Wednesday, March 21, 2012
The Journey Continues
It's hard to believe that it's been about 15 months since my last posting. In some ways so much has craziness has happened, while in others the journey has been slow and methodical. Nani no longer resides in Arizona as my husband and I had wished. Her hospitalization in November of 2010 resulted in a four month stay at Brighton Gardens in Scottsdale. As soon as we received the okay to transport mother, she was on a plane headed for the homeland of Wisconsin.
Our trip home was surreal as I had expected mother to be more sedate and quiet. I had even been advised to give her a mild sedative to help her with the journey as she was going from a quiet environment of the rehabilitation area in a nursing home to bustling airports and a two hour drive. Mom and I were the first ones on the plane, sitting in the first row. When toileting time arrived I wanted us to be as close to the little wash room as possible! She was vocal and appreciative to the pilot who helped us to get from the wheelchair to the her seat. She joked with the male flight attendant who served her a cup of coffee. Rather than sleeping during the almost four hour flight, she was observant and upright, catching every move of the folks around us throughout the entire flight. We rented a car in Milwaukee, stopped at McDonald's for a hamburger (her choice, not mine) and drove up to the Dells on March 1st - headed for Our House, an assisted living facility in Wisconsin Dells.
Her stay at Our House was brief, as her infection returned in June. She was admitted to St. Clare Hospital then to St. Clare Meadows for physical therapy. It was while at The Meadows that we realized that mom's care level was beyond what we were able to provide for her at home. Nani no longer walks. She requires the use of a lift to move her from bed to wheelchair, and from wheelchair to toilet. Her diabetes requires a scheduled regime of medication and special dietary needs. Her mental health and well-being requires medication of which does little for her continual loss of memory, but helps with her attitude by keeping her more even keeled and less filled with distress. Mother is currently a resident of the long term care unit of The Meadows.
This past February I was able to return home to spend a week with mom and family. While there was paperwork to do, a couple meetings to attend at the bank, and a doctor's appointment, my favorite parts of my time at home were my visits with Nani. Our visits took on a more emotional tone; it's really hard to describe. While over the past few years I have conversed with mom, cared for her physical needs, and we've talked about God and prayer, I've seen little emotional responses from her other than the occasional anger and lashing out when she was frustrated. On my last visit with her, I hesitated to tell her but finally broke down to say, "Well Nani, I hate to say this but I have to go now. I've got to get back to Arizona to work and be with my family." She looked up a me, and really looked at me. In the warm and gentle tone that I'll always remember as my mother's special way of speaking, she thanked me for visiting her and for all that I have done for her. She started getting choked up and I could see the tears welling up in her eyes. I didn't know what to say - but I didn't want her to cry. I didn't want this to be the last image that I remembered from our visit. I felt I needed to switch gears, so I said, "Well, you still have more for me to do, don't you mom?" "What's that?" she asked. Whenever I visit and it comes time to depart, I always ask her, "Mom, I'm taking off for now, but is there anything else that I can get for you when I get back?" Her constant reply is, "yes, a MAN!" We laughed, hugged, and I departed with the sound of the classic Bing Crosby movie playing in the background.
Our trip home was surreal as I had expected mother to be more sedate and quiet. I had even been advised to give her a mild sedative to help her with the journey as she was going from a quiet environment of the rehabilitation area in a nursing home to bustling airports and a two hour drive. Mom and I were the first ones on the plane, sitting in the first row. When toileting time arrived I wanted us to be as close to the little wash room as possible! She was vocal and appreciative to the pilot who helped us to get from the wheelchair to the her seat. She joked with the male flight attendant who served her a cup of coffee. Rather than sleeping during the almost four hour flight, she was observant and upright, catching every move of the folks around us throughout the entire flight. We rented a car in Milwaukee, stopped at McDonald's for a hamburger (her choice, not mine) and drove up to the Dells on March 1st - headed for Our House, an assisted living facility in Wisconsin Dells.
Her stay at Our House was brief, as her infection returned in June. She was admitted to St. Clare Hospital then to St. Clare Meadows for physical therapy. It was while at The Meadows that we realized that mom's care level was beyond what we were able to provide for her at home. Nani no longer walks. She requires the use of a lift to move her from bed to wheelchair, and from wheelchair to toilet. Her diabetes requires a scheduled regime of medication and special dietary needs. Her mental health and well-being requires medication of which does little for her continual loss of memory, but helps with her attitude by keeping her more even keeled and less filled with distress. Mother is currently a resident of the long term care unit of The Meadows.
