Her meals are small, but she is still getting used to solid food again after being fed intravenously in the hospital.

Monday - February 8, 2010

Mom has been very demanding since she has been home. Things like…"I’ll have pancakes.” I didn’t ask what she wanted. It just came out like a demand. “Get me some juice. Cut my muffin and put cream cheese on it”…OK hold on…I’m feeling like a slave. I have absolutely no problem helping her with the things she needs done, but I draw the line when she is fully capable of spreading cream cheese! Don’t treat me like a damn slave! Being deprived of sleep doesn’t help my mood either!

Still no help from anyone! I'm waiting for some help from hospice so I can get groceries. I've asked family. No help there. It's time to get mom's nurse back if I can. I should have done it first thing, but I believed hospice would be giving more help. Bullshit! My family sucks!

Tuesday – February 9, 2010

Mom is doing really well. Still on the bed pan, but looking good and all this time VERY clear headed. For breakfast, she asks for 3 pieces of cinnamon raisin bread (her favorite) with cream cheese, and some juice. I asked if she wanted her teeth (full upper, partial lower) and she declines. She wasn’t feeling well the whole day. By evening she began throwing up. The raisins reappeared whole. I think, “Should have used your teeth!”

6:30 PM
Then the famous words that will be etched into my brain forever, “I gotta pee!” Every time I remove the bed pan, I check her colostomy bag to see if it needs changing. There’s nothing in it. It’s very odd to go all day without anything at all in the bag. In fact I’ve never seen that before.

7:30 PM
One hour later “I gotta pee!” After the routine I check her bag, it’s ready to burst! It is completely full with brown liquid. No solid waste what so ever, just something that looks like strong coffee. I empty the bag and clean her up.

8:30 PM
One hour later, “I gotta pee!” CRAP! Once again the colostomy bag is ready to burst with this brown liquid. I’ve NEVER changed a bag in less than an hour like this before.

9:00PM
One half hour later. I gotta pee!” Same routine, and once again the bag is half full of this brown coffee like liquid. There is something wrong! I called the on-call night nurse and she is dispatched to the house.

10:15PM
Upon arrival she asks for the mysterious “hospice kit.” She opens it up and removes nausea medication and suppositories. Never in my life have I ever used them.

Now I have a dumb question, “If a person has a colostomy bag and they are no longer using the rectum because it’s no longer connected to the digestive system…do suppositories still do their job?” I get a blank stare from the nurse. “Well,” she says, “I’d have to say yes, as long as the blood vessels are intact. Good question.” Hum…

I hold one suppository up to mom’s face and say, “This is called “Brian’s revenge.” Are you going to let me get some sleep tonight?” We all have a good laugh.

I inspect the kit while it’s open. As expected, these are some serious meds including syringes of morphine. The kit is placed back in the fridge and I’m instructed on the administration of the medications given.

1:00AM - 2:00AM - 3:00AM
“I gotta pee!” mom chiming in like Big Ben…every frickin hour! But this time the 3AM call is a bit more entertaining.

Mom roles on her side for me to place the bed pan and the cheap pee pad placed underneath her has crawled up her butt crack. So, I do what any good son would do in this situation…I pull. It didn’t budge.

I make a second attempt with the same result. I steady my foot against the bed rail and give a serious pull and begin to hysterically laugh saying, “Give it back! Give it back!” It evoked memories of my childhood when a playmate would take one of my toys! “Give it back!” and mom begins to laugh so hard and says, “I can’t move my leg!”

With one hard yank out it came and we both had tears in our eyes from the laughter. Mom says. “I never dreamed I’d ever have a tug-o-war with my ass and my son in my lifetime!!”

After I placed a fresh pee pad under her and let her complete her mission, mom rested comfortably. I think the tug-o-war wore her out! I actually got 3 or 4 hours of sleep afterwards. A sheer luxury at this point, until I hear, “I gotta pee!” on my new enemy, the intercom. Whose idea was that damn thing anyway? Anybody wanna play football??!!

PS - Mom is getting the care she needs, but still no help for me!

Wednesday February 10, 2010

Today is bath day. Mom has requested to PLEASE help her out of bed so she can sit up. She has sat up on the side of the bed a few times, but she’s never really comfortable.

After her in bed bath, I change her colostomy bag and the caregiver helps me get her into her wheelchair without much trouble. Things appear to be looking up. Mom has nicknamed her Coochy-Coo because she says that to mom when she bathes her, if mom gets tickled by the wash cloth.

