I was sitting at work today, looking at all my "friends", trying to figure out what it was that brought the spark of awareness to their eyes. I watched them talk to each other, each in their own language...nothing that meant anything to me, or to each other, and yet a conversation held between them that seemed to be understood! And I'd see it, now and then, that spark of who they used to be...sadder still was seeing that they, for a moment remembered it too..the person they used to be.
The "administration", in an effort to convince prospective "residents" families that we are a caring place to be, bought plant s for the planters out in front of our building. Now I understand the principle...what I do not understand is someone planting a paltry smattering of flowers, and then letting them die of neglect in the 1st place someone with a family member sees upon entering out gates! We care enough put 'em here, but 'enough to care for and nourish them once they're here! That's what it says to me! Harsh, I agree!
But then I started noticing that the biggest smiles, the most clear-eyed looks came when I wore COLOR! Red, deep blue, violet got reactions from even the most distant of my "friends"! And so I think...maybe it's color that's missing! My darling "Wilma" loves my hands...she holds them for minutes at a time, smoothing the skin on my fingers and arms...it dawns on me..she's trying to "wipe off" the "dirt"...I'm very tanned, she's very pale...she sees the color! "Ellen", crying over the death of her daughter yesterday, 30 years ago stops long enough to exclaim, "That's such a lovely blue sweater!"
Everything to them is muted now...dull greens and tans...no color! SO. I came home tonight, and my room mate and I culled from the veritable jungle on the patio, 3 flats of flowers! Pansies, Mums, Geraniums! All colors and sizes! I'm not going to ask permission...I'm not going to ask for compensation...I'm going to do it on my own time. But on Monday morning, there will be a riot of colorful flowers in our courtyard. And they will tell all who live there, and those who visit that this IS a place where things are nurtured, and cared for. That EVERYTHING & EVERYONE here, matters, and is cared for and deserves COLOR in their life!
Long may we bloom...
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Top 10 Reasons I Hate Alzheimer's
I've been away from my blog for a while...my apologies to anyone who might have dropped in looking for me. I have a new/old job. It's a job I've done before, only in a new place, and with new people. It's a care facility for Alzheimer's patients. Have I mentioned yet today how much I hate this disease! I haven't? Unusual for me..I usually manage to work it into the conversation at least a dozen times a day! It is THE most insiduous, horrific thing I have ever had the occasion to be involved with.
Imagine...every morning when you wake up, it's the day after your only daughter has died...the grief is fresh and heart-rending.
Imagine...you mowed the lawn, played a little foodball with your grandson, and then went upstairs for a little nap...only to wake in a strange place full of people you don't know who keep telling you you "live" here now!
Sound like an episode of "The Twilight Zone"? Well, it is. But for the people I work with every day, it's their reality. And they have no idea how they got there, or how to get out! Imagine!
No wonder then that they imprint and cling to people like me...people who are there EVERY day..when you're that scared and that confused, you hang onto every, any thing you see that you remember. For my friends, that's someone or something they see every day!
I have no wish here to belittle, denegrate or accuse. I am a 1st hand observer of what this disease does...to people, to families, to friends, to those who care. My wish here is only, maybe for my own sake, to spit out, and I do mean spit, my disgust, my horror, and my hatred for what I consider to be the most heinious disease we've ever fought. Just like the "smart" bombs, it leaves the "buildings" unharmed, but destroys all of the humanity, the wonderful humans who once lived and thought and loved there. My God, what a horror! Nothing but empty "buildings".
So...here is my "Top 10 List of Things I Hate Most About Alzheimer's Disease"
#10. It leaves empty "buildings".
#9. It takes away wonderful, beautiful people...people who still had things to do, something to do, and to teach.
#8 It takes those people away from their families, people who loved them before they understood they still had something to do...something to teach.
#7 It puts those people through a daily hell not of their own making.
#6. It's hearing someone say, "They used to BE someone!" They are STILL someone...just someone different!
#5 It's a hell their families and loved ones have to watch, and can't help them with.
#4 It's seeing the families feel quilty for for not being able to help. You can't. It's not your fault.
#3 Seeing the hurt look in a family member's eye when their "loved" one clings to me, and doesn't remember who you are.
#2 It's knowing, it will never "get better"...that that wonderful person is gone forever, even tho they're sitting right in front of you.
And the #1 reason I hate this disease? Is having to watch it, praying every night that someone like me will be there if one day I wake up from my nap....
Imagine!
Imagine...every morning when you wake up, it's the day after your only daughter has died...the grief is fresh and heart-rending.
Imagine...you mowed the lawn, played a little foodball with your grandson, and then went upstairs for a little nap...only to wake in a strange place full of people you don't know who keep telling you you "live" here now!
Sound like an episode of "The Twilight Zone"? Well, it is. But for the people I work with every day, it's their reality. And they have no idea how they got there, or how to get out! Imagine!
No wonder then that they imprint and cling to people like me...people who are there EVERY day..when you're that scared and that confused, you hang onto every, any thing you see that you remember. For my friends, that's someone or something they see every day!
I have no wish here to belittle, denegrate or accuse. I am a 1st hand observer of what this disease does...to people, to families, to friends, to those who care. My wish here is only, maybe for my own sake, to spit out, and I do mean spit, my disgust, my horror, and my hatred for what I consider to be the most heinious disease we've ever fought. Just like the "smart" bombs, it leaves the "buildings" unharmed, but destroys all of the humanity, the wonderful humans who once lived and thought and loved there. My God, what a horror! Nothing but empty "buildings".
So...here is my "Top 10 List of Things I Hate Most About Alzheimer's Disease"
#10. It leaves empty "buildings".
#9. It takes away wonderful, beautiful people...people who still had things to do, something to do, and to teach.
#8 It takes those people away from their families, people who loved them before they understood they still had something to do...something to teach.
#7 It puts those people through a daily hell not of their own making.
#6. It's hearing someone say, "They used to BE someone!" They are STILL someone...just someone different!
#5 It's a hell their families and loved ones have to watch, and can't help them with.
#4 It's seeing the families feel quilty for for not being able to help. You can't. It's not your fault.
#3 Seeing the hurt look in a family member's eye when their "loved" one clings to me, and doesn't remember who you are.