This past February I was able to return home to spend a week with mom and family. While there was paperwork to do, a couple meetings to attend at the bank, and a doctor's appointment, my favorite parts of my time at home were my visits with Nani. Our visits took on a more emotional tone; it's really hard to describe. While over the past few years I have conversed with mom, cared for her physical needs, and we've talked about God and prayer, I've seen little emotional responses from her other than the occasional anger and lashing out when she was frustrated. On my last visit with her, I hesitated to tell her but finally broke down to say, "Well Nani, I hate to say this but I have to go now. I've got to get back to Arizona to work and be with my family." She looked up a me, and really looked at me. In the warm and gentle tone that I'll always remember as my mother's special way of speaking, she thanked me for visiting her and for all that I have done for her. She started getting choked up and I could see the tears welling up in her eyes. I didn't know what to say - but I didn't want her to cry. I didn't want this to be the last image that I remembered from our visit. I felt I needed to switch gears, so I said, "Well, you still have more for me to do, don't you mom?" "What's that?" she asked. Whenever I visit and it comes time to depart, I always ask her, "Mom, I'm taking off for now, but is there anything else that I can get for you when I get back?" Her constant reply is, "yes, a MAN!" We laughed, hugged, and I departed with the sound of the classic Bing Crosby movie playing in the background.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Trust the Process
For years I've been a person who facilitates diversity-related gatherings for high school and adult groups. Our curriculum was created by NCCJ, the National Conference for Community and Justice. When the organization first came about in the 50's it was called the National Conference for Christians and Jews. In the 70's the organization became more inclusive. I got involved in the mid-90's because of the enthusiasm of two of my high school students and due to the energy and enthusiasm of my students, I haven't turned back since.
I share this because one of the mantras that we have in our work is "trust the process." This saying has helped to ease the tension and stress that has a tendency to enter into the work and I've fallen back on the simplicity of this belief time and time again. Once again I'm leaning on this belief as I deal with the recent set-backs in my chapter as primary care giver for my dear Nani (mother). On Saturday of last week, the day after her Skype interview with all of our relations in Wisconsin, Mother was complaining of being cold. "I just can't get warm," she said. So I put another warm blanket on her, tucked it in around her feet and shoulders, refilled her coffee, and returned to my lesson planning. Again she complained, "I'm freezing." I made her some warm tea and heated up some soup, while also putting a stocking cap on her head. Our house was built in the late 40's and has a tendency to be drafty around the windows and doors areas, so I thought that she was just feeling the late-November chills of the desert Southwest. I took her temperature with our digital thermometer and it read 97 F. When the tea and soup didn't help, I started rubbing her shoulders and massaging oil behind her ears and neck. It was then that I noticed the way that her body was shivering under the three layers of Pendleton blankets that covered her body. I called my sister in Wisconsin to see if this had ever happened before to mom. In a calm, reassuring voice my sister told me that this had never happened before and she told me to call an urgent care center. I immediately jumped online and discovered the plethora of urgent care resources available in our area. This was too confusing! At that time, Mom started to shiver to the point that she was making her whole body shake in her chair and I knew at that time that I needed to call 9-1-1. After placing the call I rubbed her shoulders again, calming her and telling her that my friends were on the way to help. In less than 5 minutes, the Emergency Response Team (ERT) were at the door. As they took her vitals we discovered that her temperature was actually over 101 F. They immediately told me that she was too sick to stay at home and they recommended a hospital in Scottsdale. I tried to center myself and ask questions in order to collect the paperwork and information that would be needed at the hospital. The ERT folks were awesome and assuring. I collected our stuff and followed the ambulance to the hospital. On the way there I called my family in Wisconsin and my son in AZ. My wonderful sonny-boy was at my side and greeted me with a hug as soon as I reached the hospital. I couldn't have dealt with things as calmly as I did if it hadn't been for him.
We spent the next 5 hours in the emergency ward as mom was hooked up to an IV and given medication to address her high temperature. The ER doctor visited us numerous times to bring us up to date regarding the findings of blood tests and her chess x-ray. At about 3:30 we learned that Mom had an infection in her blood, and evidence of the infection was found on her leg; the symptoms of the infection were redness, heat, and inflammation and it covered the entire area from her knee to her ankle. The doctor and nurses asked if I had noticed this redness earlier and unfortunately, I hadn't seen this before. My mind was racing, and I thought back of the times that I had helped her to go to the bathroom the night before and change her clothes just that morning. Why hadn't I seen this?
Our final hour in ER was waiting for the doctor to determine what type of bacteria was in Mom's bloodstream and causing this inflammation and infection. The end diagnosis was cellulitus, an infection of mom's right leg caused by a streptococcal bacteria. Fortunately it was caught early, but Mom would have to be admitted to the hospital as some serious antibiotics would be needed to fight this infection and rid it from mom's body. Mom was admitted and I stayed for another two hours as she was able to eat (after 6 hours in the ER) and we were able to get all of the necessary information to her new doctor and medical staff. It was quite a day.
Mom spent the next 5 days in the hospital. I requested a leave of absence from work which was granted without question. This episode conflicted with an annual conference that I attend, so while I was disappointed that I wasn't able to participate in this annual professional development opportunity, I was so happy that I could be home for mom. Her levels of tolerance and frustration were like riding a classic roller coaster. At times she was patient and loving, while other times she was loud and obnoxious. I was hoping that my presence at her bedside would help her to deal with all the poking and prodding that hospital stays entail, but alas, her yelling and uncooperative attitude was true to that of other dementia/early Alzheimers patients. While I tried to calm her and encourage her to be more cooperative, she was going to be who she was going to be and act the way she wanted to act. The upside of this whole week was that the antibiotics were doing the trick, her infection was visually decreasing in size. The downside of this incident was that 5 days in a hospital for an 86 year old diabetic patient resulted in mom's loss of mobility, i.e. standing and walking.
