Dad has become a bit of a doolally tap, a term I once heard my English colleague and friend use in reference to her mother-in-law. It means to be mad, or very eccentric. I’m not sure if this was her intent, but I’m using the term with a whole lot of love and affection laced with some serious irritation. When I returned from beloved isolation at my own residence yesterday, he announced quite crankily that someone (meaning me), had messed with his laptop, disconnecting some cords and now it’s not working. “Because of this,” he says, “I don’t want anyone (a.k.a. mainly me), messing with my stuff anymore.” I literally forced something across my lips and hoped it was a smile and not the frown I was feeling on the inside, and said through clinched teeth. “Dad, I did not touch your laptop and I don’t know who did.” Although I suspect that whatever happened to dad’s laptop had a lot to do with the tinkering he was doing on it last Thursday when we thought the Internet connection was lost, but I wasn’t about to voice that thought. I’d noticed he was a tad irritated when I’d called on my way back to the house to tell him I was on my way. He’d called me earlier in the day to see when I was coming back so I could help him change the wafer that the colostomy bag connects to, and I told him I’d be back late evening. He said that’d be fine. So when I came in the door at around 8:45 pm I asked, “Are you going to shower so we can change the wafer?” His reply was a bit on the snippy side. “I didn’t know if you were even going to show up so I just did it myself.” Whoa. I show up every Sunday.
As I was going upstairs he continued on, “I asked Jean if she did it. Of course, she said no.” I can hear the click, click of his cane as he slowly makes it from the living room to the family room. “I asked Tony if he did it, and he said no. Nobody touched my computer and yet it’s not working.” Still about the damn laptop? At around 11:30 p.m. I decided sneak into his office to use his desktop to write in my blog, which I'd been preauthorized to do by the way, but the door to his office was locked. Yeah. Nothing says I love and appreciate you like distrust.
To be fair, Dad’s probably on edge because he has an appointment today for an ex-ray, and he has every right to be. He got the results back last Wednesday from a scan he took a week or so ago and they found a spot. The ex-ray will determine whether it’s more cancer or scar tissue from his surgery. I pray it's the latter.
He’s been through a helluva lot over the past few months so he’s certainly entitled to be a bit irritable from time to time. Although I have to add Dad could fry a last nerve before surgery. Whatever. He’s dad and we love him. But some days…oh Lordy.
Please God, let it be scar tissue.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Crabby Old Man
What do you see nurses? .......What do you see?
What are you thinking..........when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man, .............not very wise,
Uncertain of habit ............with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food..........and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice..."I do wish you'd try!"
Who seems not to notice .......the things that you do.
And forever is losing .........A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not..........lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding ......The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking?..Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse.....you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am ........As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, ......as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten.......with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters ..........who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen ........with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now. .......a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty ........my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows..........that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now ...........I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide ..........And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty ...............My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other ...........With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons .......have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me.......to see ! I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, ..........Babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children .......My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me .........My wife is now dead.
I look at the future ..........I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing ..young of their own.
And I think of the years.......And the love that I've known.
I'm now an old man.............and nature is cruel.
'Tis jest to make old age .....look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles..........grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone...........where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass ...A young guy still dwells,
And now and again .......my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys.............. I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living.............life over again.
I think of the years ...all too few......gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact........that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people .........open and see..
Not a crabby old man. Look closer....see........ME!!
I like this poem. It reminds us that sometimes it's crucial that we look past what we see, and allow our hearts to be governed by what we know. Yeah. That's so it.
What do you see nurses? .......What do you see?
What are you thinking..........when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man, .............not very wise,
Uncertain of habit ............with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food..........and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice..."I do wish you'd try!"
Who seems not to notice .......the things that you do.
And forever is losing .........A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not..........lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding ......The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking?..Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse.....you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am ........As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, ......as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten.......with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters ..........who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen ........with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now. .......a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty ........my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows..........that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now ...........I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide ..........And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty ...............My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other ...........With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons .......have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me.......to see ! I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, ..........Babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children .......My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me .........My wife is now dead.
I look at the future ..........I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing ..young of their own.
And I think of the years.......And the love that I've known.
I'm now an old man.............and nature is cruel.
'Tis jest to make old age .....look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles..........grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone...........where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass ...A young guy still dwells,
And now and again .......my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys.............. I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living.............life over again.