#2 It's knowing, it will never "get better"...that that wonderful person is gone forever, even tho they're sitting right in front of you.
And the #1 reason I hate this disease? Is having to watch it, praying every night that someone like me will be there if one day I wake up from my nap....
Imagine!
Monday, May 11, 2009
Distractions
I have been totally remiss with my blog. There have been distractions. The smell of pine trees in the mountains...the smell of Lilacs in the city...the aching of muscles 20 years past doing what I ask of them every day. Distactions. The smell of my Colorado waking up for yet another year of living. The watching for the color of the soil to change, letting you know you've given this or that plant enough. The difference between the smell of wet and dry soil. The feeling that there is still...still something you should be out there doing, that you haven't done yet! And Spring is the time to find it!!
The knowledge that you are past what you always thought you were capable of, and haven't gotten there yet comes to mind. Spring makes you believe you can still get there. And so ,tired and sore, you rise to it's call , and more this time of year than any other, to prove you can. No matter your age, no matter your abilities...you go out there to prove you "still can".
I wish that was a "guy thing"...that they were the only ones who felt it neccessary to go out, "prove" they still have a reason for taking up space and air on this planet that is losing both at a rapid rate. Women have that drive too, to feel "productive". And when they can't anymore, in the "true" sense of the world, they try to hold their own, any way they can.
All of this is about Mother's Day I guess. I guess I've finally gotten around to giving "my take" on this holiday. Holiday. Like we have to designate a day to doing what is the most inevitable function we have in this life. We are born to bear...we are born to care for what we bear until they push us away and can do for themselves. A mother bear raises her young knowing, working toward the day her young will not need her any more. Much the same with most species who have been here longer than us! Humans are the only species on the planet who "keep" their young with them into adult hood!
I was a selfish Mother...I raised my children as quick as I could...I knew next year, there would be another "litter"...in my case another set of problems that would require my attention. I take no pride in that. I did what, knowing myself, I had to do.
A bear will give all her attention to the cub who needs it most. It knows which cub will survive on it's own and which one needs help.
They resent me for it now. I'd say hate, but that's a strong word...even a full grown male bear will stop short of killing it's mother in the wild, even over a fresh kill. Unless it's hungry...for food, or attention, or the revenge for the attention it never thought it got.
We as parents raise our children in flawed ways...ways flawed by our memories of how we were raise, of lessons learned by our own experiences, of our own egotistical beliefs. None of us can EVER, will NEVER be able to see how very right and wrong we were until our children's children are as old as we are now. And then, it will be too late..because all of that wonderful knowledge will be considered as nothing more than "old shit" from "old people". It will be dissmissed, dissregarded, and forgotten. OH, the things that have been forgotten! The stories of our families...the recipies I couldn't find...the times I didn't listen when Gramma wanted to talk.
So as a Mother, to my children I say, listen. Even when I'm wrong. I'm not always wrong. And I'm never wrong for the wrong reasons...most of what I've told you in my life, and your's, was what I believed, and for the right reasons. I believed it, and thought it would help you. I got a lot of it from your Gramma, and her from hers....
I love you both my darlings.
The knowledge that you are past what you always thought you were capable of, and haven't gotten there yet comes to mind. Spring makes you believe you can still get there. And so ,tired and sore, you rise to it's call , and more this time of year than any other, to prove you can. No matter your age, no matter your abilities...you go out there to prove you "still can".
I wish that was a "guy thing"...that they were the only ones who felt it neccessary to go out, "prove" they still have a reason for taking up space and air on this planet that is losing both at a rapid rate. Women have that drive too, to feel "productive". And when they can't anymore, in the "true" sense of the world, they try to hold their own, any way they can.
All of this is about Mother's Day I guess. I guess I've finally gotten around to giving "my take" on this holiday. Holiday. Like we have to designate a day to doing what is the most inevitable function we have in this life. We are born to bear...we are born to care for what we bear until they push us away and can do for themselves. A mother bear raises her young knowing, working toward the day her young will not need her any more. Much the same with most species who have been here longer than us! Humans are the only species on the planet who "keep" their young with them into adult hood!
I was a selfish Mother...I raised my children as quick as I could...I knew next year, there would be another "litter"...in my case another set of problems that would require my attention. I take no pride in that. I did what, knowing myself, I had to do.
A bear will give all her attention to the cub who needs it most. It knows which cub will survive on it's own and which one needs help.
They resent me for it now. I'd say hate, but that's a strong word...even a full grown male bear will stop short of killing it's mother in the wild, even over a fresh kill. Unless it's hungry...for food, or attention, or the revenge for the attention it never thought it got.
We as parents raise our children in flawed ways...ways flawed by our memories of how we were raise, of lessons learned by our own experiences, of our own egotistical beliefs. None of us can EVER, will NEVER be able to see how very right and wrong we were until our children's children are as old as we are now. And then, it will be too late..because all of that wonderful knowledge will be considered as nothing more than "old shit" from "old people". It will be dissmissed, dissregarded, and forgotten. OH, the things that have been forgotten! The stories of our families...the recipies I couldn't find...the times I didn't listen when Gramma wanted to talk.
So as a Mother, to my children I say, listen. Even when I'm wrong. I'm not always wrong. And I'm never wrong for the wrong reasons...most of what I've told you in my life, and your's, was what I believed, and for the right reasons. I believed it, and thought it would help you. I got a lot of it from your Gramma, and her from hers....
I love you both my darlings.
Friday, April 10, 2009
"until I met a man who had no legs."
This has been the most amazing day! I've been dreading it all week, having to leave my hotel room for a room in a friends house. Knowing it's an impostion no matter how gracious her offer. We're a lot alike, my friend and I...both with grown children and very used to having our own "place". Private, quiet people the two of us. So, I know she's happy to help and sorry she has to.
The day started with me trying to shove 50 pounds of stuff in a 20 pound suitcase that was old when I was young. I'll tell you, it resisted the proccess! But with "friends" (thank you, you know who you are) bouncing, and a few not-so-polite words, it finally closed. By then, I was already
beat! I gethered everything else together and managed to get out by check out time.
So there I was, pulling approximately 100 pounds of 30 year old luggage on protesting wheels to the bus stop three blocks away. As I walked, I muttered to myself about how unfair all this was. Being tossed out, having a suitcase with square wheels, the fact that the bus would probably be late. Generally about everything that was wrong in my life, which was just about everything at that moment, in my estimation.
