Trying to explain it...

I learned something today. It is not a new idea, or notion, and not singular to me. Only it hit home so deep inside my heart, that my whole being wanted to cry, and not a sad cry, but one of peace, relief, & understanding. I don't quite have all the right words, but I want to capture it, so bare with me. Enoch, & I have one son, and have lost eight. In the last two pregnancies, the Dr's had prescribed a blood thinner called (Heparin) thinking this was the issue because of a lab result, & other long details, but my point is that I had to inject this into my stomach two times daily. Now I have had to inject Insulin, & the little pinch of the needle was nothing, however the blood thinner stung, it hurts so bad. And the hardest part? Actually injecting yourself. You are not set up to choose pain, it goes against every natural instinct, yet when we love either someone or an ideal we are ok with it. Every shot left a bruise about 2-3 inches in radius, & after a while you run out of non bruised areas, so your injecting something painful into pain. { I promise I'm getting somewhere with this} Once Elias saw me inject myself, because I didn't know he was behind me, he was horrified, and asked me why I was hurting myself on purpose? I explained that his twin siblings were being helped by it, and because I wanted them to live, and grow I did it. He then asked me if I had done it with him, and I said no. Somehow knowing that I didn't have to "hurt" while pregnant with him, made him relieved, and happy. Now for the hard part, and I know I've shared this with friends, but the "really" hard part is not injecting yourself because in that moment you see the big picture, you are enduring a bit of pain so that nine months from then, you can experience a joy that will supersede it all! How many times do we get to see that big picture? Oh we have all heard it, in the condolences from a friend, to a desktop calendar. In one way or another we believe that any amount of suffering whether it by small like a stomach covered in bruises, or larger like the loss of a loved one, that something of good will cone from it. So for me that "really" hard part was when I felt the pain, only I didn't, or couldn't see the bigger picture. I remember a day in the weeks following the loss of our twin sons, that I looked at the yellowing bruises in disgust! Why? Why did I endure the pain then not the joy after? Sure I felt this inside but somehow that physical reminder was an insult, a smack in the face of everything I tried to hold on to. Friends, I deem myself Christian, I pray, and ask God that if my pain could help just one grieving mother some day, that I would be ok. Sure I wouldn't have chosen to loose so many precious humming heartbeats, but I could reconcile it in my soul. Friends would remind me of that opportunity, and I understood it, but in a distant way. Now, I jump to caring for grandma. Is it different? Oh yes. But did something in this experience with her change my way of thinking? Yes, & I hope it's a forever change. You see, at the end of my grandma's life I didn't have 'lifts' I had her, the wheel chair, the bed, & me. When she needed to be lichen into bed I would do it. I didn't consciously think anything other than " My grandma is tired, and wants to lay down. She can't stand so I will move her." It never hurt then, but after I would feel it, the twinges in my back, the ache from a hernia, and once again bruises. But again, I was willing, and able to go through it because I saw the big picture. By me doing this, she stayed in our home. That is what she wanted, I wanted, and what I felt was right. She died two weeks ago, it's not an unforeseen 'tragic' loss, but it's still loss, & it's still hard. I noticed last week that familiar reminder, bruises - on my arms, & legs. Ugh. Another physical reminder I had to look at on my body, reminding me of someone I missed. Last night, I spent in prayer. I was reading scriptures, psalms, & asking God to allow all my loss to change me. Oddly enough I had never prayed that, in fact I'm even embarrassed to admit it. Sure I prayed and asked God to use those chapters, and the pain for good. And even recently after hearing for the umpteenth time that I would be "having a new season" for God to show me a glimpse of it. Only he hadn't. I had been begging God, for a week now "Lord, show me a glimpse, just a tiny moment of when all this pain will be used. Show me the joy at the end of it, please!" Again, no vision of it. I was tired, angry, & nearing becoming resentful. So, last night rather than asking God to show me his plan of how he could use that pain, I simply asked him to change me. This morning, I was in severe pain. My back, my abdomen, you name it. I was in so much pain it felt like my body was being rung like a rag. I got out of bed, and looked down. There it was, the last bruise, yellowish and faint. Only I didn't cringe, I didn't ask God "How will you use this?" I wasn't a hopeful mother seeing the pain, feeling it but also seeing the promise of joy. I saw no glimpse of how he would use it, I actually thanked God for the time I had with me grandma. I saw what it had meant to have her in our home, how my family will be forever changed by it, and I trusted God to heal my pain. That's when that moment hit me that shared at the beginning. It was like a long awaited answer to a painful question. My soul was quieted, and I cried, just cried. Do I think we have to have pain to fully experience the joy that comes after seeing his plan? I don't know,in my feeble attempt in understanding God's sovereignty I don't think pain, loss, is ever his plan for us. However, I also know that when you walk through pain, or loss of ANY kind God can, and WILL use it if you let him. It's that word 'let' that got me. I walked through the pain, and in one hand knew that God would use it, but in the other demanded to see how. I do have friends who have asked God to show them how their pain works into a bigger part of a grander picture, and God has shown them. So I'm not saying don't ask, ask God if your walking through something hard, but also allow God to completely change you. Loss changes you, pain changes you, but God will too.

