Mom passed away early Sunday morning. It was very peaceful. We are all thankful and are currently experiencing a flood of emotions that range from relief and release to tears and laughter.
My sister seems to be hit especially hard. She has backed into two trees, burned her mouth multiple times and breaks into spontaneous sobs. I'm a little concerned about her driving around right now. Everybody deals with grief a little differently.
Light A Candle
I'm meditating, cooking, organizing, making jokes and writing. My humor tends to lean towards the gallows but, other than that, I seem to be at peace. This morning I lit a "virtual candle". Please click the link if you'd like to join me and explore the Gratefulness.org site.
Fortunately, we have planned for my mother's passing so there is little for us to do in terms of rites and rituals. They are all set. I am grateful that we can spend this time in reflection and in enjoying the community of family and friends.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Dreams
A collection of tales from the famed writer/filmmaker Akira Kurosawa. There were many producers involved in the film, including Steven Spielberg. The binding thread, it seems to me, is that each short film within the film deals on some level with the simultaneous nature of past, present and future and even of life and death.
All of the stories are memorable in their own incredibly cinematic way but the Japanese funeral ceremony (The Village of the Water Mills) is unforgettable. I have always thought this is the way a funeral should be - the way I would like mine. This rite of passage celebrates the soul's return to the infinite which, like the Christian faith, is a form of joyous rebirth (here I go again with the analytical stuff...)
DREAMS, in case you haven't had the pleasure of seeing it yet was made in 1990 based on Kurosawa's actual dreams. Martin Scorcese makes a cameo appearance in the dream of The Crows (which I've also included at the end). These four clips contain work of three of the greatest directors of our time.
Here then are sequences that make up the last dream The Village of the Water Mills followed by the sequences that make up The Crows - from Akira Kurosawa's unforgettable film, DREAMS.
The Crows - For a brief interlude, a young artist sees the world through the eyes of impressionist painter, Vincent van Gogh
It doesn't get any better than this.
All of the stories are memorable in their own incredibly cinematic way but the Japanese funeral ceremony (The Village of the Water Mills) is unforgettable. I have always thought this is the way a funeral should be - the way I would like mine. This rite of passage celebrates the soul's return to the infinite which, like the Christian faith, is a form of joyous rebirth (here I go again with the analytical stuff...)
DREAMS, in case you haven't had the pleasure of seeing it yet was made in 1990 based on Kurosawa's actual dreams. Martin Scorcese makes a cameo appearance in the dream of The Crows (which I've also included at the end). These four clips contain work of three of the greatest directors of our time.
Here then are sequences that make up the last dream The Village of the Water Mills followed by the sequences that make up The Crows - from Akira Kurosawa's unforgettable film, DREAMS.
The Crows - For a brief interlude, a young artist sees the world through the eyes of impressionist painter, Vincent van Gogh
It doesn't get any better than this.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Medley to my mother
After all that talk about Mozart and the power of the chant to stimulate the vagus nerve, mom made it very clear that she didn't want to hear that stuff. I stand corrected.
So this morning, although she's too weak to do more than look around, we're listening to the music that inspired her to sing at the USO in an Andrews Sisters style trio (where she met my father - a Navy pilot) and me to later pursue a career as an R&B/Jazz singer.
Now this is more like it. How do I know? The smile on her face. Here's what was playing in our house today and lo and behold it turned into a kind of tribute.
So this morning, although she's too weak to do more than look around, we're listening to the music that inspired her to sing at the USO in an Andrews Sisters style trio (where she met my father - a Navy pilot) and me to later pursue a career as an R&B/Jazz singer.
Now this is more like it. How do I know? The smile on her face. Here's what was playing in our house today and lo and behold it turned into a kind of tribute.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Letting Go
Things have moved rapidly downhill since the stroke - which, ironically enough, occurred on April Fool's Day. Guess the joke was on me. There can be no doubt now that mom will not survive much longer. I have made valiant efforts to keep her hydrated but she can no longer take food and is even beginning to decline water.
The hardest thing now is letting go. Hospice tells me that this is a part of the process. At some point one has to realize that no matter what one does, nature is taking its course. My sister has gone to plan the memorial and I am here with mom - watching her shallow breathing and wondering what is next for me.
What do I do with this experience? How can I honor it and remain focused on the blessing that it represents? Few people are able to care for their parents full-time like I have been able to do. True, it has put me in great financial jeopardy and this is cause for concern but I could not have done anything else.
