WE GREW UP SO FAST

Posted on August 9, 2011 by Judy

Diary page from 1980 with lyric development for my song, Only Tears.

A picture of myself with my childhood friend, Joni, on my right.

“We were children”

Going on vacation was very exciting for me when I was a child. Our trips were always local. I had never even been on an airplane until the age of twenty. On all of our family vacations my parents allowed me to invite a friend, which certainly made it more enjoyable. Before we were teenagers, my neighbor and childhood friend, Joni, was the friend I always wanted to invite.

 

I would never forget the time when we were all packed and getting ready to leave for a weekend trip to the beach. Joni came to my door, and I was eager to talk about the fun we would have. However, I could see from her bloodshot eyes that she had been crying. She gasped and between her sobs told me that her father would not allow her to go at the last minute.

 

I couldn’t believe it. As she wailed inconsolably, I was astounded that her father offered no reason other than she couldn’t go.

 

My parents were aghast also. My father walked over to speak with her parents. However, he came back and said he was unsuccessful at convincing Joni’s father. Our car was packed and ready; it was almost time to leave. I was very sad and began crying because I felt so badly for my friend.

 

My father started the car. Suddenly, my heart danced with joy. Joni was running toward our car. Her father had somehow relented and she was now allowed to go. She told me she would have to work extra hard when she returned.

 

Joni always had to work as a child at her parent’s dry cleaning store.

 

My parents and I waited as she quickly went to get a suitcase ready. My poor friend, who was perhaps ten-years-old at that time, was exhausted from her ordeal. As our car pulled away to leave, she curled up with me in the backseat and laid her head upon my shoulder. I felt so sorry and protective of her. My family was her safe haven.

 

Recently, I had those same feelings when she showed me the scars on her arms. She told me her father used to hit her with a belt. I never knew she had been beaten and left with those scars as a child.

 

But I did know about the psychological scars.


These images are from movies clips of beach outings with Joni and my mother. I could see my mother was quite playful from these pictures.

“They both sang along and knew the lyrics to my songs”

It was such a lovely morning. I was in the garden area of my mother’s nursing facility. In the cool shade, I sat with Joni, my mother and her caregiver, Miriam. I had brought along my guitar. The warmth and love between all of us bathed me.

 

I was with three, very special women.


My mother was the mainstay. I absolutely adored Miriam; her love for my mother made her like my sister. And Joni, was completely connected to me. This wonderful morning was Joni’s idea. I had asked her last week where I could take her out to eat to celebrate her birthday. She said it would mean a lot for her instead to visit with both me and my mother.


I found it unbelievable to think I had known Joni since we were toddlers. Miriam had not met Joni before, but they were very comfortable together.

 

Since both my friends were very familiar with my music, I took requests.

 

As I sang from my heart and played my guitar, it was extremely beautiful for me that they both sang along and knew the lyrics to my songs!

 

Although my mother was delighted with the music and company, she skirted on the periphery of every conversation. She had bruises on her legs from trying to get out of her wheelchair. I often received calls from her facility because it was their procedure to notify me of every injury. The prior evening’s call explained the bandages.


 

I was sad that she was not comfortable, but I could see she was trying hard to muster the stamina in the beautiful garden atmosphere.

 

However, she traveled in her own world, confused and agitated about many things. She was challenging to reason with. However, love was the best communicator. I stroked her hand and smiled patiently as she adamantly spoke about things she was worried about with words that often made no sense at all. Every fear my mother had, every single element of dread was palpable in her words and in her eyes. She could not help it, and it was unrelenting and exhausting to witness. Most of her fears were about death and not having money in her purse. She was often angry at my father and called him her “ex-husband.”


I started to feel depleted from exuding nonstop smiling and sweetness to counter my mother’s dementia. It wasn’t about not feeling patient or not wanting to constantly smile.

 

It was about encountering a demon. It was as if she were possessed, and this was not my mother at all.


 

All four of us went to a nearby restaurant for lunch. We took many pictures and celebrated my mother and Joni’s birthday, which coincidently were on the same day. As I ate my lunch, I was overflowing with a myriad of emotions.

 

When I kissed Joni goodbye, I felt amazed at how close we were. Our bond had definitely deepened since I had shared so much of my writing and music with her.

 

As I said goodbye to my mother, I was startled by her words. She emphatically said, “Thank you for keeping me alive.” I looked over at Miriam who was unfolding the wheelchair at that moment. She reached over and squeezed my hand. Before I left, I gave Miriam the tightest of hugs.

–

We celebrated my mother and Joni’s birthday, which was July 29th.

Miriam took a lot of our pictures. She is on my left.

Joni and I are all grown up!

“I was touched by Judy of the Past”

 

When I came home, I wanted to write because I had many feelings to express. I searched for pictures to help me write my story. There were some snapshots on my computer that came from old home movies I had viewed last year on DVD’s. The images were perfect because they were taken on a day at the beach with both my mother and Joni. All three of us were rough housing and playing together.

 

Then, in one of my memory boxes I came across two poems I had written when I was very young. It was so interesting, because both of those poems addressed many of my feelings!

 

When I was young, I used to write in my diary to “Judy of the Future.”

 

Now, I had become “Judy of the Future” and I was being touched by “Judy of the Past.”