Where do you start?

I felt guilty when after logging in I see my last post was before her Birthday. I guess I've been to busy living it, with not to many spare moments to write about it, funny you have to break from life to write about it?! Kind of silly if you think about it. I'm finding I am posting so many updates to Facebook that blogging is a bit of a redundancy. Here is the problem though. When grandma is gone, and I want to remember the exchanges/moments it should be in one place ~ here! So, I will work real hard at blogging the updates from here forward.

Wow, Hospice. Hospice, hospice. No matter how many times I say it, the word sounds foreighn. Do not get me wrong, I am not wantng her to live for many more years, selfishly holding on. In fact I want her to leave, pretty soon. But how do you reconcile that? " I love you grandma, you are a second mother to me, but please die now" My heart gets it, but my mind still grapples with it. Back to Hospice. I sit at the table cassualy offering M (we shall call her) eating a doughnut, cassualy talking about the next steps. It was like talking to a realotor, or buying a car.... How many check ups do we get, what do we do to make it run smoothly, is this honda the right color, what if it dies, what if I dont like how it drives etc. Anyone looking at us, would think a car or house deal was taking place, but no here we sit discussing matter of factly the demise of my grandma.

Who is my grandma? Some of you know, others of you dont. I ask my friends to pray, and they do. Not because they know her, or love her, but they love me so they do. I want to tell you who your praying for, who I am loosing, who the world is loosing.... I will make it a short list so you dont fall asleep on me =)

She grew up in a sod house in Kansas, six kids to one bed head to toe, along with burlap bags for a dress.
She put herself through college, partly because a stranger told her she couldn't
She taught for roughly 40 years, along with P.E teacher, and counselor.
She is quite the lady, fur coats, jewelery, wool pencil skirts, and perhaps a pair of sharp spectators =)
I could do no wrong, if I wanted to be an oscar she would tell me I must include her in my acceptance speach.
When I wrote poetry she saved it in a folder, which she has till this day.
She listened, for hours if need be.
She loved me, so strongly people would struggle to understand it.
And, she is the ONLY family member who has said she KNOWS I will have another baby.

This is a glimpse into the woman who is fading so fast he looks like an image out of 'Schindlers list'.
I will write more later, but I wanted to share a song that has been meaningful for me.

http://youtu.be/KeNSlQWdgec

Happy 90th Grandma! My love letter to you!

Happy 90^th Birthday Grandma!

Opal, Mother, Sister, Grandma, Great Grandma, Counselor, & Teacher.These are the many names you have gone by, and in each carry a special meaning! This book, is filled with letter’s of salutations’, stories, words of thanks, but most of all they collectively tell a story of a the woman you are. You are a lady, your beauty both inside and out, has been radiant, and known by many. You are a fighter! Growing from a little pint in a sod house in Kansas, to a confidant woman who sought out education, and traveled the world. You are wise. Some people have to find people and share their wisdom, but not you. You hold the wisdom that people seek out. People who meet you want to know more, they want a piece of that magic that you seem to hold. You are compassionate! Perhaps this is most evident by your ability to truly listen to people. Not only do you listen with a kindness that shows through in your eyes, but your arms are always open afterwards, free to hold the person who needs them. There are so many more words that define who you are, but there would never be a page long enough to encompass them all. And, although this is a book from many people sharing what you mean to them, it is a personal expression of love from me. I love you grandma, for all that you are, and all that you have instilled in your children, and to me, your grandchild. When people say I am like you, I smile. And when I think about whom I want to be, and the legacy I want to leave, I think of my mother whom you raised to be such a strong woman, and I think of you. In this last year, as I have cared for you, people say “Wow, she is one lucky woman, she must be one amazing grandma.” I simply turn to them and say “When you are a grandma, love that grandchild unconditionally, tell them they can be anything they want to be, listen to them, love them, and let them know they are perfect in your eyes. Believe in their dreams, and be in their corner. And if you do that, then just maybe one day, they will do this for you.” I love you grandma, thank you for being everything that you are, you have made an impact in this world, and in my life.          

