Saturday, May 31, 2008

Reliving a Day at Tower Park

It has been a while since I have done anything with the kids, so the most natural thing to do was to take them to Frisch’s. As usual, we played hangman on the bottom side of the placemats while waiting on our food.

Since it was such a pretty day, 82 degree and sunshine, I drove to Tower Park once we finished our meal. Even though these guys are getting older, I was hoping they would still have the desire to be “young” and “play.” Well, I thought, even if they don’t, I still do. So, I parked the car and went over to the playground surrounded by the big maple and pine trees. As I walked through the shade it seemed like the swings were calling my name…

I looked around and saw Michael, Rachel and Brandon walking around. For Michael and Rachel, the look on their face seemed to say that the playground slide had somehow gotten much smaller. They appeared to be reminiscing about old times at the park. However, Brandon was more than content to run around and sample each piece of playground equipment. Before long all three had honed in on some metal track suspended in the air with a handle that slid along the length of the track. They each took turns flying through the air about 15 feet and laughing their guts out.

Before we left, a childlike spark kicked in once again, as they all three jumped on the spring-motioned animals. You know, the kind little toddlers especially like… They felt no embarrassment as they hopped from one animal to the next. (I especially liked the ladybug!)

Who says they are too old for parks??? Who says I am? We still had a lot of laughs and many smiles!


Friday, May 9, 2008

My Grandma

They following story was written by my son several years ago as a school project. He interviewed my mother and wrote the following account of her life. This was read at my mom's funeral today as we remember her life through the eyes of her grandson.

My Grandma by Michael

“Congratulations! You have a baby girl!” the doctor announced to a young woman living in a small country town called Brooksville, Kentucky. The young woman’s name was Beulah Perkins, but most people called her Bea. Everyone liked Bea. She would always be there to help anyone who needed help. Bea spent her life caring for others. Bea’s baby girl would soon be named Catherine Jean. For Catherine Jean, her middle name would be the only name she would be known by - just Jean.

Bea and Jean lived in a big, wonderful home out in the country. It had a big barn out in the field by the house. It had a big front porch to sit on in the evenings after all the chores were done. It had a pot-bellied stove to keep the house warm. The house always smelled good because Bea and her mom were both good cooks. Also, you could find two sewing machines in the house being used by Bea and her mother to make and mend clothes.

Before you knew it, baby Jean was getting older. When Jean was about six years old, her mom, Bea and her Grandmother were sewing when Jean found a strand of pearls. She thought they were beautiful. She played and played with the pearls until the string broke. Bounce! Ping! Bounce! The pearls all scattered across the hardwood floor. Bea asked Jean what had happened but Jean thought she would be clever and hide the evidence. Jean immediately picked up a pearl and put it in her ear! Well, needless to say, she was in more trouble than ever…

Before you knew it, Jean was starting school. She had to walk to school. At the start of her Kindergarten year, Jean decided she didn’t want to stay at school. She had a plan. She asked the teacher if she could go to the outhouse. Her teacher agreed and sent a little girl with Jean. The little girl returned to the classroom but one problem though, Jean decided that she would just walk home and not go back to the classroom – so Jean walked a couple miles back home. Well, that only happened once.

Not too much later, Jean really started to like school. She was smart and made good grades. She especially liked spelling. She had the same teacher and same classroom all day. They used inkwells to write with and they had blackboards on all the walls. School lunches only cost 3 cents. Her favorite teacher she ever had was her fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Worthington.

Growing up for Jean was filled with fun. Although she did not have a television she still had plenty of fun things to do. Jean would like to play jump rope and jacks. She played a game called hide-the-thimble. The kids where she lived liked to play kickball and hide-and-go-seek. Jean loved summertime. She especially liked to walk barefoot in the cool grass or even on the dirt paths. She liked to go swimming, too. She had a dog named Boss when she was growing up that she could play with. Jean had a best friend named Nellie. Nellie was fun to be around. They liked to do lots of things together.

Jean didn’t get to always play right away. First she had to help with her share of the household chores for her mom. She would help her mom sweeping, dusting, washing and drying dishes and helping with the meals. That was the good part. Bea made wonderful meals. Fried chicken was Bea’s specialty. Jean loved her mother’s fried chicken!

Holidays were special times for Jean growing up. She liked having egg hunts at Easter. She liked wearing a costume at Halloween. The house smelled so good on Thanksgiving. At Christmas, singing Christmas carols was her favorite tradition. She would love to get new wigs for her favorite doll for Christmas.

Next thing you know, Jean had 3 brothers and 3 sisters and she was helping more with the family. When she had time she loved to listen to the radio. She liked the stories told on the radio. She liked the big bands and music on the radio, too. Her favorite singers would become Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra. Her favorite song, “I believe”.

