DON’T KNOW HOW I LIVED WITHOUT YOU – PART 1

Posted on January 12, 2011 by Judy

Judy and Miriam

“She was wished for”

My transformation that began last year, which I’ve termed “My Journey’s Insight,” has allowed me to connect and reconnect with so many wonderful people in my life. Childhood friends, teachers, artists, musicians, and poets; well, I could go on and on!

An example of a “new connection” would be my mother’s caregiver, Miriam.

I decided to look up the meaning of the name, Miriam. One meaning that was listed was “wished for.” That sounded accurate for me!

Six months ago, I hired a caregiver for my mother over both of my parent’s objections. Just as I had experienced with Rosa, my housekeeper of twenty years, I did not expect my mother’s caregiver to be such an exceptional gem.

Gems that “sparkle,” rarely reveal themselves to the naked eye upon first glimpse.

Similar to my experience with Rosa, my first caregiver quit after one day, and I hesitated to search for another one. After a few weeks, I once again followed my instincts, which told me it would be helpful for my mother to have the “extra attention.” I called someone at my mother’s nursing facility and asked if they had the number of another caregiver I could hire.

I liked Miriam when I first met her, and I felt an enormous sense of relief. After that first day, I rarely saw her.

She intuitively knew I was consumed with reclaiming my life after so many years of caregiving to my family.

Miriam was very careful not to “bother me” with anything that might add stress to my life. All the while, she managed to alleviate my mother’s dementia episodes as best she could. When my mother was not with Miriam, I witnessed and experienced the challenges that Miriam faced on a daily basis.

Whenever I spoke with Miriam, she said things to me that were unusual for someone simply “doing their job.” Miriam was invested in my mother.

While we were in the hospital emergency room after my mother fell, Miriam was beside herself. She kept telling me she wished she could have prevented my mother’s fall. Both of us had premonitions about it, since my mother was a “risk taker.”

Miriam had to leave the room when a catheter was inserted into my mother. When my mother was screaming in pain, Miriam cried with me.

Later on, I had to make a decision about whether to allow for my mother to have surgery to repair her hip, Miriam’s eyes were locked with mine as both of us listened to all the compelling reasons why surgery was necessary.

It was so helpful for me to have her there, listening and coping with doctors that were unwavering in their argument for surgical intervention.

Miriam understood my mother’s fragility so well. Both of us drew from each other to have the strength to follow our convictions about not putting my mother through surgery.

“Monday morning”

I received a text message from Miriam a few days earlier that said:

“I read the beautiful thing you wrote about me (on the blog) and I feel really glad to see so many pictures of your beautiful mom. I just wanna let you know that the time I am with your mom, she’ll have all my love and my best care.”

Miriam had her day off on Sunday, and she was very worried about my mother. I reassured her with a text message that my mother’s day went smoothly.

When I arrived, her first words to me were, “When I came this morning, it was such a mess! There was no way anyone could move around here!”

Like a bustling housekeeper, I saw she had organized the space around my mother so it was neat and uncluttered. My mother’s face was clean and her hair combed. Miriam was meticulous about my mother’s care, and her gentleness and love made my heart sing.

My mother said she’d enjoy listening to my music while resting on her bed, so I pulled out my guitar. I wanted to play the emerging melody of my newest composition. My heart and my music were connected as I sang.

When I am composing a song, I become consumed with it and have difficulty playing anything else!

I tentatively decided to sing my new, chorus lyrics to the song. I had mentioned to her earlier that I was writing her a song. I wondered if my mother knew that the song was about her.

Miriam’s eyes were moist and moved. She seemed to know all of my songs well. When she told me her children enjoyed my music, it was nice to hear that! I told her my own teenagers certainly didn’t appreciate my music.

Miriam was so appreciative for those moments listening to me play. I felt so grateful for all she did for my mom; how easy this was to give back something to her in this way! I let her know I’d be doing this more often. My mother’s eyes gradually closed and she fell asleep. It was time for me to put away my guitar. 

Playing my music for my mom was a wonderful way to spend time with her. I was opening up to her again!

