Goodbye, Dear Friend

I had a goal for today: finish up a PowerPoint Presentation and get it to my friend JA for editing. It happens to be a beautiful day here, but I was going to ignore the call of the garden in order to meet my goal. Focus...that was all I needed to get the job done. Not that difficult, really, since it's too wet to work the soil anyway. And then...

My BFF from Henning days, ATT, messaged me on Facebook as I was finishing my second cup of coffee and the online USAToday. She'd heard that Miss Caroline Hanson had died and wondered if I knew. Sad news, indeed...but not entirely unexpected.  Miss C and I usually spoke by phone every week or so, but the last time I'd called her (about 3-4 weeks ago), she'd been too ill to talk long.

You may recall that I've posted about Miss C being Momma's contemporary, who had taken on the role of my second Mom over the past 18 months. She and Momma graduated from Ripley High in 1938 and remained friends for the rest of Momma's life. They were neighbors in Henning until 1976 when Daddy and Momma moved to Covington.

Miss C was so very fond of my Uncle Edward, who was younger than she and Momma by five years.  When he married in Holly Springs, MS, in the late 40's, he asked her to sing at his wedding at the Holly Springs Methodist Church...which she did, with great joy.  For years, she would recount the details of that weekend (of singing in the historic church, of staying at one of the antebellum "pilgrimage" homes, and of the whirlwind of parties the bride's friends and families invited her to) with great enthusiasm and clarity.  The fact that her stories outlasted that marriage never deterred her from the memories.

She tried her best to teach me how to sing and to play the piano (I took lessons from age 5 to about age 10 or 11)...but my talents were more in the organizational area than in the musical arena. While she was very gracious in not reminding me that I'm tone-deaf, she always praised me for making her yearly recitals go "like clock-work." Heheh.

She did succeed in instilling a love for classical music, though.  Bless her! I may not be able to sing it or play it...but I can certainly appreciate it and enjoy it! (I've been playing Ode to Joy in the background while composing this post...:). My life has been immensely enriched for having known Miss Caroline.

You also may remember I made a trip to Tennessee last November to see Miss C in her nursing home in Ridgely and to visit with AD, my 104-year-old cousin in Dickson. Put a lot of miles on my car...and my body...that week. But, now I am so glad I got to see Miss C that one last time.

So instead of working on that PPT that is due today, I ditched that effort for searching old photos to scan and share with you. I may be the only one that still has these particular photos, taken 50 years apart. With Miss C's passing yesterday, I suppose the whole group is now catching up in Heaven.

The older ones are when the Henning Friends (Momma, Miss Caroline, Sidney Anthony and his cousins, Rose Anthony and Margaret Anthony, among others) were seniors at Ripley High School (1938).

Mary D, Rose Anthony, Sidney Anthony, and Caroline Hanson (RHS, Class of '38)

L to R: Mary D and Margaret Anthony (seated); Caroline Hanson, Rose Anthony, and Edith Keaton (Momma) - 1938

L to R: Margaret Anthony, Edith Keaton (Momma), Caroline Hanson, and Ducks (?); seated: Mary D

These "newer" ones were taken at their class' fiftieth Class Reunion.

L to R: Margaret Anthony (Jordan), Sidney Anthony, Edith Keaton (Lunn), Frances Drake, Rose Anthony, and Caroline Hanson - RHS Class of 1938's 50th Reunion in 1988

L to R: Rose Anthony, Margaret Anthony (Jordan), Caroline Hanson, Edith Keaton (Lunn), Sidney Anthony, and Frances Drake - RHS Class of 1938's 50th Reunion in 1988

Miss Caroline and my Daddy, Sidney T. Lunn (1988)

Seeing that last one reminds me I have some other photos I wish I could put my hands on...pictures of parties at our house in Henning, when Miss Caroline would play our Turkey Red piano (that Momma and Mrs. Mary Lois "antiqued" one fine, Fall day) and Daddy would sing the Tennessee Waltz. Among other things...ahem. We may have lived in a dry county, but that did not put a damper on the fun. After all, "wet" Tipton County was just over the Hatchie River Bridge, don't you know? The pictures will resurface at another time, and I'll share...

But, for today, I enjoyed a trip down memory lane through old photos...and I made up some ham salad for sandwiches...and pimento cheese for stuffed celery sticks.  Thinking about all those parties we had...and the tasty buffets Momma prepared with what was considered "party food" in the 60's...made me hungry for some situational "comfort food," shall we say? Only wish I could have tasted some sausage 'n cheese balls and tiny country ham biscuits. Mmmmm...makes my mouth water...:-)

So, I'll say goodbye Miss Caroline...and thank you for all you meant to me over the years. I can't cry too much for your death, as I know you were in a lot of pain in the last few weeks, and you have left me with too many happy memories to stay sad. Any tears I am shedding are solely for me, knowing that my second Mom has gone to join my Momma, and I've lost a friend.

I sure hope the Turkey Red piano in Heaven is tuned up and ready! They've been waiting to get the party started!!

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Link to Miss Caroline's obit on Garner Funeral Home's site: 
Obituary For: Caroline Hanson | Garner Funeral Home

Bell's Palsy Update - Week 7 Begins

Before we get to my Bell's report, I wanted to share my exciting (!) Cotton crop report from Guilford County. Seriously, I planted 10-12 heirloom seeds from a variety called Nanking Green that I got at the Seed Exchange at Old Salem back in January. And, now I have 10 beautiful plants growing and thriving at the end of the bean fence in the Kitchen Garden (photo below)! Can you see the pink-edged flowers (top of plant) and the green bolls(center)? Even though picking cotton by hand is one of the hardest jobs on this Earth (yes, I did it once...and only once!), I can hardly wait until I get to pick my own little stand. No, I won't harvest enough to spin, but I'll have enough to share next January...and to plant more next year.

Green cotton, you ask? Yep. And you thought all cotton was white, didn't you? Well, I sure did until I did a bit of research.

Turns out that naturally colored cotton was grown at one time, although it was not found to be as marketable as white cotton fibres. According to the Southern Exposure Seed Exchange:

"Naturally colored cottons were grown by the slaves prior to the Civil War. In many instances, slaves on plantations were not permitted to grow the white cotton of their masters. Brown cotton was the most commonly grown, but there are other naturally colored cottons such as green, blue, yellow, and pink cottons, and they all have their own subtle beauty. These heirloom cottons are now difficult to find. They have fallen out of favor because the fibers are shorter and not as suitable for spinning and dyeing as modern white cotton."
From Southern Exposure Seed Exchange's website

I wish I could report big, exciting discoveries in my recovery process. No such luck. Same old, same old. Tortoise-like progress as Bell's Palsy slowly recedes from my body.

And, as I told Bro T and Bro J last week, I relate what is happening to the tide receding...going out...away from the beach. Yeah, yeah...me and my focus on The Beach. But with each day, a little of the misery that is BP seems to recede...go out...leave me. And, while that may not be Big News, it is nonetheless Positive News.

Missy M summed up my last week's progress yesterday when she said "you can see you are getting better; you can hear it, because your speech is better." She also said "you can tell when you are tired because you start slurring your words." A little good, a little not-so-good. Still some way to go to complete recovery. Ah well.

I didn't take my weekly documentation photos yesterday, because I thought any progress they might have shown would be overshadowed by the dark circles under my swollen eyes and the red tinge to my nose. I hadn't slept well the night before, and I had done my share of shedding sad tears in the morning. You see, yesterday marked a year since Nana/Momma/Edith passed away. Without a doubt, we still miss her so much.

And as any regular reader of my posts will know, it was a tough 6 months prior to 8/5/11, and it has been a rough 12 months since then. One can only hope it will begin to be a kinder, gentler chapter from this day forward.

Sigh.

You may not be able to see much change in my mouth (less paralysis, more of a smile on the left side) in this photo (below). And I think there is possibly more left-eyebrow droop...but I "credit" that to residual "puffiness" from yesterday's tears rather than a reversal in the previous week's progress.