Jean started to think about what she wanted to do when she “grew up”. She thought she would like to be a missionary. But, she didn’t have much time to herself. She got a job at a fountain and sold sodas to make some money. She helped with the family and the chores whenever she could. Jean had become much like her mother, always helping others.

Jean met a young man named James and fell in love. She married him and had a family of her own. She became a wonderful cook just like her mother. She became the seamstress for the family. She gave all of herself to her children and family. She continued helping with her brothers and sisters. She continued being a good daughter. Now she gives everything of herself to her grandchildren.

Jean will be 79 years old on September 22. She is my grandma. She is my only grandma I have known. Her mother, Bea, my great-grandmother died before I was born. My other grandma, my dad’s mom, died before I was born, too. These are the tales of my grandma’s life. My grandma is the best person I have ever known. She is always kind. She cares about everyone, especially those people in need. She has taught me what it means to live a good life. She tells me that she is happy with who she is. She would not want to be anyone else. I would not want her to be anyone else.

My Heart Breaks - My Mother Is My Strength

May 9, 2008

Starting around 5:50 PM her breathing was scarce. Sitting next to her I would look at her chest to see if it was moving. It was only barely. Then, time stood still, totally still, at 6:00 PM. All I could hear is everyone saying I love you, Mome, or I love you Grandma. I was afraid, even though she had stopped, that she was somehow hoping, listening, that I would be OK, that I wouldn’t be hysterical or sobbing.
I leaned next to her face, my forehead touching hers, and said as calmly as I have ever spoken, “Buddy, I will see you in heaven.”

My mom is my buddy, my best friend, ever. Now, she was gone, to be with my dad. To shed herself of my empty promises about getting well, about living to age 100, to having her lungs replaced by new medical technology that was sure to come, to curing her cancer. To going to another bingo, going to the dairy bar, having a cookout, going for a ride, to sitting on the porch. I did lie, she did not get to do not even one of these things.

She has the gown that Amy put on her. She has clean hair because Amy cared about her.

That woman on that hospital bed is my mom, Catherine Jean Kidney. She is my mom, my mommie, my strength. She always will be.

No more pain, no more hearing her voice, seeing her smile, her blue eyes, no more worrying about us. Please Lord, let my mom know that we love her and trust that she will be happy in heaven with you.

Tell her often how much I love her.

My Heart Aches - Dear Lord Help

May 9, 2008 Late Afternoon

Before long, it seemed that everyone was at Mome’s. What are we waiting for… I guess to die. Michael was waiting for her to get well. Patsy turned to number machine off. I wanted it on. Why, I am not sure.

Now she is breathing very slow. Her skin looked yellow to pale green. The morphine is going to let her die, I thought. I hate morphine. I don’t want her to die and leave me. I need her, she needs me.

I told her that we would go home and get well. Should I have made her wear the bi-pap machine? Did I give up on her because I am weak? Would the bi-pap even helped? Mome, you didn’t want to wear it. You said you would rather die than wear it. Did you mean that? What about the cancer, would it have come back and spread and be worse than this? What about Michael, he believes in your healing. Did I lose faith here? Will you pay the price and die because I lost faith in your healing? Jesus please keep her in your will, not mine. I am afraid. I am weak and don’t understand all things. If she is to get well, then please let her get well right now. If she is to go to heaven now, please, let it be, now. No more suffering, no more pain, no more thoughts about us, only thoughts for her and what you want for her. I trust only you Jesus.

My Heart Aches-Letting Go

May 9th, 2008

I stayed with Mome. Her oxygen went down 3 times. The lowest was in the 40’s. I started to pray that God take my mom in peace and let her know how much I love her. Then, it started to go back up to the 90’s. Of course I had to make the O2 go up to the highest level I could to give her air. Amy came over three times. Phil was with me and my mom all night.

My stomach is starting to hurt. I am so jittery.

What is she thinking? Is she thinking? Her eyes look like slits, with colorless eyes gazing out. What happened to her pretty blue eyes? Is she still in there? Has the CO2 already taken her mind? Or, are angels ministering to her? Are they talking her into leaving us?

It is painful to see her like this.

The nurse is back. She says Mome’s color looks good. It does. Her cheeks have color. Her heels are getting better with the little footie things Jimmy brought for her last night. Her skin feels warm. Yet, her body is swollen with water. It is heavy to touch.

The nurse says that we need to get liquid pain medicine. Patsy called Dr. Cook. Debbie and I drove out to pick up a prescription for liquid morphine and liquid ativan . It was not ready, we had to wait a half of an hour. I am wondering what to do if we get a call that Mome’s O2 is really low. I want to be with her. But I wait. Finally they say they are sorry it was ready when I got there. Time wasted, time I could have been with my mom. We went to Walgreen’s and the prescription was not right. They had to call the doctor’s office to get it straightened out. We waited another half of hour.

