Fears, Frailty, Falls and Fractures

 

Mom Summer 2023
age 91

Dropping in for a quick note to explain why I disappeared for a week just as it began to seem I'd established a nice rhythm.  One that had held in spite of my falling on my tailbone on my birthday two weeks ago.  Even in spite of the fear that colored several days after the scare Mom gave the family complaining of chest pain the night before my birthday.

But then Mom ended up in ER last Monday having fallen because she'd fractured and dislocated her ankle.  And then fell.  But because of her grip on the bar her fall was in slow motion and no further harm was done--no bruises, breaks, scrapes or sprains.  But it was hours before we could be sure of that.  In fact I think it was nearly a full day before the tests and scans had reassured us and the doctors.

She spent four days in ER and I visited her there twice last week.  And a third time in the nursing home they moved her to for follow-up physical therapy and occupational therapy and monitoring of the (hopefully) healing bones in her left ankle. 

They opted to do no surgery as they believe her too frail.  It was her hip surgery after breaking her hip in 2008 that led to a clot induced stroke and the aphasia she's had ever since.  The known risks outweigh the possible benefits and since she has been bedridden since having COVID two years ago this month her muscles have atrophied. 

She hasn't walked since then but had still been able to stand briefly during the transfer from the bed to a chair and back again.  Now she will not be able to do even that much and the doctors have told us she needs to use a Hoyer lift.  And to accommodate the space that needs my brother and sister have been rearranging rooms at home.  They are moving her bed into the living room.

I visited her at the nursing home again yesterday.  I wasn't able to do so today as I had a preexisting appointment.  The same is true for tomorrow. But I mean to visit at least once more this week.  This event has forced me to see we're on borrowed time with Mom.  She will be 92 on January 3rd.  Suddenly all the difficulties with my energy, appointments, caregiver availability etc that have made getting over to see Mom even once a month for most of this year too challenging, seem frivolous.  I've had a priority reset.

Meanwhile I'm also scrambling to get my NaNoWriMo words...  But I won't say any more on that today.  Words on writing are for my Wednesday post.  And maybe the news will be better by then.

But I will say this much: due to the upheavals and associated anxieties I had to choose between posting and NaNo this past week.  Obviously I didn't choose posting.

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Saying Hello, Saying I Love You, Saying Good-bye

Growly Bear and Bruiser

Early afternoon. Our whirlwind trip to the Rogue Valley is nearly over.

That's Ed sitting on his Mom's couch with their dog. Bruiser is wearing the hat I made Ed.  It's just minutes before I head out the door.

Such a quick trip.  Over too soon.

The hours and days and weeks stretch ahead like a tarred road on a hot day.  A slow difficult slog with every step feeling like it's glued to the ground.

The recent fumble of our relationship weighs me with fear of a repeat.  It was twice in two years.  The same weeks of the year.  And since I still don't really understand what happened there's nothing substantial to hang onto.

Hope is fragile.  Brittle.

The last three weeks will haunt me for the rest of this separation.  It still feels raw like a blistering sunburn.

I almost didn't post this picture because looking at Ed here I want to cry.  It's like looking in a mirror.   He's the picture of depression.  He's always had the winter blues but this year is the worst I've seen in 35 years.

And I can't be there to pull him out or at least keep him from sliding further in.  It scares me.

If only he would stop self-medicating and seek the help he is requiring me to seek.  Maybe then I could spare more attention to my own self-care.

For contrast, remember the picture from two years ago April?

Tickled

That too was taken just before leaving. Only minutes before Carri and I backed out of the driveway of our house with the second load of our stuff in April 2013.  Early in this unwanted separation that began that January...and continues two years later.

Such hope that day.  Where did it go?

I guess to be fair I should reveal my own true face:

That's a selfie taken shortly after we arrived in the Rogue Valley late Friday. Tho it was after midnight by this time.  Carri had just finished unloading the van and had gone after half and half for our morning coffee.  I'd just finished setting up my laptop to prep Friday's post and was taking the picture of the hat I'd just freed from the hook planning to make my post about finishing the hat during the drive.

But I couldn't bear to look at that.  It looks like I've been crying for a week. Which is about right if you count the crying on the inside.  Looking at it made me want to start crying again.  Why would I subject it on anyone else?

That's depression.

Instead I took about a dozen pictures of the hat from different angles laying on the bed or perched on my hand or fist.  By the time I had one I liked I was out of energy and could not face the prospect of transferring the picture from my cell to GDrive to my laptop and then opening it in an image editor and prepping it for the post and then prepping the post and then posting to fb.

That felt like another 300 mile trip with me behind the wheel.