Coochy-Coo strips the bed and places mom’s new heavenly high thread count sheets on her prison of a bed. Now is a good time to trim mom’s hair. So, I get the razor and scissors and clean her up. I ask if she wants to do her nails.

My mother has always had the most naturally beautiful nails, never fake. All women are envious of her nails. Due to recent events they have grown too long and her polish is worn.

She removes the polish and proceeds to file them to a perfect length and shape. When she begins to apply her pretty soft pink polish, she begins to shake and make a mess out of her first attempt. I offer to help her even though I have never done this before.

I used to paint houses for extra money while I was in college. It can’t be that hard, right? I needed to have her set her hand on the tray table while I pressed down firmly to keep her from shaking. I have to admit, I did a damn good job. Mom is really looking good for a change.

Coochy-Coo has to leave and mom asks if she can remain sitting in her wheelchair until the nurse comes in about an hour. That shouldn’t be a problem. Mom is enjoying her freedom, and I can only imagine, she’s feeling very refreshed.

The nurse arrived to the tune of, “I gotta pee!” We get mom off the wheelchair and slide the potty chair underneath. This is the first time she has used a real toilet in 3 weeks!

After the deed was done mom says, “I’m tired. Get me back in bed.” Our attempt failed miserably. With the nurse in front and me in back, we lock arms and try to get mom to dance (rock) herself back to the bed only 2 feet away. Mom begins to yell, “I’m falling! I’m falling!”

“Mom, you’re OK, You’re fine.” I reassure her. I was wrong. Coochy-Coo had put a satin nightgown on mom after her bath and mom slipped right through our arms like a greased pig. Right to the floor she went as the nurse says, “Follow her down and go slowly.” Mom was not hurt.

Now on the hard tiled floor she lays. Unfortunately, she has been in this position quite a few times in the last few years. She’s too heavy for the two of us to lift. We are both less than 130 pounds and mom is 200+ with absolutely NO strength in her legs to help support herself.

I make mom as comfortable as possible. I give her a pillow and cover her to keep warm. Then called EMS and tell them I need non-emergency assistance.

Mom is only complaining that her big toe hurts and the hard floor is uncomfortable on her back. I shore her up with pillows and wait for EMS. It seems EMS does not have anyone to send for a “non emergency” so they call the local fire department for assistance.

The cavalry arrives and mom is now safely back in a fresh luxurious bed with a haircut and newly painted nails. It’s been a rough, but productive day. I think mom has made some progress.

Thursday February 11, 2010

I’m very sick to my stomach without an ounce of energy. I beginning to realize I'm sacrificing my own health as a cancer patient to care for my mother. I thought I would have more help from hospice and family!

Mom is sleeping and pee breaks are about 4 hour intervals. I manage to feed her and get back to bed. I’m exhausted with nothing more to give right now.

I hand mom the phone and beg her to call Grace, her private nurse/caregiver she's had for almost two years. I would have called her sooner, but I believed in the promises from hospice and thought maybe the family would have cared enough to help. I am bitterly angry!

I awake at 8:45 PM. Mom is sleeping as I begin to cook dinner. Feeling a little better and can’t believe I slept the entire day with only a few pee breaks. Mom is a bit out of it. She says “It’s so strange to be so dark at 9 o’clock.

I think she’s joking, but with a few questions I realize, she thinks it’s 9 AM. I know it’s not unusual to get things confused, but this is one of mom’s first tells that something might be wrong.

I begin dinner when mom says…(say it with me)… “I have to pee!” Stir the stir-fry, get the bed pan, stir the stir-fry, then remove the bed pain. (yes I was wearing gloves) We are going through about 2 boxes a week! Clean the bed pan, wash up…oh shit...stir the burning stir-fry.

After dinner mom still looks dazed. I ask a series of questions to check her mental capacity:

Q: What year is it?
A: Two-O-One-O.

Q: Who is the President?
A: Obama

Q: What was your mother’s name?
A: I got no mama!

Q: Huh?
A: I got no mama, Obama!

Q: Stop screwing around! Who am I?
A: The biggest pain in the ass I ever met!

OK she’s fine!

Just to be safe I’ll check her blood pressure…180/165 with a pulse of 149! Holy crap! I take it again. Mom says, “I need to pee.” Ah shit! OK Take the BP again with similar results, get the bed pan, take BP a 3rd time! Still whacked.