What you will probably see right away is that I wore a different color shirt for this photo. Sweet friend BS commented earlier about my wearing some pink lipstick (which I have rarely, if ever, worn in my life...:~\)...so, instead of sticking with the same old aqua shirt I've worn in all the photos for consistency's sake, I switched to a pink one that I borrowed from Missy M for this set.

So, now I have entered the decisive part of the recovery period: weeks six through eight. Whatever happens now, is probably what I will be living with...my "new normal," as friend LB says. My NC Nurse Practitioner calls this the most telling of the recovery period. While she said it can take up to a year to completely recover, it's the two weeks I am living now that can be the most important.

Fingers crossed. Toes, too!

Bell's Palsy Documentation Photo - Day 44

Walking in Sunshine

Yesterday was a special day for Mr. T and me.  We headed the car down Westchester Drive to Hospice Home of High Point to attend the Dedication Ceremony for the 74 newest additions to their Tribute Brick Walkway...one of which has Momma's name on it.

To be honest, I had mixed emotions about going.  It was a beautiful afternoon...abundant sunshine with Carolina blue skies, mid-70's with low humidity...you couldn't ask for more perfect weather for an outdoor function.  But, I still have a difficult time in making that drive, even after 10 months...and even after some "practice" in the past few weeks.  My neurologist's office is in the building across the street from the Hospice Home entrance, and I feel this heavy weight on my shoulders whenever I've had to keep an appointment with him.  Well, heavier than if I was just bothered by having to keep an appointment with a neurologist about my back, shall we say?

Anyway, I could feel the lump coming into my throat as we pulled into the parking lot.  Now, where is my little purse pack of tissues when I need it?

We were met by a staff person carrying a basket of daisies, and we each took one.  Then we joined the small crowd gathered at the beginning of the walk, located to the right of the front entrance to the building.  Thom Gill, the talented volunteer who played guitar and sang softly in the center of the facility (where the two main halls intersect), was playing and singing...and I was so happy to see him again.  We greeted the sweet, gentle chaplain, who was there to give the Invocation, the Rev. Jeanette Robertson, and she remembered visiting Momma when I pointed out the window to "her" room.  It made me feel surrounded by love again.

We could see a daisy here-and-there, that a loved one had tucked in the join on a tribute brick in the path...but I really didn't begin to look for Momma's name until we were inside the walled Serenity Garden, which is located at the end of the path and just outside of the Chapel.  Somehow, I just knew her brick would be in there.  And...it was.  As I posted to Facebook when I checked in, "Momma's brick is front-and-center in the garden.  She'd be pleased."

And I do believe she would be.

Changes in the Wind

Did I read that right?  The thermometer that registers the temperature from the Way Back Garden said 56 degrees this morning when I came into the Morning Room for my coffee.  Yippee!  I love cooler weather!! It also said that it was 72 degrees inside...way too warm to light up the fire. Drat.

Still, outside the wind was blowing in from the northeast for a change, rustling the leaves that have fallen...not necessarily because of the approach of Fall; more probably because they just were too hot and tired, trying to hang on the trees here at the end of Summer. The Tulip Poplar trees are the biggest contributors to the mess on the deck at the moment.

So what to do, on this day of no appointments?  I decided to finish up my Fall garden planting. Yeah, I know...most people did that several weeks ago.  Since my life has been in flux since June, though, I guess I can be forgiven for not following the seed planting calendar exactly in 2011. 

Mr. T had already cleared, weeded, and tilled several rows for me, so I got busy planting the seeds and onion sets I'd gotten yesterday from Soviero's Tri-County Garden Center (my fav).  I now have peas, beets, 4 kinds of leaf lettuces, collards, 7-Top turnip greens (grown only for the greens...:), and onions.  It can begin raining any time now.

This weather is a bit odd for September, to be sure.  But I'm not whinging about it...no, not me.  I'm too excited about getting to break in Mr. T's birthday present, a new outdoor fireplace!  Noooo, I'll take unseasonably cool weather over, say...a hurricane any day.  Especially since we got our vacation at the beach in between the hurricanes (Irene and Maria) and the dip in temps.



Charleston and Food...
a Great Combination!

We had a wonderful, relaxing, regenerating week in South Carolina.  Missy M, who has been working night and day on a work-related project, joined us as we headed to Charleston, one of our all-time favorite cities, last Sunday.  We got checked into our room, then made our way to the Charleston Crab House for dinner.  We did a little shopping in the Market area, then went to the Battery to complete our mini-tour.  Unfortunately, Knit! was closed, so no knit-shop shopping today.

The next morning, we turned north on US 17 toward Myrtle Beach, our destination for the week.  Along the route, we stopped in Georgetown, SC for lunch at another fav, The River Room. 



Missy M checks out the menu at
The River Room in Georgetown, SC

This restaurant has great food...and a fantastic view of the river dock and harbor (see photo, right).  We were fortunate to get a window table, so we got to watch the boats...and the clouds...on this beautiful special day.  You see, it was both Mr. T's birthday and Labor Day...a holiday in every sense of the word!

Back on US 17, we stopped to shop in Pawleys Island Shoppes, the home of the original Pawleys Island hammocks.  We got our "shabby chic" T-shirts/sweat shirts...and tried to go to Island Knits, only to find it, too, was closed.  What's going on here?  Was Mr. T calling ahead??  Ah well...

Enough already.  Let's see some sand and ocean, for goodness' sakes!


We made it to Myrtle!


Just a few more miles north, we came to our destination, The Hampton Inn and Suites, on the South Ocean Boulevard in Myrtle Beach.  Never been here before, since we usually stay away from the craziness that can be MBSC, choosing saner Litchfield to the south.  But, we thought it would be OK since things change around Labor Day...the official end of Summer around here.  And, we were right!

This is a fabulous place!  We had a large room on the 11th floor, with two comfy queen beds, a fridge and microwave, and a balcony looking out on the ocean...complete with two rocking chairs!  There are 4 pools, 2 lazy rivers, and a whirlpool on the property, and the beach access is easy-peasy:  walk out of the door on the lower level...you're there!  Comfortable areas, indoors and out, with rocking chairs and hammocks to read those beach-books (or, in the case of Mr. T and Missy M...those Kindles and iPads...:).  They had a two breakfast areas to service all the rooms in the two towers; full breakfast is provided in the room rate.  And the very best part?  Didn't cost a dime...nope, nada...all on Mr. T's Hilton Honors points.  I love a bargain, don't you?



Sunrise over the Atlantic...
last morning in Myrtle

 It was exactly what we all needed. That photo (right) of the sunrise over the Atlantic, taken on our last morning, says it all.

And, I am happy to report that we did finally find a knit shop that was open:  Knitting Up A Storm in North Myrtle Beach.  Stopped by on our way out of town.  Two of us loved it...one of us chose to wait in the hot car.  Bet you can guess who is who.  I got this yummilicious yarn called Cocoon by Rowan in colorway Seascape...which I thought would help me recall a warm, beach day when there's snow on the ground; it's an 80/20 merino wool and kid mohair combo.  They had a free pattern for it that I am using to knit a braided cowl.  So far, so good!

Gardening. Travel. Knitting. Good times with family. Sounds like things are back to normal.  Well, maybe not "back," but certainly on their way.

It helped to have reclaimed the front bedroom as a guest bedroom, setting up the bed where the hospital bed used to be; sorted and donated most of Momma's hanging clothes; and cleaned and cleared the front bathroom...all of which I was able to do before we left on vacation.  And, when we got back to HPNC from SC, Missy M tackled the chore of sorting the dreaded jewelry drawer.  She found several of Nana's things she wanted to keep, so that did my heart good.  Now, the only big chore left on the list is "finish cleaning out the dresser drawers"...and I know I can handle that one soon.

It's been six weeks today, and I still think about Momma several times each day.  About how much she would have loved going to the beach.  About how she would have wanted to turn the fireplace on this morning, even if it was too warm in the house.  About how she would have been excited that it was football time again...and that the Braves are probably going to see some post-Season action.

