Showing posts with label FAMILY. Show all posts
Showing posts with label FAMILY. Show all posts

Friday, July 2, 2010

Flash 55 - Tell It Like It Is


“Do you suppose she thinks that pink spiky hair looks good?” Mom said loudly
as we watched the mid 40’s lady with punked hair and tattoos down both arms
order her coffee.

Alzheimer’s has robbed the filter present during her adult life and taken her back
to the childhood “tell it like it is” years.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Flash 55 x 2 Tough Service

One Sunday morning, the preacher noticed little Tyler standing in the church foyer staring up at a large plaque. It was covered with names and had small flags mounted on either side of it. The preacher walked over, stood beside the boy, and said quietly, “Good morning, Tyler.”


“Good Morning Preacher,” he replied, still gazing at the plaque.

“Preacher, what is this?”

“Well, son, it’s a memorial to all the young women and men who died in the service.”  Soberly they stood together, focused on the large plaque, Tyler occasionally looking at him sideways. Finally, Tyler’s voice, barely audible and slightly trembling asked,

“Which service, the 9:30 or the 10:30?”

(Usurped and modified from From House To House /Heart To Heart, original author unknown)

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

What If Alzheimers?

What if everything you see each day is new,

Even though you saw it yesterday too?


What if while walking down your street,

You smile cautiously at the people you meet,


And with your greetings to them call,

But their names or faces don’t remember at all?


What if each day you look at the flowers,

Then see them again in less than an hour.


They are the same ones you just saw before,

But they look new to you, again once more.


Purple and pink tulips these pots contain,

You enjoy their beauty all over again.


What if you don’t remember having lunch,

Or that you just had a snack of a Nestle’s Crunch?


What if your clothes don’t look familiar to you,

But you put them on because someone tells you to?


They feel okay, so you don’t complain,

Then comment, “Well, I hope it doesn’t rain.”


What if your husband has passed away,

And you’re here but you don’t think you want to stay?


How do you cope with changes that have passed,

As your life slowly edges out of your grasp?


You trust in God’s way and give Him your hand,

And He will guide you on the way to His promised land.


Use the life lines of your daughter and your son,

The love of friends that will always come.


Be at peace and know that many care,

And will help you and always, always be there.


Love you Mom.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Robin's Journey



A part of me died with my sister when she passed away. This is literally true; she had one of my kidneys. Her compassion for others, her love of family and friends, and her courage through adversity are ingrained in my memory, and provide an example of how life should be lived to its fullest.

Robin was born on September 13, 1954. She was 6 years younger that me and, as I recall, we weren’t the closest of sisters growing up. The stages of our lives didn’t mesh; when I was in high school, she was still in grade school. The years where special interests develop, grow, and become important were too separated by our age difference.

When we were young, I remember that she was a picky eater, and was skinny. I have a vision of her always being left at the dinner table when the rest of us had been excused, because she refused to eat something on her plate, usually the green beans. My brother Matt remembers that she would spread her peas out on her plate so it looked like she actually ate some.

I found an autobiography she wrote in the third grade. In that essay, she said her hobby was shell collecting. In the late 50’s to early 60’s, our family had a beach cabin where we spent time in the summers. It must have been there that she acquired her shell collecting interest.

In this third grade essay, she also stated that she was going to be a teacher, because her father was a teacher. She said she would like to teach first grade so she could help children learn to read, write and “learn numbers”. I also noticed she signed her name Robyn, with a “y”. She was making a statement even at that age.

It wasn’t until I went away to college that we became friends. It took time for both of us to grow up into our “sister” relationship.

In 1963, my father started a summer sports camp for boys that was located in the Oregon coast range. The whole family moved there each summer to work at the camp. My job was in the mess hall, helping in the kitchen, washing dishes, setting tables, and cleaning up. When I went on to college, that job was passed on to my sister and some of her friends.

Ann was one of those friends. During several of their high school summers, Ann worked in the kitchen with Robin. They were both in to sewing, and, as Ann says, “had their own sewing camp while the boys had their sports camp.” They would run down to the mess hall to set up for breakfast, help serve it, clean up, and then hurry back to their room to sew until lunchtime. She remembers they bonded as friends during those summers, sewing together, and designing pants, skirts, and jackets for the upcoming school year. Ann remembers Robin as loving and kind, compassionate and talented. She says Robin was positive about learning, and loved her family deeply. She gave friendship and gentle laughter to all she met, and saw the best in every person.