I call the 24 hour on-call nurse. I explain the problem and once again explain…I feel there is a problem with mom’s Catapress patch (for blood pressure) Mom has no chest pain, no blurred vision, and does not feel the need to go to the hospital.

The nurse confers with the on-call doctor and returns with…take the Ativan out of the emergency kit, give it to her if her BP spikes again and continue every 6 hours until it adjusts or if you feel she needs to be hospitalized, do so. The on-call doctor also agrees that mom should be put back on her Catapress TTS-3 patch! Finally someone willing to commit to a decision!!!

The new patch was placed and her numbers have normalized with no Ativan administered. Tada! I’m beginning to think I should have been a doctor. Some of it is common sense and knowing the patient’s history.

11:30 PM
One more check on her BP and I’m going to try for more rest. Mom is stabilized with a BP of 146/71 – pulse 63 comfortably watching TV as if nothing is wrong.

OK need some rest…goodnight!

11:57 PM
"My (colostomy) bag is full!” mom announces calmly through the voice box that lay on my bed. Oh CRAP!!!! Literally! Who needs sleep anyway???

2:00AM
IGP!

3:00AM
IGP!

5:30AM
IGP! By this time I’m seeing plaid. I’m so tired. I need help dammit! I can’t see straight and I’m feeling slap happy.

I enter the family room/hospital ward/bedroom singing dramatically to the tune of: I Gotta Be Me. “I gotta pee… I gotta pee…” and mom finishes BIG with, “and if I can’t pee, then you will see, I’ll pee all over me!”

I busted a gut with laughter. This pee run was worth it! By far the most entertaining to date! Yup, we’re a pretty twisted pair for sure.

More to come...

Peace B

The Circle of Life - Part 2

The Pain

There comes a time when we will all have to make the biggest decision of our life. Not a life altering decision, but a life ending one. When is it time to just stop fighting and let the circle of life come to its close? Will your weary body let you know or perhaps you’ve fought so long that you just want it to end?

You live years with the pain, the doctors, the hospitals and emergency rooms, the endless rehab visits that become longer with each episode…the misery as you watch your life savings spent on nurses, caregivers, and mounds of medications… fighting endlessly with each life prolonging measure. Years upon years of fighting and you are drained beyond all hope. The pain becomes so intense that you finally just want it all to end. It's time to fly with bluebirds over the rainbow.

The BIG Decision

With this last hospital visit my mother has given up her fight. The hospital doctor has suggested hospice (palliative care) and for the very fist time, mother agreed on her own accord. With tears streaming down her cheeks she pleads, “I can’t do this anymore. I just want it to stop.” This has been a decision in the making for 20 years, and now she is ready. Me…not so much.

Typically, hospice will evaluate a patient and decide if they are indeed hospice ready. There is little doubt with mom’s history, she will qualify, and she does. She probably qualified years ago by hospice standards.

February 3, 2010

After two doctors agree, hospice reviews medical records and they feel mom has less than 6 months to live, hospice is ordered. Mom accepts this and preparations are made to bring her home and keep her comfortable until the finale.

These are her wishes. There have been a few times, when she was unable to speak for herself, with Power of Attorney over her, I’ve overridden her DNR (Do Not Resuscitate – No Extreme Measures.) An order set in motion in writing when her Living Trust was formed. This time she speaks for herself, and this time I painfully respect and understand her decision.

There has been no quality of life for many years. Private nurses and caregivers have been her only regular visitors for almost 2 years. She has rarely left her bed for more than a few hours a day, too weak to go anywhere, too many medical complications, and far too many pills artificially keeping her alive and almost pain free, but never fully. She calmly signs the hospice paperwork and I leave to prepare for her final homecoming. My heart aches.

More come...

Peace B

The Circle of Life - Part 1

Medicare and Makin Money

Mom is nearing release from rehab once again. The plan they were enacting was to send mom home and have her return a few times a week for out patient therapy, thus continuing to make them more money by accessing mother’s Medicare benefits. I know this game all too well, I put a stop to it.

If this were to happen, mom would forfeit her home care and only get $1,840, Medicare's limit for out patient therapy. For mom, the home care provision is much more important. This may not be so for everyone.

Upon release from a rehab stay, with doctor’s orders, home care provides her with 2 weeks of in home Occupational Therapy (OT), 2 weeks of in home Physical Therapy (PT), a weekly nursing visit, and a caregiver for bathing and small household chores, twice a week.

