The boat

Thanksgiving night. My mom is heading out soon. She has taken a turn for the worse over the last week. I've been with her a lot. This may a be graphic as far as death and dying go, so read ahead if you'd like. She's so tiny now. Thin as a rail, something she might have said, and it's exactly true. I can encircle her upper arm with my hand, thumb to middle finger. She doesn't eat now. Well, actually she had a bit of food yesterday. She had a cup of Dairy Queen vanilla ice cream for lunch(Jay and I stopped and had a lunch of hot fudge sundaes there ourselves and got a cup to go for her) and then for supper she had the filling part of two pieces of pumpkin pie. Her body is tight and stiffening. Hospice is good and the caregivers at The Peaks have been wonderful. A couple nights ago I laid down with her and snuggled her up. I just talked to her about how much we all love her, and how I think it will be like getting on a boat...that I'm here, seeing her off at the dock, and my dad will be there at the other end, waiting for her to arrive and go on to the next adventure. I don't know how it will be but I like to think of it that way. I told her she can go, and to enjoy the boat ride. I love being with her. I still can't imagine not being able to touch her face or her hair, or to hold her hand. She still has the tightest grip ever. She's just holding on for all she's worth. She stays horizontal now mostly. Occasionally, over the last few days, she's looked into my eyes, focused for a few seconds and then her eyes drift up above my head and she focuses again, at something above me. I like to think she's seeing into that other world. Tonight, before I left her, she was in bed and her arms, small and skinny as they are now, were held up in the air in a perfect hug. I said, who are you hugging missy? and she smiled for a brief flash of a second. I walked down the hall to talk to one of the caregivers and when I came back in her room, she still had those arms wrapped around someone. I sat next to her on her bed for a while and put her arms down, one by her side and one around that baby she loves to hold, kissed her, said I love you, and headed home to wait for tomorrow.

Life is a great sunrise. I do not see why death should not
be an even greater one.
--Vladimir Nobokov

Bridges

Here's a picture of my mom with her baby. I took it yesterday. I just think she is beautiful. For a while, when she was on about 14 pills a day, she had that look in her eyes of someone lost. Vague, never focused. Now, off meds, she'll look right into my eyes, so intent and mind-loud. Very serious but quite aware. She does sleep a lot. She's having trouble fighting off infection. She's had c-diff (an intestinal infection) 4 or 5 times since the broken hip. She can't really speak and can't walk. But when she looks me in the eyes I swear she's saying something to me. I like to think she's on a bridge right now, between two worlds, and she's trying to tell me about the next one.

I have a little story.....
When I was seven she took me to the dentist. It was probably 8 am as she always made the first appointment of the day. I had to get two teeth filled (I was a cavity prone kid) and I was a little worried. I was seated in the dental chair, my mom was ushered back out to the waiting room, and the dentist came in. The assistant was getting all the equipment ready and dropped something on the floor. The dentist, Mr X, cussed at that girl. I was mortified and the girl was quiet. He started working on my teeth. He was rough. I think he was mad and tired and who knows what. It hurt! I was a shy, timid child (me?) but finally I involuntarily yelped out an "ouch!". He said, loudly, "Goddamnit shut-up". My mom came flying through that exam room door like a super hero. Hands on her hips, she said, "Do not EVER speak to my daughter that way. She is seven years old! You should be ashamed of yourself, speaking like that to a
child" and she got me out of that chair and we left. I always felt good that she stuck up for me and got me out of there. I felt protected and part of a team.

One more.....
When I was two I got this coat for Christmas. As you can see, I was very happy. I wore it all the time. It had a little muff to go with it that hung around my neck and I could put my tiny hands into to keep warm. It was the softest, wooliest, warmest coat in the world. I loved it so much I used to want to wear it to watch cartoons. One of my best memories is sitting on the living room floor in my coat, watching Loony Toons, my mom ironing clothes behind me while we both watched the Road Runner escape Wiley Coyote and just the both of us laughing away. And I still have that coat.

"Ordinary riches can be stolen: real riches cannot. In your soul are
infinitely precious things that cannot be taken from you."
Oscar Wilde, 1891

Stale Pears

Today when I got up, my son, who was already up and watching cartoons, informed me that Archie smells bad...like "stale pears". This initially made me happy because to describe a smelly dog with the words, "stale pears" makes me think someday he will surely be a writer. Then, it made me think eeww-w-w, because Archie walked right up next to me and yes, he did smell like stale pears.....stinky, old, moldy pears. He got a bath today, his first, and now smells like shampoo and Milk Bones...the way a dog should smell.

Writer's Block

The weirdest thing happened. I think I got blog-writer's-block. For over a week I was unable to blog. I thought about it during the day...hmmmmmm, what should I write about today? I carried my camera everywhere thinking I might be graced with an amazing incident or cool experience that I could capture and write about. No deal. Then, weirder still, I started to feel boring. Yes, BORING. As in, I have nothing to say and no way to say it. As in, nothing EVER happens to me (whine....).

Oh well, I'm back, making myself push through the muck that's in my brain, trying to stay right on the edge of boring but not topple in. So, I thought I'd start off with my stomach flu experience. October 30, 1:25 am, I wake up from a wonderfully sound sleep with that feeling of, holy crap I better get to the toilet. After one delightful hurl (sorry), I remembered that I had this prescription for not-vomiting, It's called phenergan. I fumbled around in the make-up drawer, throwing hair ties and lip gloss everywhere, and opened the child proof bottle (score!). Pop one down and, I kid you not, in five minutes I was stellar, all nausea gone, all stomach spasms dissipated.....and so tired I had to crawl to bed. But it works. But man, what a sleep. I was down. I slept until 4:25 pm the next day (Halloween). You may thank me later that there are no pictures on this post :)

Halloween night - totally uneventful as I was still groggy. The usual m.o. is tom and jerry's (the drinks, not the cartoon) as we moms walk the kids around the neighborhood. Instead I had a teeny tiny taste of the infamous drink (thanks Tim) and walked until I could walk no more, acted grouchy toward friends, and went home.

Since then I've gone on an awesome field trip to Jerome with my son's fourth grade class. We camped and looked at old buildings and learned about mining. The kids really loved it but mostly enjoyed visiting the gift shops. And I found a great book called Soiled Doves - Prostitution in the Early West by Anne Seagraves. It's really interesting damnit. It's historical! I was going to state next that I'd just like my life to be a series of field trips, but then I realized that it kind of IS a series of field trips.

My own book is at the printer's. I should have a copy by Christmas. Cool. I haven't been writing much poetry. It's kind of like when I was twelve and did a walk-a-thon. Twenty flipping miles. I did it. Got pledges, kept on a walking, drank Gatorade (ewww), finished all twenty miles. I was beat! Never went on another one of those. Done. Been there, done that. I haven't written much since I found out my book would be published. Damn. I will though. I've been collecting titles in my head. Not telling any of them yet. I like to write the poem after I have the title.

Whew! It looks like I've broken through. No pictures (which is a first), but a scant amount of writing spewed (I shouldn't use that word in this post) forth. Of course, a little fun and super eventful times over the next week would certainly help.

I really like this following quote but I cannot for the life of me figure out why it was said by the Dell Crossword.
Success is not permanent. The same is also true of failure.
--Dell Crossword