Robin graduated from high school in 1972 and attended Oregon State University to major in home economics and teaching in 1972-1973. During that time she lived in a dorm on the same floor with Ann and Susan, Ann’s roommate. The pictures of that time showed they had great camaraderie and great times together. Susan remembers Robin as a tiny and kind girl who spent dorm “down-time” in a cozy robe with enormous rollers in her hair. Susan also remembers that Robin coughed a lot during spring term that year. This was when she caught strep throat. She was treated at the college infirmary, but the strep organism was doing damage during that time, unbeknownst to anyone.

I remember Robin’s call to me during the summer after her first year at college. I was working in Portland, and living in an apartment in town. She called to ask me to come by where she was working to look at her legs. She said they were swollen and bothering her, and she wanted to know what to do. I vividly recall my shock at seeing how badly swollen her legs and feet were, and my panic of trying to decide what to do.

I called my parents, who were out at the sports camp, and they immediately returned home. This began the many hospitalizations and treatments to attempt to save her kidneys, and to combat the damage the strep organism had done. In the end, it won, and she lost the function of both kidneys, which required dialysis three times a week to keep her alive. The year was 1974. She was back at home with my parents, whose lives became totally involved in her treatment and care.

But through this trauma, she maintained the most positive outlook, and kept her eyes set on goals for the future. Her love of children kept her teaching dream alive. Her passion for sewing was her outlet for the disappointment this setback caused. She was only 20 years old; she wanted to live a full life.

By 1976, she had settled into a routine of outpatient dialysis three times a week at OHSU hospital in Portland. She got a job at Nordstroms in the shoe department, and was feeling well enough to move into an apartment with a couple of her friends from college. Susan’s memory of this time was of Robin leaving for dialysis looking wan and energy-less, and coming home with all of her color back. She also remembers her habit of eating French fries after her treatments.

In 1976, she became a special project of the dialysis nurses. They had someone they wanted her to meet. Mike was also a dialysis patient at OHSU. He had begun dialysis in 1974, from kidney failure due to a hereditary problem. He had finished his degree at Portland State University in health education, and was an administrative trainee at the Portland VA Hospital. The nurses gave Mike her phone number, and their first date was on Valentines Day.

Robin and Mike announced their engagement at their dialysis center on Dec 31, 1976. They proved love can blossom any time there are two people who want to be together. They married on September 10, 1977. Their plans included a honeymoon in Hawaii, and they made the necessary arrangements for dialysis treatments there. Their wedding was beautiful; she wore a gorgeous wedding dress that mom made with her help. The bridesmaid dresses were handmade also. I still have her wedding dress and my bridesmaid dress. Their honeymoon was delayed for a couple of weeks as they both got food poisoning, and needed to wait until they were stronger to make the trip. They made two trips to Hawaii in their married life.

Their romance made several of the local and statewide newspapers. In these articles, Mike and Robin stated they wanted to buy a house, and hoped to have children. They planned to adopt. They purchased their home in 1980, and settled into a routine of work during the day and dialysis treatments in the evenings three times a week. Robin could be found working in the garden of their new home, sewing, or volunteering at a local grade school. Mike worked full time as a medical claims insurance adjuster. They both enjoyed jogging, and exercised at home when they were not working out at the local YMCA. They said it kept them fit, and counteracted the stress that built up from dialysis.

Mike said “It’s just a state of mind – if you want to be ill and feel that way, go ahead. But if you want to look at the world each day as another little challenge, that’s the best way to do it. It’s not really a handicap. It’s something we have to do, and can’t take a vacation from.”

Some of Robin’s quotes will help you understand her courage and positive attitude:

“People expect you to be real sickly, but I don’t have time to bother with being sick. I have too much to do in this lifetime of mine.”

“We think of it (dialysis) as a part time job”.

“We have gained an appreciation of life and how precious time is. We appreciate the simpler things now”.

“Family support and setting small goals, such as running and exercising, helped me get over the initial difficulty of being on hemodialysis.”

“I can think of a lot of things that could be much worse”.