That's depression.

With less than five hours before I was planning to show up on my in-law's porch I went to bed.  But it was hours more before I slept as I obsessively rehearsed what I hoped to say to Ed or helplessly watched the mini-movies made by my mind playing out possible scenarios.  None of which had a happy ending.

That's depression.

It's a bitch to live with.

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Sunday Serenity

Happy 83rd Mom

We held Mom's birthday party at the Electric Bean in Longview, Washington yesterday.  I took a slew of pictures and could not narrow down to reasonable number for a blog post so I decided to try my hand at making a slideshow movie.  First time.

It took several hours. Between that and the couple hours I spent contending with my cell phone for custody of the pictures (the phone crashed minutes after I got the last picture saved to G-drive) I was unable to get this prepped for posting until the wee hours of Tuesday morning.


In the cover shot she is holding the large print devotional, Jesus Calling, from my sister. next she opens fleece pjs also from my sister.  Earlier in the vid she is opening my gifts in the little white bag with blue tissue--a crocheted flower barrette, a crocheted bow barrette, a crocheted bracelet featuring a vintage button from Mom's collection which I confiscated several years ago, and a blue flower bead on a crocheted ribbon with another vintage button for the fastener.

Maurine Coon
Mother of three, Grandmother of five
Her children (and grandchildren)
rise up and call her blessed.

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Family Joy

Birthday Girl

The answer to the question posed in yesterday's post is 4--#'s 3, 4, 5, and 6.  I had to skip sleep to get that many.  Finished sewing the button and clip on the flower barrette while sitting at the table waiting for my plate.  Then clipped it to the gift bag handle instead of fussing with the tissue to rearrange stuff.

Two hours of family rejoicing with our 83 years young Mom followed by two hours of shopping alone at Michael's followed by an hour's vid chat with Ed followed by an hour of fussing with my Michael's haul--yarn and decorative boxes--followed by an hour of misc. fussing--cleaning up the craft workstation, changing out my party clothes into pjs, loading the dishwasher, getting a snack--followed by two hours of wrestling with my Blaze phone for custody of the pics I took today.  Now I'm out of steam and don't feel like prepping any more pics.

Mom went home with my brother's family so my sister and I have a couple days to relax a bit.  We'll both be as busy as ever.  We just won't need to stay hyperaware of what Mom's doing and where she is and when her stomach rings the meal bells or continuously monitor her pain and fatigue levels by her tone of voice and posture, or listening for her voice or footsteps and cane thumps.

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Sand and Surf and Sisters

Post by Jamie Holloway.

These three vids were taken by my sister Jamie at Sunset Beach Warrington Oregon on Saturday.

This a bit of a lazy post.  By embedding my sister Jamie's fb posts I've not had to upload the vids to my YouTube channel nor write the explanations.  Thanx Sis.

Post by Jamie Holloway.

Spinning on Sand

This screenshot from the above video is an iconic image representing the day for me.  Twirling like that was a favorite thing throughout my childhood.

Post by Jamie Holloway.

This my sister Carri running on the beach

I only wish there had been a vid or pictures of me running as that was such an awesome sensation--running free and fast and fearless for the first time in decades.

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Sunday Serenity #405

Sunset Beach Garabaldi, Oregon

 Mom, my two sister's and I went to the beach yesterday.

One Way to Stay Warm

 It was supposed to be a warm day but the ocean breeze overpowered the sun.  Mom and my sisters spent most of the two hours in the chairs bundled in jackets and blankets.  I stayed warm by staying in motion--running, spinning, slopping through the shallow surf.

Taking pictures.

Sun Dazzled

Wet Sand and Shallow Surf--Made for Running

A Couple and Their Dog Cavorting

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One Word 365

One Word 365

One Word 365 suggests that instead of New Year's Resolutions we choose one word to make the theme of our year, to focus on daily in whatever way encourages an increase in or fulfillment of its essence.  

To further such an aim they have provided a kind of social network/support group for those who'd like to give it a try.

I'm thinking of joining and if I do I'm choosing JOY as my word.

For obvious reasons I think.  And the pun is fully intended.

JOY because it is the light at the end of the tunnel of depression which has been my struggle for decades.
JOY because it is my name and thus my sense of self, my identity, my life theme, my aspiration.
JOY because, whether having lost myself stole my joy or having lost my joy hid my self from my sight, seeking after either joy or Joy has to be the path toward reclaiming both and I've come to believe I can't have one without the other.

As you might imagine, I've been collecting 'joy' themed things for decades knickknacks, jewelry, art, quotes, songs, movies, crafts, stories, poems...