On top of that, she is given a home medical monitor that takes her weight, blood pressure, pulse, oxygen level, and asks a series of questions pertaining to how she feels and transmits the vitals back to a health care center and reviewed everyday. She had home care for several months in 2009! I’d say that’s worth more than $1,840. But then I’m not the nursing home/rehab center trying to make a buck. Where do their interests really lie? Just my opinion!!!

In addition to what is provided by Medicare, mom has a private nurse and caregiver that helps with household chores and miscellaneous errands. I feel mom is well cared for, but at great cost. She is still very ill and needs so much assistance, yet her mind is as clear as a bell. She is fully aware of everything. I think this comes from the fact that she reads 3 to 4 novels a week, Nora Roberts being her favorite. She reads so much, it's hard keeping her in books. Aside from the television, this is her primary means of entertainment. What else do you do when you can't leave your bed?

Wednesday 1-27-2010

I’m so excited! I’m on my way to finally bust mom out of rehab! Mom has been in this nursing home since November. She’s finally going home! She has worked very hard to get her strength back over the last few weeks. Mom tells me, “They’re busting my ass!” This was done at my insistence because I was beginning to feel mom was just income for them. She wasn’t being workout like she had on past visits.

From my perspective, this is how it appears: she has Medicare and AARP/United Heath, a supplemental insurance that gives her a combined total of 100 days of fully paid rehab. So, why not take your time and use the full 100 days? Who’s it gonna hurt, right? Let her rest and relax and enjoy the stay. BUT, if she has a second episode after this stay and it’s before the 2 month Medicare reset period, (you need to be out of hospital and rehab for a total of 60 days before Medicare will again pay) she becomes self-pay to the tune of $7,000 a month. Either way, rehab wins. Unfortunately for mom, this has happened many times over the years and the bills are staggering.

Let's Get Sprung!

The rehab center has arranged a home site evaluation to make sure mom will be safe and that all obstacles are out of her way. I picked her up and one of the rehab agents met us at the house. Mom is in a great mood! She’s so happy to be home after 3 months! The evaluation goes well and mom is cleared to be released. She’ll have to go back to the rehab center until all the paperwork is finalized. It could be a few days.

Mom excited to be going home!

I get to keep her home for the day, but she must return before 8 PM. While she’s at home sitting in her recliner smiling from ear to ear, she makes a few phone calls. She calls her sister, who lives in Michigan, and they have a wonderful conversation. She then calls her brother-in-law, “I’m bustin out!” I hear her laugh and explain all her recent events.

Mom is happy and is looking great for a change. Her attitude is positive and she seems excited, but a few hours at home and she’s tired. She’s ready to return to rehab.

That evening, back in rehab, mom begins to experience abdominal pains. She complains to the nurse, but was told, “The stomach flu is going around and you probably just have a touch of that.” Mom feels she might need to go to the hospital and the nurse dismisses that thought.

What a Difference a Day Makes

Thursday 1-28-2010

Mom’s stomach pain is getting worse. She demands to go to the hospital and asks her roommate to witness that she is now demanding to go. My mother NEVER wants to go to the hospital. I sometimes have to beg her. So you know this must be bad!

I get a phone call from rehab, “We are sending your mother to the hospital. Nothing serious, but just to be safe, we’re sending her as a non-emergency." She was ready to be released. She was fine yesterday. What happened? I'm assured it was just precautionary.

I’ve been down this road too many times before, so I wait one half hour and head for the hospital. Small problem…mom’s not there. I called the rehab center and ask if she has left the facility. She has and she’s now missing! WTF?

After an hour of phone calls and research trying to track her down, I was informed she was sent to the hospital I was standing in, but the emergency room was overflowing and they closed it, diverting all new patients to the next closest hospital. Does Costco sell Xanax by the case???

Mom has never been to this new hospital. In fact, I had never even heard of it before. When I arrived, I insist on seeing my mother. They tell me she’s not here. After I let off a few F-bombs she miraculously appears in the emergency ward barely able to speak, eyes rolled back in her head, moaning in excruciating pain, now on heavy morphine, with slurred speech.

The doctor explains that she has an intestinal blockage. This is her third in the last 4 years. It all began 20 years ago when she had diverticulitis and her colon ruptured. Since that time, she has lived with a colostomy bag. She has never been a candidate for a reversal due to everything else wrong with her, mostly due to her COPD and CHF. She almost died from this event, but after being kept alive on a ventilator for several weeks, she survived. We come from tough stock!