Debbie gave her the dose of morphine. I had a feeling this would be the last dose she would have. I feel like morphine was a drug of dying for my mom. A drug to let go. I don’t like giving her morphine. But, I don’t want to think she is hurting and I am not helping. I don’t want her to hurt.

She had a bowel movement. We moved her around and she made no sounds. The morphine was working or my mom had given up. Patsy’s fingerprints were pressed in Mome’s leg. The depressions stayed there for several minutes. She was heavy to move. What was going on inside Mome? Was anything going on? Pain, sadness, peace, victory?

I did not hear my mom speak any words today. No shaking yes or no.

Thursday, May 8, 2008

My Heart Aches - Thinking

9:14 P.M. May 8, 2008

Everyone is gone – it is only me and Mome. Me and my buddy – my best friend. Her O2 is good – 88 on 2 liters. HR is 115. She has been sleeping most of the afternoon until now. I hope she continues to sleep for awhile – she looks peaceful.
I called Philip. I told him to rest – O2 is good --- I will check back in with him later.

Michael came over to hug her goodnight and to tell her he loves her. That makes me happy and sad at the same time. He will never stop believing that God is healing her. If I try to talk to him about what might happen, he gets angry with me.

Michael told me last night he misses me. We are out of our routine. Katie spends a lot of time with her boyfriend, Phil works at night, so Michael and I have evenings at home together. Then end the evening with MASH. We both like watching it before it is time to pray and go to sleep. Sometimes we talk for a little bit. Michael likes asking what it was like for me growing up.

At night, I think a lot about her. I wonder what she might be thinking. I wonder if she is mad and that I should have done something different. I think I have done what she has wanted, but who was to know how all this sickness would unfold. Two months ago, I would have never guessed.

I am lonely for Mome. I want her to talk to me. I want her to tell me to do something for her. I want her to say to stay for a little while longer like she used to do when it was time for me to go home for the night. But, for tonight, she is only two feet away from me, sleeping, and hopefully dreaming of something better.

My head hurts from no sleep, I think. My arms are twitching like Mome’s. Stress I am thinking. Sometimes I pretend that it is a normal night, and she is just resting like usual. Then I quickly remember that she is “actively dying.”

Danny says she isn’t afraid to die, that she is a strong Christian like Billy Graham. I know that is absolutely true. But, I know she doesn’t want to leave me or Amy or the kids. She knows I need her to breath. She knows Amy is the same way. We are the three amigos. If she goes, what will happen to me and Amy. She is worried about me and Amy. Amy means the world to her. She has said a million times that she can always count on Amy. She wants Amy to be happy. How can Amy be happy without Grandma… what about Michael, Philip, Rachel, Brandon, Katie, Jack … she knows that they are going to need her, too. And she needs us. How can she go somewhere without us? It is too hard, so she hangs on, against all the odds. She is so strong, for us.

My Heart Aches - Actively Dying

May 8th, 2008

Last night was a long night. My mom was not having a good night. I was up all night. She cried, “Oh my God, God, God!” I moved the couch next to her bed and rubbed her hair and held her hand all night. I am trying to give her pain medicine but she doesn’t want to open her mouth. I want to beg God to be easy on her, let her have the peace she deserves.

I stayed home from school.

Two women came to give her a bath. Her oxygen was so low, in the 60’s, and we were scared. I told them no bath; we would take care of it. They said we should call the doctor. Why.

The nurse came; she said that Mome is “actively dying.” I had never heard that before. She thought that Mome would only live a few more hours. She talked about calling 911. We said no more resuscitation, so we would not call 911. That made me “officially” feel like I have given up. At least on getting her well. I will never “give up” on my mom. She will go to heaven and still be my mom. She will always be with me. I will never let her go.

We cleaned her up and Amy had a pretty gown with purple that we put on Mome. It looked like a gown for a living woman, not a dying one. Amy again gives hope. My mom looked like a woman in her own home, in her own gown. That made me feel better.

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

My Heart Aches - Praying

May 7, 2008

Today is Wednesday. This is my son, Philip’s 23rd birthday. I am going to give him a card from my mom. He loves her so much. My mom loves him tremendously. She would want me to give him a card if she were awake and alert.

I went to school two days this week. It was miserable. Every second I thought about wanting to come home to my mom. I would look out the window and see my van parked. I wanted to crawl out the window to reach my van quicker and speed home. Instead, I just stared at it.

It is gray and dreary outside which seems to make things harder. I don’t feel sadder; I couldn’t if it snowed 20 inches, yet, it seems a little more difficult to think on a day like today.

I am sitting next to my mom. Her breathing is loud with a gurgling sound. I wish she could cough real hard. I want to cough, as if it is to remind her how to clear her throat. Instead, I hold her hand and pray.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

My Heart Aches - Hope

May 6, 2008

Tuesday

Mome’s numbers started to get very low again. I thought she might be leaving me.