They confined vacations to weekend jaunts. Robin canned peaches, pears, and cherries. She also made and canned applesauce. She had stacks of fabric for the “next” projects and sewed many cute and fun things for bazaars and Christmas sales.

In 1984, Mike and Robin began home dialysis. They set up a room in their house with two recliner chairs, and had two dialysis machines, on loan from Good Samaritan Hospital, that were set up in front of the TV. They were among the 550 people in Oregon at that time on dialysis, with 153 of them in their own home. (The United States Renal Data System shows Oregon had 2471 people on hemodialysis with 23 of them on home dialysis by 2007.) Rose, a trained dialysis technician set up and monitored their machines, and monitored their blood pressure, and their progress. Robin’s run was 4 hours, Mikes was 6 hours. They read, napped, and watched TV or “OD’d on movies”.

Mike and Robin were determined to adopt a child, and worked with the Holt Adoption Agency. In 1985, their prayers were answered with the arrival of Nicholas, just a few months old, from South Korea. I remember being at the airport when the Holt staff arrived with several children. I also remember the brilliant smile on Robins face when Nicholas was placed in her arms; she was complete.

In 1987, she and I began discussing the option of a kidney transplant. Mike had had two previous unsuccessful transplants and was not planning to undergo another. Robin had wanted to wait until the success rate for transplants was greater than 50%. We decided to be tested for transplant compatibility. It took many months to undergo the tests needed, but we were finally told I was a compatible match for her.

We underwent the operations for the transplant on March 15, 1988. It was an intense day for our parents - two of their children were undergoing surgery at the same time. We recovered in the same room, and I remember seeing the result of my kidney working in her; the bag at her bedside was filling with urine. It made us both cry. She was on her way to a dialysis-free life. We both recovered well.

She had bouts of rejection and was on a number of anti-rejection medications. But, she no longer needed to be hooked up to a dialysis machine. That lasted for about 11 months. Her body finally did reject the transplanted kidney. To this day, I wonder if we were truly a match. She had to restart dialysis, and was planning to resume home dialysis to be with Nicholas in the evenings.

March 15, 1989, one year to the date of the transplant, Robin had a stroke while in the shower, and drowned in the bathtub. This day will be implanted on my soul for the rest of my life. The grief our family experienced was overwhelming. Mike was completely devastated. Nicholas remembers very little of his childhood with Robin, but he does remember that morning his mother died.

Nicholas stayed with my mom and dad so Mike could continue to work and have dialysis treatments, then he moved to my brother Matt, his wife Debbie, and their young daughter Natalie’s home. Mike visited Nicholas on weekends when he could, and they took trips to the zoo or the beach. Mike’s health suffered, and he passed away a year later.

One day, around the age of 5, Nicholas was playing in the sand at the beach with my parents. They had been talking about Robin and Mike. He looked up at his grandfather and said, “I wish God had a telephone.” Dad took a picture of him playing in the sand that day, and framed it with that quote. I think we all felt that way. It took the words of a child to express it so simply.

Matt and Debbie adopted Nicholas in March of 1991. By then they had added another son Drew, born in 1990. Nicholas flourished in that setting with his new family. Through their nurturing, Nicholas is now a young adult, and at age 25, has God in his heart, and talks with Him daily, without a telephone.

At the memorial service, her friend Jan summed up Robin’s recipe for life: “She took love and loyalty, mixed it thoroughly with faith. She blended it with tenderness and kindness and understanding. She added friendship and hope. Sprinkled all those with laughter. Baked it with sunshine and served a generous helping to all who knew her.”  Robin touched the lives of every person she came in contact with in her short life. Her friends admired her courage and determination, her quiet and compassionate manner, and her enthusiasm for life. Her family loved her dearly, and misses her greatly.


Copyright Parrot-Writes 2010

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Robin's Journey Flash 55

A part of me died with my sister when she passed away. This is literally true; she had one of my kidneys. Her compassion for others, her love of family and friends, and her courage through adversity are ingrained in my memory, and provide an example of how life should be lived to its fullest.

I am currently working on Robin's Journey to be posted soon.

Copyright Parrot Writes 2010

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Then and Now

June 1995

We are just moving into our newly remodeled home. We stand in the middle of the open 600sq ft top floor and look out a wall of windows east to the Willamette River and beyond to Mt Hood.