To make matters worse, she has a double hiatal hernia that has slowly emerged over the years. During her last emergency, it was explained that the ball outside of her belly that appears to be a basketball, (she looks pregnant) is actually a mass of muscle, skin, and intestines all intertwined. As the muscle and skin tissue grows, it will continue to squeeze and cut off the passage of her bowel. Surgery is not an option.

Even though the emergency room doctor has diagnosed the problem very quickly, I’m worried because she has never been admitted to this hospital and these doctors don’t know her complicated case history. Sure, records can be ordered and reviewed, but that takes time and is subject to interpretation.

Her Last Words?

Mom is barely able to speak at this point, but she’s strong enough and angry enough to tell me how rehab blew her off saying she had the stomach flu and how she had to beg and finally demand to be taken to the hospital.

Now I’m enraged! This is a woman with a colostomy, a history of intestinal blockages, a double hiatal hernia, and now green liquid bile fills her colostomy bag, a tell tale sign of a blockage or intestinal problem...and they dismiss it foolishly as the stomach flu, sending her to the hospital with a non-emergency status!

Mom will spend the next week, once again, fighting for her life!

Another Battle Begins

More to come...

Peace B

***To the best of my knowledge the Medicare information is correct. I am not an expert. Please consult your Medicare guide for clarification and which services are best for your individual needs.

There's A Mouse In My What?

I thought I would spend some time with mom, to help her recuperate. In the drive sits my father's old car, still in the family since he died. One afternoon mom had to go to see her doctor. I packed her up walker, oxygen tank, and all. While I was putting on her seat belt. I noticed some rust flakes on the floor. I thought, "I better vacuum that up when we get back."

After spending the afternoon driving around from doctor to dinner and then getting lost, we finally arrived back at the house. (I don't know the area as well as I thought!) With her oxygen tank almost depleted, she was ready for bed. It was 5PM!

As tired as I was, I put on my glasses and got out the vacuum to clean up the flakes of rust off the floor of the car. OMG! It wasn't rust! It was mouse crap! That's right, Mickey and Minnie had moved in and crapped EVERYWHERE!

HOLY CRAP!

When I looked at the floor of the backseat, I almost tossed it. I couldn't believe the amount of poop! We drove all afternoon in mouse shit! That's what happens when you still have one cataract and don't wear your reading glasses!

I have no problem driving. If you remember my new lens implant lets me see Mars! I just can't see five feet in front of me. I can't believe I thought it was rust! Never, would I ever think mice would have moved into a car, without paying rent! This clean-up was going to take awhile.

I thought it best to disconnect the car battery, to avoid draining it while I had all the doors open, which left the interior lights on. When I popped the hood, to my surprise, those little buggers had built a nest under the air cleaner!

There was paper, twigs, berries, palm seeds, small rocks (?) pieces of bark, and leaves. I'm surprised we didn't set the engine on fire while we drove to the doctor's! I should have waited until the mice were in residence and then fired up the engine. We could have had "mousemallows" giving a whole new meaning to S'mores! I don't think Girl Scouts offer a badge for that.

Whatcha Doin?

 I couldn't get it all out by hand, the material was everywhere. So, I began to vacuum out the mess from the engine bay. While I was sucking out the nest, a neighbor wandered by.

"Whatcha doin?" he asked.

OK, think fast..."Well, the engine looked a little dusty to me. I'm a clean freak doncha know?" I snapped. He gave me a funny look. I continued, "Don't you vacuum your engine regularly? You'll get better gas mileage. You probably don't even Pledge your valve covers, do you?" He walked away.

After I was done sucking the engine, I put on some rubber gloves and a mask and attacked the interior. A neighborhood boy strolled by walking his dog.

"Whatcha doin?" he asked, poking his nose in the car with his dog sniffing around.

"Just vacuuming up mouse crap. Whatchu doin?" I replied.

"Just pickin up dog crap. Mom said I have to walk the dog! I hate curbing Willie, it's gross!" He quipped with a crinkle of his nose, holding up a plastic bag for me to examine Willie's freshly made...well you know.

"Guess we're both having a crappy day!" I grinned.

What is with everybody in this neighborhood? Can't anybody just say, "Hello" and keep moving? I met two strangers and our conversation centers around shit! Go figure!

As much as I love little critters, I had to get rid of them before they destroyed the car! With the engine and interior cleaned, I set a mouse trap on the floor, complete with peanut butter. I really want to steam clean the interior. I can't stand the thought of what's still on the carpet after vacuuming, but I have to catch the lil rodents first! A week went by and nothing, not a squeak, not an eek, not even a creak! I was so obsessed with catching them, I couldn't sleep!