Miriam said softly, “You’ve touched me in an unbelievable way.”

I left with a vision. When my mom does leave this earth, Miriam will cry with me.

A recent picture of my parents.

“Wednesday morning”

hon·es·ty n

truthfulness, candor, or sincerity

I have come to realize that I have difficulty holding back from sharing things that might be painfully honest.

I feel compelled to be honest, and I apologize if what I write might seem overly so.

I came to visit my mom. As I was parking, Miriam called me. Her voice was worried as she shared that my mother had diarrhea and was unable to eat or drink this morning. I told her I’d be there shortly.

As I entered the dimly lit room, I could see my mom was very weak. She obediently drank a cup of water from me. Then her eyes closed and it seemed best to let her rest.

Miriam was glad I was there. She said, “Judy, your father won’t allow me to organize your mother’s clothes – what shall I do?”

She showed me how the closet was bursting and held up items that looked almost like rags. I told her to take out all of the clothes that had holes – they would go in the trash. My mother used to love shopping with me for clothes; I felt sad to see the condition of most of her wardrobe.

I had a huge pang when Miriam pulled out several pairs of underwear. It really hurt. Both of us looked at each other with the knowledge of what it meant.

For over a year now, my beautiful, proud mother wore a diaper– she would never wear underwear again.

For two hours Miriam worked on the closet. She sorted the clothes into different piles. There were those my mother never wore. I told her to take them to her church, since neither of us had a use for them.

There were old shoes, too – and that also made me sad.

We both agreed that my father wouldn’t accept anything being taken away since he was an intense hoarder. I told Miriam that my father could think that I was simply “storing those items” at my home. As I watched her bustling away, I could hardly contain my appreciation. I realized I didn’t even know her last name!

I actually didn’t know anything about her, except that she loved my mother.

Miriam had no idea I had written about her. I brought a camera with me, but wasn’t sure if it was a good day to take any pictures. My mother looked wan and worn out.

Soon, my mother was snoring soundly. While Miriam cleaned out the closet we talked about many things. I found out a lot more about her.

She held up some of my mom’s favorite outfits to show me. I remembered well how my mom and I went shopping every week. I remembered when my mom bought her favorite, white jacket with the embroidered butterflies.

I closed my eyes and clearly pictured her excitement when she tried it on during one of our long ago, shopping outings.

Miriam looked serious when she said, “Your mother has such a strong spirit and will to live.” Then she added, “I showed her this summer blouse, and she said to me that she might not be alive by the summertime.”

I listened raptly. My mother was aware of her situation.

Miriam’s eyes sparkled when she said, “I told her that was nonsense! I put the summer clothes where she could see them. I let her know she will most definitely be around by summer! It’s very important for her to see those clothes.”

There were so many things my mom’s loving caregiver said hat morning, which I simply cannot adequately express!

When my mom’s dementia had her angry and paranoid; Miriam told me my mom would be angry with her. Miriam told me that she could handle it. I knew she rarely shared these things because she never wanted to bother me.

“Judy, your mother only needs to hear you are happy with you life. Then her face beams and she is okay. I am with her and you must live your life. That is what she wants!”

Miriam told me how difficult it was to watch the nurses change my mother’s diaper; it had been a huge mess this morning. My mother was in a lot of pain because it required a lot of turning and movement.

Due to the nursing facility regulations, Miriam was not allowed to handle my mother in this way. She said to me, “I want desperately to do this for your mother, because I understand how to be gentle and she is relaxed with me.”

Her face became resolute as she shared with me that she had made a deal with one of my mother’s nurses. No one could know. The nurse told her she would be allowed to change my mother’s diaper next time. Miriam looked very pleased about this.

I had to share this with my honesty. There was no other way I could convey my amazement of the lengths my mother’s companion wanted to go to in order to make her comfortable.

My father was often grouchy and irritable. Miriam shared that she loved my father also. “I understand your father,” she told me.

She said, “Even if your father, Mr. Lee, could not pay me – I would still come to take of your mother! I love her dearly and as long as she is alive I am here for her!”