Somehow I feel that all this has happened in the way it has for a reason. I've gone from enjoying being a hospital volunteer to being a full-time, hands-on caregiver right up to the point of death. The cremation arrangements are in place. Hospice will coordinate with the funeral director for pick-up of the body. Does that sound cold? They are all a part of the drama and it has all changed me in ways I couldn't have foreseen.
I now know how to make a bed with a draw sheet, change a catheter, give sponge baths and dental care and change diapers in bed. Although never formally trained to do so I can take a blood pressure, monitor intake and output of fluids and make notes, much like a nurse does of any noticeable change of condition. Instead of being repulsed by urine and feces and the nakedness of my own mother, these things now present themselves simply as part of the human condition.
Perhaps more importantly I've gone from anger and frustration at the conditions in a nursing home (the inadequate staff, use of drugs to medicate the population into a stupor, rampant infections due to improper hygiene and the chronic loneliness and depression that is so prevalent in those places) to a sense of responsibility to help the countless needy in the world. Where this will lead remains to be seen.
Oddly enough, I feel a sense of relief and surrender. It has been a long hard road that is finally coming to an end. My mother is ready to make the transition to the other side and seems at peace. She may not be able to speak well anymore but she is able to make her wishes known. It is just like her to be concerned about me.
The hardest thing now is letting go. Hospice tells me that this is a part of the process. At some point one has to realize that no matter what one does, nature is taking its course. My sister has gone to plan the memorial and I am here with mom - watching her shallow breathing and wondering what is next for me.
What do I do with this experience? How can I honor it and remain focused on the blessing that it represents? Few people are able to care for their parents full-time like I have been able to do. True, it has put me in great financial jeopardy and this is cause for concern but I could not have done anything else.
Somehow I feel that all this has happened in the way it has for a reason. I've gone from enjoying being a hospital volunteer to being a full-time, hands-on caregiver right up to the point of death. The cremation arrangements are in place. Hospice will coordinate with the funeral director for pick-up of the body. Does that sound cold? They are all a part of the drama and it has all changed me in ways I couldn't have foreseen.
I now know how to make a bed with a draw sheet, change a catheter, give sponge baths and dental care and change diapers in bed. Although never formally trained to do so I can take a blood pressure, monitor intake and output of fluids and make notes, much like a nurse does of any noticeable change of condition. Instead of being repulsed by urine and feces and the nakedness of my own mother, these things now present themselves simply as part of the human condition.
Perhaps more importantly I've gone from anger and frustration at the conditions in a nursing home (the inadequate staff, use of drugs to medicate the population into a stupor, rampant infections due to improper hygiene and the chronic loneliness and depression that is so prevalent in those places) to a sense of responsibility to help the countless needy in the world. Where this will lead remains to be seen.
Oddly enough, I feel a sense of relief and surrender. It has been a long hard road that is finally coming to an end. My mother is ready to make the transition to the other side and seems at peace. She may not be able to speak well anymore but she is able to make her wishes known. It is just like her to be concerned about me.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Sustained by sound
It's nip and tuck here as I hold my vigil and ply my mother with cheesecake...and it's working! At least for the short-term. Kira, my sweet little Himalayan kitten, likes to climb up on the bed and look down from the mountain of pillows. She is a guardian cat.
Mom can no longer speak to me in intelligible language (the stroke left her with aphasia) but this morning she began to sing. Now that was magical! Later she seemed to "wake up" when I adjusted her hearing aids. All this led me to want to share a website and some information that has been enormously insightful to me. It's based on a book I read a decade or so ago called Sound Therapy for the Walkman by Patricia Joudry.
If you, or anyone you know, suffers from hearing loss and/or depression you owe it to yourself to check this out. The concept is that vocal sound recharges the brain. My understanding of it is that way back when the Catholic church discontinued using Latin and went to the vernacular, certain monasteries who had committed to a life of silence (chanting only) began to suffer horrible consequences.
The reason is that monks taking the vow of silence had a strict regimen of chanting. It was something like, rise at dawn and chant for two hours. Then to chores and meditation - lunch and more chanting and so on until time for bed. All was well as long as they were chanting regularly and in Latin (a language that is imminently singable due to the prevalence of vowel sounds). When they switched to the vernacular, the positive physiological affects of the chanting lost power. Deep depression resulted and, in some cases, irreversible schizophrenia.
As the story goes, a certain French psychiatrist went to study these cases and was able to conclude that the tenth cranial nerve (the vagus nerve) which passes through the ear, vibrates to certain frequencies and those vibrations create an electrical current that recharges the brain. The vernacular decreased the vibrational benefit to the vagus nerve and lowered the electrical charge to the brain.