With mice being nocturnal, most active at night, I went out and checked the trap at 2AM! With flashlight in hand, I peered through the car window, hoping to score me some mouse!

One night, a small white car pulled up, flashed a bright light into my eyes and a stern voice said, "Whatcha doin there?" That must be the standard greeting around here!

It was a security guard. I wasn't about to tell him, I'm hunting mice... at 2AM... in a car! So, I showed him my ID, explained who I was, and that was enough for him.

The next morning, on the floor of the car was a large frog, well... the remnants of one. Only the head was left along with the leg bones, devoid of meat!

The very night I was being interrogated by security, those little buggers threw a party and brought home carry out! They dined on frog legs and peanut butter. Yup, that's right, they ate the peanut butter, but didn't spring the trap! I wonder which wine goes with frog legs and peanut butter anyway? And once again, after a heavy meal, what's next? A good, healthy shit! I never knew mice could crap so much! It's the War of the Turds!

Once again, I vacuumed the interior and the beginnings of another nest in the engine. This time they nibbled some engine air hoses. Cha-Ching! These things can cost you a lot of money if left unchecked! I bought TWO foot long by six inch sticky "rat" traps, set a dollop of peanut butter in the middle of each and once again, baited the snap trap to be safe.

Another week went by. Nightly, I would check the car, flashlight in hand. By now the security guard just smiled and waved as he drove by finding me in robe and slippers, staring into a car window with a flashlight...at 2AM... hunting mice. There was no activity within.

Then one night, I noticed one of the traps was flipped over. No sign of any mice. As I slowly turned the trap over, there in the sticky goop was nothing more than two tiny little hand prints, like the kind you'd find in cement, in Hollywood, in front of Grauman's Chinese Theatre. That was it, not even a turd... as if to say, "F-U, I'm not playin none of yo games!" I swear that mouse gave me the finger in the sticky glue!

More traps, more peanut butter, more waving to security! A few days later... success! There in the goop was one of the fattest mice I had ever seen! It couldn't even fit in the standard mouse trap. I'm sure there is a male somewhere, but I hit the mother lode! It all began to make sense. Only a pregnant woman would crave peanut butter and frog legs!

After vacuuming once more and a thorough steam cleaning. I took the car in for engine repairs. The mechanic said, "This is the cleanest old car I've ever seen!" I wonder why? Doesn't everybody vacuum their engine and steam clean their entire interior? Damn! I forgot to Pledge!

Oh, and if one more person here asks, "Whatcha doin?" I'm going postal!


CARS AND MICE DON'T MIX!

Peace,

B

The Cancer Chronicles 40

Everything Is A-OK!I Gotta Feeling Tonight's Gonna Be A Good Night!
Sorry for the long delay in posts, but life has been rather hectic. It's a lot of work to keep living!

I had to check on mom as soon as I left the hospital. She was fine, but still retaining water. Two weeks had gone by and I heard nothing from my doctor. So, I sent him an email with "Remember me?" He returned with an "All clear!"

The cancer still has not returned and the pain in my back is nothing more than premature arthritis! I never thought I'd be happy to hear I only have premature arthritis! There is still a problem with low red and white blood cell counts, but that seems to be minor at this point. I guess that's why I feel weak and tired all the time. The bill for my two day excursion: a little over $14,000! It's criminal! Sure insurance will pay most of it, but there's still a 30% co-pay!

Meanwhile, mom was put in the hospital for one week to see if they could remove the excess water from her body with heavy diuretics, in an effort to curtail another congestive heart failure episode. She came out in worse shape than she went in, but most of the water gain was diminished.

I told my mother about my MRI ordeal and how stressful it was. She said, "Oh, they're not that bad!"

Preparing for her Open MRI. Look at that smile!
She also had an MRI of her spine, but they used an "open" MRI machine. When I asked my doctor why I had to be subjected to the coffin, I was told that the sarcophagus like machine gives a more detailed image. Personally, I think that's crap!

The doctor reads mom's scans as she rests comfortably in an Open MRI
Next time, I want an OPEN MRI!
Peace B

The Cancer Chronicles 34

WHAT I DID LAST SUMMER

part 3

After my long walk with nature, I grew so tired. I needed to return to the cottage for a nap. I think the walking had weakened my body, but the solitude of such a wondrous day filled my soul.