The 1905, 1200 sq ft home now has new tile floors and counters, a fireplace that works, new plumbing and wiring, new walls, new windows, and a new exterior; it has a new life. My builder-creator-husband has taken the old home down to the studs and rebuilt it to today’s code, using some of the old wood so we can call it a remodel. It was worth living in an apartment for the last 9 months to wait for the birth of our new home.

We have moved Franklin the Fern, on his pedestal, into his 4 x 4 foot space in the northeast window. We look in wonder at the newspaper clippings and sewing patterns dated 1925 and 1933 that we uncovered in the lath and plaster walls when we were tearing them down. We chuckle at our cleverness for installing a drycleaner-style rotating clothes rack in our small master bedroom, to use an otherwise unusable space as a closet.

We buried our cat of 16 years, who died before our move, in the garden to be with us in spirit. We have been interviewed for “suitability” to adopt two kitties from a cat rescue shelter, and will be bringing them to their new home in the coming week.

Happy, wonderful times here.

January 2010

We are in our next- to- last home, 35 miles away from the city of Portland, in rural Oregon. My builder-creator-husband took 6 months, this time, to turn the house we bought into our home. We have been here almost 7 years, different from our previous 20 years of moving every 3 years. My husband’s profession as a builder kept us continuing to build something new and move

We look at horses, fields, and farmland now, instead of the river, but we can still see Mt Hood from the top floor.

We moved Franklin the Fern, now 33 years old, on his pedestal, to his current 6 x 6 ft space with window on either side of him. He is now 7 feet tall, and I have to stand on a step-stool to water him. Our kitties from the shelter are still with us, 15 and 16 years-old, and happy here.

Nomadic living kept my storage areas relatively clear. They are now becoming full.

Happy, wonderful times here.


Copyright Parrot-Writes 2010

Monday, January 11, 2010

Brother and Sisters (From Shaddy's prompt)


I am the oldest of four children born in my family, each three years apart. My first sister died when she was three, of complications from kidney disease and pneumonia. She was a very sweet girl with sunshine in her smile. I remember Dad taking me to my first grade classroom several days later to tell my teacher why I hadn’t been there.

My second sister was born shortly thereafter. Her name was Robin, and it suited her because she was a picky eater, and “ate like a bird”. I have a vision of her at the dinner table long after everyone else had been dismissed, sitting there staring at the green beans on her plate that she had to finish before she could get down. She was six years younger than me, and as I remember, we always fought. It wasn’t until I left for college that we became close friends.

During her first year of college she became ill with an infection that localized in her kidneys, putting her into kidney failure, and requiring her to be on dialysis. A number of years later, we tested to see if I was a transplant match. I was, so that fall she received one of my kidneys. It is the one accomplishment of my life that I am the most proud of. The new kidney allowed her to be free of dialysis. Off and on, her body tried to reject the kidney, but she fought valiantly to retain it. One year to the date of the transplant, she had a massive stroke and died. I still admire her courage and miss her greatly. There is much more to tell of Robin’s journey, but it deserves its own story.

My brother came along nine years after me. Dad finally got a son to play ball with! What a great kid. He was always happy. My sister and I used to dress him up like a doll. We would put mom’s jewelry on him and he would walk around the house in earrings and necklaces, happy to be a part of the fun. He is now an Optometrist, with a beautiful wife and three kids. We are very close and talk weekly.

In Ann’s Beginning Writers Workshop, we were asked to write about things we remember and things we didn’t remember. I wrote that I didn’t remember a lot about my childhood years. It sparked me to call two of my childhood friends from the old neighborhood. We had maintained a “Christmas card” relationship of late. They came to lunch one day before Christmas, and we had a wonderful afternoon, talking about “remember when”. Those memories were there, they just needed prompting.

Copyright Parrot-Writes 2010

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Family Christmas 2009


Cris and I spent our Christmas vacation with 2 knights, 2 princesses, a king, and a queen. Well, and a brief encounter with a septic pumping guy too, but that comes later.

Our daughter Zoe and her husband along with their three kids, plus their Corgi, arrived from Redmond on Sunday to stay the week. Our son Brody and his wife with their three kids arrived on Tuesday for the day so the kids could play. They live 30 miles away.