You may have heard that Mozart chamber music is good for your baby's brain, well that's why. This music stimulates the vagus nerve. Here's an example...
What you many not know is that in a healthy person the vagus nerve is naturally stimulated by the production of speech and/or singing. Mozart's music is somehow able to stimulate the vagus nerve from the outside, as it were. There is no requirement to listen to classical string ensembles if you don't want to though. What we need is to talk or sing for sustained periods of time - every day!
It's incredible that so few "ordinary" people know about this research. The good doctor who made this discovery in the 70s(and I apologize for not being able to identify him at the moment) was able to prove that it is vital to our health to talk, sing or listen to a certain frequency range for 4 hours a day. Sound therapy has gained credibility over the years and it is now possible to buy recordings of optimal frequencies to give your brain the charge it needs. Amazing. Another subject worthy of film development...
Continuing research has led scientists to apply the stimulation of the vagus nerve to the treatment of epilepsy and depression (among other things). Listen to this and see if it doesn't stimulate your vagus nerve!
I don't know if you've ever chanted (Gregorian or Buddhist) but there is nothing so energizing as spending 20 or 30 minutes in a chant. It feels like you've plugged yourself into an electrical socket. There's very little that can match it. Two hours would be a total rush. Maybe those monks are having more fun than we imagine.
Mom can no longer speak to me in intelligible language (the stroke left her with aphasia) but this morning she began to sing. Now that was magical! Later she seemed to "wake up" when I adjusted her hearing aids. All this led me to want to share a website and some information that has been enormously insightful to me. It's based on a book I read a decade or so ago called Sound Therapy for the Walkman by Patricia Joudry.
If you, or anyone you know, suffers from hearing loss and/or depression you owe it to yourself to check this out. The concept is that vocal sound recharges the brain. My understanding of it is that way back when the Catholic church discontinued using Latin and went to the vernacular, certain monasteries who had committed to a life of silence (chanting only) began to suffer horrible consequences.
The reason is that monks taking the vow of silence had a strict regimen of chanting. It was something like, rise at dawn and chant for two hours. Then to chores and meditation - lunch and more chanting and so on until time for bed. All was well as long as they were chanting regularly and in Latin (a language that is imminently singable due to the prevalence of vowel sounds). When they switched to the vernacular, the positive physiological affects of the chanting lost power. Deep depression resulted and, in some cases, irreversible schizophrenia.
As the story goes, a certain French psychiatrist went to study these cases and was able to conclude that the tenth cranial nerve (the vagus nerve) which passes through the ear, vibrates to certain frequencies and those vibrations create an electrical current that recharges the brain. The vernacular decreased the vibrational benefit to the vagus nerve and lowered the electrical charge to the brain.
You may have heard that Mozart chamber music is good for your baby's brain, well that's why. This music stimulates the vagus nerve. Here's an example...
What you many not know is that in a healthy person the vagus nerve is naturally stimulated by the production of speech and/or singing. Mozart's music is somehow able to stimulate the vagus nerve from the outside, as it were. There is no requirement to listen to classical string ensembles if you don't want to though. What we need is to talk or sing for sustained periods of time - every day!
It's incredible that so few "ordinary" people know about this research. The good doctor who made this discovery in the 70s(and I apologize for not being able to identify him at the moment) was able to prove that it is vital to our health to talk, sing or listen to a certain frequency range for 4 hours a day. Sound therapy has gained credibility over the years and it is now possible to buy recordings of optimal frequencies to give your brain the charge it needs. Amazing. Another subject worthy of film development...
Continuing research has led scientists to apply the stimulation of the vagus nerve to the treatment of epilepsy and depression (among other things). Listen to this and see if it doesn't stimulate your vagus nerve!
I don't know if you've ever chanted (Gregorian or Buddhist) but there is nothing so energizing as spending 20 or 30 minutes in a chant. It feels like you've plugged yourself into an electrical socket. There's very little that can match it. Two hours would be a total rush. Maybe those monks are having more fun than we imagine.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Hope Springs Eternal
If you doubt it, click on the link to watch middle-aged singer Susan Boyle wow the judges on Britain's Got Talent. Fantastic My sister is always on me to start singing again. I'm always hanging back because of the age factor. No real excuse now is there?
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Life Outside the Box
This afternoon I went out to check on the cat family, which has taken up residence in my garage (see my previous post for relevant backstory). I have come to think of them as The Cat Family Robinson because they have been marooned, as it were, in a rather strange environment which has become their home.