On Thursday the doctor informed me that they had done everything that they could for mom. Her infection was under control. But, the doctor couldn't recommend bed rest at home, due to her inability to stand and walk as reported by the physical therapists that had worked with Mom over the last few days. It was ordered by the doctor that Mom receive physical therapy at a facility that could offer skilled nursing. In other words, Mom would be going to an assisted living facility. Within the next hour the social worker was there asking where I would like Mom to be placed. I hadn't a clue. It had all happened so quickly that I didn't know where she could go, let alone what type of facility that I should look for on her behalf. I was informed that she was going to be discharged in the next 6 hours and I needed to make a decision. It was at that time that I called my husband and told him what was going on and that I needed some help. He assured me that everything was going to be alright and that I needed to ask the social worker for information and recommendations. I immediately did as he had suggested, and the case worker supplied me with four pages worth of facilities in the area that specialized in Mom's physical needs. I would spend the next 4 hours driving around the area in search of the best place to care for my mother. Murphy's law prevailed and the final location of the day was the place for mom. The call was made, I returned to the hospital, and by 7pm that evening mom was half-way home.
Mom's been at BG in Scottsdale for three days. Since her arrival there I've visited her about 7 times. The emotions that I've felt since placing Mom in their care has been full-spectrum, from delight to guilt. Tonight I sit here composing this story with a feeling of disappointment in myself yet at the same time trying to find a way to remember the words that have always kept me going... trust the process. I was so hopeful that Mom's time with me in Arizona would be happy and carefree. We'd enjoy the nice temperatures and ability to do our occasional outings throughout the fall, winter, and spring, and we'd return to our homeland of Wisconsin after Memorial Day. She would maintain her level of activity and all would be good. My hope was that we'd be able to maintain this lifestyle for at least a couple of years. But unfortunately, life has thrown us a curve-ball. I know that I'll get by, and perhaps in time my feelings of guilt and disappointment will pass, but I wonder about Mom. While she assures me that she's fine and comfortable there, and that she's getting good care, I hope that she's not feeling bewildered, scared, or abandoned when I'm not there. This is so hard; my heart is breaking.
The most shitty part of this whole chapter is that it's the 20+ days before Christmas. Right before I left Mom today, she asked me to help her to go to the toilet. As I wheeled her into the bathroom and assisted her on to her porcelain throne, we talked about how she was feeling. She asked me, "how did I get so old... and, why didn't I just stay young?" I told me that I often share with my students that I'm a twenty seven year old woman trapped in a 50 year old body. We laughed together, as we acknowledged our similar stories.
Once I got her back into bed, snuggled up with several layers of covers and a fresh cup of warm tea, she sent me out shopping this afternoon, in search of clothing for her great-grandchildren. Tomorrow I'll take these things over to show mom, and perhaps together we'll wrap them and send them off to the family. And tomorrow will be another day, dedicated to my Nani...
I share this because one of the mantras that we have in our work is "trust the process." This saying has helped to ease the tension and stress that has a tendency to enter into the work and I've fallen back on the simplicity of this belief time and time again. Once again I'm leaning on this belief as I deal with the recent set-backs in my chapter as primary care giver for my dear Nani (mother). On Saturday of last week, the day after her Skype interview with all of our relations in Wisconsin, Mother was complaining of being cold. "I just can't get warm," she said. So I put another warm blanket on her, tucked it in around her feet and shoulders, refilled her coffee, and returned to my lesson planning. Again she complained, "I'm freezing." I made her some warm tea and heated up some soup, while also putting a stocking cap on her head. Our house was built in the late 40's and has a tendency to be drafty around the windows and doors areas, so I thought that she was just feeling the late-November chills of the desert Southwest. I took her temperature with our digital thermometer and it read 97 F. When the tea and soup didn't help, I started rubbing her shoulders and massaging oil behind her ears and neck. It was then that I noticed the way that her body was shivering under the three layers of Pendleton blankets that covered her body. I called my sister in Wisconsin to see if this had ever happened before to mom. In a calm, reassuring voice my sister told me that this had never happened before and she told me to call an urgent care center. I immediately jumped online and discovered the plethora of urgent care resources available in our area. This was too confusing! At that time, Mom started to shiver to the point that she was making her whole body shake in her chair and I knew at that time that I needed to call 9-1-1. After placing the call I rubbed her shoulders again, calming her and telling her that my friends were on the way to help. In less than 5 minutes, the Emergency Response Team (ERT) were at the door. As they took her vitals we discovered that her temperature was actually over 101 F. They immediately told me that she was too sick to stay at home and they recommended a hospital in Scottsdale. I tried to center myself and ask questions in order to collect the paperwork and information that would be needed at the hospital. The ERT folks were awesome and assuring. I collected our stuff and followed the ambulance to the hospital. On the way there I called my family in Wisconsin and my son in AZ. My wonderful sonny-boy was at my side and greeted me with a hug as soon as I reached the hospital. I couldn't have dealt with things as calmly as I did if it hadn't been for him.