I napped on the couch for a bit when I felt a breeze kick up through the open screened door. A gentle rain shower began. Once again, like a calling card in my life, a rainbow appeared hovering over Lake Huron, I was to pay attention to. It rained briefly over the gloomy grey sky. The glorious sunshine of the day was gone and a new attitude was in the air.

Rainbow over Lake Huron seen from the cottage balcony, Harrisville, MI
Craig and Aaron returned and mentioned that they were going back to the camp ground to meet some fellow barbershoppers. So, that evening, as tired as I was, I prepared to make the gathering. Gloria would stay at the cottage to rest.

We set off to buy some wood for a campfire and drove to the park. The camp ground seemed completely full, even though all the events were a week away. We found Craig's friends, Pete and Sally Burns, in their 40 foot luxury motor home backed up to a wooded area. Down a short path, beyond the woods, you'd found yourself on the sandy beach of Lake Huron. It was one of the best locations in the park with its own fire pit. Now this is how camping should be! All the luxuries of home with all the benefits of nature.

After the introductions we sparked up the fire pit and began to talk. It wasn't long before food was being discussed. Hot dogs were on the menu. DAMN! I wanted one so bad! When I bowed out of the dog tally, I had to explain the reason why. As it turned out Sally was a breast cancer survivor, so we instantly bonded. Cancer is like a club and sometimes only other cancer survivors can fully understand. As more than one conversation dominated the fire pit, Sally and I exchanged war stories. She told me about "the girls" (her breasts) how they were re-built, and I told of my battled tongue and how they fashioned a new one out of my forearm.

She asked to see my tongue and I said, "Only if I can see the girls." In a serious tone I heard her husband say, "Go ahead honey, show him." I froze for a moment before I realized he was joking. I quickly changed the subject to singing. Both Sally and Pete are in quartets. Some people might think singing barbershop tags is only for men, but Sally is a member of the Sweet Adelines International Singers , a group for woman.

They broke out the dogs and I just wanted to devourer one. Aaron was a bit hesitant about having a hot dog cooked over an open fire. He had never had a weenie roast. The thought of skewering a hot dog and roasting it yourself over an open fire did not sound appetizing to him. After much prodding, he agreed to try one. I don't think he wanted to step out of his comfort zone. The flames danced before me as I watched those dogs smolder and char.

I was mesmerized by the flames and sadden by the fact that I could not partake in the ritual. I kept thinking, "I want one, just one bite with ketchup, mustard, and fresh diced onions!" But, I knew it would be too difficult to try in front of strangers. I'd probably embarrass myself or gross them out if I had to use my fingers to maneuver the food. So, when one of the first dogs out of the flames was offered to me, I gracefully declined with a tear. I'm sure that was the smoke from the fire that caused that...right??

I lived vicariously through Aaron that night. As he reluctantly took a bite into his first campfire dog, his face went from, "I'm not too sure about this," to "WOW! This is AWESOME!" He wolfed that dog down and fired up a second without hesitation. I think part of me was jealous. He didn't realize what a gift that was, but the enjoyment plastered on his face was worth watching. I hoped I would soon enjoy my first post cancer hot dog as he did that night. I only wish we could have shared the experience together.

The night air was fresh and crisp after the brief afternoon rain. Tiny drops of water sat silently on tree leaves that surrounded us. The campground grew dark and quiet, with bright stars dancing overhead. Only the flicker of flames and a light from the motor home lit up our surroundings.

As the evening went on, another group of friends walked by. The daughter of this couple, Diane was a Girl Scout. Not just any Girl Scout, but a Gold Award Winning Girl Scout, the highest honor given. So, when she offered to make everyone s'mores, I about packed it in! DAMMIT! I can't eat the hot dogs and now s'mores!!! Made by one of the highest ranking Girl Scouts on the planet!!! OK, I had my day at the beach and my rainbow. I guess I can't have my cake and eat it too.


I watched Diane exactingly build each s'more after carefully roasting her marshmallows to perfection. She stacked a honey graham cracker, a big square chunk of chocolate Hersey bar, the gooey, melting marshmallow, all topped off with another graham cracker, then squished to perfection! The aroma was heavenly as the chocolate square melted gently under the warmth of the roasted sweet white fluff. Everyone but me enjoyed Diane's spectacular treat. I now know how a dog feels when he begs at the table for food and doesn't get any!