Although not a literal island paradise, the germ of the idea is there. Could be fun... The garage is a fairly inescapable space filled with trashcans and boxes of all shapes and sizes. There's the odd paint can, bicycle and broom among the empty suitcases and other odd items. If one looks really closely - there is even evidence of a rodent family, which must be freaking out over the recent influx of cats.
Anyway, as I was saying, I walked out into the wilds of "garage world" with food and water from the civilized indoors and peered into the box and counted only four little feline faces. Two of the kittens were missing! Oh, dear. Mama cat (aka Meow Meow) was looking pained. Clearly, the more adventurous babies have discovered that there's life outside the box.
It was ever thus. Thankfully, Meow Meow and I found the wayward little rascals soon enough and returned them to the relative safety of their box home. But the gig is up. There's more to life than four walls, much more. The recon duo will surely set out again, if they haven't already, and now the others are peeering over the box with tiny kitten paws filled with instinctive cat curiosity.
It surely won't be long before all six of them go exploring in the labyrinthine mountain of boxes and cans. Adventure is sure to inspire and enlighten them. Already you can see their little personalities emerging. Wish I had some video of them...
Meanwhile, Meow Meow has an on-going romance with a sleek and sexy black Romeo (the father of the pride), who hasn't been seen around much since the birth of his children. The scoundrel! Still, Meow Meow goes out to stretch her legs every morning and I'm betting she knows exactly where to find her man.
Although not a literal island paradise, the germ of the idea is there. Could be fun... The garage is a fairly inescapable space filled with trashcans and boxes of all shapes and sizes. There's the odd paint can, bicycle and broom among the empty suitcases and other odd items. If one looks really closely - there is even evidence of a rodent family, which must be freaking out over the recent influx of cats.
Anyway, as I was saying, I walked out into the wilds of "garage world" with food and water from the civilized indoors and peered into the box and counted only four little feline faces. Two of the kittens were missing! Oh, dear. Mama cat (aka Meow Meow) was looking pained. Clearly, the more adventurous babies have discovered that there's life outside the box.
It was ever thus. Thankfully, Meow Meow and I found the wayward little rascals soon enough and returned them to the relative safety of their box home. But the gig is up. There's more to life than four walls, much more. The recon duo will surely set out again, if they haven't already, and now the others are peeering over the box with tiny kitten paws filled with instinctive cat curiosity.
It surely won't be long before all six of them go exploring in the labyrinthine mountain of boxes and cans. Adventure is sure to inspire and enlighten them. Already you can see their little personalities emerging. Wish I had some video of them...
Meanwhile, Meow Meow has an on-going romance with a sleek and sexy black Romeo (the father of the pride), who hasn't been seen around much since the birth of his children. The scoundrel! Still, Meow Meow goes out to stretch her legs every morning and I'm betting she knows exactly where to find her man.
Sacred Scripts and the Cat Family
As I sit at my mother's bedside, I find comfort in scriptures of all cultures and, in particular, in teachings from The Tibetan Book of the Dead. This small room has become an increasingly sacred place as we prepare for the ultimate rite-of-passage.
Having been born into a Christian family, I take comfort in the Christian rites and "scripts" as well. This goes without saying. However, throughout most of my adult life I have leaned more and more towards Oriental thought.
Late last week mom took a sharp downturn. She refused food and water and slept for almost three days. We weren't sure if she would wake up again. Hospice continues to give us amazing support and enlightens me with their knowledge of this path.
Yesterday mom woke up and spoke, in the odd unintelligible language of aphasia and took some juice. I have made a bed by her side and moved my computer and cell phone here so I can smile and talk to her when she opens her eyes. She seems at peace.
It is also possible that mom will rally and decide to stay with us a while longer. At this point, no-one can tell us what will happen.
Today I was fortunate to find the PBS mini-series based on the aforementioned book, narrated by the great singer/songwriter Leonard Cohen. Here is part I.
The Egyptians also have a Book of the Dead. It is different as it is a collection of writings from funerary texts, pyramid texts and coffin texts. However, it deals in the same general subject matter - the journey from life into the afterlife. I found the Wallis Budge edited text at the local library and am studying it too today. Egyptian archaeology/anthropology has long been a subject of interest.
Two of my favorite books on the Egyptian mindset and sacred way of looking at life and death are Herbak: Egyptian Initiate (I and II) written by Isha Schwaller de Lubicz, wife of the famous French archaelogist/alchemist Rene Schwaller de Lubicz. I believe the first book would make a wonderful film. Well worth the read, totally accessible to the layman and enlightening in the metaphysical sense.