Since the grandkids enjoy role playing and dressing up, they each received a Renaissance costume for Christmas, including a sword of some sort. There were two knights (our grandsons aged 3 and 6), two princesses (our granddaughters aged 3 and 6), a king (our grandson aged 9), and a queen (our granddaughter aged 9). After opening their presents, they dressed up and went outside to play in costume. Great wars were fought, and the princesses cheered on their knights. The King and Queen oversaw the fighting, and got involved a time or two.

On Tuesday, they played outside much of the day. About 3PM, it unexpectedly began to snow. The Hillsboro group decided to pack up and head over the hill in the daylight for their hour-long drive home, since they did not have snow tires or chains. After 30 minutes on the road, they had only made it 9 miles, so they turned around and came back to the Family Compound. We had also been watching the news and saw that the roads were clogged with stuck cars and figured it would only get worse as the afternoon went on.

The Redmond group was staying in the guest house, a separate living quarters just behind the main house. Our second bedroom in the main house was set up for guests with a queen bed and a set of bunk beds. With a sleeping bag on the floor for the 3 yr old, they had a place to stay the night.

We had gotten pizzas earlier in the day to bake for our dinner, so we were set. We spent a great evening together, chatting, kids playing, watching movies and playing Wii games. The kids entertained us in costume and the decibel level rose and fell all evening. It was a great gift to Cris and me to have everyone together for the day and evening.

Wednesday dawned cold and snowy, which enthralled the kids. What a difference a day makes. On Tuesday they were outside playing in their costumes. On Wednesday, they were out with Grandpa Cris building a snow fort/cave in 4 inches of new snow, heavy coats, and mittens.

About 11AM the snow plow made it down our road, clearing most of the stuff. I needed to take mom to her hair appointment at 1:30PM, so left at 1PM to get her. Had a couple of interesting slips in the slushy stuff (my car is worthless in the snow), but got her there and back in good shape.

When I arrived home about 3:30PM, the Hillsboro group was packed and ready to leave, and Cris was out digging in the yard! Not something I would have expected for a snowy afternoon. Seems that the volume of people had overwhelmed our septic system, and stuff was backing up into the downstairs showers and toilets in both the main house and guest house. Here’s where the septic pumping man comes into the story.

Luckily there were plenty of people and towels to mop up/clean up the mess, and the septic guy wasn’t busy, so could show up in 2 hours. The problem came in that we didn’t know exactly where the septic tank was – we hadn’t had it pumped since we moved in. Thus, Cris was digging up our yard to find it. The other problem came in explaining to children aged 3-9 that they couldn’t use the bathroom for awhile. Of course they all need to when they found out they couldn’t.

Cris found the septic cover and the pumping guy showed up about the same time to fix our problem. Turns out it was a good thing. He said we would have done more damage if we had continued to add to the septic system with the volume just Cris and I would add. The increased volume of water from showers, dishwasher, clothes washer and toilet use of an additional 10 people just caused it to overflow and did no damage.

Thursday (NYE) was to be the great Family Christmas celebration with fourteen for dinner. The kids put on two plays for our entertainment, which were recorded to hold for embarrassment purposes in later years. Good times and good food was had by all. Again, decibel levels reached all time highs, and sometimes lows. It depended on if the movie “Up” was being watched. The hallway between the living room and kitchen, and around the stairs, became a race track to burn off energy. Sometimes all 6 were involved. When the yelling became too much, they were herded back upstairs to watch the movie. We made it to 1030PM before everyone faded. We watched the crystal ball fall in Times Square in New York, and all wished each other a grand 2010.

We are so blessed to have these wonderful kids and grandkids as a part of our lives. Each one, in their own special way, has expanded our hearts with love. We wish for each of them continued growth, both physically and mentally, and a dynamic new year.

Copyright Parrot Writes 2010

Essay about Mom

I miss my mom. Oh, she is here and I see her every day in person, but she is not who she used to be. Mom has Alzheimer’s disease, and the doctors classify her as level 3 of 4 or 5 levels, depending on who you read. Physically she looks the same, maybe a bit more fragile and not as aware or mindful of her physical appearance. Remembering what we are doing or about to do is problematic for her. Her long term memory is fading too. She still knows faces and names of family, but not where they are or what they are doing.