I was so busy watching the sidewalk and feuling my private "pity party" that I had run into the stroller before I even saw it. I muttered something without looking up which I hoped would be taken as an apology, thought I wasn't feeling exactly apologetic right that moment. When you see someone coming, move out of the way for God's sake!
I pulled my luggage straight at the bus stop and glanced into the stroller. It was big and old, possible older than my suitcase, and was held together in several places with duct tape. Inside was a baby, six or eight months old with carrot red curls, bright blue eyes, and a smile that took up his entire face. He giggled at the bump to the stroller, and I couldn't help it. I had to smile back. Something about his baby stare bothered me, but...
This time I actually looked at the woman holding the stroller handle. She wouldn't be called pretty, but her eyes were the same blue as the baby's and she had a calm, peaceful air about her. This time I apologized to her for running into the stroller. She smiled at me, and I was suddenly puzzled that I hadn't thought of her as pretty. She glanced down at the baby with a look of love you could have seen across the street.
"Doesn't appear Mikey minded a bit! It's nice to hear him laugh a little." That "something" in the back of my mind jumped and I looked at him again. His blue gaze seemed to be looking right at me, but his eyes had a far away, unfocused shine. His head seemed to big for his little neck to support and trembled just a bit.
I said something about how cute he was and her smile widened. "Oh I know! He's a real heartbreaker, Mikey. Already has 2 marraige proposals from the nurses. He's only 3, but that's 2 years longer than they said I'd have him, so every time he smiles, just makes my day."
In less than a second my mind flashed on my two beautiful children...my two incredible grandsons. I suddenely for the life of me couldn't remember one single thing that had seemed so horribly wrong with my life just minutes ago. The bus pulled up just then...it wasn't mine but I helped her with the stroller and they were gone. I just sat there, thinking about Mikey's smile.
My bus pulled up a few minutes later, and the day again took a downturn...the lift was broken, and no way was I getting my "load" on the bus without it. I had just started the thought "It figures..." when a young Hispanic man got off the bus. Big man! The kind that would have scared the hell out of me in a dark alley. He smiled, picked the whole bundle up and put it on the bus! I stood there with my mouth open for a few seconds, then got on the bus. I thanked him & he just waved it off.
Again, I sat, just thinking about things, and differently I might add. I had started the day angry and complaining about my lot. When his stop came, the young ma touched my shoulder and wished me luck with the bags! All my amazment for the day faded 35 minutes later when I got off the bus in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.
Now understand, the Rockies aren't like other mountains...there are no rolling hills that gradually increase in elevation. We have the foothills...one minute you're flat, the next you're looking up a sidewalk that goes at 90 degrees straight up! "Oh my God!" It was all I could get out, and 15 minutes and 3/4 of a block later, I couldn't even manage that!
At that moment, the very moment I had decided to stop and sleep right there on the sidewalk for the night, the next miracle of the day happened. A car pulled to the curb and the man inside asked if I was going up the hill, eyeing my luggage dubiously. I told him yeas, and he asked if I would like a ride. Now several things went through my mind...it was only 3 more blocks straight uphill, he might be a serial killer, Mom always said say no. I gave it exactly 1 seconds thought, told him yes and sank into the front seat! This wonderful man put my bags in the car, drove me right to the door and took them all out for me! I would have kissed him, but I think the weeping embarrassed him enough!
And my last miracle? My dear friend came home from her job and said she had talked to her employer about me and they wanted to hire me! In one minute, she erased 9 months of frustration and fear! It isn't a sure thing...I have to fill out the application and talk to them, but it's greenhouse work, which I'm familiar with and love, and they seem very excited that I would work the entire season. Imagine! Getting paid to play in the dirt and plant flowers! Heaven!
That has been my day of miracles! Of unexpected kindness from strangers...of a lesson in gratefulness taught by a child...of the miraculous offer of a job that came out of now where!
And so I sit here now, warm and safe, and think of my two children...my two beautiful grown children. On the computer I pull up pictures of my grandsons and study the perfect, intelligent little faces smiling at me, first one then the other. I'm going to bed now, in the soft bed my friend has offered, knowing that tomorrow, I have a job that will make me feel useful and human again.
Happiness is where you find it...and it's everywhere.
The day started with me trying to shove 50 pounds of stuff in a 20 pound suitcase that was old when I was young. I'll tell you, it resisted the proccess! But with "friends" (thank you, you know who you are) bouncing, and a few not-so-polite words, it finally closed. By then, I was already
beat! I gethered everything else together and managed to get out by check out time.
So there I was, pulling approximately 100 pounds of 30 year old luggage on protesting wheels to the bus stop three blocks away. As I walked, I muttered to myself about how unfair all this was. Being tossed out, having a suitcase with square wheels, the fact that the bus would probably be late. Generally about everything that was wrong in my life, which was just about everything at that moment, in my estimation.
I was so busy watching the sidewalk and feuling my private "pity party" that I had run into the stroller before I even saw it. I muttered something without looking up which I hoped would be taken as an apology, thought I wasn't feeling exactly apologetic right that moment. When you see someone coming, move out of the way for God's sake!
I pulled my luggage straight at the bus stop and glanced into the stroller. It was big and old, possible older than my suitcase, and was held together in several places with duct tape. Inside was a baby, six or eight months old with carrot red curls, bright blue eyes, and a smile that took up his entire face. He giggled at the bump to the stroller, and I couldn't help it. I had to smile back. Something about his baby stare bothered me, but...
This time I actually looked at the woman holding the stroller handle. She wouldn't be called pretty, but her eyes were the same blue as the baby's and she had a calm, peaceful air about her. This time I apologized to her for running into the stroller. She smiled at me, and I was suddenly puzzled that I hadn't thought of her as pretty. She glanced down at the baby with a look of love you could have seen across the street.
"Doesn't appear Mikey minded a bit! It's nice to hear him laugh a little." That "something" in the back of my mind jumped and I looked at him again. His blue gaze seemed to be looking right at me, but his eyes had a far away, unfocused shine. His head seemed to big for his little neck to support and trembled just a bit.