P.S. During all of this, a pregnant stray cat started coming around the house. Texas has odd, often unpredictable weather patterns. There's a saying here. If you don't like the weather, wait a minute. During a cold snap last month I let the bulging feral orphan in and she wound up having six babies in the hall closet.
This occurred just days before the planned arrival of Kira, my new Himalayan kitten. Since Kira is a high-born lady, she is very susceptible to things like worms and distemper which wild cats tend to carry. So I moved the young cat family into a box in the garage - where they now live and thrive.
Is there some correlation between my first aid/nursing persona with my mother and a growing number of orphans being drawn to and nurtured in the house? I wonder. Another stray (a one-eyed puppy) tried to gain entry into the cat family garage but I had to draw the line and chase him off.
It seems that on some level there is a Red Cross vibe being broadcast from the house to all the sentient beings in the neighborhood. There is also a nest of swallows in the entryway. It was there, empty, when I moved in. Now they have returned. As it happens, we have a small pond near the front door. The birds like to bathe there.
What next?
Having been born into a Christian family, I take comfort in the Christian rites and "scripts" as well. This goes without saying. However, throughout most of my adult life I have leaned more and more towards Oriental thought.
Late last week mom took a sharp downturn. She refused food and water and slept for almost three days. We weren't sure if she would wake up again. Hospice continues to give us amazing support and enlightens me with their knowledge of this path.
Yesterday mom woke up and spoke, in the odd unintelligible language of aphasia and took some juice. I have made a bed by her side and moved my computer and cell phone here so I can smile and talk to her when she opens her eyes. She seems at peace.
It is also possible that mom will rally and decide to stay with us a while longer. At this point, no-one can tell us what will happen.
Today I was fortunate to find the PBS mini-series based on the aforementioned book, narrated by the great singer/songwriter Leonard Cohen. Here is part I.
The Egyptians also have a Book of the Dead. It is different as it is a collection of writings from funerary texts, pyramid texts and coffin texts. However, it deals in the same general subject matter - the journey from life into the afterlife. I found the Wallis Budge edited text at the local library and am studying it too today. Egyptian archaeology/anthropology has long been a subject of interest.
Two of my favorite books on the Egyptian mindset and sacred way of looking at life and death are Herbak: Egyptian Initiate (I and II) written by Isha Schwaller de Lubicz, wife of the famous French archaelogist/alchemist Rene Schwaller de Lubicz. I believe the first book would make a wonderful film. Well worth the read, totally accessible to the layman and enlightening in the metaphysical sense.
P.S. During all of this, a pregnant stray cat started coming around the house. Texas has odd, often unpredictable weather patterns. There's a saying here. If you don't like the weather, wait a minute. During a cold snap last month I let the bulging feral orphan in and she wound up having six babies in the hall closet.
This occurred just days before the planned arrival of Kira, my new Himalayan kitten. Since Kira is a high-born lady, she is very susceptible to things like worms and distemper which wild cats tend to carry. So I moved the young cat family into a box in the garage - where they now live and thrive.
Is there some correlation between my first aid/nursing persona with my mother and a growing number of orphans being drawn to and nurtured in the house? I wonder. Another stray (a one-eyed puppy) tried to gain entry into the cat family garage but I had to draw the line and chase him off.
It seems that on some level there is a Red Cross vibe being broadcast from the house to all the sentient beings in the neighborhood. There is also a nest of swallows in the entryway. It was there, empty, when I moved in. Now they have returned. As it happens, we have a small pond near the front door. The birds like to bathe there.
What next?
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Crossing Over
The most obvious piece to the aging puzzle is the final destination, death. It's going to happen to all of us in one way or another. The process of dying, which is happening slowly and incrementally in my mom's case, also offers many insights into the movement from reality of the here and now to "the other side". It's fascinating, once your remove the fear factor.
One of my closest friends in Los Angeles is a psychic/writer from Estonia. Tatyana Elmanovich is a brilliant woman with a PhD in engineering who also spent time as a film critic in Moscow during the "cold war". She has some amazing stories to tell. I helped her structure her first American book Death, the Beginning in 1999. Tatyana is part of a group of famous psychics - two of whom got their own TV shows, including John Edward.
The Hospice doc who visited us today told me that before a person dies, they often go through a period of making the transition. They begin to spend more and more time in "another world". You can call it psychosis. But what if it's the crossroads where life as we know it and the world of the "dead" meet?