We spent the next 5 hours in the emergency ward as mom was hooked up to an IV and given medication to address her high temperature. The ER doctor visited us numerous times to bring us up to date regarding the findings of blood tests and her chess x-ray. At about 3:30 we learned that Mom had an infection in her blood, and evidence of the infection was found on her leg; the symptoms of the infection were redness, heat, and inflammation and it covered the entire area from her knee to her ankle. The doctor and nurses asked if I had noticed this redness earlier and unfortunately, I hadn't seen this before. My mind was racing, and I thought back of the times that I had helped her to go to the bathroom the night before and change her clothes just that morning. Why hadn't I seen this?
Our final hour in ER was waiting for the doctor to determine what type of bacteria was in Mom's bloodstream and causing this inflammation and infection. The end diagnosis was cellulitus, an infection of mom's right leg caused by a streptococcal bacteria. Fortunately it was caught early, but Mom would have to be admitted to the hospital as some serious antibiotics would be needed to fight this infection and rid it from mom's body. Mom was admitted and I stayed for another two hours as she was able to eat (after 6 hours in the ER) and we were able to get all of the necessary information to her new doctor and medical staff. It was quite a day.
Mom spent the next 5 days in the hospital. I requested a leave of absence from work which was granted without question. This episode conflicted with an annual conference that I attend, so while I was disappointed that I wasn't able to participate in this annual professional development opportunity, I was so happy that I could be home for mom. Her levels of tolerance and frustration were like riding a classic roller coaster. At times she was patient and loving, while other times she was loud and obnoxious. I was hoping that my presence at her bedside would help her to deal with all the poking and prodding that hospital stays entail, but alas, her yelling and uncooperative attitude was true to that of other dementia/early Alzheimers patients. While I tried to calm her and encourage her to be more cooperative, she was going to be who she was going to be and act the way she wanted to act. The upside of this whole week was that the antibiotics were doing the trick, her infection was visually decreasing in size. The downside of this incident was that 5 days in a hospital for an 86 year old diabetic patient resulted in mom's loss of mobility, i.e. standing and walking.
On Thursday the doctor informed me that they had done everything that they could for mom. Her infection was under control. But, the doctor couldn't recommend bed rest at home, due to her inability to stand and walk as reported by the physical therapists that had worked with Mom over the last few days. It was ordered by the doctor that Mom receive physical therapy at a facility that could offer skilled nursing. In other words, Mom would be going to an assisted living facility. Within the next hour the social worker was there asking where I would like Mom to be placed. I hadn't a clue. It had all happened so quickly that I didn't know where she could go, let alone what type of facility that I should look for on her behalf. I was informed that she was going to be discharged in the next 6 hours and I needed to make a decision. It was at that time that I called my husband and told him what was going on and that I needed some help. He assured me that everything was going to be alright and that I needed to ask the social worker for information and recommendations. I immediately did as he had suggested, and the case worker supplied me with four pages worth of facilities in the area that specialized in Mom's physical needs. I would spend the next 4 hours driving around the area in search of the best place to care for my mother. Murphy's law prevailed and the final location of the day was the place for mom. The call was made, I returned to the hospital, and by 7pm that evening mom was half-way home.
Mom's been at BG in Scottsdale for three days. Since her arrival there I've visited her about 7 times. The emotions that I've felt since placing Mom in their care has been full-spectrum, from delight to guilt. Tonight I sit here composing this story with a feeling of disappointment in myself yet at the same time trying to find a way to remember the words that have always kept me going... trust the process. I was so hopeful that Mom's time with me in Arizona would be happy and carefree. We'd enjoy the nice temperatures and ability to do our occasional outings throughout the fall, winter, and spring, and we'd return to our homeland of Wisconsin after Memorial Day. She would maintain her level of activity and all would be good. My hope was that we'd be able to maintain this lifestyle for at least a couple of years. But unfortunately, life has thrown us a curve-ball. I know that I'll get by, and perhaps in time my feelings of guilt and disappointment will pass, but I wonder about Mom. While she assures me that she's fine and comfortable there, and that she's getting good care, I hope that she's not feeling bewildered, scared, or abandoned when I'm not there. This is so hard; my heart is breaking.
The most shitty part of this whole chapter is that it's the 20+ days before Christmas. Right before I left Mom today, she asked me to help her to go to the toilet. As I wheeled her into the bathroom and assisted her on to her porcelain throne, we talked about how she was feeling. She asked me, "how did I get so old... and, why didn't I just stay young?" I told me that I often share with my students that I'm a twenty seven year old woman trapped in a 50 year old body. We laughed together, as we acknowledged our similar stories.
Once I got her back into bed, snuggled up with several layers of covers and a fresh cup of warm tea, she sent me out shopping this afternoon, in search of clothing for her great-grandchildren. Tomorrow I'll take these things over to show mom, and perhaps together we'll wrap them and send them off to the family. And tomorrow will be another day, dedicated to my Nani...