I believed her.

I pulled out of my purse two CD’s of my music that I had made for her. As I handed it to her, I opened up to her about something that was bothering me.

“You know, Miriam, I realize that no one lives forever – I am writing a song now for my mother where I am saying goodbye to her. I don’t know – perhaps it is a bad omen for me to assume her leaving me is so imminent!

As we talked about this, it became clear how no human knows when their time on this earth is up. Miriam reassured me that my song wasn’t encouraging my mom to give up.

My mother opened her eyes. She beamed and stroked my face as I kissed her. My mother always told me that I looked beautiful.

Miriam combed my mother’s hair and applied rouge and lipstick for her. As I watched the two of them, I decided I could take a picture.

It was now lunchtime. A nurse came in and lifted my mother into her wheelchair; I didn’t see my mother express any pain.

It was time for me to leave. As I walked to my car, I had to listen to my music on my iPod. The ache in my heart needed to hear music, as soon as possible.

That morning, I asked Miriam if she knew the meaning of her name. She knew that her name was biblical; she knew about Miriam from the bible.

I told her it meant, “Wished for.”

Little did she know that she was more than I could ever have wished for!

She believed that God had sent her to help my mother and me.

I actually began to believe that, too.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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I PRAY THAT THESE THINGS NEVER END

Posted on January 10, 2011 by Judy

My mom and her mother, Anna Zerner. Anna had a catastrophic stroke while in her mid-eighties and died within a day.

Until my own child died, I had very little experience surrounding death. However, I did see the effect of grief on my mother when my grandmother died.

My mother seemed inconsolable at times and cried frequently that first year. She and her mother were very close. I believe my mother felt her mother’s death was the most difficult thing she had ever experienced in her life.

When I opened and read my teenage diary thirty years later, I copied a page about the experience of seeing my mother’s grief at my grandmother’s funeral.

All of my life, I had a lot of fear about how I would cope with losing my mother. Yesterday, I was speaking with my good friend, Susan. Over the course of our conversation, I was very relaxed as I discussed the deterioration of my mother’s health. Susan remarked that I had most certainly changed, because she sensed that I radiated acceptance around losing my mother – rather than fear.

My maternal grandparents, Anna and Sam Zerner. All four of my grandparents came from Russia.

I have not written much about God. For me, death is a mystery and I do not have much to say about god. I consider myself an agnostic, meaning I am simply “not sure.”

About a month ago, I corresponded with my former boyfriend, Sam, who is a doctor. Our discussions clarified many of my thoughts surrounding grief, which I certainly experienced. (Posts #217-224). Sam had written to me about God, but I did not want to discuss it at the time. This was the message he sent me:

“You know that I feel there is a purpose for everything…if not, then we are just creatures biding our time on this planet, subject to completely random events, occasionally trying to find meaning when there is none…what a sad existence. I believe that G-d is intimately involved with each of us in our daily lives. If you look and are aware, you will see it.

Judy, I think you intuitively know this as well. You wrote that you have moments of spirituality, but I think you are spiritual by nature…if your music and your writing are not spiritual, then I am not sure what is!  You just haven’t figured out how to apply it quite yet, but that will be part of your ongoing journey.”

A calendar on the wall in my mom’s room.

Today happened to be the anniversary of my grandmother’s death.

This morning when I visited my mother, I had a spiritual experience.

When I arrived, I found my mother in the dining room. According to the nurses, she had finished most of her breakfast and wasn’t too agitated. She had a worried look, which she had frequently due to her dementia. I said, “Mom, guess what? I brought my guitar to play a few songs for you this morning!”

Since my mom was in her wheelchair, I pushed her back toward her room. Then I remembered Sara.

This is Sara.

I met Sara last week. My mom’s caregiver, Miriam, introduced us. Sara is ninety-eight-years-old and has two, broken hips that were not operated on. Sara uses a walker and also walks unassisted.

Last week, when I refused for my mom to have surgery to repair her broken hip, all of the doctors told me that my mom would experience unrelenting pain. Her mortality rate was extremely high and she was given hospice services.