Now THAT'S an interesting hook. It brings to mind the concept of telling the story of dying from the dying one's POV, where memories and dreams and realities intermingle. I can tell this is the right "angle" for a script because it juices me.
Think Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind meets The Notebook.
One of my closest friends in Los Angeles is a psychic/writer from Estonia. Tatyana Elmanovich is a brilliant woman with a PhD in engineering who also spent time as a film critic in Moscow during the "cold war". She has some amazing stories to tell. I helped her structure her first American book Death, the Beginning in 1999. Tatyana is part of a group of famous psychics - two of whom got their own TV shows, including John Edward.
The Hospice doc who visited us today told me that before a person dies, they often go through a period of making the transition. They begin to spend more and more time in "another world". You can call it psychosis. But what if it's the crossroads where life as we know it and the world of the "dead" meet?
Now THAT'S an interesting hook. It brings to mind the concept of telling the story of dying from the dying one's POV, where memories and dreams and realities intermingle. I can tell this is the right "angle" for a script because it juices me.
Think Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind meets The Notebook.
The Central Philosophical Question
Thanks to a compassionate Hospice Nurse, mom is cleaned up and sitting in a wheelchair where she now has a chance to eat and drink enough to survive. One of the self-help techniques I've been using to manage my emotions (about taking responsibility for what shows up in life) gave me yet another insight today.
Part of my frustration with my family boils down to a difference in philosophy. Do we simply let nature take it's course or do we do all we can to support and sustain life? Medical science has gotten so sophisticated they can literally keep brain-dead people alive for decades. This doesn't make much sense but where do we draw the line with the elderly? it's a very personal decision.
There are so many aspects to the subject of aging in America I'm making multiple posts this morning as they present themselves. Either a documentary outline is developing or an "angle" on a more dramatic piece is trying to surface and present itself.
Another aspect of aging is the POV and at-risk health of the caregiver. Up until now that has mostly been me. I already have a sprained right rotator cuff and am developing an upper respiratory infection. When people tell me to take care of myself, they're not kidding.
Part of my frustration with my family boils down to a difference in philosophy. Do we simply let nature take it's course or do we do all we can to support and sustain life? Medical science has gotten so sophisticated they can literally keep brain-dead people alive for decades. This doesn't make much sense but where do we draw the line with the elderly? it's a very personal decision.
There are so many aspects to the subject of aging in America I'm making multiple posts this morning as they present themselves. Either a documentary outline is developing or an "angle" on a more dramatic piece is trying to surface and present itself.
Another aspect of aging is the POV and at-risk health of the caregiver. Up until now that has mostly been me. I already have a sprained right rotator cuff and am developing an upper respiratory infection. When people tell me to take care of myself, they're not kidding.
Old Fogey
Funny how desperate times are so full of inspiration. Just sent the radical documentarian Michael Moore an email and am already feeling less than "grateful" to my family today. When I called for help I got the "quick conversation" (sorry, too busy - maybe this weekend but gosh they have a party to attend so probably not).
Forget about your mother - who cared for you all your life and would still give the shirt off her back to help you. I'd rather relax and party. How is it that so many can do this? Doesn't anybody care that thousands, probably millions of elderly people are dying due to neglect?
You can be a lot of things in America but for God's sake don't get old. Avoid it as long as you can. Then once you get there look out because there's a great big fat ugly surprise waiting for you. Very few people, even the majority of medical people, have no time for the old and infirm. There are too many and their needs are too great. Here's just one report on the subject of aging in America.
As I sit here alone in the house, attempting to feed and attend to my dying mother I wonder. Has youth become the new American Idol? Why don't we respect and honor our elders like so many other cultures? What does this say about us as a people? And what are we going to do about it?
Forget about your mother - who cared for you all your life and would still give the shirt off her back to help you. I'd rather relax and party. How is it that so many can do this? Doesn't anybody care that thousands, probably millions of elderly people are dying due to neglect?
You can be a lot of things in America but for God's sake don't get old. Avoid it as long as you can. Then once you get there look out because there's a great big fat ugly surprise waiting for you. Very few people, even the majority of medical people, have no time for the old and infirm. There are too many and their needs are too great. Here's just one report on the subject of aging in America.
As I sit here alone in the house, attempting to feed and attend to my dying mother I wonder. Has youth become the new American Idol? Why don't we respect and honor our elders like so many other cultures? What does this say about us as a people? And what are we going to do about it?
