I CAN’T LIVE IN THE PAST

Posted on January 1, 2011 by Judy

This morning my stomach hurt. It was very familiar.

I still remembered the day my colitis began. It was several years ago when I entered a rehab facility where my mother had recently been transferred. As I walked down the hallway, suddenly the smells overwhelmed me – I had to find a bathroom immediately because I was sick.

That was the beginning of a horrible condition where I always needed to find a bathroom quickly. My aching stomach controlled me.

During any crisis I’ve faced in the past, I was always on “high alert.” How quickly that feeling has come back to me!

Today, it did not feel like it was a “holiday.” Last night I had cancelled my New Year’s plans and stayed at the hospital with my mother.

Now, all that mattered for me was keeping myself calm enough to cope. I needed to face the challenge of my mother’s situation with courage; it could be a “long haul.”

I wondered if I would continue singing or maintaining any semblance of my musical life. When I had those thoughts about a “long haul,” it certainly wasn’t helpful.

I spoke with my husband and he was definitely helpful for me. Because he had suffered tremendously with the deterioration and death of both his parents, he truly understood and empathized. His support buoyed me, because he agreed with me 100%.

He did not doubt for one moment that I was doing anything but making the best decision for my mother. For that, I was grateful!

A year ago, I wrote emails with detailed updates about my mother’s condition. I’ve decided that my blog is a better way to share.

At this moment, I’d rather write my feelings instead of medical details . . .

Today, when I entered my mother’s hospital room, she didn’t bawl like a baby to see me, as she had the day before. Instead, she was gently dozing; I noticed she had finished a bowl of oatmeal. Later on, I found out an exceptionally, kind nurse had fed her.

Although, there were some unpleasant moments today, overall it wasn’t the ordeal I had anticipated.

I woke up this morning on “high alert;” ready to face whatever crisis would erupt.

Instead, of the “tortured memories” that I had anticipated – I realized that there were still “touching memories” for me to discover.

I only had to look for them!

My father did not cry once today. He usually wouldn’t get close to my mother, and was irritated when I “prodded him.” Today, when he went over to her bed to say goodbye – I took his picture.

I assisted my mother so she could brush her own teeth. Afterwards, she was radiant. She asked me if I wanted to get ready for bed, too. I joked and said, “Shall I climb into bed with you?” We both laughed.

Today I even wrote song lyrics while she dozed. I felt inspired.

It was on New Year’s Day, exactly a year ago, that I shared a picture of my mother while on a respirator. She was smiling and it was a beautiful picture for me.

Here it was a year later, and my mother had beaten the odds and got off that respirator. I decided to take more hospital pictures.

As my post title says, “I can’t live in the past, because something went wrong.”

I am living in the present.

There is no longer any “right or wrong” for me.

All that matters for me is that there are quality moments for my mom – without pain!

Last night”

Below is correspondence with my good friend, Steve (his words are in blue):

That picture of your Dad saying goodbye to your Mom was very touching.

My mom agreed to the pictures – of course, she’s not in her usual state of mind – she didn’t worry if her hair was combed. What was important is that she was happy and wanted to show everyone.

That means so much more to know your Mom agreed to the pictures.

Hmm – maybe I should write that in the blog so people won’t have doubts. What do you think? I also took pictures of her with her granddaughter, Marisa, which I plan to share with my brother. Marisa took the pictures for me – my mom loved looking at them, too.

Yes, it gives us a better idea of what shape she was in your visit, that she was alert and showing interest in things like the pictures.

Thanks for the advice, Steve. I’ll do that.

© 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 TRY TO BE BRAVE

Posted on December 31, 2010 by Judy

“A HOSPITAL IS A PLACE”

A hospital is a place I hope to never see again once I leave. However, I am not able to leave.

As I walk to my car, I might feel a momentary rush of freedom. It feels like I’ve been released from a prison. However, the “hospital prison” simply follows me. I am relentlessly pursued.

My phone is about to ring at any moment. The call is most certainly about my punishment for even thinking about escaping!

A hospital is a place where my appetite is outside of the realm of my own body. I feel like I never want to eat again, and yet in a moment I am easily overwhelmed with voracious hunger. I eat whatever is most easily available and am astonished how the hunger can be overwhelming while at the same time food has no taste.

A hospital is a place where I watch those I love reduced to their most human condition. I scream for their pain and fight to remain calm and soothing all at the same time.

A hospital is a place where the utmost intelligence is required to make unbelievably, challenging decisions. At the same time that intellect is necessary for “quick thinking,” all decisions end up coming from the heart and not the brain.