She mostly talks about the clouds and how they are roaming around in the sky, or how bright it is if the sun is out. When we go to Starbucks to get a Mocha, she watches the busy street traffic, and comments about how many cars and trucks there are on the road. She expresses concern about the busses that have First Student labeled on their sides. I tell her it is the name of the company that makes them, but she doesn’t remember, and asks me over and over “what do you suppose that means?” It’s a challenge to answer her repeated questions in different ways, but we all try. It just doesn’t seem to be appropriate to tell her she just asked that question; it would probably upset or confuse her.

I remember mom as being an efficient and organized lady who loved to take care of her family. She lost 2 daughters, one at age 3 and one at age of 27, both from renal disease and their complications. She was their primary caregiver through both of their illnesses. I think this took a great toll on her and my dad. I know what is like to lose a sister; I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose a daughter, let alone two.

When dad was alive, towards the end of his life, he used to tell me he was worried about mom because she had no hobbies – she just lived to take care of her family. I assured him that Matt and I would take care of her. I think the disease had already started to take its toll on her by then, we just didn’t know it. She was pretty good at covering up her memory loss, so it wasn’t until dad got worse that it became apparent. She forgot to cook, or clean the house, or sometimes would not even get out of bed in the morning. Dad was trying to do all the things Mom couldn’t do, all the while in failing health himself. He needed the assistance that mom could no longer provide. That is when my brother Matt, his wife Debbie, my husband Cris and I helped them move to an Assisted Living apartment. They lived there a year before dad’s decline took him away.

She is a happy person; we are lucky about that. Some Alzheimer patients are angry and hostile. We are also blessed to have found the Thanksgiving House, a wonderful Adult Foster Home where she is content and happy, and well taken care of. She is a sweet lady, takes direction well, and is helpful to others living in the Foster Home with her. It is only 5 miles from our house, which makes it easier to visit every day. She is the youngest resident at 87. There are four other ladies living there, most in their 90s, several with dementia, and one lady of 103. Mom is watchful of them and helps them to their rooms or straightens their clothes when they stand up. She also helps at mealtimes, setting and clearing the table, things she did by rote all her life. There is a small Yorkie named Tuffy, a kitty named Lovey, and a parakeet named Mr. Peety, who reside in Thanksgiving House. The cat is especially fond of Mom and can be found curled up with her during her naps or at night.

Mom no longer initiates activities. She used to sew, read, cook, garden, and play cards. She does none of these activities now, she just doesn’t remember how. She has to be assisted or directed to get up, dress, brush her teeth, take a shower, and go to bed. She doesn’t use the phone on her own, but is able to carry on a good conversation with family and friends if you dial for her. I especially miss getting phone calls from her. She still loves to walk with her arm tucked in mine and will go with me if I ask her, but does not try it on her own. I think on some level she remembers being lost when mom and dad were living in Assisted Living and she went out for a walk and lost her way. The police found her wandering in a school yard a mile in the wrong direction from her apartment.

If you left her on her own, most of the time she would be watching TV, listening to music, or taking naps. She often lays her head back and closes her eyes because, she says, it “feels good”. She has a permanent dent in her hair at the back of her head from this pose that requires some fluffing to make it stand up and look presentable.

Seeing her every day is sometimes hard. I so want her to be the interactive mom I knew. But that is not to be. This disease robs a person of themselves and leaves the family with the shape but not the substance of the person they knew. It doesn’t make you love them any less, but makes you work a little harder to be with them, all the while watching them decline. I am content seeing that she is settled in to the routine at Thanksgiving House and thank God for its existence. The Caregivers are wonderful, positive, and nurturing for all the women there. They understand mom's limitations and constantly ask for feedback regarding her care. The other constant that keeps me sane is being able to talk about it with my brother and my husband. They are living this too, and talking together, planning, and sharing helps.

So for now, we will all continue to visit her, take her on walks, bring her to family functions and love her dearly. She appreciates all of that, I think. When the day comes that she does not, we will respect that too, and just let her be, knowing she will be wonderfully taken care of by God and the Caregivers of Thanksgiving House.

Copyright Parrot Writes 2010