Friday, November 26, 2010
Giving Thanks
In my opinion, one of the best video projects to date that integrates the Native and non-native perspective about the American holiday known as Thanksgiving is the PBS American Experience production, We Shall Remain, episode 1. “For those who follow the pilgrims across the Atlantic, the first Thanksgiving would enter into national mythology where it remains the bright opening chapter of the American creation story. For the Wampanoag and for Massasoit, the memory of that day would recede into darker places, shadowed by betrayal and loss.”
Yesterday, as I shared the table with my Arizona family, I reflected upon my childhood when at the very same table at my parent’s home in Wisconsin, many Hochunk and non-Hochunk relatives would gather together in the spirit of gratitude for all of the blessings received from our Creator. And yesterday, who was absent from our table at mealtime? Unfortunately, it was Mom. While others passed the various platters and bowls that contained all of the traditional Thanksgiving fare, Mom chose to stay in her chair, eat from her tray, and bask in the company of the local broadcast of Macy’s Thanksgiving parade. I excused myself numerous times to check on her and sit with her, as her enjoyment of the food faded into her need for several long naps that filled the majority of her day. This was her first Thanksgiving in Arizona. Although she had spent many winter months with us in the past, her visits always took place after the Christmas holiday and depending upon the success of her beloved Packers, after the Superbowl. As I looked at her as she slept in her comfy chair, in spite of the conversation and laughter that filled our dining room, I wondered if we would be blessed to share another future Thanksgiving with Mom.
Our tribe designated today, November 26th, as Hochunk Day. It was a special day for Dr. Helen Miner Miller, Steven Kirkwood, and Mom as the Hochunk Nation honored them because of their commitment to the future and well-being of their people, the Hochunk (Winnebago) people of Wisconsin. These three elders are the last remaining members of the original Wisconsin Winnebago Business Committee members, and they were responsible for working together for countless volunteer hours to organize the tribe back in the early 1960’s. Their combined effort resulted in our tribe’s ability to gain federal recognition in 1963. My sister suggested using Skype to connect Mom in Arizona with the folks back in Wisconsin and thanks to cyberspace mom was able to participate in the event held in Black River Falls. It was pretty cool to see Mom’s reaction to this new way of connecting with others, as well as her ability to visit in both English and Hochunk with her sister, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and other relatives. It was priceless; today was a good day to be a Hochunk.
Thankfully, to date my Mom is doing well. She’s still able to feed herself, communicate her needs, walk with the assistance of her walker to the bathroom and her bedroom, come up with some good one-liners from time to time, and tell all of us how thankful she is for all that we’re doing for her. She can’t dress herself, stand up by herself, or remember vital information such as the date and time, where she is, when she needs her medication, and when she ate her last meal. Most days she calls me by her sister Alberta’s Hochunk name, Ha Hay Monee. After reading the book, The 36 Hour Day, I’ve learned not to correct her but rather tell her how grateful I am that I remind her of her sister. I’m glad that comments like this facilitate opportunities for Mom and I to talk. The challenge for us now is to avoid those moments that remind her that she’s gradually losing more of her abilities to remember things and to actively engage in day-to-day activities.
This Thanksgiving was especially significant to me. I am thankful to have my mother with me in Arizona even though her needs have resulted in many adjustments to the life that my husband and I shared prior to her arrival. I trust that this chapter in our lives will only make our relationship stronger. I am thankful for all of my elders and ancestors that have passed, as their good times and hardships have helped to shape my life and the lives of all of my relations. I am thankful for the legacy that was given to my people by my mother, my Nanee Helen and Mr. Kirkwood. I trust that their example of dedication to the well-being of others and willingness to give freely of themselves without compensation will last with me and others as we work together to remember, to maintain our culture, and to value our lifeways for generations to come. And lastly, I am thankful for the responsibility of being my mother’s primary caregiver and ally. I trust that I will be able to serve my mom with the love and kindness that she deserves and to respect and teach the young one’s about all that she has done for them.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Two Step: My Favorite Dance
Every time we're in the car, I put in a CD of Hochunk music. My personal favorites are Bearheart Singers, my tega (uncle) Ken Funmaker and family. Although he and his son Nelson have passed, their dedication to preserving our beloved Hochunk drum songs will live on in the cds and tapes that they produced. When mom listens to this music, she sings along and pats her hand on her leg in time with the music. It's great to see her so animated. Often times I wish I wasn't driving because I'd like to jot down what she says, those great memories that comes to her when hearing this music. She'll share something with me about the song -- why it was composed, the last time she danced to the song, and where she heard it last. I like to remember the last time that I'd dance alongside my mom at pow wows or the Stand Rock Indian Ceremonial. The two step has always my favorite, and back in the day, my mom was quite the dancer, too! We've also been watching the VHS and DVD format movies that the Hocak Wazija Haci (our tribe's language program) has distributed to tribal members. The videos that are produced, most specifically stories told in Hochunk (with English sub captions) are her favorite. She actively listens; I can tell because of her body language and the fact that she waves me off when I ask her a question during each film. I've learned to use the pause button, get her attention, and then ask a question. Otherwise she's so in to the story that my side conversation is too much of a distraction and she gets frustrated when she can't concentrate. It's something to witness, because this doesn't happen when she's watching regular TV or a movie in English. Both TV and movies are just background noise, she doesn't really follow the storyline or plot -- but the sound of the TV must be calming to her because she always wants it turned on.