A hospital is a place where I am so important that every other part of my life is miniscule. Nothing matters except my being there.

A hospital is a place where a story is unfolding. The story has a beginning, middle, and a clear ending where there is no mystery.

A hospital is a place that has taught me how to truly travel. I have learned to travel to destinations in my mind where I am uplifted and sane. I used to travel to beautiful vistas and scenes of my own creation. Now I travel to places that are filled with musical scores.

10 p.m., December 31st – Friday evening

Message to a friend:

This is probably the most difficult decision of my life.

It is very, very hard to disagree with doctors. Certainly their expertise is in keeping patients alive. But my mother’s quality of life has been rapidly diminishing. This would be a difficult surgery for her to recover from. I don’t want to put her through it, even though there’s a chance she could “physically” recover. What good is a recovery if her mind is gone? Her panic and fear would be worsened. At the moment, she seems to be accepting her bedridden situation and her pain is manageable.

Even if she were able to walk again (which is unlikely) – she would probably sustain another fall since she doesn’t understand she’s not supposed to walk unassisted. She would be placed in the Alzheimer’s unit to be watched and I know she has been terrified of moving there. In fact, her fall resulted from her general unhappiness and misery over her predicament – she hates living in this dependent state.

That is pretty much what I gathered from discussing this with her. Not that she’s in a “state of mind” to make a decision, but I certainly wanted her input.

My mother’s dementia has been “unsolvable” and rapidly progressing. Although she might certainly have a chance with successful hip surgery, I’m not sure she wants her life extended in that way. I know that sounds horrible to say, but mentally it’s not going to get better and likely to rapidly worsen.

At this moment, she already has a possible, respiratory infection going on. My father has already stated that if she has pneumonia he won’t allow her to be intubated.

I think pneumonia is going to do her in with whatever way we go.

I will make sure that she is comfortable with whatever time is left. Tonight she ate and was smiling all evening. I brought my father with me (against his wishes). We lit Sabbath candles and together sang the blessings. My mother’s face was truly radiant.

I have reached a place in my life where I truly trust my intuition. I have worried that I am selfish in wanting to make things “end quicker.” Is it easier for me? The truth is that I don’t want my mom on this earth any longer than she has to be if it means she is suffering.

I have always said this. Far worse than death is to see someone you love suffer. I love my mom too much for that and I’m willing to let her go instead.

This is all certainly painful, but I do feel much stronger than last year. I have really transformed over this year, and it has helped me a lot.

Love, Judy

A SUPPORTIVE MESSAGE:

On Dec 31, 2010, Nancy wrote:

Dear Judy,

I am thinking of you.

I certainly cannot help with your decision, but I can say that whatever you decide will be the BEST decision you could make. It has to be. And it must be left at that – no matter what. That’s all there is. We cannot turn back the clock. Trust the decision you make and it is out of your hands.

You are a loving and caring daughter seeking all the advice and wisdom you can find. That is the most you can do. You are doing the right thing for your mom and your family.

Love you Judy,

Nan XX

Mom & I at Disneyland

© 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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IT JUST GETS HARDER EVERY TIME

Posted on December 31, 2010 by Judy

6:00 a.m., December 31st – Friday morning

I am leaving in a moment.

I was looking forward to playing tennis once the weather let up. It had been two weeks since I’d played and I was invited to play mixed doubles. Hitting at men players definitely allowed me to swing harder!

But it wasn’t meant to be.

Yesterday, I received a call in the afternoon. My mother attempted to walk unassisted and fell.

Initially, I was told she had some bad scrapes and a black eye. However, due to the fact that she hit her head, she was taken to the hospital to be checked.

I talked to her on the phone and she said, “Honey, I feel okay! I am fine – really. I don’t even feel any pain!”

That was reassuring.

However, being in the emergency room last night – well, I’m not even going to write about it.

The last day of 2010 has started to feel like it did in 2009.

Today decisions need to be made. It looks like my mother has a broken hip. Last night, I was told without surgery, life expectancy is usually only about six months. However, I can’t even imagine my mother tolerating a further surgery.

I’m leaving now. I can do this. I just wish I could hit something right now.

2:00 p.m., December 31st – Friday afternoon

On Dec 31, 2010, Steve wrote:

Have you talked to Sam about your Mom’s condition and gotten his advice?

Regards, Steve

I just got off the phone with him. It’s such a horrible situation.