I was amazed to learn about Sara, since the surgeon told me that in the last seven years only one patient had refused surgery. The patient had died soon after.

I looked in and Sara was sitting on her bed. I said to her, “Would you like to listen to me play a few songs?”

Sara quivered with joy and enthusiasm. Of course, I knew she’d be excited since she had appreciated listening to my music on an iPod the last few days. I decided I would play in Sara’s room. I pushed my mother’s wheelchair to one side and set up a chair for myself.

I played about five songs. I started with a Hebrew song. It was one that I used to sing with my youngest son. I always felt moved while singing it, because I knew the composer died in a concentration camp.

After that, I played a few songs from the 70’s. As far as my original songs went, I only played my instrumental version of Farewell and Crystal Oceans.

My mother looked tired so it was time for me to stop. Sara beamed and said, “Judy, you must be a very religious person, are you not?”

I answered, “Not really. My mother most certainly is, though.”

Sara turned to look at my mother and said, “You know, I thought your daughter was religious because when she sings I feel she is singing to God.”

Then Sara continued, “I am an agnostic myself.” When I heard that, I really felt connected to this very wise, 98-year-old woman. She was so intelligent and insightful.

After this dialog, I pondered about which song’s lyrics invoked a sense of “the profound.” The only song I had shared that might be considered spiritual was the first one called Eli Eli. I decided to record it later in the day on my computer.

I was back in my mother’s room. It was then when I noticed on her calendar. It happened to be the anniversary of my grandmother’s death. I decided to gently tell my mother.

My mother was sad because normally she went to the cemetery. Those trips were now impossible for her. I told my mother that I would light a candle when I came home to honor my grandmother, Anna. I also reassured my mom – there were other ways to honor her mother without going to the cemetery. We talked about many of her memories of her mother.

I said goodbye to my mom. As I walked down the hallway carrying my guitar, all the nurses grinned and offered compliments about my singing. I was no longer “the annoying daughter” with only complaints about my mother’s care.

I was “Judy the singer/songwriter” now!

I came home and lit a candle.

I still consider myself an agnostic. I’ll need to meet God before I’m truly certain.

Today, I had this feeling that God was trying to meet me.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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I’M HANGING IN THERE

Posted on January 9, 2011 by Judy

Yesterday, I had a wonderful hypnotherapy session. Instead of feeling depleted, I felt like I was brimming with energy. I certainly had a lot to share with my therapist, Connie.

Only the week before, I remembered clearly an image that I had while under hypnosis. Connie had sad, “You are on a beautiful staircase – I am going to count backwards from twenty as you descend into deep sleep.”

I blurted out, “Wait! I’m not descending, though! I’m ascending! I’m on that beautiful staircase, but I’m going up and up – into the sky. I am above a hospital and you know what? I have my mother next to me. We’re going up the staircase into the sky together!”

That was my image last week.

Yesterday, as she counted and I fell into hypnosis, I definitely felt the sensation. Many times, I don’t. It’s just a very relaxed feeling. Yesterday, I felt a wave of tingling and peace. I could hear my music. Since I have been in the process of composing another song, sometimes the melody will play itself for me when I least expect it.

I had no images while under hypnosis, yesterday. Only peace.

“Yesterday morning”

My mother’s face was definitely less gaunt. That was the first thing I noticed. I was a little unhappy when a nursing assistant came to help my mother up. This lady was so sweet, however, she had no idea my mom had broken her hip a week earlier.

I stopped her from trying to walk my mother to the bathroom by explaining my mother had broken her hip a week ago. I tried to contain my shock that my mother’s condition wasn’t told to everyone who worked with her. What if I wasn’t there?

I knew the answer to that! My mother would be given a narcotic because she’d be in “too much pain.” Often her pain was a result of just being handled in a way that wasn’t “appropriate” for her situation.

Almost everyone that has seen my mother can hardly believe she has handled her pain so well. My mother’s greatest pain is her dementia. It is a demon and I plan to write about that soon.