I said something about how cute he was and her smile widened. "Oh I know! He's a real heartbreaker, Mikey. Already has 2 marraige proposals from the nurses. He's only 3, but that's 2 years longer than they said I'd have him, so every time he smiles, just makes my day."
In less than a second my mind flashed on my two beautiful children...my two incredible grandsons. I suddenely for the life of me couldn't remember one single thing that had seemed so horribly wrong with my life just minutes ago. The bus pulled up just then...it wasn't mine but I helped her with the stroller and they were gone. I just sat there, thinking about Mikey's smile.
My bus pulled up a few minutes later, and the day again took a downturn...the lift was broken, and no way was I getting my "load" on the bus without it. I had just started the thought "It figures..." when a young Hispanic man got off the bus. Big man! The kind that would have scared the hell out of me in a dark alley. He smiled, picked the whole bundle up and put it on the bus! I stood there with my mouth open for a few seconds, then got on the bus. I thanked him & he just waved it off.
Again, I sat, just thinking about things, and differently I might add. I had started the day angry and complaining about my lot. When his stop came, the young ma touched my shoulder and wished me luck with the bags! All my amazment for the day faded 35 minutes later when I got off the bus in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.
Now understand, the Rockies aren't like other mountains...there are no rolling hills that gradually increase in elevation. We have the foothills...one minute you're flat, the next you're looking up a sidewalk that goes at 90 degrees straight up! "Oh my God!" It was all I could get out, and 15 minutes and 3/4 of a block later, I couldn't even manage that!
At that moment, the very moment I had decided to stop and sleep right there on the sidewalk for the night, the next miracle of the day happened. A car pulled to the curb and the man inside asked if I was going up the hill, eyeing my luggage dubiously. I told him yeas, and he asked if I would like a ride. Now several things went through my mind...it was only 3 more blocks straight uphill, he might be a serial killer, Mom always said say no. I gave it exactly 1 seconds thought, told him yes and sank into the front seat! This wonderful man put my bags in the car, drove me right to the door and took them all out for me! I would have kissed him, but I think the weeping embarrassed him enough!
And my last miracle? My dear friend came home from her job and said she had talked to her employer about me and they wanted to hire me! In one minute, she erased 9 months of frustration and fear! It isn't a sure thing...I have to fill out the application and talk to them, but it's greenhouse work, which I'm familiar with and love, and they seem very excited that I would work the entire season. Imagine! Getting paid to play in the dirt and plant flowers! Heaven!
That has been my day of miracles! Of unexpected kindness from strangers...of a lesson in gratefulness taught by a child...of the miraculous offer of a job that came out of now where!
And so I sit here now, warm and safe, and think of my two children...my two beautiful grown children. On the computer I pull up pictures of my grandsons and study the perfect, intelligent little faces smiling at me, first one then the other. I'm going to bed now, in the soft bed my friend has offered, knowing that tomorrow, I have a job that will make me feel useful and human again.
Happiness is where you find it...and it's everywhere.
Monday, April 6, 2009
And so, why do I care?
I have been bugged for months by people, and you know who you are, to start a blog. "You can write. You should put your words "out there". It was the "out there" that always worried me. I wasn't sure where "out there" was, or if I wanted my words, my thoughts, my feelings wherever it was!
I have written my whole life...mostly to myself, because there, there was no lying, no compromise. I said exactly what I thought/felt/meant at that moment with no fear of recrimination or blame. I knew no one else would ever read it, so I could be absolutely honest. Obviously, the thought that my words/thoughts/feelings were being immediately sent to anyone with access to a computer posed a serious worry, on two fronts.
One, what if someone I knew saw it and didn't like what I said? Was offended? Was hurt? The other, finding myself writing an "edited" version of what I wanted to say to keep #1 from happening. Can't say right this moment which one unnerved me more!
Even in my novels, I wrote "honestly"...not ever believing anyone else would see it, and writing "in the moment". I don't believe anyone who knows me would ever believe I had those thoughts, feelings in me...can't blame them! I've spent a lifetime NOT putting that "me" out there! My writing has always been one of the few things I considered "mine"!
So you can see my dilemma. The "blog" is new to me...it feels like a cross between a journal and a chat room...trying to connect by being who you are, while watching every word you say for fear of offending, which I'm pretty sure has nothing to do with who we really are!
So. I have entered this new realm, tho I still find myself "editing" what I say here...wondering if it's "good" enough, or "witty" enough. And finally deciding that, to anyone who reads, or follows this or whatever they call it, it will just have to "be enough". For me, it's enough that I put it "out there".
Write on!
I have written my whole life...mostly to myself, because there, there was no lying, no compromise. I said exactly what I thought/felt/meant at that moment with no fear of recrimination or blame. I knew no one else would ever read it, so I could be absolutely honest. Obviously, the thought that my words/thoughts/feelings were being immediately sent to anyone with access to a computer posed a serious worry, on two fronts.
One, what if someone I knew saw it and didn't like what I said? Was offended? Was hurt? The other, finding myself writing an "edited" version of what I wanted to say to keep #1 from happening. Can't say right this moment which one unnerved me more!
Even in my novels, I wrote "honestly"...not ever believing anyone else would see it, and writing "in the moment". I don't believe anyone who knows me would ever believe I had those thoughts, feelings in me...can't blame them! I've spent a lifetime NOT putting that "me" out there! My writing has always been one of the few things I considered "mine"!
So you can see my dilemma. The "blog" is new to me...it feels like a cross between a journal and a chat room...trying to connect by being who you are, while watching every word you say for fear of offending, which I'm pretty sure has nothing to do with who we really are!
So. I have entered this new realm, tho I still find myself "editing" what I say here...wondering if it's "good" enough, or "witty" enough. And finally deciding that, to anyone who reads, or follows this or whatever they call it, it will just have to "be enough". For me, it's enough that I put it "out there".
Write on!
Friday, April 3, 2009
On death and living...and how we continue to do both
So much has happened in the last month, that between dying (someone else) and trying to live (me), I just haven't had time for this. I've thought about it from time to time...sure I should give tribute to the wonderful friend and gentle soul the world, and I lost last week.
Well, have done as much with the job search thing as I can this week, taken as much help from those who love me as I can stand, and Plurk is down. No time like the present...