I really don’t know what to do.

Without surgery, they expect her to die rather quickly – perhaps within a week. I was told that most patients don’t live six months with a broken hip.

However, her caregiver knows of three people at her facility. They walk with walkers and didn’t have surgery when they broke their hip – so that doesn’t jive.

The surgeon was in a big rush – and told me I had half an hour to decide. She didn’t get clearance anyway due to her heart. However, if I gave the go ahead, a cardiologist would step in to be more quickly involved.

My gut feeling after talking with my mom is that she doesn’t want to go through it. She’s tired of fighting and the dementia has ruined her quality of life. She made me cry when she said, “I don’t want to be a burden to you!”

She also said, “I’ve been sick a lot and I’m tired. I know you’ll be okay and do what is best for me.”

Steve, I don’t think she’d survive the surgery and rehab – that’s my gut feeling. It’s kind of like chemo on a terminal cancer patient. Should we make her suffer to extend her life? That is the question.

The worst part is that because of the holiday, no one is available to do the surgery now anyway until Monday – even if I changed my mind, it would have to wait. That makes it even more risky.

My father is adamantly against her having surgery. I spoke with my cousin whose a doctor, Joseph, and he agreed with my concerns – that was helpful for me to make my decision initially.

So here’s what Sam and I spoke about. And by the way, I am so fortunate to have such a new and caring friend in my life. He listened to all my concerns and knew where it was coming from; based on my horrible, hospital experiences. He said, “Judy, you’re not a medical professional and you should follow what the doctors say because they know the risks. I have never seen a patient survive without hip surgery for a fracture. Your mom is a “like a child” and doesn’t know any better. She definitely could have more quality years left and it’s worth the risk of the surgery.”

I’m willing to reconsider – if given more information. There’s so much to absorb and not enough time!

I’m leaving to go back to the hospital now. I plan to find out more about whether the pacemaker can still be done. I think I need to speak with a cardiologist anyway about the current condition of her heart.

But here’s a moment to remember:

I put my iPod on her while she was in a lot of pain. She was squirming and moaning, but suddenly she stopped. She became peaceful and smiled while listening to my songs. She might have even heard the song I wrote for her, Memory of Love.

I wanted to tell her about it, but decided to let her just listen. It would be too sad. The fact that she was comforted by my music gave me such joy.

I couldn’t hear the music, but I could feel it by watching her.

Judy

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. 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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LAUGHTER AND TEARS – PART 1

Posted on December 24, 2010 by Judy

My music is a form of expression that is not about creating a “hit” or even a more contemporary song. I believe that all of my songs are a musical about my life. I do want them to be relatable, but my purpose is to express emotion with lyrics and music that connect to my soul.

I have been slowly allowing another song to emerge from the “musical seeds” composed during my youth.

I decided something could develop from a haunting, chord progression I composed when I was eighteen. The melody was far too high, but when I transposed the chords – I could see the song would work.

The name of the song was “Laughter and Tears.” There were three verses and I only the remembered the melody for the first line of each verse. This song had a lot of melancholy. I wrote it when I was struggling to resolve problems with my close friend, Cheryl.

Once again, this was another song that had a repetitive theme of mine. Whenever I felt sad, I would go back to remembering “better times;” I would “dwell in a memory.”

This song needed a lot of work. Since the chords invoked the emotive quality of the struggles in a relationship, I decided my song could address the challenges I’ve faced in my marriage.

I liked the title and the concept of laughter and tears. That is universal to any relationship. I wrote new lyrics, but kept a few lines. The first verse spoke to the laughter in the beginning of my relationship, when I fell in love.

The second verse spoke to the tears resulting from the sadness my husband and I faced when our son died. I have written before that it is often a myth that grief brings couples closer.

It is much more common for an abyss to be created through the pain and isolation brought on by the grief.

I wrote lyrics for a short “bridge” to add that explanation to my song.

I created an ending that was definitely more upbeat for my song than when it was originally written.

When the song’s new, last line came to me, it made my song much more meaningful.

It felt like a revelation. My last line truly was about the most important thing of all. We have done more than simply “survived” the death of our child.

To still feel love, despite so much heartache, is a beautiful thing.

