Family Crisis, Part II

Family crises should be short and sweet and then over.  

 Luckily, my Mom, who was supposed to die, is now home, puttering around instead of resting, worrying about the dirt in her kitchen grout that nobody can clean as well as she does. She and my father are muttering at each other in the passive aggressive way they have worked out over 56 years of marriage. And my father has reverted to his way of ignoring her, but still obeying her commands, slowly, in his own good time. In other words-all systems normal here...  

 I leave Thursday, rejoicing in my mom's near miss, sad because they grow ever older and feebler, and struggle more and more to overcome even the smaller crises in their lives, while becoming more and more stubborn about changes, about listening to advice from their children, doctors, or friends. (Boy, is that a run on sentence, or what?)  

Luke, Catherine and I became more of ourselves, too, under the pressure of Mom's crisis. Catherine arrived here for a vacation the day my mom finally called 911. She moved in to her librarian informational mode, spending hours at the hospital talking to doctors and nurses, finding nooks and crannies to nap in, roaming from mom's room to my room, trading info back and forth. Some vacation. She also got the list of stuff for mom would need for the rehab center(to which she never went), put mom's name on every piece of clothing, packed 4 suitcases,struggling to do it all perfectly because she has to get an A++ in all she does, especially when it comes to pleasing Dad. And he was angry at her because she packed more than he thought Mom should need. I am sure she was glad to return to MI.  

 Luke, and his wife Mary, stuck by mom's bedside, too, holding her hand and telling her to hang in, stay with us, calling me in CT with updates-come next week, no, come sooner, no, come now, the cardiologist says she won't make it out of the hospital...while I freaked out(quietly) at home, madly changing plane reservations, figuring out when the soonest I could arrive here was. 

 Luke got himself in trouble with them later, just before Mom was due to come home. He decided he should talk the doctors into sending her to the rehab  center after all, because he hoped he could get a better idea ofMom's myriad of medical problems-despite the fact they obviously do not want us to know much. Luke had a shouting match blowout with Dad at the hospital-they are very much alike, stubborn and sure they are always right-and has not been back since. It is okay-Mary has been around and helpful, and Luke leaves for Alaska for a job next week. All will be fine when he returns, I'm sure, and the incident will never be discussed.  

I got here Thursday(mom's emergency surgery was Mon night) in time to see that she was much better, then keeled over myself-helpful thing to do in the middle of someone else's crisis. When I got out of the hospital and returned to my parents' house, I was pretty weak and wobbly, tethered to an oxygen making machine, feeling vulnerable and not much help. I fell into my familial role as go between. I tried to explain to Dad why Luke wanted Mom in rehab-he wouldn't listen to me. I also defended Catherine's packing and got glowered at. He has had a bad week.  

Mom came home, and I tried to help with her meds and doctors' appointments-he cut me off, pointing out acerbically that he had managed last years cancer crisis just fine(a different matter of opinion among his kids, but I was smarter than to bring that up!) He could cook and clean and take care of her...I retreated to the basement family room, and let them settle in to their normal routine.  

Since then I have been helpful to Mom in a lot of quiet ways, and even Dad has backed off enough to let me help a bit with dishes and meals and such. But I will be glad to go home tomorrow, even though I have to pay $200 to have oxygen on the flights! I will miss being here with them, however, because it feels as if I can somehow magically stave off the next inevitable crisis just by being here. Magic thinking, indeed!  

They are hoping to come East to PA by July, so I may get to see them again, somewhere where there is oxygen in the air-unlike Denver, where there is no air in the air! At least not enough for me.   Thank you for your care and concern for both of us-I am sure it helped.  

Blessings, Margo

And Life Goes On...to Colorado Again

Mood: Bemused  

Well! After a flurry of panicked calls back and forth, I arrived in Colorado last Thursday for my mother's deathbed scene to find that she not only survived her middle of the night emergency surgery for necretized bowel, but was looking quite likely to recover! Needless to say, it was quite a relief. And recover she did-coming home today, 9 days after surgery, to the amazement of the doctors. She is a tough old bird, and I love her dearly.  