Lori left me last Sunday morning. Her sister, who had been there to help me with her the last few days came up and told me at 3:30am that she was gone. I already knew. I felt the warmth of her spirit and the sound of her laughter leave. It stopped briefly in my room in the attic on it's way up, and then was gone on it's laughing journey to a life without the pain and fear she had lived with for so long. I kissed her soul as it left, and then cried because I couldn't go with her. I was so jealous of her!
Her family wasted no time in getting me out of the house, something I had been afraid of, and had been told by them ALL would never happen. Should have listened to my "little voice". It's sarcastic, critical and always puts forth the "worst case" scenario...unfortunately, it's also usually right.
Now, I understand them wanting it to be "just family" at that time. But Lori was gone...where were they when she was still here? Where were they when I was changing her bed...when I was begging her to take "one more sip"...when I cooked for hours to try and make something that smelled good enough that she might eat dinner? Where were they, and why does "being born" qualify you as family, and helping you die, does not?
I know I sound bitter...I am. Not for me..not because they left he homeless in 24 hours, or because I had to take my cat of 10 yrs. to a shelter because the room (my KIDS HAD TO PAY FOR) wouldn't allow him...I'm bitter because behind all of the "family facade, were people who were going through her drawers and cupboards before they had even taken her away!
I watched from upstairs as they took away the body that had housed that wonderful spirit so painfully for so many years, away. I don't think her "family" even noticed.
This has turned into quite the depressing post..didn't mean for it to be. It was supposed to be a testament to Loraine Sweet, to her undying love of life and her family..to her sometimes naughty sense of humor that made her blush...to the wonderful feeling of love and acceptance without judgement I recieved from her. These are the things that I aspire to in my life...to love people when they are mean and hurtful...to understand it's not always aimed at you, but to you, because you should understand. That it should be a compliment when people "let loose" on you, because they trust you enough to understand.
I thank Lori for making me realize how many people I owe an apology to...and so, to my children, to the friends I have & have lost, I apologize. I just didn't understand. Thanks to Lori, now I do, and will change my life accordingly. Can only hope it's not too late.
So, Lori, "God bless, sleep well, and grab the rail."
Well, have done as much with the job search thing as I can this week, taken as much help from those who love me as I can stand, and Plurk is down. No time like the present...
Lori left me last Sunday morning. Her sister, who had been there to help me with her the last few days came up and told me at 3:30am that she was gone. I already knew. I felt the warmth of her spirit and the sound of her laughter leave. It stopped briefly in my room in the attic on it's way up, and then was gone on it's laughing journey to a life without the pain and fear she had lived with for so long. I kissed her soul as it left, and then cried because I couldn't go with her. I was so jealous of her!
Her family wasted no time in getting me out of the house, something I had been afraid of, and had been told by them ALL would never happen. Should have listened to my "little voice". It's sarcastic, critical and always puts forth the "worst case" scenario...unfortunately, it's also usually right.
Now, I understand them wanting it to be "just family" at that time. But Lori was gone...where were they when she was still here? Where were they when I was changing her bed...when I was begging her to take "one more sip"...when I cooked for hours to try and make something that smelled good enough that she might eat dinner? Where were they, and why does "being born" qualify you as family, and helping you die, does not?
I know I sound bitter...I am. Not for me..not because they left he homeless in 24 hours, or because I had to take my cat of 10 yrs. to a shelter because the room (my KIDS HAD TO PAY FOR) wouldn't allow him...I'm bitter because behind all of the "family facade, were people who were going through her drawers and cupboards before they had even taken her away!
I watched from upstairs as they took away the body that had housed that wonderful spirit so painfully for so many years, away. I don't think her "family" even noticed.
This has turned into quite the depressing post..didn't mean for it to be. It was supposed to be a testament to Loraine Sweet, to her undying love of life and her family..to her sometimes naughty sense of humor that made her blush...to the wonderful feeling of love and acceptance without judgement I recieved from her. These are the things that I aspire to in my life...to love people when they are mean and hurtful...to understand it's not always aimed at you, but to you, because you should understand. That it should be a compliment when people "let loose" on you, because they trust you enough to understand.
I thank Lori for making me realize how many people I owe an apology to...and so, to my children, to the friends I have & have lost, I apologize. I just didn't understand. Thanks to Lori, now I do, and will change my life accordingly. Can only hope it's not too late.
So, Lori, "God bless, sleep well, and grab the rail."
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Web-Betty just got a VERY irritated email from me about how the hell to do a new post here! I apologize, especially since she de-plurked about an hour ago, a true sign she really is done for the day.
As I have said, I am brand new to this blog thing. I didn't realize I couldn't post a new post unless I went thru Blogger 1st. Thought I could just go to MY blog, and go from there. I hear all of you "blogladites" out there...I can hear the soft whispers. "How dumb can you be? What a Moron!!" I know! (Craig Furgeson)I'm thinking the same thing!
In defense of ape-like creatures like myself, I DID figure it out, and so here I am with yet another nonsensical musing! Real shame is that I actually had something to say tonight, but between half a bottle of vodka and 2 fu*^ing hours of trying to figure out how to get to a place where I could put it in words, I FORGOT IT ALL!
OK, not all of it. More's the shame. But I got a new follower of this today! I did! In all honesty, it was only because web-betty turned her onto me, but fine! I will take every friend from everywhere I can get!! The only way I get out anymore is thru the prongs on the plug that attach my computer to the world!
To actually know that there is another person, besides my daughter who is reading this, is Nirvana!! I digress.
With all of the wonderful people out there with all of their wonderful words, I am humbled, honored, scared shitless and ashamed to put my words "out there". If I do, unlike any other time in our lives, I am sharing "space" with the Shakespears, and the Hemmingways, and the Gershwins of our time. What gives me that right!
And yet, here I am, believing I have a right to send my words out into the same space they inhabit! Well, their words stay with us. Their words inspire us. Their words move us. But you know what? Every writer from Shakespear to Ira Gershwin to the person who sits and writes in their dining room after the kids are asleep wrote what they wrote because it's what they BELIEVED...what they FELT...at that time! They had to get it out. And the reason we still cling to their words is because they ring true. They were honest. So even tho our words may never be remembered, or move generations, if they are YOUR words, and they are true and honest, there will always be people on this planet who will relate, and know they aren't the only ones who feel like YOU DO!
