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.

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.

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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.

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?

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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...

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