Snail mail

As  POA for Mom, I've had to rely on my stash of legal size envelopes, stamps, and return address labels a few times.  That is in addition to having to fax things. The world runs on paper even still.  Don't believe me?  You will if you are ever in my situation...  Fax machines are still in use, as well as paper, real ink signatures, and postage.

I ran out of legal size envelopes, so I added them to my grocery list.  Previous to that, I was using just regular ole' envelopes, mostly to stay in touch with Mom.  We have been "faithful correspondents" for years since before I went away to college.  My handwriting was so sloppy that I started typing the letters - I was a busy mom of four, ya know.  I knew that she was delighted to receive them - she told me that it was the first thing she opened when she found one in the mail.  I wanted her to be able to read them with ease.  First 16 pt, then 15 pt.  Short and sweet - one page long.  They were my opportunity to tell her all of the things that she had so little patience to listen to on the phone.  And that was OK with me, as I knew she felt isolated and wanted to share what was going on in her life.  Truth be told, I wanted to hear it.  Even though she said I told her otherwise, I never did.

Looking at the plastic bin under my desk is hard.  I have no one else to write.  Mother may have misunderstood a thing or two that I wrote to her, and she often "quoted" me incorrectly, but writing her a letter, at least once every week or two, kept me grounded and connected to her.  At some point, I will collect all of those letters, that I am sure she never threw away, and add them to the collection of the letters she wrote to me in response.  They span years and years as a diary of our life together as mother and daughter.

Gus

Months ago I asked Mom what the plan was for Gus when it was time.  She knew exactly what I was talking about.  You know, Mom - when he's in pain or can't eat or can't get around?  "Gina, why can't you let me be happy?" was her reply.  (I hope to God she didn't trip over him and that's what caused her to fall just after her stroke...)

And I get that she didn't want to think of losing him.

But I also get that you can't just let him suffer needlessly after all this time as your faithful companion.  Gus was plagued by glaucoma and could not see.  Likely had migraines, according to the vet. Wasn't hearing too well.  Had a limp, probably due to arthritis or dislocated hip.  And had become incontinent.  This wasn't going to work  at my sister's house, and we didn't think anyone else was on the same page as we were.  Offers to help weren't really realistic.  Gus is an indoor dog and already a couple of years past his life expectancy.  Mom wasn't aware of Gus; Gus wasn't aware of Mom.  And there was no easy way around it - he had no quality of life and he needed us to relieve his suffering at the vet.  It was time.

So on Thursday, I did.

I'm not a dog lover, in general.  But I understand what he meant to her and I know she would not willingly part with him.  But she was asked several times if she wanted to see Gus, and she said no.  She had to know he was in a bad way.  It was the second time I had to let a pet go this way, crying like a baby the whole time.  I know my mother will forgive me one day when he greets her in heaven with his happy little barks and wagging tail.  I have to believe that I made the right decision to end his suffering and act humanely.

Rest in peace, Gus.  

Its September

I wanted a whole lot of things to be different in September.  I figured August was heading in the right direction,  and I believe the "expect the best" motto, so why shouldn't things continue well?  But as usual, life likes to throw curves at me, just to see if I'm prepared for the worst.  And maybe I am, because I refuse to sink, even if this is not an enjoyable boat ride.

Mother sailed through her mastectomy, with very minor and much to be expected surgical side effects.  She had one of my older sisters staying with her, which turns out was a very good thing.  All along I feared that mom was no longer safe by herself and I believe I was right.  Turns out she had fallen at least a couple of times before July - she just didn't tell all of us, least of all her doc.  At two weeks post surgery she was feeling cantankerous and yelled at my sister that it was time for her to go.  Which my sister did, not recognizing a change of behavior in my mother.  And exactly three days later, mom had a stroke while standing, fell, and hit her head hard.

So, stroke plus head trauma. Add in broken ribs.

She spent a couple weeks  in the hospital, bouncing back and forth from ICU and Neuro.  Then she got transferred to a rehab hospital, which was no rehab at all.

Were the 3 of us (two sisters and myself)  using that time to find her a nursing home?  Searching her house for Powers of Attorney or other legal paperwork?  Cancelling her internet, cell phone, and newspaper, arranging for mail delivery and bill pay, caring for her house? Working together for her care and future living arrangements?  All no.  It was just crisis mismanagement and distrust from the start.  This is what happens when you play your adult children against each other, allowing miscommunication to fester as you continue to insist that everything is fine and you're doing well on your own.  Until you aren't.

Its only September 3rd as I type this, and maybe by the end of the month some big things will have been resolved, God willing, and we can spend this time loving her, not warring with each other.