The difference now is that I am noticing many, many more smiles and fond memories...far, far fewer tears and sad thoughts.  The bereavement counselor is right:  it IS a process, and everyone's experience in dealing with the changes is different.

Indeed.

Sharing

I created a Tribute Album to share at Nana/Momma/Edith's services, and I am doing my very best to try to share it with all of you. I hope you will be able to just simply click and find it (below)...but we all know there is nothin' simple about following technical directions on embedding code that were written by technical folks for us semiliterate-techies. Where, oh where, is my Instructional Designer Daughter when I need her??

For some reason, when the album loads (if it loads...:), it begins inside on Page 1.  So, you don't get to see the front cover.  Try clicking the left arrow to make it move back one "page."  There is an automatic play option, and it will even allow you to select "looping" so you can see it all over again.  Also, do use the "Full Screen" option in the upper right portion of the window to see the pictures a bit better.  [You can hit the ESC key to return to the regular screen after you are through viewing.]  Best o' luck on seeing the print, though...I can't read it, and I created the thing!  Trust me, if I could change it I would, but that isn't something I can control. Just put your own words to the pictures...or write me, if you have questions about any of them.

Here goes:

Click here to view this photo book larger

Well, I do hope it worked OK for you, and that you enjoyed it as much as I loved creating it. A labor of love, from start to finish, I assure you.

Up next, the Tribute DVD I made for the services.  I don't have enough physical copies to go around, so I'm trying to post it in an appropriate location to share.  I'll let you know...

Wish me luck!

Just One More Thing

We are back, Mr. T and I.  Yes, it's now just the two of us. True empty-nesters. Well, except for the three Basset Beasties, of course.

It's been almost a week since I last posted.  Mom's services were held in Bolivar, TN, and she was buried in Bethany Cemetery near Whiteville on Monday.  "Put me between Nananny and Daddy" were her instructions, and that's just what we did.

Even though we had a thunderstorm in the morning, it had passed long before 2:00. It was almost everything August is advertised to be in West Tennessee: extremely hot and humid.  No haziness, though...it was a bright, sunny day. Friends and relatives surprised us with their numbers: since Mom was 91 and had outlived almost all of her friends and generation of kin, we hadn't counted on such a nice turnout...which we experienced for both the visitation on Sunday and the services on Monday.  Cousin M officiated over the services that he and Mom had discussed back in June when she first went to Hospice Home, including the solo by his son, Cousin S, who couldn't be there in person.  Never fear: Cousin M brought a CD with his solo, and it worked out just fine! Mom would have been pleased.

We even had 15 or so join us for a gathering afterward.  Mr. T had secured the Hospitality Suite at the Hampton in Jackson where we stayed, and Bro J arranged for the BBQ and sides for a nice meal to share. Looking around the room, it was interesting to note that the majority came from the Lunn side...but again, Mom had outlived all of her Keaton kin and most of her Stewart clan.  Still, it says a lot about a person when her husband (who has been gone for 21 years)'s family drives halfway across the state to come to her funeral, doesn't it?  Says a lot about what a great bunch they are, too.

Heading home, we took the opportunity of being in Tennessee to stop by and visit my 103 year-old cousin in Dickson. A. is recovering from injuries she sustained in a fall, but let me tell you something:  she looks fantastic!  She still has the most beautiful skin...just amazing!



"Why, dear.  Look what else's at the
Crossville exit...where we're staying..."

 We stopped for the night in Crossville, which is in a lovely part of Middle Tennessee, right on the eastern edge of the Central Time Zone.  It's also the same exit where The Yarn Patch (photo, left) is located...what a coincidence (as I attempted to convince Mr. T...:)!   Ah, yarn therapy.

We relaxed by opening a bottle of wine, toasting the future, and taking a swim in the pool.  I began to feel the Little Black Rain Cloud that has been hanging over my head for months gradually diminish. Slowly but surely.

We got home and were pleasantly surprised by the pups.  We used a pet sitter for the first time, instead of taking them to the Glammer Slammer (AKA: the kennel)...and they were amazingly calm.  Well, after we had rubbed in and handed out duck jerky, of course.  They do have expectations.

We read all the sweet cards and expressions of sympathy that had arrived in the mail while we were gone.  We listened to the voicemails from old friends who had just found out.  And, we even brought in a flower arrangement that had arrived the afternoon of our return.

And, I guess you might think that that's the end of that.

Of course, that's NOT the end of that. There are papers to be signed, cards and correspondence to be written and mailed, and accounts to be closed. Phone calls must be made. And, many people must be thanked. The To Do List gets longer by the minute.

But, except for one thing on the list, I think I can handle it all without too many tears.  It's just that one thing that's weighing heavily on my mind and messing with my emotions.

That one thing?  Cleaning out Mom's rooms and closet. I haven't been able to do it yet, even though she has been gone from our house since June 9th...9 weeks today, to be exact. It seems like such a small thing compared to my childhood friends who just lost their mother two weeks ago (and who came to Mom's visitation, bless 'em): they have her whole house to go through.  I only have a couple of rooms and a closet.  And, it's not like there's anyone pushing me to get it done on any particular schedule.

It's me.  I believe that cleaning out her rooms and closet...deciding what to do with her possessions...is the major stumbling block for me moving ahead with my own life.  And, I am ready to move ahead.  I think.

Maybe I can break that one thing down into little bitty things.  Closet on one day.  Dresser the next.  Chest-of-drawers the following day.  And so on.  You know...the "only way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time" method of getting a big job done. 

Hey, it's worth a try.  I'll let you know how it goes.

Sorrow...and Joy

I cannot sleep.  Believe me, I have tried.  Four times now, I have gotten in bed, slipped under the covers, closed my eyes...and nothing. Sleep will not come.  Not even a glass of wine helped.  Not tonight.  Too much on my mind.  This is one of the days that will be etched into my memory forever.  Friday, August 5, 2011.

Twenty-four hours ago, almost to the minute, I was sleeping as soundly as a stone...exhausted from my afternoon/early evening shift staying with Momma at Hospice Home of High Point.  She had several terrible hours when she was fitful, restless, appeared very uncomfortable, and extremely agitated.  "Terminal agitation," it was called by the staff.  "Normal," they assured me.  "Scary," I assured them. Finally, finally in the late afternoon, the nurse came in to say the doctor was increasing the levels of both morphine and the two anti-anxiety meds...again.  And, as had happened the day before, the change seemed to do the trick.

The nurse also told me that they were at the maximum amount of morphine that they could give (20 mg/hr in the morphine pump); they were switching to another medication that evening.  Dilaudid.  If it would work, I was all for it.

Mr. T came at 7:00 to relieve me.  He brought Taco Salads for dinner, so we could share a few minutes of normality in the Family Kitchen.  I would head home for some sleep, he would stay for the next six hours, and then Bro T would relieve him for the overnight shift.  That was the plan.

However, when midnight rolled around, the night nurse urged them to call me. The signs were all there. It was time.

Thankfully, Mr. T came home to wake me and drive me back to Hospice.  It would be the last time we made that 8 mile trip.

Momma passed away calmly and peacefully this morning at 4:00 a.m., with Mr. T, Bro T, and me by her side.  We made sure to surround her with love as she departed this life.  I was able to sit with her, play music for her, and hold her hand until the very last breath.  I had never had this experience, and frankly was a little afraid.  But now, I can only express how thankful and blessed I feel for it.  After the nurse had listened for a heartbeat for the final time and found none, I was able to open the patio door to Momma's room to release her spirit.  It was a beautiful star-lit night...and a wonderful memory.

Of course, the next few days and weeks will be difficult.  There are so many things to do when a loved one dies...and your name and telephone number are at the top of everyone's lists.  True to my nature, the first thing I did when I got home this morning was start my To Do list...and then start making assignments.  Once bossy, always bossy.