I, however, have had my own little problem. Last Friday, after looking at rehab centers  all day with my father(which my mom did not need after all) I came back to the house, exhausted and winded. My sister Catherine, in from from Michigan, and father were ready to take off to the hospital for a visit, when I began to feel more than winded-more like breathless, then unable to breath well at all, with chest pain, and I had to admit I was dealing with more than a change in altitude. So, because I practice what I preach, I called 911. 

 Fire engines, paramedics, rescue trucks, for the second time that week(Mom had called on Monday), neighbors agog on the sidewalk, my father fuming because the ambulance was blocking the driveway, and he wanted to leave-he has a bit of a one track mind-and the inevitable ambulance ride to the same hospital in which my mom was residing! The paramedic only had to stick me 3 times to get a line started, but the last time he dug around for 3.5 minutes before he got a vein. I have terrible veins, and I timed him. 

 Much ado about my complex medical history, a temp of 102, a battery of preliminary testing, and I was admitted, to the same floor as my  mother! I sent her an apology for not visiting, via Catherine. Two days of testing came back fine, and antibiotics cleared up the infection- very mild cellulitis on my right leg-and I staggered home to my parents Tuesday, terribly bruised from all the blooddraws, now tethered to an oxygen machine, which I must use while I'm here.But alive and well and still plugging onward.  Lots of help I have turned out to be!  

 It is actually much better than last year, when she was so very ill, and I was unable to travel at all because of my arm surgery and the problems which followed. I will be some help now she's home-I am great at  calming people down during and after crises-and can do a bit around the house. Not much, however, because I still get winded when I exert too much. I'll write more soon, I hope.  

Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers.  

Many Blessings, Margo

Emerging into Spring

As a few of you may have noticed, I have been slowly emerging from my winter hibernation, reading and occasionally commenting in the few journals I can keep up with. I think I got overwhelmed last winter, reading and commenting on dozens of journals-all of which I enjoyed a lot. Unfortunately, that led to too many hours a day at the computer, physical pain and burn out. I will try to take care of myself better in the future, though I am sorry I can no longer keep up with all the journals I enjoyed before.

 I am actually doing a bit better than the last time I wrote here, and I truly appreciate all the comments left by J-land friends. It was wonderful to feel connected and supported by so many even though I was not writing in my journal. It made me feel blessed through some bleak times, and I am grateful.  

I spent the winter doing physical therapy, going to the gym, seeing not one but two therapists (one for me, one for couples therapy), fixing up my bedroom-new bed, new paint, new quilt made by Peggy, new bookcase-all thanks to Peg and Pam and Kevin. I have finally learned I cannot do a massive clean up by myself, and have asked for help. It is a new and hard won learning.

I am still waiting for the surgery on to take the pin out of my arm and fix my carpal tunnel, which will help with my pain (I hope). Workers Comp is fighting me every step of the way, and I continue to fight back, with the help of my lawyer. I have also decided that in order to to live, I have to have a gastric bypass, so have started the paperwork and preliminary appointments. As most know, it is a long and trying experience just getting to the doctor for the first time, and surgery will be months away.  

Sad news: my mother is not doing well. She had emergency surgery last night; they took out 5 feet of blocked intestine, a bit of it cancerous. They are also worried about her heart. My brother lives in Denver, and my sister luckily happens to be visiting there this week. I'll fly out on Sunday, for another two week visit.  They were supposed to come east to their summer home in PA next month, but that's up in the air now. I am so thankful I took the time to visit her in the fall. And that I am not working so I can go now.( Actually I'd rather be able to work and take the time from work!)  