Since my last posting I've been successful at getting Nani into the tub. It was a challenge, and I was not going to give in to her stubbornness. I do my little "happy dance" every time we finish our bath time, and she always comments, over and over again how good the scrubbing and warm water feels on her back and how good it feels when she gets her lotion rub-down afterward.
This weekend marks Mom's third month away from Wisconsin. She still regularly asks for my older sister, Roxi and I have to share that Roxi doesn't live with us in Arizona. Then she asks about what the other Hochunk elders are doing, and I have to share that I'm not sure. I've recently received information about the elder programs at the Arizona Intertribal Council office, so I'm hoping that I can get mom involved with other wak sik xate (Native elders) in the near future. In retrospect, I wish that we had more family members that live closer to us. It means to much to mom to have family around and converse with others in Hochunk. Even though she often says that she's so thankful to us and for the care that we're giving to her her in Arizona, she's looking forward to returning to her homeland in June.
Since my last posting I've been successful at getting Nani into the tub. It was a challenge, and I was not going to give in to her stubbornness. I do my little "happy dance" every time we finish our bath time, and she always comments, over and over again how good the scrubbing and warm water feels on her back and how good it feels when she gets her lotion rub-down afterward.
This weekend marks Mom's third month away from Wisconsin. She still regularly asks for my older sister, Roxi and I have to share that Roxi doesn't live with us in Arizona. Then she asks about what the other Hochunk elders are doing, and I have to share that I'm not sure. I've recently received information about the elder programs at the Arizona Intertribal Council office, so I'm hoping that I can get mom involved with other wak sik xate (Native elders) in the near future. In retrospect, I wish that we had more family members that live closer to us. It means to much to mom to have family around and converse with others in Hochunk. Even though she often says that she's so thankful to us and for the care that we're giving to her her in Arizona, she's looking forward to returning to her homeland in June.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
One of the Four Agreements: Don't Take Things Personally
For many, many years, my mom was a Sunday school teacher at the Presbyterian church in my hometown. Her bible traveled in the backseat of her car and this well-worn book now resides on the antique table in the living room of her home in Wisconsin. Mom has also always been active in the Medicine Lodge, the traditional religion of the Hochunk people. I share this because the dogma of the two belief systems have been a constant in my life because of my parent's beliefs. When I was two I was baptized in the Presbyterian Church in the morning, and then I received my Hochunk name from my uncle Howard Windblow in the lodge in the afternoon. I never really saw a difference between the two when it came down to their core teachings. Whether we were sitting in the pews of the church as dad sang in the choir and mom's circle group would prepare the coffee and cookies for the post-service fellowship, or we kids were sitting on the ground, peering under the canvas flaps, tightly bonded to the bent tamarack poles that maintained the secure foundation of the medicine lodge. The smells, the murmuring of the speakers and the prayers, and the acknowledgment that we all belonged to both were symbols of my connection to God or Ma oo nah (Earth Maker).
My favorite Bible verse also comes to mind:
Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude.
Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right.
Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.
1 Cor. 4-8
These thoughts fill my mind and my heart this evening as I need these memories to help me to process through the emotions of this day. Beginning last month Mom has developed a serious dry, itchy skin condition on various parts of her body. Her scalp, left ear, right hand, lower back, and inside of her legs are constantly bothering her, resulting in intense scratching to the point of bleeding, and regular requests for lotion and a back rub. Upon consultation with her doctor, we've adjusted a diaretic medication prescribed to help with her swollen ankles, and the doctor has recommended at least two baths a week, followed by a liberal dousing with a recommended skin lotion. The doctor has also recommended that she drink less coffee and encourage more liquids, especially water. Well all I can say is "easier said than done." I can also say that tonight was painful and that this twice a week bath thing is going to be a struggle. And not a physical struggle mind you, but an emotional struggle if tonight's incident is an example of what's to come. After mother's dinner, I set up the bath area as I usually do, with her fuzzy pink bathrobe, towels, and fresh undergarments, and her bed area with fresh sheets, lotion and gloves. I was ready in my mind, prepared to convince her that bath time would be quick, enjoyable, and helpful as we work together to ease her discomfort and her itching.
Well, I was able to get her to the bathroom, but what transpired in the bathroom, will stay in the bathroom -- I won't go into full detail. But I will share that in spite of my pleading for her to take a bath (I was speaking in English), she pretty much told me off first in Hochunk, and when I asked her to please speak in English because I couldn't understand everything that she was saying, she apologized for bringing me into the world because I was a failure as a Hochunk woman and as her daughter because I don't speak Hochunk and I don't know the Hochunk ways. Wow, I never thought I'd hear those words come out of my mother's mouth. I now know that I hate dementia, as this chronic illness robs it's victim of those valuable filters and this illness isn't going to play fair. I also know that I would never make a good counselor because I don't have the thick skin necessary to be objective when hurtful comments are cast my way. And lastly, I know that I need to become fluent in my native language if I'm going to be a good care provider for my mom.