And now, with everyone working together, most of the To Do's have been checked off.  Things are falling into place quite nicely.  But, when I really need my sleep, I cannot turn off my brain...or my tear ducts either, for that matter. Silly me, I thought I was well-along in my grieving process; now I'm learning the truth in the statement:  "no matter what, you are never really prepared to say that final goodbye."

Yes, there is sorrow for having to say that final goodbye.  But, there is joy also.  Joy, that Momma is at peace; joy that she has no more pain.  And, joy, that she has made that transition from this life to the next...and left us with so many, many wonderful memories.

===================================================================
Here is the link to her obituary on the Shackelford Funeral Home's website:

http://www.shackelfordfuneraldirectors.com/obituary.php?client_id=8102

On Borrowed Time

Just a few words tonight...a very brief post indeed.  Meant mainly for those of you who are visiting to get the latest info on Nana/Momma/Edith.

N/M/E's journey is almost complete.  She is sleeping almost all of the time, made as comfortable as possible by the medications and ministrations of the loving, caring Hospice Home of High Point staff.  One of us is with her 'round the clock now, so that she can feel our love and presence...even if she rarely gives an indication of knowing we are there. We are told that the sense of hearing is the last sense to go, so we talk to her...tell her that we love her and will miss her.

The signs are all there, although they come and go.  Her fingernails turn bluish and her skin shows "mottling," a purplish discoloration...both indicative of reduced circulation. Since Wednesday night, she has exhibited apnea, which has increased in duration (by my count) from pauses of 4 seconds to pauses of nearly 18 seconds (this afternoon).

The natural tendency is to ask "how long?"  No one knows, and as Dr. Powell (the medical director...and a wonderful, caring physician) says "each person is different."  He followed that with:  "of course, this is one strong-willed woman."  You have to laugh, don't you?  Even with tears in your eyes, you have to laugh.

I didn't want my next post to come as too great a shock, and I knew that you would want to be kept in the loop...even if the news sounds sad.

Say a little prayer for Nana/Momma/Edith...that her transition from this life to the next is a peaceful one.  Thank you.

Rena Belle Would Be Proud

Lemon Meringue Icebox Pies

So, what do you think?  Is that a gorgeous Lemon Meringue Icebox Pie or what?  Both of them, even. I do believe Rena Belle would be proud, for sure.

If you have seen the front cover to the new Southern Living magazine, you have seen a similar picture...only theirs is of a Lemon Meringue Ice CREAM pie...not the same at all.  I took the latest issue to Mom this morning, and just as I had predicted, she asked me to "make her one." Only, she was specific with her special request:  make one like Rena Belle used to make...meaning she wanted Lemon Meringue Icebox Pie.

If you ever visited us when we lived in Henning, you know the name Rena Belle.  I've posted about that wonderful woman before.  She was so much more than The Help; she was the majordomo of our little household. And, she was a fantastic cook to boot.  My favorite dessert...and Mom's too...was her Lemon Meringue Icebox Pie.  I think I've told you that she used to make lemon for me, and a chocolate one for Bro J.  I've tried to recreate it as best I could from memory, given the amount of time that has passed and the fact that she didn't write any recipe down. I am not a big fan of meringue anyway (I used to scrape it off the pie and just eat the lemon-filling and crust...:-), so it isn't one of those "mile high" versions.  [Scroll down for the recipe.]

Speaking of The Help, I can't wait to see that movie.  A good friend from Greenwood, MS, had several posts on Facebook back when they were filming it, so I feel more than a little connection.  Of course, having grown up in the South in the mid-fifties, sixties, and early seventies...and having Help in the house for all my younger years...I imagine I'll recognize a theme or two, don't you?

Let's see, when I was a couple of months old, Momma went back to work.  She was a social worker with the State of Tennessee in Shelby County, and being a Mom for the first time at 33, she said she could be a better mother if she worked outside of the home rather than in it.  Of course, she made sure that I would be cared for while she and Daddy were working.  After all, she had grown up in houses with Help who performed the chores and provided the childcare, so this was a natural for her.

Enter Sarah.

I don't really remember Sarah, and I only have a couple of fuzzy photos of her.  She was with us until she made the mistake of paddling me with one of those paddleball (wooden) paddles for some infraction or other.  [Oh, I know what the infraction was, but I'm not committing it to text.] 

After that, Momma had to fire Sarah before Papaw shot her...or so the story goes.  Papaw (my grandfather Keaton) was my protector from the day I entered this world...he had a hair-trigger temper...and it was a different time. He was just one generation removed from the Civil War, having grown up hearing about the death of his Grandfather Cummings following the battle of Kennesaw Mountain in Georgia. What more can I say?

Next came Ruth.  Papaw hired her, so he made sure he found someone to his liking. Ruth was tall, big-boned, and good-as-gold.  She let me do pretty much as I pleased, so that means she was probably plenty smart, too.  She was with us until Bro J was born, and we moved from Memphis to Henning.

There, we were first cared for by Arbella, who was married to Sam...who was Daddy's right-hand man.  Arbella loved Her Baby (as she always called Bro J).  Me?  Not so much.  No matter.  Just a year after that move, I started to kindergarten, so I was out of her hair most of the day anyway, which was probably a good thing.

Arbella was with us for a few years...until she kinda lost it and started talking to inanimate objects.  I vividly remember her blasting away verbally at the iron one day when I was about 7 or 8.  That was right before she got a gun to try to blast away Sam.  He survived, but I think she went to Western State for a little while to recover.

After a series of temporaries, Rena Belle came to our rescue.  And the rest, as they say, is our history. She lived in a little house a few blocks south of where we lived, guarded over by her faithful dog named Danny Boy. She was in our kitchen Monday through Friday before Daddy left for work at 7:00, and she stayed until Momma came home from work at 4:45.  She washed, ironed, cleaned, cooked, and cared for us...and most of what I know about any of those things, I learned from her.

She was famous for getting dirty clothes into the washing machine in record time...sometimes before they had even been pronounced "dirty" by the wearer.  And, she could starch things to where they could stand up on their own. 

She loved to bake sweets, and she taught me how by allowing me to make as big a mess of the kitchen as possible.  And, she loved to laugh, a laugh that went all the way to the crinkles around her eyes...but she always covered her mouth when she did.

[Now, before some of you get your knickers in a twist, please recall what I said:  it was a different time.  And, regardless of how it sounds now as I am recalling the story, please pause to consider something very important:  did I turn out the way I have because I was raised by such strong women of color? For sure, Papaw would have disowned me in 2008...although I'm not certain for which of my transgressions:  voting for a Democrat, voting for a black man, or voting for someone from Illinois?]

Memories...

Anyway, I'm happy to report that today is a calm and restful one for Mom, one in which her pain is being well-managed.  She's responded well to the higher doses of her meds.  No sign of the congestion that was plaguing her this weekend.  I'm headed back over to Hospice Home now with another bowl of Brunswick Stew for dinner, and I hope N/M/E's saving room for her dessert.

A slice of Lemon Meringue Icebox pie.  Just like Rena Belle used to make.


=================================================================

Rena Belle's Lemon Meringue Icebox Pie

1 14-oz. can sweetened condensed milk (We just called it "Eagle Brand"...:-)
1/2 cup fresh-squeezed lemon juice (about 1 large lemon's worth)
Grated rind of the lemon
4 eggs, separated
4 T. sugar
2 T. white Karo syrup (opt.)
1/2 tsp. cream of tartar (opt.)
1 tsp. vanilla
1 9" graham cracker pie crust (purchased or homemade...see below)

Pre-heat oven to 325 degrees. 

In a large bowl, mix the Eagle Brand, lemon juice, lemon rind, and the egg yolks together.  Beat until thickened.  Pour into the prepared pie shell. Set aside.

Make meringue in a separate bowl by beating egg whites and cream of tartar until stiff enough to form peaks. Add sugar, syrup, and vanilla.  Beat again until stiff.