Spring is slow in New England, but the daffys will soon be blooming and neighbors are emerging from hibernation, as well. The baby who disappeared into the house next door in the fall has emerged a toddler!  We have a new baby-Jack-down the street, who will be out soon in his baby carriage with his proud Dad and Mom. Other neighborhood kids have lost teeth and grown taller and are out and about again. Soon the Friday Night Cocktail Hour On the Wall (around the corner from us, in front of someone's house) will begin, and we will catch up on all the neighborhood doings. 

 I'll try to write a bit more often now.  

 Many blessings, Margo              

Re-emerging

Dear Friends,   I did not mean to go away for two weeks and disappear for two months. Nor have I fallen into such a depression that I am unable to get out of bed to crawl to my computer. I have merely sunk into some weird sort of separation/isolation mode which seems to coincide with the increasing of the amount of Neurontin I take daily for peripheral neuropathy.  

 It feels as if I can no longer think clearly enough to put cogent sentences together - this entry is a real strain- and I spend a lot of time sleeping. In fact I can barely keep my head up a lot of the time. Watching TV seems much more soothing than interacting with the world.  

And yet I am forcing myself to keep up with what I feel I have to do. I am going to physical therapy twice a week, to the gym twice a week, and to regular therapy twice a week, once for couple's work with Rene, and once to my own therapist. And once a week I do something with my friend Peggy. This schedule leaves me so exhausted I cannot think straight most of the rest of the time.  

 I am forging ahead medically, however. I have seen the orthopedist who heads the group my old doctor left. I like Dr. M.,unlike his unlamented, now departed partner Dr. K. who did the original surgery on my arm. Dr. M. has recommended I have the rod taken out of my arm because it is impinging on the shoulder, causing inflammation, pain, and perhaps problems with the rotator cuff. He'll also do carpal tunnel surgery on my hand while he has me under anesthesia. 

 Although I am less than thrilled at the idea of more surgery and then still more physical therapy, I thought and meditated about it, spoke to my physical therapists and body worker, Pete, and cried with Rene about the necessity, then finally agreed. Needless to say, Workers' Comp turned me down. Now it is in my attorney's hands and will need to go to a hearing, once more leaving me raging in medical limbo along with increasing shoulder pain.  

Reading all this I am struck by two things. I want to apologize for this long litany of problems, and no wonder I am in full time exhaustion mode- a lot is going on! 

I also want to say that my time with my mother was well worth the energy and anxiety and struggle of the trip. I finally wrote her a long letter, telling her that I wanted her to let go of the guilt she has been carrying around, that she, like me, had done the best she could with what she was given, and I am glad she is my mother. She read the letter in her bedroom, then came out crying, to hug me and say what a gift I had given her. It made up for a lot of the pain of being there to see how unhappy she is with her life, and how she chooses to see the dark side of life, and how much I am like her, but struggling to make different choices.  

I want to thank all of you who have commented and e-mailed and worried about me, and apologize for not responding. Despite my silence, I have missed J-land, and hope to gather enough energy to re-join the community slowly. Isolating myself from those who sustain me is a very old pattern, and I am trying-once again-to find my way back.  

Blessings to all, Margo            

From my Parents' House

 I am settled in, now, at my parents townhouse, in Highlands Ranch, CO, looking out the window at a small patch of the mountain range, missing J-Land. I find it difficult to be on the computer for very long here because my parents flutter in the background, muttering about interrupting phone service. They are both quite deaf, my mother more than my father, and don't realize how much I hear their complaints.  

The visit is going well. They have their routine worked out-who gets up first, who reads which newspaper first, who cooks, who cleans up, who has custody of the family room at what times, when each retreats to his or her bedroom to nap or read. I work to fit in around their schedule, spending time with each, although more with Mom than Dad. I know for their ages-82 and 79-they do quite well, and have a certain fondness for each other. They have been married 56 years, and are used to functioning together.  