Acknowledgement and Inspiration
Here I am on day three of having mom, post-stroke, at home and many things come to mind. First, I realize that the situation is far more serious than I thought. Just getting mom to drink enough fluids is a major challenge. I am lucky enough to have qualified for a community-based-care program through Medicaid which has awarded me pay for being mom's primary caregiver.
While thinking this morning in my prayer/meditation time about how I can use this experience to expand myself and benefit the greater good - three thoughts popped up.
1) I want to acknowledge my family for everything they have done and do to help us. Even though I have taken on the major, hands-on role my sister tries to visit once a week. My brother who lives locally also makes it a point to use whatever time he has off to visit or help with errands. And my oldest brother (who is still in California) handles all the financial concerns like taxes and monthly checks.
2) I need to make a brief cogent list of my resources so others may know the steps and programs available to them, here in the U.S. that support the elderly and handicapped. Numerous grants and programs exist I never knew about before.
3) Everything I earn presently is going to pay for in-home help so I am focusing a great deal of energy on manifesting more abundance the financial and career sector.
It simultaneously occurred to me to share my gratitude and developing vision to write/produce a piece about this experience on the blog. Paging Michael Moore. I have actually just visited his site and am sending him an email, suggesting our story and some of my ideas for his next film. We are not so isolated after all. Who knows, maybe he or someone else out there will connect with this on-going story and yet another miracle will unfold.
P.S. Hospice has been wonderful so far. They are so kind and compassionate. Kira, the Himalayan kitty is also doing splendidly. She's so sweet and lovable. We are thrilled to have her here. Pets are a great comfort, especially for the elderly.
While thinking this morning in my prayer/meditation time about how I can use this experience to expand myself and benefit the greater good - three thoughts popped up.
1) I want to acknowledge my family for everything they have done and do to help us. Even though I have taken on the major, hands-on role my sister tries to visit once a week. My brother who lives locally also makes it a point to use whatever time he has off to visit or help with errands. And my oldest brother (who is still in California) handles all the financial concerns like taxes and monthly checks.
2) I need to make a brief cogent list of my resources so others may know the steps and programs available to them, here in the U.S. that support the elderly and handicapped. Numerous grants and programs exist I never knew about before.
3) Everything I earn presently is going to pay for in-home help so I am focusing a great deal of energy on manifesting more abundance the financial and career sector.
It simultaneously occurred to me to share my gratitude and developing vision to write/produce a piece about this experience on the blog. Paging Michael Moore. I have actually just visited his site and am sending him an email, suggesting our story and some of my ideas for his next film. We are not so isolated after all. Who knows, maybe he or someone else out there will connect with this on-going story and yet another miracle will unfold.
P.S. Hospice has been wonderful so far. They are so kind and compassionate. Kira, the Himalayan kitty is also doing splendidly. She's so sweet and lovable. We are thrilled to have her here. Pets are a great comfort, especially for the elderly.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Life and Death
How's that for dramatic? Long time no post. The sad news is that my mom, whom I've fought so hard to get out of a skilled nursing facility and safely home had a stroke on Tuesday evening. So I literally have been dealing with life and death.
I haven't started writing the script version or maybe I have and don't know it. That's how Neil Simon responded when asked if he was writing a new script. There's no shortage of material, that's for sure. It ranges from the tearful to the comical. Just knowing that mom's prognosis is very poor is enough to make my eyes leak. But given a bit of emotional distance, there's room for laughter as well.
For example, when mom first came home I'd spend hours in the grocery store, selecting the finest fruits and veggies; pouring over recipes and preparing yummy meals, most of which would go uneaten. It got my goat, you might say, to extend the food-stuff metaphor. Now I understand that her swallowing issues (she's a silent aspirator) make it nearly impossible to chew things like roast beef.
On top of that, like many elderly people, all she wants is chocolate, cheesecake and pancakes with syrup. There's a method to the madness. Sweet is one of the last taste buds to go. So mom probably can't even taste all those lovingly made meals. No point in getting bent over it. This new info actually makes my life a lot easier.
Yesterday I went to the store and loaded up on pot pies, frozen finger foods, those little puddings and jellos that come in a cup and lots of cheesecake and chocolate. More than one person gave me a quizzical look. Life is short. Eat dessert first. She actually has a chance of eating these - even if it makes me cringe to pay for them.
Did you know that medical people refer to skilled nursing facilities as "sniffs"? They pronounce the acronym SNF (medical people adore acronyms and talk quite seriously to each other in this exclusive tongue) but the fact is many of the places literally smell of urine. And if you ask me, the quality of care stinks as well.