Cover pie filling with meringue, sealing all the way to the edges of the crust.  Bake in preheated oven for about 15 minutes, or until peaks begin to brown slightly.  Cool a bit before putting in refrigerator to chill.

Chill thoroughly before cutting.  Enjoy!

(Go ahead and double the recipe.  You'll be glad you made two!)

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Graham Cracker Crust for 9" pie

9-10 graham crackers (about 1 "sleeve" of a box)
4 T. butter, melted
4 T. sugar

Crush the graham crackers into a fine powder.  Mix with butter and sugar.  Press into 9" pie plate.

No Tears Today!

Flowers from the garden for Momma



Oh, what a beautiful mornin',
Oh, what a beautiful day.
I got a beautiful feelin'
Ev'rything's goin' my way.
--from Oklahoma

(Follow the link to listen to the music...:)

OK, so it's no longer "morning" when I'm writing this.  And the "day" I'm talking about was yesterday.  Let's not be too picky.

When Mr. T and I arrived at Hospice Home yesterday for a visit with Nana/Momma/Edith, she was awake, alert, and in a talkative mood.  Woo hoo!  We had brought a cup of watermelon chunks for a taste-treat, and she enjoyed almost every single one of them...with salt, of course.  I texted the word that she was available to talk on the phone, and she took a call from Bro J in Nashville and one from SIL LaD in KY.  It was a wonderful morning indeed!

Made even more so, since just 24 hours before, it had been an awful, terrible, horrible, very bad day. Nothing was right; nothing was working.  Mom couldn't get comfortable, no matter which way she was positioned. She was frustrated, upset, in pain, and crying.  Of course, being of no help whatsoever, I began to cry, too. The nurse practitioner, who had just adjusted Mom's morphine the day before, adjusted the amount yet again (doubling the pump-dose from 2 days before).  And, the nurse...recognizing high anxiety when she saw it...gave Mom more anxiety meds than scheduled to help calm her.  (Only half kidding, I asked her if she had one of those for me...:-)

Well, what a difference a day makes...as they say!

We had a wonderful visit with Mom yesterday, and as we were leaving, she said "you know what I want you to bring me tonight?"  What?  "A small pepperoni pizza from Donato's!"

You betcha!

We did...and she ate half of it!  And then polished off a cup of orange sherbet!!  What a wonderful day indeed!

So, today I'm making a pot of Brunswick Stew.  Yes, I am aware that it is nearly 100 degrees outside.  And, I know that my garden is so overgrown with head-high weeds (I kid you not) that a sane person...well, at least one that is afraid of snakes...wouldn't set foot in it to find the necessary ingredients. 

But, I'm on a roll here. And, Brunswick Stew is on Mom's special request menu, because it reminds her of summertime on Nananny's farm in Hardeman County, where they would make a big, cast-iron pot of stew when the garden would start to "overproduce:" start producing more than they could eat at meals, put up for winter, or give away to others.

I did find potatoes, carrots, corn, tomatoes, green peppers, onions, and okra in enough quantities to make a pot of stew...and no snakes, thank goodness.  The only thing that would have to come from a can would be lima beans...they've stopped producing in this heat...and the tomato sauce. Oh, and the chicken broth.  I'm using some shredded chicken from a rotisserie chicken, so I didn't make any homemade broth.  Stew's on the stove simmering away as I write.

I also found a few blossoms to snip for a vase to take to Mom this evening (see the photo above).  Flowers from the garden...Brunswick Stew from the garden...that should bring a smile to her face, don't you think?

I hope so.  Today is all about smiles...not tears.

Gifts

It's not what you think. I hadn't planned to post about birthday presents, although I do reserve the right to mention them. 

Back to The Bistro for my birthday

My sweet Mr. T gave me the best gift he could:  his time...and three special treats that were just the right size and selection. 

On Friday, we took in the matinee of the latest [and last] Harry Potter movie.  Loved. It.  Will definitely go back to see this one again.  Then, on Saturday...my "real" birthday...he treated me to lunch at The Bistro at Childress Vineyards in Lexington (photo, left). Yum!  And cake when we got home.  Lastly, on Sunday, we drove up to Daylily Meadows in Pinnacle for what has become an annual birthday excursion for a new variety of daylily for our yard...or two or three.  We ended the three-day celebration with lunch at the Old Salem Tavern...always a winner.

Ranger Bob

Before I forget, the three newest members of our daylily garden are Barney, Ranger Bob, and Harem House...all purpley-pink ones this year. That's a picture of Ranger Bob on the right.

I also received flowers, gifts, calls, and cards from family and friends...and I appreciate every single one from the bottom of my heart.

No, the "gifts" I had wanted to post about today are a little more esoteric, shall we say?  I'm thinking specifically of some gifts my Mother has given me:  my love of gardening, my enjoyment of travel, and my appreciation of both the mountains and the beach, of good friends and good relationships with your family. 

She also bestowed a few gifts upon me that I sometimes wish I could return, if the truth be told.  One that comes to mind is the "gift" of emotional sensitivity in times of stress...and a pair of really active tear ducts. Mom has always cried easily...and without feeling self-conscious.  Me?  I hate when I cry in public...or when I can't seem to control the flow. Hate. It.

As Mom nears the end of her journey, I have been putting together a Tribute Book and a Tribute Video, using lots of old photos I have been scanning for several weeks now.  With everything else that is going on, you can imagine that my emotions have been raw and right on the surface...and the tears have flowed freely. Way too freely. "Basket case" is a phrase that might fit.

Today, for instance, the Hospice chaplain came to visit Mom while I was there.  He is a loving, giving person, and he knows Mom enjoys hearing him sing.  Even though she is sleeping most of each day, she was awake when he arrived, and responded positively to his voice.  So, while standing at her bedside and holding her hand, he began to sing "Jesus Loves Me." I had to leave the room I was crying so much.  I'm crying now as I write this.

Yes, Mom frequently says she is tired, but it is obvious with each new day that her will to live is still strong.  As the Hospice staff says, she's just not finished with things here yet.  So, I dig down deep and find what I need to face another day. If she's remaining strong, then I need to stay strong, too.  Amazingly, whatever I need is usually there.  No more, no less. 

Well, possibly more tears than I'd like...but you know what I mean.

Another Month Begins

July.  The month in the middle, marking the beginning of the second half of the year.  Typically, the 3-H month:  hot, humid, and hazy.  The month of Julius (for whom it is named) Caesar's, our country's...and my...birth.  My month has arrived.

It will probably be a quiet month for me.  I won't be doing a lot of celebrating this year.  Mr. T has hinted at a return trip to our favorite day lily farm in Pinnacle, Daylily Meadows...and maybe a return visit to The Bistro at Childress Winery.  That sounds lovely to me.  No surprises...just a couple of old friends.

I will be doing a lot of contemplating this month, I'm sure:  about the past...and maybe about the present; not so much, the future. You see, I have been working on a tribute album and a tribute video for Mom, and I have looked at...and scanned...lots of old pictures in the past week or so. Who we were...and who we are now.

Not that reviewing the past is a bad thing; it's just not where my head usually is during my month.  Anyone who knows me well, knows that I usually ask the question some time...several times, even...in July:  wonder where I'll be this time next year...what I will be doing?  And, I try to follow my own advice to my coaching clients:  review the successes/challenges of the past year and write your New Year's Resolutions on your birthday, not on the first day of the year.  Well, probably not this year...not for me.  This year, I find it difficult to plan what I will be doing tomorrow, much less twelve whole months from now.

Mr. T is off on his Carolina Run, as he calls the week he visits dealerships in Charleston, Columbia, and Charlotte.  During his call home one night, he asked the question: so, what's on your schedule for tomorrow?  I replied that I have no "schedule"...for tomorrow or any other time, for that matter.  I am in this suspended universe where plans and schedules no longer count.  I take each day as it presents itself.

Yeah.  I hate it.  It's downright un-natural for me.  But, sometimes you do what needs to be done, regardless of whether you like it or not.  This is one of those times. Sigh...and get on with it.

