Yesterday I watched a video clip about a mother with late stage Alzheimer's and her daughter. They were both laying in the mother's hospital bed. For a few minutes the mother recognized her daughter. She tried to explain what it felt like to not be able to think of words and speak correctly. The mother did not understand why she didn't know her own daughter at times. I watched the video clip several times. I knew exactly how the daughter felt.
The same thing happened to my mother and me several times. I would not trade those moments of recognition for anything. The first time she recognized me was about 6 a.m. one morning. I would usually arrive at the hospital before Mama woke up. I liked sit on the side of her bed and watch her sleep. It seemed to me that Mama could think or remember better early in the mornings. It wasn't always the case. However, with the horrible Alzheimer's disease, a person takes whatever they can get from their loved one.
One morning Mama woke up, looked at me saying, "there you are." I hugged and kissed her and for a minute she remembered me. She was holding on to me as tight as she could and kissing my check. It was wonderful and then as though a light had been turned off, Mama laid back in bed and looked at me for a long time. Her smile became smaller and her eyes searched my face...trying to figure out who the woman was sitting on her bed and why she was crying. I don't even know if she realized I was crying. Her eyes questioned my face. I think she was trying to remember what had just happened. I have no way of knowing if this was true or not. I picked up her 'baby' doll and gave it to her. She was delighted to see "her baby". The doll received my kisses and my love. That was fine with me. I saw her through new eyes. I believe I had the privilege of watching how Mama loved me when I was a baby. Like I wrote earlier, with Alzheimer's patients...you take what you can get each and every day, cherishing the times they remember.
Tommy and I needed to go to Fulton last Thursday and pay our electric bill. Slowly, that one bill has begun to look like a poor man's version of the national debt. During the winter I wait until the last couple of days to turn loose of our money for that particular bill. It gripes me to pay that much moolah for electricity...because we burn wood.
After the bill was paid, Tommy looked at me and said, "Let's have some fun". Sounded good to me, my mood was far from fun at that moment. I couldn't imagine what we were going to do in Fulton, for fun, at 9a.m. Turns out we have driven past a quaint nondescript shop weekly, for the past two years, thinking it was abandoned. Today a red car was parked out front. We made a quick left turn into their parking lot. Except for the car, it still looked abandoned. Once we were at the door, I peeped through the glass to see if anyone was inside. About that time Tommy shoved me through the now open door. He laughed and said, "I told you the store was open!!" The words "fun my ass!!!" ran through my mind as I tripped over a basket of flowers.
Shops like these remind me of Stephen King's book, "Needful Things". I like to take my time as I ramble through other people's 'stuff'. I touch all the antiques. The things people wanted once and now have no desire to keep. A treadle sewing machine conjures up memories of Mamamae's Singer treadle sewing machine that my cousin Darla and I learned to sew on. It stayed in Mamamae's bedroom for years. I won a 4-H ribbon for an apron I made on that old sewing machine, years ago when I was eight or nine.
I checked out the jewelry wondering about the people who once owned these trinkets and thought they were pretty...styles change over the years. There were several white plastic daisy flower pins beginning to turn yellow and several tarnished cross necklaces with an occasional center stone missing. I spotted a few pieces of jewelry in good shape, knowing they will never go out of style. I held them, then slowly I placed them back in their box. "I do not need any more jewelry", I told myself as I turned and walked away. Two isles over I could see the book section. I knew then I would not walk out of that shop empty handed. I can never ever have too many books...said the woman who months earlier donated close to fifty books to the Clothes Cupboard because and I quote, " I have way to many books! I need to downsize!!!" I am sure I have replaced those fifty books and it hasn't even been a year yet.
As I made my way to the bookshelves, I scanned the entire section to see what condition the books were in. They appeared to be in good shape. The first book I latched onto was Anderson Cooper's "Dispatches from the Edge". It is a memoir of "war, disasters, and survival." I buy every memoir book that crosses my path. I devour them like I would a huge slice of carrot cake. It is hard to know a person's real story unless they tell it themselves...and then, in some cases, it is still debatable.
Next I found a book entitled, "Married for Life", by Bill Morelan. It consists of stories about couples who have been married for 50 years or more. I enjoy listening to and reading other people's love stories. Each story is as different as the two people who struggled and lived each line. The old lovers kept alive the underdog called 'love' in each marriage. For most people the world sets out to kill that love, wreck the family and destroy the 'underdog' in their story. However, somehow...someway these couples survived all the attacks.