I have read many ideas on many websites about "how, when, where" you SHOULD write. I say you should only write when you FEEL words. You should NEVER write for anyone but yourself. Unless you want to sell, and make mega bucks! And even the mega bucks writers wrote 1st for themselves! Think about it! Write on!
As I have said, I am brand new to this blog thing. I didn't realize I couldn't post a new post unless I went thru Blogger 1st. Thought I could just go to MY blog, and go from there. I hear all of you "blogladites" out there...I can hear the soft whispers. "How dumb can you be? What a Moron!!" I know! (Craig Furgeson)I'm thinking the same thing!
In defense of ape-like creatures like myself, I DID figure it out, and so here I am with yet another nonsensical musing! Real shame is that I actually had something to say tonight, but between half a bottle of vodka and 2 fu*^ing hours of trying to figure out how to get to a place where I could put it in words, I FORGOT IT ALL!
OK, not all of it. More's the shame. But I got a new follower of this today! I did! In all honesty, it was only because web-betty turned her onto me, but fine! I will take every friend from everywhere I can get!! The only way I get out anymore is thru the prongs on the plug that attach my computer to the world!
To actually know that there is another person, besides my daughter who is reading this, is Nirvana!! I digress.
With all of the wonderful people out there with all of their wonderful words, I am humbled, honored, scared shitless and ashamed to put my words "out there". If I do, unlike any other time in our lives, I am sharing "space" with the Shakespears, and the Hemmingways, and the Gershwins of our time. What gives me that right!
And yet, here I am, believing I have a right to send my words out into the same space they inhabit! Well, their words stay with us. Their words inspire us. Their words move us. But you know what? Every writer from Shakespear to Ira Gershwin to the person who sits and writes in their dining room after the kids are asleep wrote what they wrote because it's what they BELIEVED...what they FELT...at that time! They had to get it out. And the reason we still cling to their words is because they ring true. They were honest. So even tho our words may never be remembered, or move generations, if they are YOUR words, and they are true and honest, there will always be people on this planet who will relate, and know they aren't the only ones who feel like YOU DO!
I have read many ideas on many websites about "how, when, where" you SHOULD write. I say you should only write when you FEEL words. You should NEVER write for anyone but yourself. Unless you want to sell, and make mega bucks! And even the mega bucks writers wrote 1st for themselves! Think about it! Write on!
Monday, March 9, 2009
I'm going blind
I know I have been complaining about my vision for over 2 years now, but I'm going blind. And I'm scared. Because there's nothing I can do about it. What's going to happen to me if I go blind? I mean, it's annoying now, but if I go truly blind, what do I do? Now, I can't see clearly, but it is progressing, and soon, I won't be able to see at all. I've "watched" it coming. I have no $$. I have no health care. I have no way to do anything about it. I'm just scared.
How do I face 1/10th of what people I have known in my life have faced? I wonder if I can face never seeing my grandsons's faces or my daughters smile again, or the child of my only son. And yet, I know people who get up every morning missing arms and legs, and still get up and go out into the world. Can Ido that? I'm not sure. I just know that every day I get up and my vision has deteriorated, I give up a little more.
How do I face 1/10th of what people I have known in my life have faced? I wonder if I can face never seeing my grandsons's faces or my daughters smile again, or the child of my only son. And yet, I know people who get up every morning missing arms and legs, and still get up and go out into the world. Can Ido that? I'm not sure. I just know that every day I get up and my vision has deteriorated, I give up a little more.
International Womens Day 2009
I read about this "day of women" on my daughter's bolg (Melissa@web-betty.com) and thought about it for a while before I decided it was worth giving a few good words to the good women I've known in my life, and who might not otherwise hear a lot of those.
My Daughter: I said a lot of how I feel about her on her blog. Suffice it to say here that she is one of the most incredible if surprising accomplishments of my life! In spite of, or because of me, she is who she is, and I take as much pleasure in other's appreciation of this wonderful soul as those who know her! (Read more on her blog)
I think one of the things that strikes me the most about my daughter is her undying, unflagging support for the "underdog". There is someplace in my daughter's soul that jumps out, grabs, and tries to uphold anyone struggling or in trouble. She just has to help anyone trying to help themselves. She can't help it. I love that about her.
Lori: I take care of this gentle soul these days, winding down toward the end of her life. Every day is a struggle for her; to get out of bed. To get to the table for lunch. To take care of her little Mitzi, her poodle. Her body is giving up, leaving this bright, humorous, livelymind trapped in a body that won't take her any of the places that wonderful mind still imagines. Still longs and plans to see. I don't know about anyone else. I am a fairly strong person. But I am not sure I could keep getting up, day after day, year after year, it's been 10 now!
This strong, glorious soul took care of her 92 year old Mother for two years, with the same COPD she has right now, by herself!!! It has been a true pleasure to know her, and a strong lesson in faith and strength to be around her. "On your way up Lori, grab the rail"
Kari: Another gentle soul who has found how hard it is to live in this world and still remain gentle. Kari raised a daughter by herself, as I did my two kids. After all the people who have used her and betrayed her in her life, at this time of life, she still has enough faith in the good of the human soul to try and trust people. Kari is the type of woman that men see, because of that very "gentle soul" as an easy target to use. Now don't let me hear from you guys! Those of you who are like that know who you are, and those of you who aren't know that too and aren't offended. You good men know there are bastards and users out there too! It's a human failing
and NOT by any means gender specific!
Kari and I have been friends for over 20 years. That's a very long time, an incredible number of late night talks, and an amazing wealth of emotions between two people. And yet, here we are. In spite of that.
Terri & Stephanie: Two women who were used, beaten, betrayed and subjugated by the people in their lives, and who both found the courage to leave, move on, try to change their lives for the better. And who both died at the hands of the ones they trusted. One was raised in a well-to-do family, but ended up with the wrong man. The other, raised in a familyof prostitution, drugs, and no support. One of the murderers was caught and sent to prison, one not. BOTH of my friends are dead. Can you guess which one got justice, and which was the "also dead"? I am so proud of them both for doing what they could to get out, get away, be better.
My Mom: I left her for last, because when you get to my age, you realize a lot of things about your parents. Not the least concerting of which is having to acknowledge that they were people, lovers, and all the other things we never associate with our "parents".