Assuming I'm about to join this challenge, I'll begin by resharing a poem I wrote about a moment of joy I experienced that happened to be captured on film:

Joy Splashed
by Joy Renee

______________________________________One
_________________________________  spring
_______________________afternoon at Seaside,
__________________Oregon, while walking
_______________barefoot upon damp sand
_____________at the edge of a rising tide,
___________dabbling my toes in timid
________wavelets and kicking liquid
_______diamonds at purple-tongued

______Tia, who distributes them freely

_____with shakes of her shaggy mane,

____I looked up to watch clouds cavorting

___over cyan canyons dodging the tickling

__fingers of shadow and light and gulls performing 

_their errant air-ballet upon the fickle breezes. With my 

gaze thus engaged, the sea embraced me round my ribs with salty 
ecstasy, lifting me for one eternal instant out of the grip of gravity.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

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Sunday Serenity #393 -- A Father's Day Remembrance

Daddy Winter 1960
Joy 3yr + 2 or 3mo
Robbie 5 or 6mo

A Father's Day Remembrance

Taking Daddy's Hand
by Joy Renee

When fear pushed
its ugly face into
my dreams
and rampaged through
imagination's hall,
bouncing its
shattering screams
off cracked mirrors,
I reached for Daddy's
hand and saw
fear's visage dissolve
like morning mist
at noon
and scatter on the
brisk breeze of his
stern voice.

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Sunday Serenity #388: Mother's Day

Mom's 80th Birthday January 8, 2012

A Mother's Day Musing

by Joy Renee

Have you ever noticed,
while flipping the pages
in a family photo album,
how often
mothers seem to not be
in the picture?

Even though we all know,
if we consider for just
one moment,
that every breath

every bite

every step

and every bright

smile
depends on her involvement.

Maybe it's because
she was the one
taking the picture
or so busy making
stuff happen
or just
making stuff--

from matching outfits

to fully outfitted

snowmen

from flapper dresses

to wedding dresses

from birthday cakes

to wedding cakes;

picnics,

stage props,

rag curls,

curly tops,

smart bow ties

and...

matching eyes.

There needs to be,
don't you agree,
more than one day
each year when
the one who makes
it all happen,
who makes home
feel like home,
who frames all the pictures
of our earliest
memories,
is given her rightful
place...

right in the middle

of the picture?

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Sunday Serenity #383

Mom and her sister Helen

Mom and I got to visit with her sister for several hours today.  It had been a year since Mom had  seen her and nearly 9 years since I had.

The last time I'd seen Aunt Helen and Uncle Dean was the night my dad was dying when they came over to witness his bedside baptism and we all circled the bed and sang "It Is Well With My Soul" one of his favorite hymns.

It was a wonderful visit infused with nostalgia and love.

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Sunday Serenity #372

My Two Favorites of Mom's College Paintings

I found a stack of a dozen or so of Mom's paintings from college.  I was hoping to get pics of each of them but time ran out and I had to settle for one pic featuring two of my favorites.

I've been into Peacocks since I became a fan of the novelist Flannery O'Conner who raised them.  And blue is my favorite color.  Nuf said?

The house is another story.  It needs a story to explain its meaning to me.  This was my grandparents' home in Tahama county California.  Mom spent her teens in this house.  I visited it an average of twice a year until I was fifteen when Grandpa and Grandma Myers moved in with my Aunt Helen in Longview WA.

I'm pretty sure Mom drew this from a black and white photo taken in the early years of their residency here.  By the time I knew this house it was covered in climbing vines of various kinds, the trees were twice as tall and the yard was full of flowers and flowering shrubs.  If this was a photo then behind the photographer is the field where the milk cows grazed and off to the right aka the back there was a chicken coop and a small barn for milking the cows.  There was a vegetable garden which I'm not quite placing in my memory.  Grandpa was a truck farmer while raising his family.  Before he married he was a school teacher as was Mom's mother.

I could go on and on but I have appointments with both my med nurse and counselor tomorrow afternoon so mustn't linger over this now.

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Assembling the Puzzle

Family Photos

Finally starting to bring stuff back into this room and assigning new homes.  I'm trying to keep like with like this time.  In the knee cubby of Mom's desk I have placed 3/4 of the family photos.  These are the ones I've already scanned but I left them in a shameful mess and it should be my responsibility to get them put back in order.

There is another largish box in the back corner on the far side of the filing cabinet which still needs scanning.  They are the photos from my paternal grandfather's sister's collection spanning her life and the history of the Myers family.

