I've always liked spring time. Not LOVED it, but I like it. I can hear the collective gasp from lovers of sunshine and warmth after a long winter. Let me explain.
When I was a child, I was deathly afraid of thunderstorms. Let me rephrase that. I had a pathological fear of thunderstorms. If it was a lovely spring day and a dark cloud came up, as they are wont to do, I would go into my bedroom, draw the blinds and watch the tv, hugging my map of Indiana that my parents had given me to track the weather advisories. Don't worry, they weren't enabling me, they knew I was a control freak and it helped me to know where the pesky storms were every second of their trek through Indiana. So, as winter would go away, I knew one thing. It was time for tornado sirens, storm watches and my eyes glued to Bob McClain the local weather man. Back in those days, we didn't have the weather channel and buff Jim Cantore out chasing storms. We had a guy in a studio in Indiana, with 1980s technology showing us where the storms were going. "Swoop" McClain was my connection to sanity in those days.
Well to those of you on the edge of your seat, I "did" grow out of my fear of storms. However, one thing you realize when something scares the living daylights out of you, one has a tendency to learn quite a bit about that thing. At least, that's what I did. Know your enemy-that was my policy.
This has changed quite a bit, since the invention of the internet. Now you can google anything you want and know far more than any person should ever know about a topic.
I was thinking back before the internet the other day, pondering if I would ever have gotten over my fear of storms, if I would have had 24/7 weather channel and google at my fingertips. There are so many people now with obsessive tendencies that get their feeling and thoughts ramped up by the almight google.
While I was tracking those storms, I had an encyclopedia at my fingertips as well, to look up symptoms and such. Born to be a researcher...that's me!
When I heard on the radio that they were no longer going to be printing Encyclopedia Brittanica, I took a pause. For my generation, and those just a little older than me, the world has really changed. Would I have ever thought when I watched Star Trek: The Next Generation in the 80s and 90s that the "PADD" Picard read from would now be in my possession? That books were becoming things of the past and all the worlds knowledge (good and bad) was at my fingertips as long as I typed in the right search word?
I don't know about you, but I kind of miss tracking my storms on my paper map of Indiana and watching for Swoop McClain's weather forecast.
It taught me this. Today's fear may be tomorrow's misty nostalgia.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
MSA Awareness Month
March is MSA awareness month. For those of you that have followed my blog, you know that my mother died of this disease in 2009. I will say "probably" died of this, because one of the hallmarks of MSA is that it is so hard to diagnose that some people never really get a full diagnosis. Mayo clinic said she had it, and I figured they were pretty good authorities. I have been posting pictures of my Mom, not too long before her death on Facebook. Doing so, has brought back some unpleasant and not so unpleasant memories of those few years. I didn't take any pictures of my Mom as she struggled through her final months, as some people did of their parents. I am glad I didn't, actually. Not to mention, she would have never allowed it anyway!
But the point of all this, aside from wanting to blog about MSA for the awareness month, is that when someone dies of a disease like this, you never really get over it. Not really.
Memories of what happened day to day and what happened the last days of their lives come back to you at the most odd moments. Dying isn't always as picture perfect as it is on tv. It isn't a misty water colored memory, as some lead you to believe. Its pretty brutal stuff.
Truth be told, I didn't hang around much while my Mom was dying. My Dad couldn't stay, he was so upset, so I drove him around, took him to my house, etc. I sat with her, came in and talked to her, but my husband, my sister and her brothers and sister did most of the sitting. This isn't something I'm proud of, to tell you the truth. I wish I could have been one of those people that sat, holding my Mom's hand, telling her it would be ok. Well, it wasn't ok. She knew it and so did I. She struggled at the end, cried out a lot, pulled at her legs and wept. She didn't want to die. Was she afraid to die? No. But even those most prepared for death aren't ready to leave their loved ones. I had a hard time because it was like she was trying to tell me something over and over again. But her ability to talk had gone and she couldn't let me know. I talked to her finally and told her that she was dying. Nobody had bothered to tell "her." They told me, my Dad and anyone else who would listen. But they didn't tell her. So I did. I asked her if she understood. She nodded yes. She was calmer after that, much calmer. It was time to stop fighting.
But, I still wonder what she wanted to tell me. Did she want to tell me that she wasn't dying, to help her? I knew she couldn't swallow. I knew she couldn't eat or drink. I knew she wasn't going to live. I asked her if she wanted to go to the hospital. She shook her head no. I asked her if she was afraid to die. She shook her head no. My husband said that he thought she wanted to say so much to me as she passed and just couldn't and it made her crazy with sadness.
