Saturday, November 14, 2009

Cupcakes

Dr. Norris, our family dentist and friend, stopped by with cupcakes yesterday-big moist, delectable cupcakes. Yes, I did say he's a dentist, and a very talented one, but his true strength lies in his keen intuition about people. He genuinly cares about, and engages with his patients on a level I've never experienced before. Crammed in the little corner between the wall and the tiny bistro table, he drank tea and told Mom a few touching tales. One story involved a little patient he treats who would cry his head off during every visit. He told the boy they had to be a team to take care of his teeth. He said "Okay, I won't do anything you don't want me to do, but YOU call me if you get a toothache, not your mother. And when you want my help, I'll be here."
The call came a month or two later at eleven p.m. one night. A tiny voice on the phone said, "Dr. Norris, my tooth hurts." True to his word, the doctor went to the office and the child let him fill the tooth. Sometime after midnight, he told the child to go home and rest and call for an appointment to take care of a few other cavities before they get to the hurting stage. The boy did. Dr. Norris was able to get a six year old to call the dentist's office for an appointment. Now that's a stroke of genius.
And so were the cupcakes.

Saturday, October 31, 2009

The Bistro


Jule comes downstairs less and less these days, and eating in the bedroom began to feel depressing, so I decided to invest in a table to put across the hall by the small window in Anna's former bedroom, hoping it would create a bistro-like atmosphere. After scouting five stores without success, I pulled into the driveway feeling down. As I shifted the car into park, there it was. The table. The small round glasstop table on my front porch. Perfect! I immediately dusted the spiderwebs off, washed it down and moved it upstairs. My old table cloth and two spare kitchen chairs completed the ensemble. Now we have a homey new corner, ten steps from Mom's bed but looking out over the autumn leaves coloring the backyard lawn. We play Scrabble, read the paper over coffee, and she writes her notes away from her bedroom in this cozy nook. I didn't have to go searching for the perfect table, it was right here all along.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

After the pause...

Where did the time go? I was blogging almost daily then stopped and life took over. Now a few weeks have passed. The BIAV Scrabble Tournament is finished, a child moved out, I got to see two of my cross country sisters, my trip to Los Angeles is a fresh memory, and the JRW writer's conference is behind me. I'm back pecking at the keyboard, only for some reason, I have little to say, so I'll ramble. After so long away from my writing, I need to warm up anyway...

Fall is here. As usual, we went from summer to winter--A/C to heat. Mom's breathing has grown more labored. She can't walk as far or do much without coughing or wheezing, so she prefers to be still. She remains calm and composed, sweet and agreeable. Two things she does still love, to eat and play Scrabble. She beats me every time, though last night by only two points. We still watch MadMen and it blows her mind: the decadence, the indecency, the cheating and the truly wonderful clothes! She coughs when she laughs, but she laughs anyway.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Weekend


Going away and coming together again makes time together more fun. This past weekend, my husband and I visited the beach. Hugh surfed Hurricane Bill (I like to think my dad sent those wonderful waves as a gift to us). Mom enjoyed a peaceful weekend at home and had drinks and dinner with my friend, Peggy, who has become a "dear one" to my mother these days. Last night, we arrived home late. Mom was up waiting for the latest episode of MadMen in her bedroom. Mary had just returned home from a camping trip. At ten, Mary and I rushed upstairs and plopped on Mom's bed where we all watched this decadent show, gasping from scene to scene, laughing at each other's reactions. It's nice to be home again.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Words Matter

What is end-of-life planning? What is a death panel? We live in an age where words matter. Speeches and videos go viral on the Internet and cable news. Headlines shaped by manipulating parties are designed to create vivid pictures in people’s minds to cause a reaction. It's nauseating how predictably people comply.

End-of-Life planning suggests that our lives will end. Not exactly news. Death panel suggests a firing squad (Nevermind Al Quaida, your government wants to "pull the plug on Grandma"). I’ve come to believe that humans have the strongest survival instinct on the planet. Even while we knowingly pollute our land and water, supersize our meals, and consume toxic substances on a daily basis, we think we will live forever.
Sorry folks.

For those of us who have helplessly watched an older relative or friend suffer from a chronic disease and waste away in the hospital, poked with needles and fed with tubes, another possibility exists. The possibility that we might avoid agonizing hours on a ventilator watching family members cry at our bedside. We will still get old and sick, but we will choose comfort over intervention, nature over machinery. We’ll opt for pain management versus another invasive "cure." We’ll accept. There is no cure for death.

No one is saying everyone needs to sign a living will. But everyone certainly has the right to know they exist, and to understand how it might impact a family at the most crucial decision-making moment in their lives. Whether you sign it or opt out, there is relief. Knowing the facts and making a fully-informed decision takes the burden off a family that may have to guess your wishes in the future.

End-of-life planning is what grown-ups do. They plan for themselves, and they plan for their children. Why should anyone but the patient decide what treatment plan to deliver when disaster strikes? A grown-up makes that decision him or herself, in advance, with counseling.

The phrase death panel was specifically designed to incite fear and demonize people in government. The problem is: it was spoken by a woman who makes her living working in government.

We drastically compromise our future by our own inability to understand and act upon anything longer than a sensational headline.

End-of-life planning used to sound like a reasonable phrase. Lately, it has been dished up with side orders of horrific intentions meant to misinterpret its meaning. So let’s acknowledge that words matter and change them to suit the activity. How about comfort planning or the family directive. Personally, I like the phrase “living will.” Let's go back to that. It suggests consideration and intent, that the living will make their intentions clear!

As far as the label death panel goes, it doesn’t deserve another label—it doesn’t exist.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Happy Hour at the Hospice Hotel

The words of Monsignor Charles Fahey, a Catholic Priest and Chairman of the board of the National Council on Aging said it best:

“If I cannot say another prayer,
If I cannot give or get another hug,
And if I cannot have another martini — then let me go."

Cheers, Mom...want a dividend?

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Heatwave


Just served Mom a hot grilled cheese sandwich in our ice-cream-freezer-of-a-house while it's nearly 100 degrees outdoors. Today we talked about AC. More than anything else, I believe it prolongs life in this day and age, especially in the south! Growing up we had the window kind that blew right on you in your small bedroom and grew frosty coats of ice from condensation, but not all our rooms had AC. Mostly, we ran through the sprinkler or just refused to move for long periods as the heat bore down on us like a tight blanket. When that blanket covered your mouth, it was airless. Mom says the colder the temperature, the easier she can breathe. I don't know who invented the airconditioner but I'm glad it's here and chillin.