MyMother was a really COOL person. To her friends, she was smart, sarcastic, witty and the one people wanted to be around. Unfortunately, she loved that, and sometimes it left little time for the two children she had. Because just as children have a hard time looking at their parents as people, so it with parents and their children. They are our children, and as such, they will never know, think,see as much as we have. I know SO much better than that, thanks to my two children, who have shown me just how wrong and misguided I can be about things I have truly believed for so many years! It's a good thing! A thing my mother never realized.
I loved my mother...I still do. I got my sarcasm, my wit, my love of so many different kinds of music from her. I (sporadically) got suppot of my writing, which pushed me to finish my 1st book, just to prove to her that I could! Unfortunately, I also got my belief that our children should NEVER question, should just agree and mind. But I also have to thank her for the genes that obviously skipped me, only to come back super strong in my children & made them question and defy what they knew wasn't right for them.
So to my mother, I say thanks for everything you did, and didn't give me. What you gave me made me push myself. What you didn't, taught me where to push, and when not to. Love ya.
If there are women in your life that you admire, that you love, or that have just made a difference in your life, tell them
My Daughter: I said a lot of how I feel about her on her blog. Suffice it to say here that she is one of the most incredible if surprising accomplishments of my life! In spite of, or because of me, she is who she is, and I take as much pleasure in other's appreciation of this wonderful soul as those who know her! (Read more on her blog)
I think one of the things that strikes me the most about my daughter is her undying, unflagging support for the "underdog". There is someplace in my daughter's soul that jumps out, grabs, and tries to uphold anyone struggling or in trouble. She just has to help anyone trying to help themselves. She can't help it. I love that about her.
Lori: I take care of this gentle soul these days, winding down toward the end of her life. Every day is a struggle for her; to get out of bed. To get to the table for lunch. To take care of her little Mitzi, her poodle. Her body is giving up, leaving this bright, humorous, livelymind trapped in a body that won't take her any of the places that wonderful mind still imagines. Still longs and plans to see. I don't know about anyone else. I am a fairly strong person. But I am not sure I could keep getting up, day after day, year after year, it's been 10 now!
This strong, glorious soul took care of her 92 year old Mother for two years, with the same COPD she has right now, by herself!!! It has been a true pleasure to know her, and a strong lesson in faith and strength to be around her. "On your way up Lori, grab the rail"
Kari: Another gentle soul who has found how hard it is to live in this world and still remain gentle. Kari raised a daughter by herself, as I did my two kids. After all the people who have used her and betrayed her in her life, at this time of life, she still has enough faith in the good of the human soul to try and trust people. Kari is the type of woman that men see, because of that very "gentle soul" as an easy target to use. Now don't let me hear from you guys! Those of you who are like that know who you are, and those of you who aren't know that too and aren't offended. You good men know there are bastards and users out there too! It's a human failing
and NOT by any means gender specific!
Kari and I have been friends for over 20 years. That's a very long time, an incredible number of late night talks, and an amazing wealth of emotions between two people. And yet, here we are. In spite of that.
Terri & Stephanie: Two women who were used, beaten, betrayed and subjugated by the people in their lives, and who both found the courage to leave, move on, try to change their lives for the better. And who both died at the hands of the ones they trusted. One was raised in a well-to-do family, but ended up with the wrong man. The other, raised in a familyof prostitution, drugs, and no support. One of the murderers was caught and sent to prison, one not. BOTH of my friends are dead. Can you guess which one got justice, and which was the "also dead"? I am so proud of them both for doing what they could to get out, get away, be better.
My Mom: I left her for last, because when you get to my age, you realize a lot of things about your parents. Not the least concerting of which is having to acknowledge that they were people, lovers, and all the other things we never associate with our "parents".
MyMother was a really COOL person. To her friends, she was smart, sarcastic, witty and the one people wanted to be around. Unfortunately, she loved that, and sometimes it left little time for the two children she had. Because just as children have a hard time looking at their parents as people, so it with parents and their children. They are our children, and as such, they will never know, think,see as much as we have. I know SO much better than that, thanks to my two children, who have shown me just how wrong and misguided I can be about things I have truly believed for so many years! It's a good thing! A thing my mother never realized.
I loved my mother...I still do. I got my sarcasm, my wit, my love of so many different kinds of music from her. I (sporadically) got suppot of my writing, which pushed me to finish my 1st book, just to prove to her that I could! Unfortunately, I also got my belief that our children should NEVER question, should just agree and mind. But I also have to thank her for the genes that obviously skipped me, only to come back super strong in my children & made them question and defy what they knew wasn't right for them.
So to my mother, I say thanks for everything you did, and didn't give me. What you gave me made me push myself. What you didn't, taught me where to push, and when not to. Love ya.
If there are women in your life that you admire, that you love, or that have just made a difference in your life, tell them
Friday, March 6, 2009
Caregivers and those who use us
I came back to Denver 7 months ago under the auspicises of " staying" with a friend until I could find a job. She had an extra room, was all alone but was independant and living on her own. I was offered the use of her car to look for a job, and the assurance that she could "take care of herself".
Morph 7 months into the future...I don't even know how to describe the last 5 months of my life, except to say that what I am now is 24/7 hospice care for this lady. I love her. She is a gentle soul who only wants to "die at home".. That is immenant. Months, at most.
Herein lies my problem...she has 2 children within 10 miles, and 2 sisters who are "well off". Because my darling can't be left alone, at ALL, for fear of falling, I have to be here every day, all day, until she goes down for a nap. I have been putting out resumes and even snuck a couple of interviews into trips to the grocery and picking up her medicine.
There are people here from hospice every day of the week, and if I'm not here, I don't get the info. So my schedule revolves around those visits. Her family is under the impression that because they have "jobs, & a life", I DON'T!!!
I have been doing a $250 a day job, which I DID NOT SIGN ON FOR!, for months, for nothing! I am not asking for &1,750 a week, which is the going rate for someone 24/7. I have 2 bills to pay every month. They TOTAL $200!
Now wouldn't you think that a family of 4 could pony up $50 each a month to have someone take care of their mother/sister every month? I sure as shit do!
Because I can't get out of here to actively look for a job, I am faced with the fact that she is dying, and when she does, aside from the personal loss for me, I have NOWHERE to go, and no $$.