Letter to the family concerning Nursing Homes =(

Hello, as you know we are now faced with the very hard choice of placing grandma in a home. This is primarily for her own safety, and at the urging of every medical professional involved within her care. I will be taking much time away from school work to find the perfect home for her, as this is not something that I take lightly. I need to let you know a few things.

1. I told her, she was lucid, and I never know when that will happen again. Plus she would notice my absence and lots of volunteers while looking for home, and she deserved to know the truth so she/we/everybody can be prepared. She said she would do it as long as it was close and she didn't have to go across the country, and she said she knew it was coming, and although it was fun pretending it would never happen, she knew it was time.

 

2. My goal is to fine a home closest to me, so visits are more frequent.

 

3. I have talked with nurses, Dr's, friends with loved ones in homes, all to narrow it down to the best.

 

4. Beyond this I have compiled along with a list of questions things to ask each home as I am checking them out!

A. Can she have her own room or does she need to share.

B. Can I bring her dog to visit her.

C. Am I allowed to take her out for days to see the lake or have a martini- dirty of course, with a green olive ;)

 

So, if you feel beside the obvious questions that I did not need to list here, that you have a question you would like asked, please let me know. I will try my best, and I'm sure you know I would do nothing short of that. I also plan on showing up to these facilities WITHOUT calling, as I'm sure you know our own tendency to clean up before an expected guest comes, I want to see how there facility is without warning.

 

Also, once she is in the home, I feel as a family we need to create a phone schedule. I know life's changes, but I would hate for four people to call her Monday, and have no calls the rest of the week, so be thinking personally about what you can do to ease the transition. Whether this means to begin writing letters. Committing to call on a certain day. Sending $5.00 every once in a while so I can get flowers on Five buck Friday from the florist.Whatever it is, just begin to pray how it is that you personally will honor her.

  

Love you all

All the things you should say, but dont

Last year my grandmas last remaining sibling died. She was unable to fly at the time so my mother attended representing our family. A kind cousin made us a copy of the funeral, and we all watched it. My mother, grandmother, and I. All three generations. It was beautiful really, so many people shared stories of who he was, and how he had impacted their life, and at the end you got the sense that had a stranger been there, he would have walked away wanting to know this man who had just died. As I was watching it, I kept my eye on grandma, who at times was smiling, and other crying. At the end, she says quite wishfully, "I hope some of those things are said about me." It hit me! Ding, light bulb, theme music, slow motion you name it, it was all there ushering in an idea, a great, yet simple idea. "Why the hell do wait till a person is gone to stand before them and honor them? Sure my great Uncle knew he was loved while he was alive, but dam I bet he hadn't heard all this?! So I decided that fate would not befall my grandma, she still has much of her mind, and I will not let her die, or fall into the clutches of Alzheimer's fully until she knows how we feel. Not just us, but her colleagues from years past, the children of her deceased best friends, her extended relatives, some students, immediate family, and, well, me. Now it's the new year an in typical Opal fashion we are sending out her 'Christmas Cards' in January, but before I close the envelopes I slip a paper in them telling them that as a gift for her 90th birthday, I plan on presenting her with a book, or album filled with letters of memories, stories, tall tales, and a few pictures all about how my grandma impacted those around her. I asked that they be sent fast so I would have time to get them in. And sure enough not but one week later I received a letter from the son of one of her dearest friends who had passed away many years ago to the same disease. I don't know the man, all I know is that he, and his sisters were blessed enough to have a great mother, and know a woman as amazing as my grandma. He is a lawyer, a busy one, and yet here the letter is. I think part of me feared that maybe people wouldn't respond, that maybe they wouldn't think it was all that important. But I was wrong. I have about fifty letters in an envelope, it is now four days before her birthday, and although I don't know how I will get it done, I will, not because I have to but because this last hospital visit reminded me of why I had such urgency to begin with. We are not guaranteed tomorrow, we never have been. While she was in the hospital, I decided who cares about the dam album right now she needs to hear these, she needs to know this! So while she laid in her hospital bed, I read them to her, a few nurses even stopped as they were walking by to hear what was being read. I think they stopped because they saw the humanity, and love. In that moment she was not a 90lb frail Alzheimer's patient, but she was the result of a life well lived, filled with love, service, and faith. So tomorrow my goal is to finish this album, and present it to her from all the people whose lives she has touched. Friends, people who read this, I know we hear 'life is hort' and all these sayings written on mugs, and magnets, but I have looked into the eyes of a woman far gone and seen the glimmer of hope and happiness as she heard the words I read. Grab someone today, call somebody, tell them who they are, and what they mean to you! Now, I need to write mine, it's hard to find the words because I feel this past year we have lived together, has been my letter to her, my love letter if you will, but I know God will give me the words, just as hes given me the grace to move through this transition with her.