LAUGHTER AND TEARS

Copyright 2010 by Judy Unger

I still remember

the laughter we shared

in the beginning, we danced and we played

back then, we had so many highs and they’d been

from the music we felt within


sadness is lonely, it tore us apart

numbness and pain left no room in my heart


I still remember the tears we once shared

We both cried for our suffering

and you didn’t know about the irony

those tears stole you from me

–

Sadness is lonely, it tore us apart

Losing the laughter is what broke my heart

I still remember the laughter and tears

in the beginning it was laughter, then tears

and over time I’ve come to see

how grateful I can be

to realize you still love me

Below are my original lyrics written for a friendship that I was struggling with. It was interesting for me that I had a lyric line stating that I had “never known empathy.” That meant I felt “understood” by my friend, Cheryl, when she was crying over my sadness (which was probably something very immature at that time – a boyfriend breakup, perhaps?)

However, that reminds me of our closeness and how much I still miss her since she died two years ago.

LAUGHTER AND TEARS

original lyrics from 1979

Do you remember the first laughter we shared?

It was that time when you first learned to harmonize

but since then we’ve had so many highs and they’ve been

from the music we felt within

 

Do you remember the first tears we shared?

Here you were crying for my own suffering,

but you should know such a thing as empathy

was a word never known to me

 

Do you remember all the laughter and tears?

In the beginning it was laughter and tears

and when there are moments

where beyond our fears we cannot see

I like to dwell in a memory

I like to dwell in a memory

A picture of Cheryl from when she visited me ten years ago.

Since my song speaks to how sadness creates isolation in a relationship, this would be an opportunity for me to share some correspondence on this subject with other bereaved parents.

I have shared a comment before from another bereaved mom from a grief forum I participate in. Her name is Shasta.

Shasta writes with a lot of wisdom. I shared with her my post entitled, “What is Helpful” (to comfort someone grieving) and she shared an excellent idea for me to add. I plan to do more writing about that topic soon.

On Dec. 20, Shasta wrote:

Judy,

You always make me feel good. You already have my permission to share anything I say that you feel will be helpful. I know that you do so in a caring and sensitive manner.

If we could express to the world that small and simple things like:

How going to Costco and buying a huge case of paper plates and giving them to the grieving family can make the largest difference.

It seems impersonal, so it’s hard to take offense, but it sends a message that says, “When life is too hard, just forget things like washing dishes.” It says I know even dishes can be “overwhelming” at times like these.

It’s these thoughtful kind things that will be remembered most when a grieving person remembers the kindness that was done.

With Love, Shasta

Shasta also wrote this:

Thank you all and to all the moms that have lost their children recently, those who lost their children in utero or children that weren’t theirs from blood. The pain is the same. You still lost a child.”

This led to an exchange, which highlights the abyss that grief creates in relationships.

On Dec 20, 2010, Larry wrote:

DON’T FORGET THE FATHERS ALSO!

On Dec. 20, 2010, Judy wrote:

Yes, Larry! Even though I write a lot from a mother’s perspective, I always try to mention how hard it is for fathers, too. My husband doesn’t like to cry or express his grief, but it affected him greatly.

I think the differences between how men and women grieve creates so much isolation during bereavement. Understanding the differences was very helpful for me and enabled my husband and I to stay together.

Unfortunately, grief is very lonely!

Losing a child amputates the soul of both parents!

Judy

On Dec 20, 2010, Larry wrote:

I am also lonely in my grief, But it is the opposite with me, I am able to display
 my grief but my wife holds it in.

Maybe it is because she has gone through 
it before.
 Before I met her, she had a 4-year-old son who died. I work my
 grief though things I do. I’m greatly involved with my organization called “Donate Life.”


http://www.donatelifecalifornia.org/Alexander%20Anderson%20Lavery

On Dec. 20, 2010, Judy wrote:

Thank you, Larry, I have often written about how men and women 
grieve differently.

Your words had me realize it would be far better to say that 
all people grieve differently! 



I haven’t met many men that are expressive and perhaps that does 
make it even lonelier for you!

 I’m so, so sorry to hear your wife has lost more than one child!

That is 
heartbreaking! And by the way, I am in total agreement about how 
helping others can alleviate some of the pain of grief! 



Judy

(I went to his link and made a donation following this)

On Dec 20, 2010, Shasta wrote:

I am sorry Larry for your loss, for the pain that you feel and for the loneliness of it as well. I’m sorry that society also assumes that the man doesn’t/won’t feel the pain. I’m sorry that my quote had you feel left out. I truly didn’t notice that it said that before reposting, and for that I am sorry.

I wish that this kind of pain didn’t exist in the world. I wish there was some way to make it go away without taking away the lives of those we love.

Unfortunately, I know that this is the price we pay for love.

Shasta

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. 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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