Happy and full, the group began singing tags in four part A Capella harmony. Craig asked if I wanted to sing along and they would teach me a tag. But, just like the dogs and the s'mores, that was out of the question for me this evening. Craig and I were once in Choir together, rivals for first chair of the second tenor section, so he knew I could belt out a tune. But after being sliced, diced, micro-waved, and poisoned, my vocal prowess was not what it once was. I was beginning to realize how hard it will be to be in a social environment having had tongue cancer. I was not able to enjoy a simple evening the same way as the others. A part of me is lost, and I don't just mean my tongue.

Was this the way it would be for the rest of my life? With that thought, the harmony was interrupted by security, asking us to keep it down. The loud talking, laughing, and singing was disturbing the other campers. What??? Are we the only ones that know how to have a good time??? Old Farts!

As entertaining as it was, I felt a bit depressed. Just another revelation; an understanding that there are such major highs and lows when you have cancer. How can a tongue affect so much of one's life? Even when everything seems perfect to the outside world, life as I know it has changed. After all, how could anyone NOT have a good time on an evening like this, right??? If you could only get inside my head you'd understand. I did enjoy myself very much, but I knew it could be so much better if I was able to eat, speak clearer, and sing along with the gang. I kept my game face on and enjoyed the evening the best I could, but sadness loomed inside my head.

The singing ceased and the talking softened with only spikes of laughter. The embers before us glowed softly as the night was coming to an end. It was getting late and after security had to issue us a second warning, the evening lost it's momentum. We said our good-byes and I gave my new cancer buddy a deep hug. Sally was living well after having both breasts removed and that was the lesson I would take with me. Cancer did not stop her from living and it won't stop me!

We drove back to the cottage to sleep and sleep hard I did. When morning ...ah afternoon came, I called my Aunt and Uncle to see if they would be up for company. Yep, I'm in town and I'll be there in a hour!

I gave Gloria a deep hug and jumped in the car for the short drive. Gloria is another cancer warrior. She just keeps going with such a great attitude. I really respect the way she lives with her cancer! More positive reinforcement that you just gotta keep livin!

When I reached East Tawas, it was beautiful. My aunt and uncle live near the Marina across the street from the lake. I had planned on only staying a few hours, but with my late start it seemed best to spend the night so we would have more time to catch up. My Aunt and Uncle also both had cancer. It seemed to be a theme for this trip.

I called my mom to check on her. She was doing well and sounded great. I asked if she needed me because I wanted to spend the night in East Tawas. Mom said she was fine and that she'd see me tomorrow afternoon. After all, she had a team of nurses and caregivers in and out of the house daily.

I broke out my feed bag, which is always a bit of a shock for new people being exposed to a man hooked up to a IV pole with a bag of liquid for dinner. They so graciously acted as if this was normal and the conversation went on late into the night.

Morning came again quickly. I wasn't up 15 minutes when my cell phone rang. It was my mom's neighbor. They had taken her to the hospital. She had fallen sometime during the night, flipped over her potty chair around 3 AM and laid on the floor until 10 AM. When my cousins came by for a visit and couldn't get mom to answer the door, they knew something was wrong.

Well a hurried good-bye ensued and I hit the road, driving directly to the hospital, ridden with guilt. I should have driven home last night! When I found out she was fine, just bruised up a bit, I was relieved. Then when she told me she had gotten up to go to the bathroom with only the aid of a small nightlight. She apparently either tripped over her oxygen cord or misjudged the portable commode as she sat down. Mom found the whole thing funny, as she described the ordeal with the commode flying through the air and landing upside down as she fell flat on the floor and laid there for seven hours or more. Again, I blame all the pain meds and her lack of judgement by not turning on a light! I wasn't amused.

She wasn't hurt badly, but the doctors suggested more rehab as they thought it would help her gain more strength in her legs. They also wanted to work on some physical therapy for the arm she fractured months ago that put her in the hospital the last time.

So much for coming to help mom, she would be in rehab for several months so, I planned my trip home and registered the event under...F&*#! I still think all those pain meds played a key factor. I know she needs some, but not all that she was taking. I'm not a doctor, but I know when someone is stoned!

This whole trip had taken every ounce of my energy. Mom was only home five days before she ended back in the hospital. I think they released her from rehab way too soon! On the long plane ride home I tried to sleep. Too much on my mind. So many people living with illness, but all warriors to me. I had pushed myself past my limit. Upon returning home, I stayed in bed for three weeks trying to regain my energy. I couldn't lift my head off the pillow. Now you know why it took so long to finish this post.

Life isn't always a pic-a-nic basket, eh Boo Boo?
Peace
B