Judging by the inscription on the inside of the book, it was a Christmas present from 2011 to a newly married couple. It was addressed to "David and Susan...may you have many years of happiness together. With love Bruce and Kay." I have a feeling David and Susan are not together anymore. The book looked unread. It was already in a thrift store.
The third book I purchased for a mere two dollars was entitled, "The Stars That Shine" By Julie Clay and illustrated by Dan Andreasen. Delightful is the word for this picture story book. Twelve country music stars told a story about an event in their childhood. Ms. Clay wrote the story. Mr. Andreasen illustrated the story and at the end of article was a recent photo of the musical star and a short biography. A percentage of the sales went to St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital. It was printed in the year 2000. As far as I was concerned...this book was my Valentine's Day gift.
The more I look at this book, the more I want the memories I am writing in my blog to resemble, "The Stars That Shine". I think I have finally found the platform for my stories. And that my friends is a good feeling. It will be different...whimsical, funny, poignant with photos and drawings to illustrate the words left unsaid. It will also be a challenge...2015 is starting to fall into place...finally.
The intensive care surgery waiting room was extremely small, much too small for comfort. It appeared to be a room that could only handle one crisis at a time. Unfortunately, it was located on a floor with one emergency after the other. The two spaces were out of sync with each other.
Three round tables with four chairs to each table were scattered in the middle of the room. Two vending machines were stuck in a corner, almost as an after thought. One machine contained sodas, the other filled with cookies, chips and candy. Several trash baskets were overfilled with cans and cellophane paper. Cookie crumbs sought refuge under various chairs and on top of the table. The trash would always pile up faster than the cleaning crew could control. The families visiting this room had more stressful issues to contend with than crumbs and cookie wrappers. Very few people cleaned up their messes. Their minds were elsewhere.
The waiting room had one window facing east. Blue and grey chairs were lined along the wall with the occasional end table thrown into the mix. Whoever designed this room did not want people to spend any length of time in there. The area gave off and inhospitable aura. Strange since the people who used this room were dealing with life and death situations...comfort would have been a nice touch. Instead the room made me feel like I was in the way. I sighed when I scanned the surroundings, seeing nothing inviting or comfortable. I knew I would not be getting much rest tonight. I cleaned up the mess on the tables and rearranged the chairs, trying to fix a bed for me to sleep on. I flipped off the lights, hoping to find sleep.
A little after four in the morning, the lights flipped on and in rushed a family one step away from hysterics. Three, four then six or eight family members tried to sit down only to jump back up and start talking or crying all at the same time. There was no mistaking their accents. The family members were from Boston. Two of the women had on "Boston Strong" t shirts and shorts. Soon they would be freezing. Suddenly everyone left the room except the father. They were trying to find a doctor or nurse to give them an update on his son.
I sat up in my corner of the room and wished with all my heart I was invisible. I slowly gathered up my belongings with the intention of making a fast exit. The father was sitting in the middle of the room, crying. I told him I was sorry for their tragedy. I also said I would be gone in a minute. He thanked me and told me not to leave. He apologized for the burst of noise and his family. I told him that was nonsense. He began to cry again saying his "eighteen year old son was t-boned about 30 minutes ago. They think his neck is broken. It is doubtful he will ever walk again. He just graduated from high school." He was supposed to go to college on a football scholarship. I shook my head and told him I was sorry. Soon his family came back. It was too early for any answers. Once again they were back to 'hurry up and wait.' I knew the feeling.
I asked them if they would like some coffee. Everyone said 'yes' in unison. I had no clue where to get coffee, but it gave me something to do. I started out the door and the man's wife and daughter accompanied me. I hoped the nurses station would have coffee for us. They didn't but one little nurse said, "We don't drink coffee but I could try and make you some." I was surprised that none of them drank coffee. I looked around and saw Mt. Dew bottles everywhere. If a night shift worker doesn't drink coffee then Mt. Dew is the next best eye opener. I told her that would be fine. She was right...she had no clue how to make coffee. We took cups back with us for everyone. After we took a drink, we all groaned or coughed. It was like drinking toxic mud. None of us finished our cups of coffee. It was that bad.