I think of the years ...all too few......gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact........that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people .........open and see..
Not a crabby old man. Look closer....see........ME!!
I like this poem. It reminds us that sometimes it's crucial that we look past what we see, and allow our hearts to be governed by what we know. Yeah. That's so it.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Letting Go
To "let go" does not mean to stop caring,
it means I can't do it for someone else.
To "let go" is not to cut myself off,
it's the realization I can't control another.
To "let go" is not to enable,
but to allow learning from natural consequences.
To "let go" is to admit powerlessness,
which means the outcome is not in my hands.
To "let go" is not to try to change or blame another,
it's to make the most of myself.
To "let go" is not to care for,
but to care about.
To "let go" is not to fix,
but to be supportive.
To "let go" is not to judge,
but to allow another to be a human being.
To "let go" is not to be in the middle arranging the outcomes,
but to allow others to affect their own destinies.
To "let go" is not to be protective,
it's to permit another to face reality.
To "let go" is not to deny,
but to accept.
To "let go" it not to nag, scold or argue,
but instead to search out my own shortcomings, and correct them.
To "let go" is not to adjust everything to my desires
but to take each day as it comes,
and cherish myself in it.
To "let go" is not to criticize and regulate anybody
but to try to become what I dream I can be.
To "let go" is not to regret the past,
but to grow and live for the future.
To "let go" is to fear less,
and love more.
Sometimes "letting go" is paramount to jumping out of a plane without a parachute. When you really care about somebody, it's just hard to do.
it means I can't do it for someone else.
To "let go" is not to cut myself off,
it's the realization I can't control another.
To "let go" is not to enable,
but to allow learning from natural consequences.
To "let go" is to admit powerlessness,
which means the outcome is not in my hands.
To "let go" is not to try to change or blame another,
it's to make the most of myself.
To "let go" is not to care for,
but to care about.
To "let go" is not to fix,
but to be supportive.
To "let go" is not to judge,
but to allow another to be a human being.
To "let go" is not to be in the middle arranging the outcomes,
but to allow others to affect their own destinies.
To "let go" is not to be protective,
it's to permit another to face reality.
To "let go" is not to deny,
but to accept.
To "let go" it not to nag, scold or argue,
but instead to search out my own shortcomings, and correct them.
To "let go" is not to adjust everything to my desires
but to take each day as it comes,
and cherish myself in it.
To "let go" is not to criticize and regulate anybody
but to try to become what I dream I can be.
To "let go" is not to regret the past,
but to grow and live for the future.
To "let go" is to fear less,
and love more.
Sometimes "letting go" is paramount to jumping out of a plane without a parachute. When you really care about somebody, it's just hard to do.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Operation: Helping Dad
Helping Dad these past few months has become a covert operation that calls for concise, strategic military-like planning...and some conniving. His feelings are easily stepped upon so we tip toe around caring, trying not to offend, when our intent is only to help. We've taken to hiding behind doors with mop and broom waiting for him to fall asleep so we can move in like stealth fighters into the kitchen to wash dishes and mop floors before he awakens. As he pulls out of the driveway for a doctor's appointment in a car he really should no longer be driving, we rush from behind the bushes where we've been hiding with our buckets, mops and brooms so we can gain access to the house with keys we're not suppose to have (says Dad), to mop floors, vacuum a rug, to tidy up his bedroom, pick up in the family room, do laundry, arrange his medications in a handy organizer Jean bought for him after he'd told her not to, or to put a low-sodium, diabetic safe casserole in the oven. Operative DBA, drops from the sky in chef hat and apron like a ninja warrior. Her assignment: replace his cookies and Twinkies with fruit and nuts, carrot sticks and raw broccoli, and to grill up a month worth of delicious low-sodium meats and veggies and stock dad's freezer, "Just so you have them handy Pops."
Double Agent JBH will coincidentally show up at an ungodly hour of the morning the same day he has a chemo appointment and say, "Well Dad, since I'm here can I drive you to your appointment?" Operatives Tamara and Desi nonchalantly pay an innocent visit to chat and accidentally stay overnight in an attempt to keep promises to doctors that he will not be left alone. Agent Tony's assignment (a.k.a. grandson), is to "drop by" because he's "in the neighborhood" to tidy up the yard, fix a broken door, feed the dog and get so busy with handyman duties he forgets to leave so will have to stay over -- not to watch over Dad of course, but because the experts say it's too dangerous hitting the road after too much yard work.