Well, N/M/E has had a roller-coaster week.  After a few bouts with poorly-controlled pain, the staff at Hospice Home decided to begin using a morphine pump with Mom:  one that administers a pre-programmed dose at certain intervals on its own...and still allows for her to push a button to get a "break-through pain" dose in between those times.  Sounds like a plan to me!

When they first set up the pump, Mom was O-U-T for nearly a whole day:  couldn't wake up; was almost incoherent when she did.  Scary.  Never fear, the staff made the adjustments to the dosage (way down) to allow her to be more awake.  Uh oh...then she had too much pain.  Not to worry, the staff made the adjustments to the dosage (higher, but somewhere in the middle), plus they re-set the intervals for the break-through pain doses (shorter intervals, smaller dose per interval, while still allowing enough overall). That's been working for a few days now, thank goodness.

As Brother T says "they call it medical PRACTICE for a reason."

Speaking of brothers...both were here for the Fourth weekend:  Bro J with SIL J from Nashville, and Bro T with SIL LaD from KY.  Missy M also arrived for the Holiday weekend, along with my grand-dogs, Dixie and Ella Rae (who chased squirrels to her little heart's content...:).  We even were able to get together for a BBQ on our deck on Saturday, before everyone had to leave on Monday.  Well, all except SIL LaD, who probably over-did it with this visit.  She has her own set of health issues...and every single one of them tried to overtake her while she was in HPNC.  As Momma would say:  "if it ain't one thing, it's 10 others."

Amen, Momma.  Amen.

Hills and Valleys...Backslides and Rallies

Today is a good day.  It is a beautiful Summer's afternoon outside.  The flowers are blooming; the birds and butterflies are busy.  We even saw a baby cardinal at our window-feeder:  you can tell the baby ones because their bills/beaks haven't changed colors yet...still brownish instead of yellow-goldish.  Life is bubbling all around us.

After breakfast, Mr. T fixed a baggie of ice-cold watermelon chunks for me to take to N/M/E as her special request treat for the day.  "Don't forget my salt," she'd reminded me last night.  The last time I took her watermelon, I'd forgotten that essential item...essential to her, that is.  I, who over-salt everything else I eat, never use salt on my watermelon.  Go figure.

Anyway...

When I arrived around the lunch-tray time, I found Momma had a visitor.  CW, daughter of Mom's BFF AW, had stepped into the early morning visitation rotation slot, pinch-hitting for her ailing mother.  Way to go, C!  AW, who has been so very faithful in being there for coffee with Mom every, single morning, got put on the DL this past week with vertigo...my nemesis. Hoo boy...I felt her pain, as you can imagine.  I also told her that she could keep it...I don't want any part of that.  No. Way.

As Mr. T is preparing to head off to NJ for a week, I could feel the panic rising.  Momma had been having a good deal more break-through pain, especially in her back and under her rib-cage on the left side.  More pain.  Down to just one of us (that would be me!) in the Home Team visitation rotation. Should I hit the panic button?

No!  Not yet at least.  CW is there if/when I need her.  AW will be off the disabled list and back on the Home Team bench soon, as her vertigo is settling down (according to CW).  The All Stars (both brothers and their wives, plus Missy M) will begin gathering for the Holiday Weekend on Thursday, when Mr. T will also return.

And, most importantly, the doctors and nurses at Hospice have recognized that Momma's not feeling as well as she was.  Without my having to ask them, they adjusted her meds (mainly the steroid, I found out) to better-manage the pain.  Go Medical Staff!

This is all so new for me...having the medical folks step in and just do what needs to be done, without my having to make a case for it to anyone. 

So, after a little backslide as Momma called it, she has put her Rally Cap on...yet again.  How can that be anything but a good day?

==============================================================
P.S. Yes, I do use a few too many sports-related terms:  Rally Cap.  Pinch-hitting.  DL/Disabled List.  Bench.  Rotation.  Team.  Well, if you know my Momma, you know she loves her sports.  So, just run with it...:)

Why I Bother with Mascara is a Mystery

Ethel died today.  And I cried. 

You are probably wondering who Ethel is, and why I care enough to shed tears.  Answer Number One:  I don't know.  Answer Number Two:  Because.

Because "Ethel" was the name on the placard outside of Room 100.  Because that's the room next door to N/M/E's at Hospice Home. And, because I'd never met her, and until yesterday, I had never even seen any of her family.  There were no visitors to that room in the late-morning/lunch/early afternoon hours during the past two weeks, that I knew about. 

Until yesterday.  I noticed a woman and a young girl...possibly Ethel's daughter and grand-daughter?  But, it didn't dawn on me that there might be a reason for their visit, other than that it was just an ordinary visit.

When I arrived this morning for my ordinary visit with Momma, I noticed immediately a new Memorial Card on the entry hall table at 1803 Westchester. The name on the card was Ethel's.  And, even though I was loaded down with take-out from KFC, I had to stop and try to process the information. Ahhh.  The staff had probably called Ethel's family to come yesterday because they knew it was time.  Time to say goodbye.

Later, after Momma had eaten a few nibbles of her special request meal for the day (Extra-Crispy KFC chicken breast, slaw, and mashed potatoes and gravy), the nurse arrived to give her noon-time meds.  Seizing the opportunity, I slipped out of the room and took refuge in the Chapel.

There, I cried.  For Ethel.  For Ethel's family. For myself.  For the moment in the future when the staff will call me. The tears left no trace of my mascara...except in trails down my cheeks and on the torn tissue in my hand.

Then, a few solitary minutes later, I splashed some cold water on my face, put my smile back in its place, and headed back to Momma's room.  We had a new Southern Living to look at, after all. 

No more time to waste on tears.

Let Her Eat Cake...and Ice Cream!

I have a question for you:  if you knew your time on this earth was drawing to a close, and someone asked you if there was anything special you'd like to eat, anything at all...what would your answer be?  Think about it for a moment.

While you're thinking, I'll keep writing.  And, before you say "Patricia, aren't you being just a wee bit morbid today?" please remember that I spend every day from 10:00 to 2:00 in the Hospice Home with Nana/Momma/Edith.  Death...and the talk of death and dying...is ever-present.  And, thankfully, death is no longer a four-letter word for us...if you follow my drift there.  We have, quite frankly, begun to live with death...laugh about it...and lose some of our fear of it.

I can't remember if I've told you (I say that phrase quite often these days...:), but N/M/E stopped eating and drinking about 10 days ago while still here at home.  It was one of the darkest periods in this whole chapter.  When she got to Hospice Home and her medications were being administered through the port (instead of by mouth), she started to ask for sips of water occasionally, and then one day she wanted a milkshake.  It was music to our ears!

We have learned from the staff that it's OK if she doesn't want to eat...not to force it.  We've been told that as a body starts the dying process, it no longer needs food or fluids like it once did. Just follow her lead on this.

We started to notice that she rarely touched the soups, sandwiches, or other dishes on her tray...but she almost always ate anything sweet that arrived at meal time:  cakes, pies, cobblers, Krispy Kreme donuts, ice cream, etc.  Interesting.  Part of the explanation is that one of the medications she is getting (a steroid) causes a craving for sweets.  And, part of it is that this is perfectly normal behavior.  One staff member told me that her mother hated chocolate all of her life...until the very end, when all she wanted was chocolate cake!

You have to see the humor in the irony of this.  N/M/E dieted off-and-on for most of her life, battling a weight problem, and "sweets" were often on the taboo list.  Now?  Bring 'em on...line 'em up...and let me at 'em!  Diabetes be damned!!

So, today, after N/M/E had asked for a second dish of orange sherbet...and turned her nose up at the soup-and-sandwich combo...I asked if there was anything I could bring her that she would enjoy eating.  Anything at all.

She thought for a moment and gave me her answer with a big smile:  a pimiento cheese sandwich, a homemade sweet pickle, and an ice cold slice of watermelon. 

Oh, and a Butterfinger candy bar.