I returned to my corner, waiting while five cellphones rang at various times. Friends and family wanted answers and hope. We talked to each other in spurts of conversation. Then we would withdraw to the uneasy noise in our imaginations. I checked on Lisa. She was in pain and restless. I kissed her nose and left.
We traded tragedy stories but not names. They were Italian and from Boston. I knew both of those things without a word being said. I thought they were down on vacation. It turns out nearly the whole family moved to Naples over thirty years ago. That is why their accents were still so strong. They are family and spend a good portion of their time talking to each other. They never lost their accents...same with Tommy and me.
I left to eat breakfast and chug down a pot of good coffee. When I got back to the room they were gone. I checked on Lisa again and saw that their son was in the cubicle next to her. He was a big husky kid and so vulnerable. I stayed with Lisa for awhile. I went to sleep in the chair beside her. When I woke up Lisa could talk, her color was better. They thought she might be moved to a step down unit on Thursday. When Lisa became sleepy, I kissed her nose again and left the room.
Upon returning to the waiting room, the family were talking about their son needing blood. His blood type is O positive. That is my blood type and I said, "I can give blood. That is my type." Soon there was a buzz as everyone decided to give blood. We all took the elevator and found our way to the lab. We filled out paper work, had our vitals taken and were told that our blood would not go to their son but to the blood bank to replace the blood he was getting. That fact was fine with everyone. We had a mission. Finally, there was something we could do other than cry and worry.
When it came my turn to give blood, the nurse could not find a vein. I was poked everywhere. I have small slippery veins and I was dehydrated badly. Instead of drinking water I had been living off of coffee. I told the family I was sorry. We all gave each other hugs and I left to look at flowers. Lisa would be able to have them in her own room tomorrow. I walked around outside for a little bit. The Florida heat was oppressive as usual. However, today it felt good to me. I had not realized how cold I was until I stepped outside. I wanted to cry for some reason. I didn't but I wanted to.
The next day Lisa was moved to another floor. I could spend time with her. I had a chair that made a bed. Tonight I knew we would both get some rest. Her prognosis was excellent. I made another trip up to check on the 'Boston Strong' family, they were gone. I checked on their son and his room was vacant. I think he may have been in surgery.
I lost track of the family. I hope they are doing fine now. I hope their son lived and can walk. Whatever the outcome they will make it, because they really are 'Boston Strong'. It is so much easier to be strong when life is going smooth and our loved ones are safe. It is a whole other ballgame when the floor of your world disintegrates under your feet, leaving a vacuum of fear for a safety net.
Tommy and I lived in cities, suburbs and small towns the first ten years we were married. During that time frame we moved 16 times, often once or twice a year. It seemed there would always be three wonderful neighbors who became life long friends and one neighbor who was Satan's third cousin. Eventually we would reach the end of our patience and move. It was either make the move or kill the demon possessed neighbor. We chose to move. We liked starting over and living in new states, so the move was never anything either of us regretted.
When Tommy and I became serious about buying a house, we both agreed we wanted no neighbors within sight of our home. We set our priorities. His desire was to be able to pee anywhere he wanted to on his land without anyone spying on him. I wanted to wake up and not have a house full of other people's kids waiting for me to fix breakfast. We both wanted a home filled with our children and all sorts of animals to raise. We were up for any adventure.
We found our lifetime home in the want ads. The house was too small from the beginning. That suited us fine. We wanted to remake it according to the Carter's hopes and dreams. We also had six acres, a raggedy stable and a small pond; most of all we had no neighbors that we could see. Life was good.
We soon discovered we had neighbors, only a different variety than we were used to having...but just as pushy at times as the other neighbors had been. Gone were the drunks fighting on Saturday night. The only gunshots to fill our air came from our guns...and those shots were few and far between. However when deer season began in November, our countryside sounded like a battlefield. For the most part our life remained quiet. The police never raced down our gravel road in hot pursuit of a felon. Child abuse was non existent on our road. It took a little while to get used to the peace and quiet and to mentally slow down a notch or two.
Soon we learned that living in the country can be very noisy. A large portion of Mother Nature waits for the sun to set before they begin to play. We sat outside at night, in our double swing, and listened to nature's night shift take over. Spring leapers would begin their mating calls, whippoorwills echoed their version of "I am so Lonesome I Could Cry" while the coyotes began to howl and circle the woods. Slowly the coyotes would venture in toward the pond, peeping through the cattails silently. Soon they began to yelp and cry changing to a slow, long howl of yelps. Our dogs, and there were many dogs over the years, would chase the coyotes away. Before the dogs could make it back to the house, the coyotes would regroup and begin their greeting calls to each other with the chorus of "Shall we Gather at the Pond" thrown into the mix. I found the yelps and howls of coyotes unsettling at times but always fascinating.