We are accused of being busy bodies and budinkys and making him feel like an invalid. But when we listened to him before surgery and gave him his home and his space, he accused us of not caring, never being around and he made us feel as if we'd failed him. We are stealth fighters with a mission to look after Dad, to care for him, to love him without encroaching on his privacy, his space, his world. We are honor bound by love and devotion to fulfill our mission at all cost.
And God help us that we can keep doing what we do, even when he tells us not to, that he doesn't want or need us around. 'Cause when I look in his eyes and see his fears, I know we're doing the right thing. I feel very strongly that we are.
Okay here's my disclaimer: This posting is a slight exaggeration, but sadly, not by much.
Double Agent JBH will coincidentally show up at an ungodly hour of the morning the same day he has a chemo appointment and say, "Well Dad, since I'm here can I drive you to your appointment?" Operatives Tamara and Desi nonchalantly pay an innocent visit to chat and accidentally stay overnight in an attempt to keep promises to doctors that he will not be left alone. Agent Tony's assignment (a.k.a. grandson), is to "drop by" because he's "in the neighborhood" to tidy up the yard, fix a broken door, feed the dog and get so busy with handyman duties he forgets to leave so will have to stay over -- not to watch over Dad of course, but because the experts say it's too dangerous hitting the road after too much yard work.
We are accused of being busy bodies and budinkys and making him feel like an invalid. But when we listened to him before surgery and gave him his home and his space, he accused us of not caring, never being around and he made us feel as if we'd failed him. We are stealth fighters with a mission to look after Dad, to care for him, to love him without encroaching on his privacy, his space, his world. We are honor bound by love and devotion to fulfill our mission at all cost.
And God help us that we can keep doing what we do, even when he tells us not to, that he doesn't want or need us around. 'Cause when I look in his eyes and see his fears, I know we're doing the right thing. I feel very strongly that we are.
Okay here's my disclaimer: This posting is a slight exaggeration, but sadly, not by much.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
My Volunteer Work
As a hospice volunteer we are asked to walk into a stranger's home and allow the caregiver at least 4 hours to do whatever they want or need to do away from the home, while we look after their loved one. 4 hours didn't seem like a whole helluva lot of time to me when I first started my volunteer work. Now that I've spent some time in caring for my dad I have a clearer understanding of how precious those moments must be for a family member who's been caring for their loved one morning, noon and night. The person dealing with the good, bad and ugly moments, and I can guaran-damn-ty-ya there's going to be days where all three of them dudes will be present and accounted for. Imagine not getting any kind of release what-so-ever. I know how blissful my weekends have become after being at dad's all week, and I'm not even there during the day, so it goes without saying I'm not even doing half as much as what a full time caregiver does on a daily basis. And yet...the stress of wondering if I'm doing the right thing, saying the right thing, doubting whether I'll even be able to handle the next emergency--and there always seems to be another emergency--on some days, leaves me completely undone. And the emotionally jarring windfall from all of the bleeding done on the inside watching the life force slipping away from a person I've loved my whole life, or worst, waking up each morning wondering if I will walk into the family room where he sleeps and find him...gone, literally depletes me.
All of this, and more...gives me a deeper understanding of the role of hospice volunteers. They allow the caregiver to take a step back, to inhale a deep cleansing breath of air, and exhale the frustrations, the worry and sadness, so they can get back to the deeply intimate business of caring and giving.
I put a temporary freeze on my volunteering when my dad started to need more care. And actually, over the last couple of months, I'd even wondered if it's something I can go back to. I have doubts as to whether I possess that special something necessary to do what a good volunteer does over and over again. However, with all my insecurities about whether I can be more, when someone needs me to be, and my doubts about...well, everything, I know that volunteering is a call I may need to answer again. After all, now that I know what I know, how can I not?
God, please help me to be more, when it's necessary that I be.
All of this, and more...gives me a deeper understanding of the role of hospice volunteers. They allow the caregiver to take a step back, to inhale a deep cleansing breath of air, and exhale the frustrations, the worry and sadness, so they can get back to the deeply intimate business of caring and giving.