I could go on, and no doubt will, but it's enough to say that so far the structure of the script I'm not sure I'm writing still eludes me. The linear approach is a bore. Besides it's been done and done again. Today I'm watching The Notebook while waiting for the medical supply company to deliver a hospital bed and wheelchair.
Mom had mild-moderate vascular dementia before the stroke so she was starting to say some odd things. I've been keeping notes in a journal. Now this stroke has left her without the ability to speak intelligibly. They call it "word salad" (the food metaphor returns) but not in the schizophrenic sense. Here's some medical backstory.
In other words, the part of her brain that controls language and speech is what got hurt. They refer to mom's symptoms as aphasia. Mom's diagnosis is impairment of the left hemisphere of the posterior parietal lobe, with involvement of the Broca's region. It's the same thing Kirk Douglas suffers.
She also has something called homonymous hemianopsia - which impairs the right field of her vision in both eyes. So for now she can't talk sensibly at all and we don't think she can understand any of the words she hears. Although she has already begun to show some spontaneous recovery.
Here's another, rather interesting, take on a milder form of aphasia from the 2007 movie Flawless. In this example, Philip Seymour Hoffman totally upstages Robert DeNiro because he's so flagrant and wonderful to watch. DeNiro appears to be able to understand what's being said to him but he's grappling with how to speak:
I wonder what's going on in that brain of hers. I hope she's remembering or dreaming happy things. Of course I also hope I can affect some sort of improvement in her comfort and care. She will be glad to come home - of that I'm certain. Say a little prayer for us.
Bye for now.
I haven't started writing the script version or maybe I have and don't know it. That's how Neil Simon responded when asked if he was writing a new script. There's no shortage of material, that's for sure. It ranges from the tearful to the comical. Just knowing that mom's prognosis is very poor is enough to make my eyes leak. But given a bit of emotional distance, there's room for laughter as well.
For example, when mom first came home I'd spend hours in the grocery store, selecting the finest fruits and veggies; pouring over recipes and preparing yummy meals, most of which would go uneaten. It got my goat, you might say, to extend the food-stuff metaphor. Now I understand that her swallowing issues (she's a silent aspirator) make it nearly impossible to chew things like roast beef.
On top of that, like many elderly people, all she wants is chocolate, cheesecake and pancakes with syrup. There's a method to the madness. Sweet is one of the last taste buds to go. So mom probably can't even taste all those lovingly made meals. No point in getting bent over it. This new info actually makes my life a lot easier.
Yesterday I went to the store and loaded up on pot pies, frozen finger foods, those little puddings and jellos that come in a cup and lots of cheesecake and chocolate. More than one person gave me a quizzical look. Life is short. Eat dessert first. She actually has a chance of eating these - even if it makes me cringe to pay for them.
Did you know that medical people refer to skilled nursing facilities as "sniffs"? They pronounce the acronym SNF (medical people adore acronyms and talk quite seriously to each other in this exclusive tongue) but the fact is many of the places literally smell of urine. And if you ask me, the quality of care stinks as well.
I could go on, and no doubt will, but it's enough to say that so far the structure of the script I'm not sure I'm writing still eludes me. The linear approach is a bore. Besides it's been done and done again. Today I'm watching The Notebook while waiting for the medical supply company to deliver a hospital bed and wheelchair.
Mom had mild-moderate vascular dementia before the stroke so she was starting to say some odd things. I've been keeping notes in a journal. Now this stroke has left her without the ability to speak intelligibly. They call it "word salad" (the food metaphor returns) but not in the schizophrenic sense. Here's some medical backstory.
In other words, the part of her brain that controls language and speech is what got hurt. They refer to mom's symptoms as aphasia. Mom's diagnosis is impairment of the left hemisphere of the posterior parietal lobe, with involvement of the Broca's region. It's the same thing Kirk Douglas suffers.
She also has something called homonymous hemianopsia - which impairs the right field of her vision in both eyes. So for now she can't talk sensibly at all and we don't think she can understand any of the words she hears. Although she has already begun to show some spontaneous recovery.
Here's another, rather interesting, take on a milder form of aphasia from the 2007 movie Flawless. In this example, Philip Seymour Hoffman totally upstages Robert DeNiro because he's so flagrant and wonderful to watch. DeNiro appears to be able to understand what's being said to him but he's grappling with how to speak:
I wonder what's going on in that brain of hers. I hope she's remembering or dreaming happy things. Of course I also hope I can affect some sort of improvement in her comfort and care. She will be glad to come home - of that I'm certain. Say a little prayer for us.
Bye for now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