Deer visited our woods and ate our garden in the moonlight while the coyotes sang their song from afar. Eventually the dogs and the coyotes chased the deer away. Then they chased each other away. It was like a revolving door...everyone came back eventually. They all had fun tearing up our gardens.
We are down to two dogs now. One is a German Shepherd named Sabella and the other is a Yellow Lab named Sandy. Sandy is the 'Granny Grunt, Queen Bee, and Grand Dame' of our home. She is fourteen years old, has chronic arthritis, very few teeth, little to no energy and sleeps all day and all night. We know she is on the downhill slide of life. Sandy has now become a house dog. She cannot tolerate the heat or the cold, nor could she fight off a coyote if she had to. Sabella keeps her company in the winter. Since the 'girls', as we call them, are in the house 90% of the time now, the coyotes have once again become brave and nosey. We saw one in our yard on Tuesday, an ugly little critter. She was doing the 'nose down, ears up slink' across a portion of our yard. It has been years since we have seen a coyote in our yard during the day. It is not uncommon to see deer and turkeys feeding in that portion of the yard however, after Tuesday it became more of risk for them to feed there than it has been in years past. As a last resort, Tommy shot the invading coyote.
Twice this week coyotes woke us up yelping and howling like a small band of angry Indians planning an attack. The girls slept through the ruckus. Tommy and I laid in bed and listened to the chorus. At 2:30 in the morning he said, "So do you really want to start raising chickens this summer?" Judging by the music we were listening to, I should have said 'no' BUT I do enjoy chickens and we will regain control of our yard once the weather gets better. After all, when a person has lived next door to Satan's third cousin, that person can just about do anything when push comes to shove.
The Girls...
Today is sort of a goof ball kind of day. In fact, everything that could have gone wrong did not...and that is a good thing. However the potential hung in the air like a lead filled balloon. The snow we were supposed to get turned out to be mostly rain. Lots and lots of rain! It is grey and muddy outside. We did get a smidge of snow early this morning but the rain has washed it away. More snow is in the forecast and I will believe this when I see it.
Today is Super Bowl Sunday. I don't have a dog in this race however, I am rooting for Seattle...simply because that handsome, awesome quarterback Tom Brady needs to leave his balls alone!!
I have had a mental slump these past two days, just a tad off kilter. In fact, I am a tad bit exasperated to say the least. The last time we were in town Tommy and I purchased a vacuum cleaner from our local big box store. As usual it needed to be assembled. The directions were printed out for us with big red arrows to show where each piece should be placed...heavy emphasis on the words 'should be placed.' The first day it took about two hours to assemble the vacuum cleaner. Not one piece fit exactly like the pictures and red arrows indicated. In theory this green machine should work. In reality it looked like we would be returning it the next day. Finally, I could turn it on without some part falling off. Actually, it worked great, sucking up every bit of Sabella's winter coat, she had dropped in the living room and den. In about thirty minutes we had to take the vacuum cleaner apart to clean it. Then we had to put it back together again. Sounds easy, doesn't it? We had already done it once, we should be able to do this without any trouble. WRONG! It was the same scenario all over again. We finally got all the parts together and I left it standing by the back door...with the receipt and its box within arms reach. Nothing fell off of it during the night.
The second day I vacuumed taking it apart when I was through to clean it. I reassembled the darn thing...twice, setting it by the back door. Once again, all the parts stayed on the vacuum cleaner! I did move the box to my art room and stuck the receipt inside...just in case.
Maybe I am jaded, spoiled or simply used to instant gratification!!! It seems to me that if a person buys something to make their life easier...then that is exactly what it should do. Parts should fit and clean up should be easy. There should be no war like atmosphere in the house while using the contraption. I am giving it one more week to adjust to the Carter household or back it goes to China!
As for the Super Bowl, we will watch the game while we eat something delicious. I will talk back to the sports commentators. And Tommy will roll his eyes or laugh because he thinks I am the worse referee he has ever seen. I beg to differ...