Frigiles--knickknacks and dinnerware 

On the closet floor are all of the breakables.  Most have not been stored safely.  It is like they were taken off the shelves in haste and in expectation of returning them to there places.  I'm wondering if that was when the kitchen and dining room floor had to be replaced after the fridge's ice dispenser flooded those two rooms and the hutch and other shelves in there had to be unloaded to be moved out.

I plan to unpack each of these and get pictures for nostalgic value and then repack with long term storage and possible moving in mind.

Moms's Papers Piled on Couch

Still to find new home's are the boxes of Mom's papers.  I think I've counted ten of various sizes plus three bags and what's left on the shelves in the cupboard over the cubby desk:

More of Mom's Papers

I know where there home is to be but there is room for at most eight bushel sized boxes and so I've got to consolidate.

Although, I've also got my desk (Mom's desk) and computer workstation in a workable setup now I'm saving their pics for tomorrow's post.

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Happy 82 Mom -- We Love You

Mom Listens Avidly to Her Grandson as Her Daugher-in-Law Spreads Gooey Goodness on Top of Cheesecake

Mom Shows Off My Gift

Yep.  I think she likes it.  (a pad for her meal tray to keep plate from sliding--see yesterday's post for detailed description)

My cappuccino made by a true barrista is too pretty to drink 

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A Day for Remembering and Gratitude

Keep Flapping Your Wings
more animals  see share caption

Today is the day each year that I am remembering with gratitude the lives of the two significant men in my life.  It is my husband's birthday into this world and my Dad's birthday into the next.  It was this day in 2005 that my Dad lost his battle with cancer.  And I'm fairly sure that was the last time I was apart from Ed on his birthday.  As I am this year.

The picture above I captioned at cheezeburger.com to send in his Happy Birthday email.  The picture below is from our high school yearbook.  Ed is the player on the left.  This was 1976 around a full year into our friendship.  Friendship morphed into something more when he came home on leave from the Marine Corp in August of 1977.  We married in December of 1978.

Below is, I believe, the last picture ever taken of my Dad.  About 5-7 days before the end.  It was a day or two after this that the events of one of my favorite stories about Dad happened.  The family--Mom, Dad, my sister--were on a conference call with me who was living in Phoenix OR.  My sister was trying to get across to me without being explicit in Dad's hearing that I better come soon if I wanted to see him again before the funeral.  I remember thinking that I wanted to wait until after Ed's birthday which was about five days away.  I can't remember if I said that out loud.

We were wrapping up the conversation.  Dad had already left the table where they were gathered around a speaker phone.  Suddenly Mom was calling his name and then her voice faded into the distance.  My sister and I continued to talk and at that point she did get explicit.  But before I could respond the sound of Mom and Dad's muffled voices were getting closer again.  Mom's sounding plaintive and Dad's growly.  Then my sister abruptly ended the call saying, Gotta go.  Dad's trying to go outside.

Richard Wayne Coon
d. September 24, 2005
The compilation of the photo with the hymn was done by Carri.
It was one of Dad's favorites and we gathered around his bed singing it to him on his last night

Carri shared the rest of the story in an email later that evening.  Dad had got it into his head that he wanted to go see Levi's pumpkin.  That's Carri's son, 11 years old at the time.  Dad had been watching that pumpkin grow all summer and it was an impressive size by then.

Well Levi's pumpkin was in the back yard and to get there you must take two steps down from the kitchen door into the garage and exit onto the an uneven slab of concrete, cross it and take one step down onto the landing of the stairway then ten steps down to the patios which was another uneven slab of concrete to cross before reaching the edge of the grass.  The pumpkin was on the far side of the back yard which meant twenty feet of turf to cross, clumpy with weeds and ankle high grass.  Yard work had not been high on their priority list for several weeks at this time.

Carri told me that when Dad had left the table he had headed into their bedroom and they thought he was going to lay down as being up and about was quite tiring for him by now.  But he came back down the hall with his walker and wearing his hat.  That's when Mom had called his name and left the table to go to him.  But unable to talk him out of it she was helping him out the back door when my sister realized she had better join them as nothing good could come of a nearly blind woman helping a weak man with a walker down stairs and across uneven terrain.

So they slowly and carefully escorted him out to the backyard and got him sat down in a lawn chair a few feet from the pumpkin where he sat had stared at it until the sun had dropped below the roofs of the neighbors' houses and an evening breeze kicked up.  Dad had almost no insulation under his skin by then so he was finally convinced it was time to go in and they all began the long slow trek.

That was Dad's last foray outside.  The memory and the story could bring smiles and even laughter over the next weeks and months as one or the other of us would recount it always emphasizing how determined Dad had been to go outside just to sit and watch the pumpkin grow.

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