No one ever told me that this was going to be easy. If anyone would have told me that caring for my 86 year old mother was going to be a joyous and fulfilling period in my life, I would have told them that they were probably lying or crazy. I've known for the past 3 years that this was going to be trying at times, as my older sister had been mom's care provider up until mom's move down here to Arizona. My sister did the best that she could, but she often expressed that burn out and frustration were always lurking behind the corner -- just waiting to throw a rock and show their ugly faces. Tonight I felt the first pebble's sting.
As I look up from my work table and read The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz posted on my dream board, I need to remember and reflect upon the following:
1) Be impeccable with my words
2) Don't take things personally
3) Don't make assumptions
4) Always do my best
Due to her dementia, mom won't remember today. I kinda wish I could forget, too.
My favorite Bible verse also comes to mind:
Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude.
Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right.
Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.
1 Cor. 4-8
These thoughts fill my mind and my heart this evening as I need these memories to help me to process through the emotions of this day. Beginning last month Mom has developed a serious dry, itchy skin condition on various parts of her body. Her scalp, left ear, right hand, lower back, and inside of her legs are constantly bothering her, resulting in intense scratching to the point of bleeding, and regular requests for lotion and a back rub. Upon consultation with her doctor, we've adjusted a diaretic medication prescribed to help with her swollen ankles, and the doctor has recommended at least two baths a week, followed by a liberal dousing with a recommended skin lotion. The doctor has also recommended that she drink less coffee and encourage more liquids, especially water. Well all I can say is "easier said than done." I can also say that tonight was painful and that this twice a week bath thing is going to be a struggle. And not a physical struggle mind you, but an emotional struggle if tonight's incident is an example of what's to come. After mother's dinner, I set up the bath area as I usually do, with her fuzzy pink bathrobe, towels, and fresh undergarments, and her bed area with fresh sheets, lotion and gloves. I was ready in my mind, prepared to convince her that bath time would be quick, enjoyable, and helpful as we work together to ease her discomfort and her itching.
Well, I was able to get her to the bathroom, but what transpired in the bathroom, will stay in the bathroom -- I won't go into full detail. But I will share that in spite of my pleading for her to take a bath (I was speaking in English), she pretty much told me off first in Hochunk, and when I asked her to please speak in English because I couldn't understand everything that she was saying, she apologized for bringing me into the world because I was a failure as a Hochunk woman and as her daughter because I don't speak Hochunk and I don't know the Hochunk ways. Wow, I never thought I'd hear those words come out of my mother's mouth. I now know that I hate dementia, as this chronic illness robs it's victim of those valuable filters and this illness isn't going to play fair. I also know that I would never make a good counselor because I don't have the thick skin necessary to be objective when hurtful comments are cast my way. And lastly, I know that I need to become fluent in my native language if I'm going to be a good care provider for my mom.
No one ever told me that this was going to be easy. If anyone would have told me that caring for my 86 year old mother was going to be a joyous and fulfilling period in my life, I would have told them that they were probably lying or crazy. I've known for the past 3 years that this was going to be trying at times, as my older sister had been mom's care provider up until mom's move down here to Arizona. My sister did the best that she could, but she often expressed that burn out and frustration were always lurking behind the corner -- just waiting to throw a rock and show their ugly faces. Tonight I felt the first pebble's sting.
As I look up from my work table and read The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz posted on my dream board, I need to remember and reflect upon the following:
1) Be impeccable with my words
2) Don't take things personally
3) Don't make assumptions
4) Always do my best
Due to her dementia, mom won't remember today. I kinda wish I could forget, too.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Seeking Balance
For the past four years I have relished the life of an "empty-nester." Although I miss my husband, who's work hours are the total flip-side of mine, I still had the ability to come and go as I please and enjoy the solitude that artists seek from time to time. Quiet time is a need, not a want. My career border-lined with exciting in-town & out-of-town trips and exhausting hours at times. But all in all, it was all good. It filled me up and made me happy. I knew that I was making a difference.
Since welcoming Mom, my life has taken a 180 degree shift. I've stepped down from my administrative position at my school to return to the classroom. No more summer school, weekend, and evening commitments for me, thank God! While I'm still running like crazy at times, I'm doing what I love and I love what I'm doing. In these tough economic times, I feel blessed to have the opportunities that I have as again, I know that I'm contributing in a positive way to the lives of young people.