Blessings~Z

Alzhimers has made me forget too.

Well, it has been far to long since my last update. A friend asked me about this in fact. She noticed it had been two months since the last post. I thought no, that can't be. I love to blog, and I always make sure to capture the special moments, don't I? This bothered me, two months? Come to think of it, I have had no inspiration, or desire to even write about grandma. A few weeks had passed since this revelation, and it hit me. I had become her caretaker. Somehow I had forgotten how to be her granddaughter. Now don't get me wrong, I had been warned that this could happen,I heard it, and even understood it on a mental level, but surely this didn't apply to me. I'm her granddaughter, the one who she took to Mexico in summertime, the one who called her daily. It seems not even a special bond like ours is immune to the slow erosion that the combination of care taking, and Alzhiemers can cause. But why is that? Is it the repetition? I bathe her, change her diapers, dress her, prepare her meals, and tuck her in at night to name a few. But isn't that what mothers do as well? Yet they don't stop being a mom and just become a simple care taker. I sit here racking my brain, how is this different? I have yet to hear one of my friends who has an infant say "You know, with all this bathing and changing, I don't feel like a mom." After thinking about it, and studying the differences it hit me. It lies within the interaction. When your a mother, yes you do all those things but you look into the eyes of that child, and you see life, and interaction. They look at you with
arms stretched out, and in those moments you see who they are becoming, who God has created
them to be. You see their future. This is the answer to my question, this is what make me her
caretaker. When continually caring for her, I don't see those things in her eyes. Every once in a while the woman I love so dearly peaks out through the shadow we call Alzhiemers, and for that moment I am her granddaughter, nothing more, nothing less. So what now? I was warned, I
recognize what's happening, and I have 3-4 more months with her. Will it be spent being her
caretaker, or her granddaughter? I choose the later! Alzhiemers has taken many things, but
this, this is my choice. Is it easy? No it's not, but I am counting on the grace of God to bridge the gap for me. I have been asking the Lord daily that he give me those granddaughter
eyes again. That it doesn't remain a routine without meaningful exchanges. This is my prayer.
And my hope, is that my friends, and family will stand with me in this, because I miss my
grandma. Not the 94lb shell with glassy eyes that always have a question lingering in them,
but the woman who helped raise me, the picture of who I wanted to be, who always told me "It
will all be ok".

"You, are my grandaughter?"

Grandma's quoted text will now be in blue, from this post forward.
Today I was just thinking that I ought to write a post, and to make sure to make it a happy one. To share the good moments we have been having. However, as soon as I resolved to write a smile laced post, the disease called 'Alzhiemer's' reared its ugly head. Grandma woke up with that look in her eye's. It is hard to explain fully what the look in her eyes is like, it is almost as if her pupils narrow as if zeroing in on somthing. Couple this with a blinkless gaze that seems to look past you, rather than directly at you and this is 'the look' I speak of. I pray never to see that look on another friend or family member for the remainder of my life. Today I made pizza, and cheese covered veggies for grandma, she kept going on, and on about how good it was, then she turned to me and said "Well, you got yourself a customer! I think I will come here again, sometime soon." I smiled and said "Grandma, you live here, and I am your grandaughter." There is that look again, only now it was studdying my face as if to see if I was lying. "You are my grandaughter? From who?" "Susan grandma, I am Susan's daughter, and your grandaughter." She sat back, took it all in, shook her head then said "Well, I guess you wouldnt be lying about that would you?" "No grandma, I love you, I would never lie to you. You have a disease, that makes you forget things, but dont worry because I am here to remind you" I lean in, give her a hug and she says "This disease is tricky isnt it?" "Yes grandma, it is very tricky." Then that was it, we just sat there on the couch in silence. I would keep looking over at her, and I could see her thinking about somthing, her lips were moving as if having a conversation, only no words were being spoken. "Grandma, what are you thinking about?" "I am wondering if you are lying? And you are telling the truth?" "Yes grandma, I am." then I felt her hand, she reached over and held my hand. The uncertain gaze did not seem to disapate, but her hand resting in mine seemed to speak louder than anything else. She believed me, not because she knew me, but somthing in her beneath this horrible disease truested me, and I will take that!