I put a temporary freeze on my volunteering when my dad started to need more care. And actually, over the last couple of months, I'd even wondered if it's something I can go back to. I have doubts as to whether I possess that special something necessary to do what a good volunteer does over and over again. However, with all my insecurities about whether I can be more, when someone needs me to be, and my doubts about...well, everything, I know that volunteering is a call I may need to answer again. After all, now that I know what I know, how can I not?
God, please help me to be more, when it's necessary that I be.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
When You Get Little and I Get Big by Sheryl Gaskins
All the times you gave your day to Robbie and me and children's play,
When you had so much else to do, but dropped it all with an "I love you."
You'd let us draw or sing a song; you drew the line of right and wrong.
You told us what we could do then, or how it'd be "one day when..."
We were much too small to understand how life would be as a woman or man.
But you guided us and let us be the children that we were meant to be.
You'd let me dress up in old clothes and stand there in a wig.
I'd say to you with chest puffed out, "When you get little and I get big..."
"When you get little and I get bit, I'll do these things for you.
I'll find your clothes; I'll wipe your nose; I'll make you a nice dress.
I'll keep you warm and away from harm and show you how to rest.
I'll talk with you and let you know whatever's right and wrong,
And if you ever start to cry, I'll cheer you with a song
I know I'm very small right now, but there may come a day
That you'll be little and I'll be big, so I promise to repay
The precious love you give to me as I depend on you"
Now years have passed and I've become what you helped me to be.
A woman who can brave the storms and use her love to see.
A woman who with tons of tears discovered in the middle
that I was big, but God had somehow changed you to be little.
I understand what "big" can mean in this old, changing world.
I remember all those happy years and what you'd say and do.
And I use that memory now to do the exact same thing for you.
A memory you no longer have,
But that's OK, my dear.
For now you're little, but I am big.
And you have nothing to fear.
I found this at TheRibbon.com, a website for caregivers. It reminded me that one day, we'll all be little again.
When you had so much else to do, but dropped it all with an "I love you."
You'd let us draw or sing a song; you drew the line of right and wrong.
You told us what we could do then, or how it'd be "one day when..."
We were much too small to understand how life would be as a woman or man.
But you guided us and let us be the children that we were meant to be.
You'd let me dress up in old clothes and stand there in a wig.
I'd say to you with chest puffed out, "When you get little and I get big..."
"When you get little and I get bit, I'll do these things for you.
I'll find your clothes; I'll wipe your nose; I'll make you a nice dress.
I'll keep you warm and away from harm and show you how to rest.
I'll talk with you and let you know whatever's right and wrong,
And if you ever start to cry, I'll cheer you with a song
I know I'm very small right now, but there may come a day
That you'll be little and I'll be big, so I promise to repay
The precious love you give to me as I depend on you"
Now years have passed and I've become what you helped me to be.
A woman who can brave the storms and use her love to see.
A woman who with tons of tears discovered in the middle
that I was big, but God had somehow changed you to be little.
I understand what "big" can mean in this old, changing world.
I remember all those happy years and what you'd say and do.
And I use that memory now to do the exact same thing for you.
A memory you no longer have,
But that's OK, my dear.
For now you're little, but I am big.
And you have nothing to fear.
I found this at TheRibbon.com, a website for caregivers. It reminded me that one day, we'll all be little again.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
A Grand Experience
I spent the weekend, both Friday and Saturday at my place. I'm still hung over from the bliss of self-imposed solitary confinement. Pitiful to be so grateful for those moments alone, but I am. You know it's not like I do a whole lot of great things to past the weekends. But the not-so-great things that I do do, are what give me normalcy. I need that right now. For example, I worked until about 5:30 p.m. on Friday, then left the office pitifully giddy to be home alone for the weekend.
I stopped at the store to pick up some weekend-eating-munchies -- the stuff my body demands I stay away from but I never do. Immediately upon walking into the house I lost the shoes and stripped down to my comfy ware, fell in love with my couch all over again and turned on the tube. I love my channel changer. I watched Two and Half Men, Medium and a hospital show that I can't remember the name of right now. I munched on licorice, apple crumb desert with a scoop of ice cream, more licorice...oh yeah then I ate dinner, some chitlins, yeah I did, with some brussel sprouts. I had to toss in some healthy to balance the crap. I paid for it on Saturday, woke up with the mother of headaches, and dragged myself out of bed feeling like 500 pounds of crud. Saturday nite Dinocroc vs Supergator on SciFi. The usual man-eating monster scenes with good graphics showing people getting torn asunder with a bit of humor tossed in for kicks. I love monster violence in movies with good humor on the side. This morning I slept in, then watched Biography which featured Cher. I balled like a baby when they showed Cher giving the eulogy at Sonny's funeral. When the song came on with Cher singing "Sunny, yesterday my life was filled with pain. Sunny, you smiled at me and then it eased my pain..." I lost it. It was hard after that getting myself up for work 'cause I couldn't stop sniffling. Then I turned the channel to Life Time and almost got sucked into watching the next movie where woman meets man, woman falls heavily in love with man, then tries to kill him. Love those man-eater monster movies. But I got myself up and off to Seattle for work.