But when it comes to my home life, I have not found the balance that I need as a caregiver. Fortunately Mom is with a certified care provider that she pays for every week day while I'm away at work. I drive home every day during lunch to administer her insulin and check on her. Each early evening at the end of my workday as I approach the back door of my home, I know my day will now be dedicated to my mom, even if I have school-work that needs to be addressed for the following day. Mom has shared that she doesn't like being alone, and I can tell by her demeanor and body language that sitting in a room by herself is uncomfortable and perhaps, stressful. She is happiest when she's sitting in her recliner in the living room with her coffee and cigarette (we've switched to the new electronic cigs since she's moved it - they're great!) by her side and her caregiver there as well, enjoying a television program or having a conversation as the TV plays in the background. She also thinks having her own room is a "wow" moment, and enjoys sitting or lying in bed, TV on, with her caregiver in the stuffed chair by her side. So where does this leave me? My work table in my art studio is now a "catch-all" and the days of reading my book of the month in my comfy bed are currently put on hold. I know, it's the role that I've assumed for the time being, but I need to find my balance between engaging in the stuff that makes me happy and fills me up spiritually as well as the stuff that mom needs to do the same. Frankly, I'm not there yet. I haven't regularly worked out since August and I haven't produced any art either. My thoughts of taking on-line classes have frittered away as well because I just don't know how to focus on other projects while attending to mom's needs. I know, I know, I need to find support, but finding the time to do that is taxing, too.
So, where do I go in my heart and soul to keep the positive vibes flowing and brightness in my attitude? I focus on the blessings that mom's presence brings to my life. Since she's arrived my use of my native Hochunk language has increased two-fold. We're talking about relatives and family stories that I'm noting in a journal that sits on the coffee table in the living room. When she's the most lucid, her memories of my dad, siblings, and relatives come flooding out, and I attempt to make sense of different periods of history in her life that I never understood. My hubby installed a walk-in tub for my mom and her use of this wonderful invention continues to increase every week. Although it's rough getting her to agree to a bath, once she's surrounded by the warmth of the water and sensations of getting her body scrubbed, out come the stories of past Saturday nights, as bath time to her brings back the memories of preparing for her nights out and about, back in the day. The photo above is mom in her early 20's - I can just imagine mom and my dad cruising around in dad's Packard convertible on a Saturday night!
This week I've got to make the time to find someone to help me to keep myself happy and healthy, physically and mentally. A couple of afternoons and 1/2 a day on the weekend should do it -- now if I could just find that person!!
Since welcoming Mom, my life has taken a 180 degree shift. I've stepped down from my administrative position at my school to return to the classroom. No more summer school, weekend, and evening commitments for me, thank God! While I'm still running like crazy at times, I'm doing what I love and I love what I'm doing. In these tough economic times, I feel blessed to have the opportunities that I have as again, I know that I'm contributing in a positive way to the lives of young people.
But when it comes to my home life, I have not found the balance that I need as a caregiver. Fortunately Mom is with a certified care provider that she pays for every week day while I'm away at work. I drive home every day during lunch to administer her insulin and check on her. Each early evening at the end of my workday as I approach the back door of my home, I know my day will now be dedicated to my mom, even if I have school-work that needs to be addressed for the following day. Mom has shared that she doesn't like being alone, and I can tell by her demeanor and body language that sitting in a room by herself is uncomfortable and perhaps, stressful. She is happiest when she's sitting in her recliner in the living room with her coffee and cigarette (we've switched to the new electronic cigs since she's moved it - they're great!) by her side and her caregiver there as well, enjoying a television program or having a conversation as the TV plays in the background. She also thinks having her own room is a "wow" moment, and enjoys sitting or lying in bed, TV on, with her caregiver in the stuffed chair by her side. So where does this leave me? My work table in my art studio is now a "catch-all" and the days of reading my book of the month in my comfy bed are currently put on hold. I know, it's the role that I've assumed for the time being, but I need to find my balance between engaging in the stuff that makes me happy and fills me up spiritually as well as the stuff that mom needs to do the same. Frankly, I'm not there yet. I haven't regularly worked out since August and I haven't produced any art either. My thoughts of taking on-line classes have frittered away as well because I just don't know how to focus on other projects while attending to mom's needs. I know, I know, I need to find support, but finding the time to do that is taxing, too.
So, where do I go in my heart and soul to keep the positive vibes flowing and brightness in my attitude? I focus on the blessings that mom's presence brings to my life. Since she's arrived my use of my native Hochunk language has increased two-fold. We're talking about relatives and family stories that I'm noting in a journal that sits on the coffee table in the living room. When she's the most lucid, her memories of my dad, siblings, and relatives come flooding out, and I attempt to make sense of different periods of history in her life that I never understood. My hubby installed a walk-in tub for my mom and her use of this wonderful invention continues to increase every week. Although it's rough getting her to agree to a bath, once she's surrounded by the warmth of the water and sensations of getting her body scrubbed, out come the stories of past Saturday nights, as bath time to her brings back the memories of preparing for her nights out and about, back in the day. The photo above is mom in her early 20's - I can just imagine mom and my dad cruising around in dad's Packard convertible on a Saturday night!
This week I've got to make the time to find someone to help me to keep myself happy and healthy, physically and mentally. A couple of afternoons and 1/2 a day on the weekend should do it -- now if I could just find that person!!
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