It's not a particularly happy marriage, though. On their 50th Anniversary, after forbidding us to throw a party, my mother said, "Fifty years of cooking!" and my father said, "I am beginning to get the rules down now." These days she nags him to do stuff, then mutters angrily under her breath while he ignores her. I am not sure how much of this he actually hears, and how much he stonewalls. My particular struggle is not to rush in to play go-between, a childhood role in which I no longer wish participate. I'm doing quite well, too. Thank Goddess for therapy!   

I have hung out with my mother quiet a bit, encouraging her to talk about her childhood, and mine, about family history, and have worked hard at giving positive affirmations when she says anything about her feelings or experiences, and harder at trying to ignore the stream of negative comments and complaints which pour out of her. I have realized how lonely she is, and feel very sad about it. Still, we do manage to laugh about things-old family stories and situations, stuff going on today. I feel blessed that we have always shared a sense of humor.  

I am going to write her a letter, telling her what I want her to know-the good stuff I have recieved from her, how grateful I am, because I know now I would cry too much to get it out aloud. I get choked up just thinking about it. Too much emotion not allowed in the years of my youth, it comes leaking out around the edges now, and I am glad to feel it now, even if it makes both of them uncomfortable. But I want her to hear me, not feel upset because I am crying.  

 Colorado is beautiful, as always, and the mountains are so amazing to an Easterner like me. I am here for another week, and am enjoying the quiet beauty of the antiques I grew up with-at home(which was outside Philadelphia) and those from my grandmother's house. My mother has a decorator's ability to arrange her furniture,  paintings, and  odds and ends in a beautiful casual elegance that I could never aspire to. I enjoy it, but could not keep any place so neat!  

Thanks for listening to me, and please know I miss my J-Land friends almost as much as I miss Rene, and Roxy, my dog! I hope all are well, or at least hanging in, during this complicated, blessed holiday season.  

Blessings, Margo    

This and That

Odds and ends, as I get ready to leave my life for two weeks and step into my parents' world. I fly out to Denver Dec.2nd and return the 16th. I'll rent a car at the airport and drive to Highlands Ranch (near Littleton), so my father doesn't have to come get me, and I will have the freedom to escape if I need to go for a drive now and then.  

My partner Rene has started a journal! It is called Growing OLD Younger (http://journals.aol.com/rrenebbean/GrowingOLDYounger/ ) I am so pleased. I hope you'll go over and leave her a comment or two, especially while I'm gone.  We are very different, but her view on life is always interesting, as she ages up and down at the same time. I hope you enjoy her as much as I do.  

I have realized that at least part of my timing of my trip is to avoid some of the Christmas chaos. I get overwhelmed easily these days, and I will have fewer days to worry about what needs to get done when I get back.Last year we did not celebrate Christmas at all-we were both too sick(another long story). I figure anything at all will beat last year, so I have fewer anxieties than normal anyway. It's all for the best. 

 I am taking Rene's laptop out to my parents' house. They are completely uninterested in joining the computer age, and I am already aware that I will not be able to keep up with my daily reading and comment making. I'll try to drop in a bit, and maybe post an entry or two, but do not worry if I am somewhat missing until mid December; I shall return!  

Please know, I will miss you all a lot. The J-Land community is very dear to me, and not keeping up will feel strange. Also, please keep me in your thoughts and prayers, or send me energy or light, or whatever feels comfortable to you for the flight as well as my time there.  

I'm not fond of flying, though I no longer have to keep the plane in the air personally with high levels of stress. I have let that go. Now I just worry about the mundane things. Will I have to sit next to some jerk who hates fat people? Can I handle my suitcase and carryon? Will my body make it without back spasms? Will the titanium rod in my arm set off the security alarm? Will terrorists pick this flight to make Bush start a new war somewhere? Will I get my rental car easily? Will I be able to find my way to my parents house? You know, all the little things. :-)  

Blessings, Margo      

Family History, Continued...

...Continued from last entry...  

As the eldest child, I was stunted, but also the good, responsible one, and so I went to boarding school, followed its rules, got decent grades, and sulked at home over vacations.