My children and friends have been telling me for months that I'm a fool, and being used. I've always argued . I really thought that I was doing something altruistic...something for someone but myself. And so I fought with my family and my friends. And actually, the only ones I should have been fighting with all along? HER FAMILY! They are the one's she grew up with, the one's she raised. Their's are the voices she wants to hear now! And she's stuck with me!
The one who empties the "pottie chair" every day, twice a day! The one who nags her 10 times a day to take her meds on time. Who cooks 3 hours a day so she will smell something good and want to eat!
If I weren't such a spiritual person, and didn't understand the concept of "what you send out comes BACK to you", I swear to?? I would send out that what they have/haven't given her would come back to them.
I digress. I just needed to vent. If anyone out there is gong thru this, please write. I have found that one of the most theraputic balms is just to know that you are NOT the only one!
Peace, and love the ones you take care of. Know that they are now, where you may someday be. Treat them accordingly.
Morph 7 months into the future...I don't even know how to describe the last 5 months of my life, except to say that what I am now is 24/7 hospice care for this lady. I love her. She is a gentle soul who only wants to "die at home".. That is immenant. Months, at most.
Herein lies my problem...she has 2 children within 10 miles, and 2 sisters who are "well off". Because my darling can't be left alone, at ALL, for fear of falling, I have to be here every day, all day, until she goes down for a nap. I have been putting out resumes and even snuck a couple of interviews into trips to the grocery and picking up her medicine.
There are people here from hospice every day of the week, and if I'm not here, I don't get the info. So my schedule revolves around those visits. Her family is under the impression that because they have "jobs, & a life", I DON'T!!!
I have been doing a $250 a day job, which I DID NOT SIGN ON FOR!, for months, for nothing! I am not asking for &1,750 a week, which is the going rate for someone 24/7. I have 2 bills to pay every month. They TOTAL $200!
Now wouldn't you think that a family of 4 could pony up $50 each a month to have someone take care of their mother/sister every month? I sure as shit do!
Because I can't get out of here to actively look for a job, I am faced with the fact that she is dying, and when she does, aside from the personal loss for me, I have NOWHERE to go, and no $$.
My children and friends have been telling me for months that I'm a fool, and being used. I've always argued . I really thought that I was doing something altruistic...something for someone but myself. And so I fought with my family and my friends. And actually, the only ones I should have been fighting with all along? HER FAMILY! They are the one's she grew up with, the one's she raised. Their's are the voices she wants to hear now! And she's stuck with me!
The one who empties the "pottie chair" every day, twice a day! The one who nags her 10 times a day to take her meds on time. Who cooks 3 hours a day so she will smell something good and want to eat!
If I weren't such a spiritual person, and didn't understand the concept of "what you send out comes BACK to you", I swear to?? I would send out that what they have/haven't given her would come back to them.
I digress. I just needed to vent. If anyone out there is gong thru this, please write. I have found that one of the most theraputic balms is just to know that you are NOT the only one!
Peace, and love the ones you take care of. Know that they are now, where you may someday be. Treat them accordingly.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Were is it written...
That was to be the original title of my blog. This was to be a blog for writers like myself who have been writing forever, and as my daughter puts it, doesn't "do anything with it." She's right! If my Mother, in her usual sneaky fashion hadn't made me a birthday present of a word processor, (computers were still "new" and the size of small moving vans!) 3 reams of typing paper and a smug "Now what's your excuse" look 13 years ago, I probably never would have finished the 1st book at all!
As it was, I finished it 6 months before my Mother died, and one of the proudest moments of my life was they day she finished reading it, and liked it! She even quoted certain passages she had particularly liked. No doubt to prove to me had read the whole thing. Now not to say that my Mother was always critical, but having her say she liked it was...well, it just doesn't get any better than that in my world!
I have collaborated with musician friends of mine on several songs that they still sing when they have a gig. Again, there is that 1st second of wonder and pride when you hear words you wrote sung in public, in my case, in front of every freind we knew!
I have always known I have a talent with words. Please, don't let these posts serve as an indication of that talent until I figure out what I'm doing, and get used to the knowledge that someone else is actually going to see this!
And so, let's write! I'll show you mine if you show me yours! Isn't there a line, or a sentance that you've written that you just KNOW is killer, and no one's ever seen it? I got a hundred of 'em! So maybe I'll hear from you.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Beam me up Scotty
I feel like James T. Kirk . I am going where, well, you know the rest. I have been a writer since I was 3. My daughter, known to y'all as "web-betty.com" has turned into a pretty good wordsmith herself. And for all of you who are REALLY writers, I mean writers for YOURSELF, and not writers for $$ (altho that would be nice), but writers because you have been reading other peoples SHIT AND THINKING", Man I write better than that in my SLEEP!!
There is always the fact that we are far enough away that we can run before they can read it and chase us! I've always loved the "safety factor" of writing. And we all know that the expression of horror/shock/dismay on our friend's faces do change what we say and how we say it. No such worry when we write.
A very good thing when you are rightly wronged and have a good move! (My daughter is exempt from this example) A BAD thing at 3am when you, have reached the end of a really shitty day and a litre of vodka!!
So this is a blog born out of curiousity, interest and fear. It is for me. I want to hear from people like me who just KNOW they can write, but have had things like life, making a living, children and all the other things get in the way of us getting those wonderful words out there!
May your words come often and smooth, and share!
MarthaPam
And a PS: Thanx to web-betty for dragging me kicking and screaming into the "land of blog".
There is always the fact that we are far enough away that we can run before they can read it and chase us! I've always loved the "safety factor" of writing. And we all know that the expression of horror/shock/dismay on our friend's faces do change what we say and how we say it. No such worry when we write.
A very good thing when you are rightly wronged and have a good move! (My daughter is exempt from this example) A BAD thing at 3am when you, have reached the end of a really shitty day and a litre of vodka!!
So this is a blog born out of curiousity, interest and fear. It is for me. I want to hear from people like me who just KNOW they can write, but have had things like life, making a living, children and all the other things get in the way of us getting those wonderful words out there!
May your words come often and smooth, and share!
MarthaPam
And a PS: Thanx to web-betty for dragging me kicking and screaming into the "land of blog".
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