Guess what's on the menu for tomorrow at lunch?

Changes

Today's post is about the changes we are experiencing.  First of all, the weather has changed...for the better, if you want my opinion.  The temps have moderated...well, if you call dropping from the mid-90's to the mid-80's as "moderating."  I do.  As if in solidarity with the degrees, the humidity has also dropped.  No longer does it feel like a wet blanket thrown over your head when you walk outside.  Breathing is easier.


Hospice Home of High Point


More importantly, we have seen some positive changes for Nana/Momma/Edith.  As of last Thursday morning, she moved to Room 101 at Hospice Home of High Point.  Since then, she has adjusted to the medications that are now being delivered through a "port" instead of by mouth, her pain is being well-managed, and she is comfortable in her new surroundings. She expresses love for all the people who are caring for her...and they love her, too.  She is calm and rests easily. The changes for her are more than we could have imagined, given our experience of last Tuesday and Wednesday.

[I think I said in my last post that Mom was going to Respite Care on Thursday, but we realized that was no longer appropriate for her, following a swift decline since her falls on the previous Monday.  One call to her Hospice at Home nurse paved the way for the move to the Hospice Home.  I cannot say enough good things about this organization...they are wrapping our whole family in their tender, loving care, and giving us all what we need at this time.]

It truly has been a family affair.  Brother T (who has been with us since last week) organized our family schedule so that we could have someone in Mom's room around the clock, until she stabilized and adjusted to her new location.  When Brother J and SIL J arrived on Thursday, they were able to pull a double-shift to fill in for my absence while Mr. T had his surgery on Friday (he's recovering here at home, fighting a touch of fever, but otherwise doing well).  And, what would we do without our dear friend (Mom's BFF...:) AW?  She stays all night...she comes early in the morning...she's there for us when we need her.

I had a chance to speak to the MD/Director this morning, and he was pleased with Mom's responses.  He says that the next 7-10 days are important ones, and that they will maintain Mom on the present course unless things start to move in a different direction.

A friend recently recommended that I read the Hospice books.  I didn't know what she meant at the time, but I have since been introduced to the excellent "Gone From My Sight" booklet, inspired by the poem of the same name.  There are signs along the way, and we search for them at every opportunity. 

But, I did notice something about myself this morning.  Even though I asked Dr. P. where he thought we were (in the journey), I really am gradually relinquishing the over-reaching need I have to know. It's becoming more a desire just to be.

Talk about your changes...

Five O'Clock in the Morning

I haven't posted for a while, mainly because I've been too busy to even think about writing.  Well, busy...and just unable to translate thoughts to text.  Simply put, caring for Mom these past couple of weeks has been one of the hardest things I have done in my life. She is moving toward the end of her journey more rapidly than we'd imagined possible, and it keeps me physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. Sigh. Really big sigh.

Still, I committed to keeping kith and kin informed here on my blog, so I'll jot a few sentences.  No pretty pictures this time.  Just words.

As I posted last, Hospice of the Piedmont is providing at-home assistance for Mom.  That means that we have advisers available 24/7; it does not mean "they" are here, on-site round-the-clock.  Hospice is wonderful, don't misunderstand; it does have limitations, though.

While Mom's pain is being managed by the meds (and for that, we are eternally grateful)...some of which must be given every 2 hours, she is no longer able to participate in her own care.  She fell twice on Monday within 12 hours, hurting her right knee pretty badly.  Is now confined to bed with a catheter; disoriented just doesn't seem to describe it adequately.  She "sleeps" the majority of the time, although she has a great deal of restlessness and agitation...and she's often in another place, mentally.  We are told that is perfectly normal behavior, but it rarely "feels" normal.  Someone must be available for her at all times, and the Home Team is a bit shy on bench strength, shall we say?  It's just me and Mr. T...and he's about to be sidelined on the DL for a couple of weeks.

Oh, we are not entirely alone in this.  Missy M is making sure we are eating well by sending us meals from near and far; we had Honey Baked Ham's turkey dinner last night, and Corky's BBQ arrived for tonight.  Hooray!  Also, Brother T has arrived from KY to help out for a few days, and Brother and SIL J&J are scheduled to come spell us on Friday.  Mom will be in Hospice Respite Care over the weekend, so that I can turn my attention to caring for my dear husband of 35 years.

You see, Mr. T is scheduled for surgery on Friday and will need 2-3 weeks to recover.  No heavy lifting.  Just think "hernia," and you will be close.  Anyway, if you are wondering whether I'll still be standing...and sane...after all of this, well, you aren't the only one. 

Here's what I'm telling everyone:  when this is all over, I am going to have a nervous breakdown.  I've worked for it...I've earned it...and NO ONE is going to deprive me of it.  I remember reading that somewhere and thought it appropriate.

Anyway.

Think positive thoughts...and, if you have any to spare, send some our way.  Muito obrigado! Muita obrigada!...which is about the extent of the Portuguese I remember...and, I'm not sure about the feminine version...:)

OK.  I hear Mom calling.  I'd better close this for now.  One foot in front of the other....

The Cavalry Has Arrived!

When you think you have reached the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.

an American proverb,
with variations attributed to Thomas Jefferson (although Monticello.org says no),
Benjamin Franklin, Abraham Lincoln, and Franklin D. Roosevelt.

I have heard that saying (above)...or some variation...all of my life it, seems.  I even recall a cute cat poster on the same theme.  Truly, it has sprung to mind quite often recently, especially the "end of your rope" part.

Only...

I was getting desperate.  I needed to know not only exactly how long my allotted rope is, and therefore how much more rope I had to go...but also exactly what kind of knot I am supposed to be tying, for goodness' sakes.  A square knot?  A constrictor knot?? A half-hitch???  Details, dammit gosh darn it, I needed details.

Doesn't take a genius to figure out I was out of rope, for sure.  Hanging by a thread.  No knot, no nothing.

That was last Tuesday.  I had just returned from a lovely, much-needed...albeit brief...few days away with Missy M.  The moment I stepped back into my house, I could feel the oppressive helplessness.  You see, I had made a promise to Mom that I would do everything I could to make sure she didn't have to make the final steps in her journey in pain...and, I was failing miserably in keeping that promise.  And, anyone who knows me at all knows I hate to fail.  Hate. It.

What to do?

After putting in two calls to two different doctors on Wednesday...and speaking to their two nurses, we made an appointment with our family doctor for the next day.  I wasn't sure what else he could do to help us that he wasn't already doing, but...again...I was at the end of the rope.

He was kind and caring, as usual, and when the discussion got around to Hospice (as it has in the past), he reiterated "since Edith's choosing not to do any diagnostic tests (CT-scan, etc.), it might be difficult to get Hospice involved."  What he was saying was: we don't have a definitive DATE.  Without diagnostics, doctors are best-guessing on the number of a patient's days.  But, this time, the discussion ended with, "I'll do the best I can with the information we have."

We left the office with a glimmer of hope.  A tiny flicker.  We didn't want to yet believe, but we both felt we'd done what we could.  The ball was in someone else's court, as Mom said.

On Friday, we received a call from the Hospice of the Piedmont to schedule an initial in-home visit.  Apparently, Dr. K had said exactly what needed to be said to unlock that door for us.  And with that one conversation, I was able to tie that first knot in my rope.  A strong, secure double constrictor...just in case you are wondering...:)

On Saturday, Mr. T began the process of preparing our house in anticipation of daily visitors.  If you've been to our house, you know our Basset beasts are not user-friendly.  Oh, Gus and Duchess love to have visitors; they just aren't very well-behaved.  They bark incessantly and rarely respond to commands not to jump up on folks.  And, Elmo...well, he was never overly fond of strangers before he lost his eyesight; being blind hasn't improved his disposition in the least.  Sigh.

On Monday (a holiday, mind you), the Cavalry arrived around 10:00 a.m., in the persons of the Hospice Nurse and the Social Worker .  By the time they left in the early afternoon, we were all shedding tears of joy and relief.  I actually felt like exhaling for the first time in a very, very long while.  And, I had tied several more knots in my rope...which now felt more like a hammock than a rope-ladder.