I graduated in 1967, and went onto Clark University in Worcester, MA, were I blew everything - family, school, and myself - out of the water. I discovered drugs. Mostly speed, weed and acid. They helped mask the pain. I acquired an education, but not the one my father was paying for.  

I am sure it was very difficult for both my parents, but especially my mother. While I was having a high old time, she was at home worrying. And not just about me. My brother got kicked out of his boarding school( for 5 marijuana seeds), and went off to New York to live with friends. And she was suffered through a difficult menopause, and a some bad years with my father in their marriage.  

I was quite oblivious of family problems, though. I met Geoff, my ex-husband, and dropped out of school, then went off speed cold turkey for the first time since I was 13 (when my mother had our family doctor put me on "appetite pills") For over two months I stayed in my one room apartment and slept and ate food my crazy gay floor-mates brought me (a whole other story), while Geoff worried and visited every evening after grad school. I was 19 and going nowhere very slowly.( I never dropped acid again, but smoked pot for a while longer.)  

The next summer, Geoff took a teaching job in Connecticut, and. after we went to PA to meet my parents over the summer, I moved here, too, although we kept up the fiction of separate abodes for both our parents' sakes. He proposed, I accepted and I happily had the wedding my mother always wanted. She did give me one good piece of advice, however, "Don't marry a man you want to change. It won't work"   "Oh, Mom," I laughed, "don't be silly, I don't want to change Geoff, he's perfect!" One unhappy woman giving great advice to another,completely unheard  

Things got better, though, between my mother and I, when I had Meg, their first grandchild and only granddaughter. Tentatively, we began to spend more time onthe phone, then summers together, and we began to "play" again, the way we had before adolescence, by laughing together at silly things, enjoyed adding Meg in our activities, taking first weekend, and then a couple of longer trips together. Even though she lived 5 hours away, we spent a good deal of time together, and had fun.  

It was good, except that I still suffered from times of paralyzing depression, and she did too (although she has never been officially diagnosed) so there were gaps of time we did not connect.

Eventually, I went into therapy, and began to discover just how wounded, demanding, spoiled, guilt-ridden, passive-aggressive, perfectionist and hurt I was.(Gee, somewhat like my poor mother, though I couldn't see it then)  

It was easy to blame my parents, and Mom was an easy target because she knew how unhappy the family had been, and was well taught about guilt from her own mother. And yet, we still spent time together, had  mammoth fights, but always got back together again. I had realized how much she loved me, and I loved her. Sometimes I even felt blessed.  

As time has passed. I learned how to cope with my anger better, to grow and change, and the roles began to reverse some- I became the one who listened and reassured, the one to tell her it was ok to be introverted, to choose herself in stead of everyone else, to not care what other people thought. And she, too, has changed, become less worried, a bit more direct and open.  

Don't get me wrong, our relationship still has sharp points and awkward angles, but I am no longer stunted by my childhood. I have grown into myself enough to see that I have my own beauty and worth, inner and outer, as does my mother.  

Last year,once I was recovered enough from my accident to sleep in a bed again, we went to the Poconos in PA where they have a cabin and had chosen to stay for her cancer treatment. I was a mess, and she was very sick, but we had Thanksgiving together, and stayed  a week. We went back in the winter, after her surgery, then in June and again in August for a family get together, (See August's entries.)  

Eachtime, I realized more and more the feelings of regret and guilt she has about not having been a good mother, a better buffer between my father and me, never physically nurturing enough... so many negatives. I feel sad for her because I know she did the best she could with what she had and knew and understood. And I want her not only hear me say it again, but to feel it, to know how much I love and admire her. How much I am like her, and glad to be.  

So I have booked a flight to Denver, where they live in the winter, and I've scheduled enough time to really hang out with her, and I am hoping I can help her see how much I love her, and how blessed I have been to have her as my mother. I hope she can hear me, and believe.  

Blessings, Margo