I won't know, this side of eternity, what she wanted to say. So it will haunt me. Was she upset I didn't stay by her side every minute? Probably. I wasn't there when she took her last breath. She wasn't alone, but I wasn't there. The one person that should have been. Something else that will haunt me.
I had a dream Saturday evening. To preface, I have dreams like this often. They aren't like dreams where you just "dream" about someone. They are actual visitations. I know this doesn't hold with my beliefs, but it happens. My Mom has visited me often. But this time, it wasn't her. It way my Grandma. Grandma has been dead for 8 years. I asked her why she was here. She told me straight up that she was sent to tell me to stop worrying about things. Leave it to my Mom to get exasperated that I wasn't listening to her, so she sent Grandma. She was there clear as a bell. I was walking down the hall of a building and ran into a woman and she turned around and it was Grandma.
I know I've blogged about this before, but all this MSA stuff reminded me of it.
Not very poetic. But what is on my mind.
But the point of all this, aside from wanting to blog about MSA for the awareness month, is that when someone dies of a disease like this, you never really get over it. Not really.
Memories of what happened day to day and what happened the last days of their lives come back to you at the most odd moments. Dying isn't always as picture perfect as it is on tv. It isn't a misty water colored memory, as some lead you to believe. Its pretty brutal stuff.
Truth be told, I didn't hang around much while my Mom was dying. My Dad couldn't stay, he was so upset, so I drove him around, took him to my house, etc. I sat with her, came in and talked to her, but my husband, my sister and her brothers and sister did most of the sitting. This isn't something I'm proud of, to tell you the truth. I wish I could have been one of those people that sat, holding my Mom's hand, telling her it would be ok. Well, it wasn't ok. She knew it and so did I. She struggled at the end, cried out a lot, pulled at her legs and wept. She didn't want to die. Was she afraid to die? No. But even those most prepared for death aren't ready to leave their loved ones. I had a hard time because it was like she was trying to tell me something over and over again. But her ability to talk had gone and she couldn't let me know. I talked to her finally and told her that she was dying. Nobody had bothered to tell "her." They told me, my Dad and anyone else who would listen. But they didn't tell her. So I did. I asked her if she understood. She nodded yes. She was calmer after that, much calmer. It was time to stop fighting.
But, I still wonder what she wanted to tell me. Did she want to tell me that she wasn't dying, to help her? I knew she couldn't swallow. I knew she couldn't eat or drink. I knew she wasn't going to live. I asked her if she wanted to go to the hospital. She shook her head no. I asked her if she was afraid to die. She shook her head no. My husband said that he thought she wanted to say so much to me as she passed and just couldn't and it made her crazy with sadness.
I won't know, this side of eternity, what she wanted to say. So it will haunt me. Was she upset I didn't stay by her side every minute? Probably. I wasn't there when she took her last breath. She wasn't alone, but I wasn't there. The one person that should have been. Something else that will haunt me.
I had a dream Saturday evening. To preface, I have dreams like this often. They aren't like dreams where you just "dream" about someone. They are actual visitations. I know this doesn't hold with my beliefs, but it happens. My Mom has visited me often. But this time, it wasn't her. It way my Grandma. Grandma has been dead for 8 years. I asked her why she was here. She told me straight up that she was sent to tell me to stop worrying about things. Leave it to my Mom to get exasperated that I wasn't listening to her, so she sent Grandma. She was there clear as a bell. I was walking down the hall of a building and ran into a woman and she turned around and it was Grandma.
I know I've blogged about this before, but all this MSA stuff reminded me of it.
Not very poetic. But what is on my mind.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Facebook: The snapshot of your life
I was scrolling down my Facebook newsfeed this week and looking a the "friends" posts there. I was taken by all the people that had been part of different times of my life. There were friends I had known since I was a kid, family, work friends, friends from different churches I have attended, work colleagues, the list goes on.
You have no idea how many people who touch over your life. Facebook just has a way of putting it into one place. I thought about some of the friends from my high school days meeting friends I have now and if they would be talking about the same person. Am I different than I was then? Assuredly in some ways, yes. But I wonder if there are similarities they would find interesting, even all these years later.
I look at all the people there and wonder, do they really know me? Do they know the REAL me? Do they want to know the REAL me?
I ponder these things at great length and wonder if people would still like me if they knew the REAL me. I always feel like I have a mask on, sometimes even with those closest to me. I put on a mask for whoever I'm with. Don't get me wrong, I have certain principles and beliefs that don't change no matter who I'm with. But in some way I am a chameleon.
So, my goal this year it to try to be the same with everyone. I think I'm doing better with this, because frankly, its too exhausting the other way!