As the bus is detoured to 3rd Street into downtown, I remembered it was the Gay Pride Parade this weekend. So after getting off the bus I had to muscle my way through a crowd with some very creatively clothed onlookers in varying shades of interesting, dash across the street without getting hit by a float of sorts carrying what looked like eight drag queens doing a Miss America waive and Viola! I make it to my office where I put in about 5 hours of hard labor.
So, I'm back at Dad's and don't hate on me, but looking forward to next weekend. Well, so there you have it. I literally carry on like I'm two if I can't go home for the weekends.
Tamara and Desi entertained dad on Friday and Jean stayed with him Saturday. He's doing just fine.
I don't do a whole lot when I'm at dad's during the week. I focus on keeping the kitchen clean. Just the kitchen though, 'cause he's made the living room, family room and dining room his very own disaster area. I feed the dog, and Sunday night, I get Dad's medications in order for the week. I'm on guard at night in case he has an incident...but other than that, not much. It's the multitude of emotions experienced praying that nothing terrible happens that really whips me up emotionally. So getting time away is important. Rule No. 1 to care giving is probably to remember to take time for numero uno.
Ciao.
I stopped at the store to pick up some weekend-eating-munchies -- the stuff my body demands I stay away from but I never do. Immediately upon walking into the house I lost the shoes and stripped down to my comfy ware, fell in love with my couch all over again and turned on the tube. I love my channel changer. I watched Two and Half Men, Medium and a hospital show that I can't remember the name of right now. I munched on licorice, apple crumb desert with a scoop of ice cream, more licorice...oh yeah then I ate dinner, some chitlins, yeah I did, with some brussel sprouts. I had to toss in some healthy to balance the crap. I paid for it on Saturday, woke up with the mother of headaches, and dragged myself out of bed feeling like 500 pounds of crud. Saturday nite Dinocroc vs Supergator on SciFi. The usual man-eating monster scenes with good graphics showing people getting torn asunder with a bit of humor tossed in for kicks. I love monster violence in movies with good humor on the side. This morning I slept in, then watched Biography which featured Cher. I balled like a baby when they showed Cher giving the eulogy at Sonny's funeral. When the song came on with Cher singing "Sunny, yesterday my life was filled with pain. Sunny, you smiled at me and then it eased my pain..." I lost it. It was hard after that getting myself up for work 'cause I couldn't stop sniffling. Then I turned the channel to Life Time and almost got sucked into watching the next movie where woman meets man, woman falls heavily in love with man, then tries to kill him. Love those man-eater monster movies. But I got myself up and off to Seattle for work.
As the bus is detoured to 3rd Street into downtown, I remembered it was the Gay Pride Parade this weekend. So after getting off the bus I had to muscle my way through a crowd with some very creatively clothed onlookers in varying shades of interesting, dash across the street without getting hit by a float of sorts carrying what looked like eight drag queens doing a Miss America waive and Viola! I make it to my office where I put in about 5 hours of hard labor.
So, I'm back at Dad's and don't hate on me, but looking forward to next weekend. Well, so there you have it. I literally carry on like I'm two if I can't go home for the weekends.
Tamara and Desi entertained dad on Friday and Jean stayed with him Saturday. He's doing just fine.
I don't do a whole lot when I'm at dad's during the week. I focus on keeping the kitchen clean. Just the kitchen though, 'cause he's made the living room, family room and dining room his very own disaster area. I feed the dog, and Sunday night, I get Dad's medications in order for the week. I'm on guard at night in case he has an incident...but other than that, not much. It's the multitude of emotions experienced praying that nothing terrible happens that really whips me up emotionally. So getting time away is important. Rule No. 1 to care giving is probably to remember to take time for numero uno.
Ciao.
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