Amy decided she wanted to wash her hair. I didn’t understand why Amy wanted her hair clean, at this particular moment. I thought maybe she wanted her Grandma to leave this world with clean, pretty hair. So, Amy washed her hair and massaged her head. It was such a loving act.

Then, she wanted Grandma to have a clean pillow so she changed a pillow case. Next, she decided to change her hospital gown into a pair of her own pajamas. Then her sheets and pad. Before long, Amy brought life and hope back to my mom. She brought life and hope back to me.

Monday, May 5, 2008

My Heart Aches - Waiting

May 5, 2008

Mome slept pretty good. Phil helped. He watched the numbers while I lay on the couch. He held my mom’s hand while I tried to rest. But, there is no real rest. Just waiting. Waiting for whatever is going to happen next. I hope desperately for something good but I try to prepare for something bad.

This morning Phil watched my mom while I took a bath. I used to love baths. They used to make me feel refreshed and energized. However, not lately. I cannot find anything to make me “energized”.

For a few minutes Mome seemed better. She has constantly stared at the ceiling since she has been home. Today when my daughter Amy brought her little 18 month old, Jack, over to see her, my mom turned her head and her eyes looked at Jack and she said, “Hi Jack.” Jack wanted to climb in her bed. He brought some life back to my mom, for just a minute.

She ate very little, had a little coffee (through a turkey baster, since she cannot seem to sip drinks or even suck through a straw) and took her daily medicines. She said yes and no appropriately when I asked her questions. I asked if she was in pain and she told me yes. I gave her pain medicine, which seems to take her not only away from her pain, but from me, too. She is sleeping now.

I am home alone with my best friend. All I can do is sit and watch my mom as she sleeps. I want to talk to her about so many things. Sometimes I try, but she does not open her eyes, she only sleeps. I go back to watching. I play my favorite songs for a minute, but they seem so incredibly sad to me, so I turn them off. All I can hear now is the sound of her breath. It seems to slow and I hold my breath, then she breathes again, and I am OK. I then hear the sound of the concentrator that makes her oxygen. It is the real sound of her breathing, a machine that pumps, pushes air, rests and then starts again.

Does everyone think I am strong? I am not. I am sinking deep. My mind is not able to function like before. Why do I feel like I am the glue holding her together? Or rather, they think I am the glue that holds her together?

Sunday, May 4, 2008

My Heart Aches Tonight

May 4, 2008 6:43 PM

My mother, "Mome" is on pain medicine. Sleeping. Not sure if it is working or not.

My mom’s sister is here crying. "How do you do it?" "I would help if I could," she says… and then changes the subject to her trip to Hilton Head last week. Mome’s brother is talking about people dying I don’t even know or care about and about some church auction. Their world is still in motion, unlike mine. I would like to say, please leave… but, I won’t.

My granddaughter Rachel is perfect. She loves my mom so much – sincerely. She held her hand for a couple hours late last night, just to be touching her, connecting to her in some way.

My sister, Patsy, has pretty calendar pictures hanging above her bed, with scripture on them… there are notes from Brandon, Rachel’s brother, love notes to get well.

Brandon calls my mom (his Grandmother) our Wilson, like on Home Improvement. She is the voice of wisdom for all of us. He says his heart is breaking.

My grandson, Brandon made his first communion today. I did not go. I did not have time to get him a gift – a rosary is what I wanted to give him – something he will have for the rest of his life. I hope he understands. Perhaps I will get one tomorrow.

My Heart Aches - Spring Arrives

May 4, 2008

Where did March and April go? I cannot recall waking up on Easter morning to colored eggs and family dinner. I do not remember any plastic eggs hid outside for the kids to find. I do not remember the gentle change from winter to spring. Did I miss the thunderstorms hiding under a blanket? Did I miss the tulips sprouting up and bending toward the sun?

Today, I am looking at the landscape and I see trees covered with lush green leaves. I see honeysuckle hanging over the fence as a gentle warm breeze brings the scent occasionally to my nose. The sky is a beautiful dark blue and the sunlight is shining so brightly on the treetops. Birds are chirping their familiar tunes. Kids are playing somewhere in the neighborhood, laughing and calling to each other. I hear the comforting sounds of my home, the train in the distance and a dog barking, perhaps at a rabbit or squirrel. A screen door shutting as a child is called home. Occasionally a car drives past the end of our street. So why do I not feel like I am home? Why do I feel like I am not moving in time?

My best friend in the whole world has been sick now the last couple months. She is lying on a hospital bed in the room behind me. The bed that has replaced her old comfy couch in her favorite place in her small living room.

She has just got home from being in the ICU unit for over 30 days. You see, my best friend, my mom, is dying. Or, is it me that is dying?