First of all, the nurse added a pain medication to the mix to deal with the nerve pain.  And, something different to help with the nausea.  Then, she recommended that Mom have oxygen (which seems like a natural, but I've had great difficulty in getting a doctor to write that order). Would Mom like someone to come help her with bathing and washing her hair?  How about a chaplain to visit...and bring communion?  What about a Hospice volunteer to come visit for an hour or two each week...just to chat?  Did we need to schedule Respite Care?  No problem...Mom can have up to 5 days if we need it.

OMG.  PTL.  PMTSIIA (Pinch me to see if I'm awake).

After the team left, the pharmacy called: the new prescriptions were ready for me to pick-up.  The medical equipment supplier called to say when he'd deliver a new wheelchair and the oxygen apparati.  It's still a holiday, remember?

This morning, just one week after our darkest hours, we discovered yesterday hadn't all been a dream...it was, in fact, real.  The aide called to schedule today's visit for bath, etc., and the volunteer called to set up a "play date" on Friday.  I still feel a bit dazzled by the speed and extent of all their services...but I can adjust.



Filling up the new pool

So, how am I going to spend all my new-found leisure time, you ask? If you need me, I'll either be at the Guilford County Extension Center (Master Gardener volunteer workday in the Legacy Garden scheduled for tomorrow; MG Third Annual Community Garden Tour scheduled for Thursday night...I'll be a host at one of the 22 community gardens on tour) or in my own (neglected) garden...which is in sore need of weeding work.  I may have to break the cardinal rule of not working when the soil is wet, or when the temps rise above 90, but I'm afraid to put that chore off much longer.

If I'm not in one garden or the other, you'll probably find me chillin' in our new wading pool (photo, right).  Mr. T and I came home from Sam's Club with the neatest inflatable pool-in-a-box...8'x8'x22"; it even has a seat and two cup holders! He blew it up using the air compressor and filled it with water last night...all 277 gallons. The water was like ice, so we didn't linger any longer than it took to finish a glass of Riesling.  There should be a different story tonight after a 97-degree day...:) 

Yes, the cavalry has arrived...and I feel like a kid again!  Marco!  Polo!

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P.S.  See you in the funny papers...
Remember that I said I gave a Master Gardener Volunteer talk on Culinary Herbs at the High Point Library earlier this month?  Well, who should be in the audience but a reporter from the Jamestown News!  She wrote an article, which hopefully you can find here:  http://jamestownnews.womacknewspapers.com/articles/2011/05/26/news/lifestyles/lifestyles56.txt

Multitasking

I am a fan of doing more than one thing at a time.  There are so many things to do...and only 24 hours in a day to do them all.  In fact, I seem to be unable to just do one thing at a time...if I only have one thing to accomplish, I'll procrastinate until there is something else in relatively the same category.  Of course, there are times when I am doing several things at once, and I don't know whether I'm coming or going.  But I guess in the end it doesn't really matter if I eventually do what I needed to do and/or arrive in the place I wanted to be.


Legacy Garden at the
Guilford County Extension Center


Hunh?

Anyway...

I've got a few minutes here before I head to the Extension Center...where that photo (right) of the Legacy Garden was taken.  I'm prepping for my first Master Gardener Volunteer presentation tomorrow night and need to make some copies of handouts, retrieve the Speakers' Bureau laptop, etc.  Soooo, figuring that I had to make that l-o-n-g trek to the other side of the county anyway, I signed up for the afternoon shift on the Infoline for today.  Trying to make all those miles count twice, you see.  [You have seen the current price of gasoline, right?]



Culinary Herbs Display:
Herb Jar on right; Herb Fountain on left

 I'm scheduled to give the Culinary Herbs presentation at the High Point Library...and I'm really excited about the opportunity.  I think I told you that I made a display (photo, left) for the Passalong Plant Sale we had last week on that very same subject.  Killing two basils with one stone, you might say.  Multitasking, by any other name.  And, while I'm not an expert on herbs by any stretch of the imagination, one of the other MG volunteers who will be there is.  Many of the photos used in the PowerPoint are from his garden, so if any questions arise that I can't cover, I can hand those off to Maliq, I'm sure. 

To gain as much experience as I can on the subject of culinary herbs, I've planted several varieties along the center-path border in our Way Back garden (sage, parsley, stevia, dill) and in pots and containers all over the place (rosemary, lavender, dill, mints, lemon balm, chives, thyme, oregano).  I've done an Herb Jar (using a strawberry jar; on right, in the photo above/left, ) and an Herb Fountain (on left, in the photo above/left), using an idea from P.Allen Smith (love. him. ...:).  [It's not really a "fountain," with water flowing; it's made by using a large pot as the base, then adding one or more smaller pots in a stack...and filling them with herbs).]  I've got pots of mint and basil on the deck...and sprigs of mint and basil rooting on the kitchen windowsill.  Herbs, herbs, everywhere!

I'm stretching my own recipe file to include dishes made with herbs, which are a healthy alternative to other seasonings that are high in sodium or sugar.  Mint goes in nearly every cup of hot tea...and about half of the glasses of iced tea that come out of the kitchen.  I add fresh herbs to almost all my egg dishes (omelets...quiches...frittatas) as well as roasted chicken and vegetables (that's what's on the menu for tonight...:).  In order to have some recipe cards available for the Culinary Herbs presentation, I tried several new recipes (multitasking...again), including one for a great Italian Herb Bread* recipe (see below)...it's definitely a keeper! 

I'm also exploring the many ways to use herbs as companion plants...making them into multitaskers, as it were.  Basil and dill with tomatoes; parsley with carrots; and nasturtiums (didn't know they were herbs?  Think again!) with squash, cukes, and melons.  Insects are often repelled by the intense fragrances that are characteristic of herbs, so interplanting them with vegetables can be an organic, as well as edible, approach to controlling pests.  The hardest part of this idea?  Keeping Mr. T from weed-whacking the herbs...!  We are both learning new things here.

Before I close this post, I thought I'd add a bit about Mom.  I know that many of you come here to hear how she is doing, and I wish I could always have a positive comment for you to read.  That's becoming quite a challenge, and I struggle to find the words.  We are finding it increasingly difficult to adequately manage her pain with meds-by-mouth, so we know that we will soon be entering new territory with the alternative (IV-medication).  I'll keep you posted.

Time to close for today.  Hope you have a great week...wherever you are!

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Italian Herb Bread

Makes 2 loaves


Ingredients:

1 rounded Tablespoon dry yeast (1 1/2 packages)
2 cups warm water (105-115 degrees F)
2 tablespoons sugar
1/4 cup olive oil
1 tablespoon sea salt
2 tablespoons fresh basil, finely chopped
2 tablespoons fresh oregano, finely chopped
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese (can be mixed with grated Romano cheese)

Directions:


Mix yeast, 1/2 cup warm water, and sugar together in a large mixing cup. Set aside for five minutes, or until mixture becomes foamy and doubles in volume.

Mix the olive oil, salt, herbs, garlic powder, onion powder, cheese, 1 1/2 cups water, and 3 cups flour in a large mixing bowl; add in the yeast mixture. Gradually mix in two to three additional cups of flour. Dough will be stiff. Knead for 5 to 10 minutes (I use the dough-hook on my mixer), or until it is smooth and elastic. Place in an oiled bowl, turning to cover top and sides with oil.

Cover with a damp linen towel, or plastic wrap. Let rise for 1 hour, or until dough has doubled.

Punch down to release all the air. Shape into two loaves. Place loaves on a greased cookie sheet, or into two 9x5 inch, greased pans. Allow to rise for 1/2 hour again, until doubled, in a warm place.

Bake at 350 degrees for 35 minutes. Remove loaves from pans and let cool on wire racks for at least 15 minutes, before slicing. Great dipped in olive oil with cracked pepper. Enjoy!