You have no idea how many people who touch over your life. Facebook just has a way of putting it into one place. I thought about some of the friends from my high school days meeting friends I have now and if they would be talking about the same person. Am I different than I was then? Assuredly in some ways, yes. But I wonder if there are similarities they would find interesting, even all these years later.
I look at all the people there and wonder, do they really know me? Do they know the REAL me? Do they want to know the REAL me?
I ponder these things at great length and wonder if people would still like me if they knew the REAL me. I always feel like I have a mask on, sometimes even with those closest to me. I put on a mask for whoever I'm with. Don't get me wrong, I have certain principles and beliefs that don't change no matter who I'm with. But in some way I am a chameleon.
So, my goal this year it to try to be the same with everyone. I think I'm doing better with this, because frankly, its too exhausting the other way!
Monday, December 26, 2011
The Gaping Hole
It's been quite some time since I posted. To catch up, my health issues have resolved themselves, for the most part. Christmas has come and gone and now I am heading towards the new year. This was the 3rd Christmas without my Mom. Though it was very enjoyable, I started some new traditions and I gave my family a Christmas that they haven't had in years, it was bittersweet. I told my Mom once that when she was gone, I would never enjoy Christmas again. She was aghast at this and said, "then why did I fight all these years?" I felt bad, but to be honest, I will never enjoy it like I once did. It will be much different how I enjoy it, but then again, life changes. Change is inevitable. She admitted that holidays in general were different after she lost her own mother.
It has been in the back of mind all this month. The gaping hole. The deep bass note of abscence. The empty chair, the missing present, the non-existent laugh.
I had a dream a few weeks ago. My mom was in bed with me, my bed, the one I have now. She looked as she did when I was in high school. She was wearing the house coat she wore then. A orange and white monstrosity that I never liked, but she loved. We were chatting about things. I could smell her. The ambiance of her scent. After we stopped our conversation and I felt myself waking up I saw her. That place where you aren't sure you are awake or not, she walked to the side of my bed, translucent (I could see my hallway through her) and she kissed me and I woke up.
The dream stuck with me, obviously. It didn't leave me with the sense of searing pain that dreams in the past had. But as Christmas came around, I felt that gaping emptiness of her abscence again.
I know that it will pass, it always does, but not completely.
It's a feeling I will live with my entire life. But, it is part of me. It has become who I am. It's not perfect, but there it is.
It has been in the back of mind all this month. The gaping hole. The deep bass note of abscence. The empty chair, the missing present, the non-existent laugh.
I had a dream a few weeks ago. My mom was in bed with me, my bed, the one I have now. She looked as she did when I was in high school. She was wearing the house coat she wore then. A orange and white monstrosity that I never liked, but she loved. We were chatting about things. I could smell her. The ambiance of her scent. After we stopped our conversation and I felt myself waking up I saw her. That place where you aren't sure you are awake or not, she walked to the side of my bed, translucent (I could see my hallway through her) and she kissed me and I woke up.
The dream stuck with me, obviously. It didn't leave me with the sense of searing pain that dreams in the past had. But as Christmas came around, I felt that gaping emptiness of her abscence again.
I know that it will pass, it always does, but not completely.
It's a feeling I will live with my entire life. But, it is part of me. It has become who I am. It's not perfect, but there it is.
Friday, October 28, 2011
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times....
Just to catch you all up, I haven't been very well lately. Digestive and female issues have kept me in a state of fatigue, pain and even depression for the better part of a month and a half. So far tests have come back ok, still more doctors appointments to attend in November.
But this isn't a detailed blog of my recent health woes. I began to think about how much of my Mom's life was spent like this. For the most part, I have been pretty healthy. This recent issue, I pray, will only be temporary and I can get back to my normal life. But this WAS normal for my Mother. When she was having a "good" day, it was usually what most of us would consider a bad day. For a good part of her life, she woke up in pain, went through her day in pain and went to bed in pain.
So at the end when she was crying out in pain, I knew it had to be pretty bad.
I know this post is short, but I try, as I have my painful moments, and I have had them lately, that this was nothing compared to what she went through.
But this isn't a detailed blog of my recent health woes. I began to think about how much of my Mom's life was spent like this. For the most part, I have been pretty healthy. This recent issue, I pray, will only be temporary and I can get back to my normal life. But this WAS normal for my Mother. When she was having a "good" day, it was usually what most of us would consider a bad day. For a good part of her life, she woke up in pain, went through her day in pain and went to bed in pain.
So at the end when she was crying out in pain, I knew it had to be pretty bad.
I know this post is short, but I try, as I have my painful moments, and I have had them lately, that this was nothing compared to what she went through.
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