I asked the nursing supervisor to allow me to put a sign above her bed stating her condition. I was told it is against regulations.

Although I was reassured that it wouldn’t happen again, I wasn’t that reassured!

I still have not heard back about obtaining a “prescription” so my mother could have a seatbelt on her wheelchair!

As an advocate for my children, I am astounded about how advocacy for the elderly has resulted in “regulations” that are truly not about keeping them safe!

After breakfast my new friend, Sara, stopped by my mom’s table. She said, “Shirley, just wait! You and I are going to take a walk together!”

I grinned when Sara told my mother about how much she loved my music!

“Nighttime”

I began to work further on transposing the remainder of chord progressions on my song Farewell. Since I don’t have a lot of background in music theory, transposing can be a very painstaking exercise for me.

The melody for what might be either a bridge or verse “revealed” itself to me. It was quite beautiful and my heart soared as I heard it repeating over and over in my head. Sometimes I’ll find a great melodic line, but then lose it. When it “sticks,” then I know it’s the one to go with.

I decided I’d bring my guitar in the morning and play for my mother and my new friend, Sara, who lives across the hall.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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WE BOTH CRIED FOR OUR SUFFERING

Posted on January 7, 2011 by Judy

My mother with her granddaughter.

Today I comforted my mother.

When I came down the hallway this morning, I could see my mother’s face was contorted with sadness as I approached her wheelchair. She immediately burst into tears, and I was very distraught. However, with my gentle touch, I soon had her smiling again.

Her tears were from feeling uncared about and from her confusion.

Still, today held many moments that represented healing and improvement for my mom.

Bad List:

My heart pounded when my phone rang late last night and I saw that the call was from my mom’s facility. I heard her anxious voice. She said, “Honey, when are you coming?” I gently explained to her that it was still nighttime and we both needed to sleep!

This morning, the nurses couldn’t find my mom’s reclining wheelchair. My mom was put into a regular wheelchair. The whole process was very traumatic for her. That was the reason for her tears this morning!

My mom had a lot of confused moments. I’m sad that she still has dementia.

I was told my mom was given a “mild” pain medication last night. I became very upset. Later, it was determined she had not been given one. This was not the first time I felt confused about what I was told. My mom seemed so confused this morning that I thought she was on something. The pupils in her eyes were tiny.

Good List for today:

My mom was able to sit in a regular wheelchair, despite her tears. It was exactly one week ago last night when she fell and broke her hip. In only one week, my worst fear that she would be “bedridden” did not happen!

I played tennis.

I went out to lunch with two of my tennis girlfriends.

I was pretty amazed to see a panda face in my latte at lunch today! I couldn’t “bear” not to take a picture of it!

I received a call from my mom’s caregiver that my mom had taken a shower without any pain. My mom was glowing when I saw her in the afternoon!

My plan was to come to say goodnight to my mom, as I had every evening this past week. When I called before leaving she said, “Honey, you can have the night off. Today was a good day and I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Go do something fun!”

I played my guitar and sang every single one of my songs.

My youngest son received a beautiful report card from religious school. His behaviors were either “excellent” or “very good.” I loved the comments that were there.

“An anniversary of the heart for Ruth” – My deceased mother-in-law’s birthday”

A little over a week ago, it would have been my mother-in-law’s birthday. I want to “carve out” a little space to honor her. She died a little over a year ago.

Ruth would have been thrilled to know how well I’ve done this year. Perhaps it was no coincidence that on the actual date of her birthday, I came across a folder next to my desk – it had all of her important papers.

I decided that I would file away those papers. Upstairs in my closet I had a box with her name on it. When I opened the box, there were stacks of cards and old pictures inside!

The irony didn’t escape me about how on this “anniversary of the heart” I was looking at the many cards I had given Ruth over the years. Before I learned how to use a computer – I used to cut out photos and paste them onto cards.

I also ended up with many, new photos to add to the blog.

Ruth when she was younger.

My bridal shower with Ruth.

Ruth with her two grandsons.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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