 

The first poem was dedicated to my grandmother. It brought up a lot of feelings with the line: “I hear my mother’s wail that in years to come will echo my own.” I remember it was traumatic for me to witness my mother’s grief when her mother died. When I was younger, I dreaded losing my mother and facing inevitable grief.

 

I am no longer afraid.

 

I feel like I have done a lot of grief work ahead of time because I have grieved losing my mother incrementally from her dementia.


The second poem turned out to be so interesting that I decided I would write another post about it. I had it here, but removed it.

 

Today, Joni and Miriam clearly witnessed the challenge of my mother’s disease. Miriam told me that my mother occasionally didn’t recognize her and would become angry. She said, “Judy, at those moments I go outside and take a deep breath. Then I’ll go back in and she’ll recognize me again. She’ll ask me where I was all morning!”


This morning, all of us maintained an upbeat demeanor, which made the day poignant instead of sad. Perhaps that was why we had taken a lot of pictures. The picture I treasured most was one where my mother looked truly happy. A lot of times when I snapped a picture she looked fearful, so when I captured her smiling in any photo I was elated. I wanted to maintain memories of her smiling instead of countering her dementia and fear.



“All grown up”


In many ways, I feel almost the same today as when I was younger.


Joni knew I had gone with my family to the beach over the weekend. When she asked me if I went swimming in the ocean, the notion that I was like my younger self was dispelled! I used to be a consummate boogie boarder and risk taker. My mother would go crazy yelling at me to not swim so far out, and she would have the lifeguard booming for me to come in over a megaphone!

 

I told Joni the truth.


I said, “Are you kidding? You won’t catch me near the freezing water. I am not going to take any chances getting smashed by a wave! It’s too important for me to maintain my health at this stage in my life.” 


I told her I took a nap listening to music and covered myself with a blanket so as not to get burned. I didn’t even wear a bathing suit. Such are the advantages of getting old! 


With the expression of my honest feelings came the stark realization that I was all grown up now.

–

It was such a beautiful story for me knowing that Joni and I would always carry our history and the wisdom that came with growing older. Like a sister, she also deeply loved my mother. My new friend, Miriam, was another gift for me to treasure for the same reason. Our history had simply not been written yet.

The card Joni gave my mom for her birthday. My mom turned 86.

Earlier in the day, I had contained many feelings. Through writing, I had released them. For many years, I had forgotten how to feel as a result of grief and scar tissue. 


So as my precious day faded into night, I decided that my life held artistry that was a challenge for me to capture with words. 


I viewed the poignancy of my life as an exquisite palette that held infinite colors. 


What was so beautiful for me now, was that I could finally experience a dazzling spectrum of emotion.



This was written for my grandmother when I was twelve-years-old.

My maternal grandmother, Anna Zerner.

My grandmother, Anna, with my father.


© 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.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

BORDERING ON TEARS

Posted on August 8, 2011 by Judy

Just for fun, I’m sharing a picture from my wedding with my bridesmaids (For some reason, my dear friend Joni is missing.). Marge posed even though she wasn’t a bridesmaid. She was in Israel during my engagement and returned only a few days before my wedding.

Marge recently celebrated a Bat Mitzvah. I am posing with her in this picture taken several weeks ago.

“The changes that have occurred in my life”


I have suffered with deep grief and other disappointments in my life. When I began writing, I shared a great deal about that. However, I currently prefer to write about how I continue to smile despite many on-going challenges in my life.

 

My story, “The Music From Her Heart” is about inspiring people to know that happiness is possible despite adversity in life. When I discovered my passion for writing and music a year and a half ago, everything changed for me. The suffering that I endured for over two decades was erased and I transformed into a happy and self-satisfied person. Now my life is very meaningful for me.

 

Although I am not the same person I was before I suffered from grief, I have definitely healed. While I was grieving, I never believed it was possible that I would ever be happy again.

 

After a decade of deep grief I lived for another decade in a place called “Zombieland”. That word describes my existence of feeling “numb” without any emotional connection to life.

 

I suspect that many people are in that place. Also, very few people escape adversity at some point in their lives.

 

It’s important for me to share that with joy, I also feel pain. I believe that experiencing pain is necessary and part of the full spectrum of being alive. I turn my pain into music and song lyrics; after that, my pain is diminished.

 

I realize that many of my songs mention tears, so I guess I am very emotional!

 

Most of the time, I dance through my day enraptured by music. I often cope with unrelenting stress (due to my parents’ deteriorating health), but with my music I am soaring. I am also filled with great love for my family and that continues to fuel me.

 

Because I am a writer, I tend to tell myself a lot of stories. I would describe some of those stories, as scenarios I imagine are happening to explain other people’s actions. Telling myself stories is usually not helpful. I have the awareness that some of what I tell myself might not be true. To improve my life, I stop those stories.

 

The reason I do this, is because I can easily spin-off into thoughts that make me sad. I believe many people do not realize the impact of the messages they tell themselves.

 

Thoughts equal feelings!

 

I have learned through hypnotherapy how the messages I tell myself definitely translate into whether I am upbeat or not.

 

I want to write about two areas where I have very positive feelings that I didn’t used to have until I transformed into a happier person.

 

The first area is about sleep. When my son, Jason, died in 1992 I had great difficulty sleeping. For eighteen years I took an over-the-counter sleeping pill. If I didn’t take the pill, I would wake up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back to sleep. I felt that it was very important not to forget to take that pill because I would have difficulty “functioning the next day.” That was the story I told myself, which I was certain was based upon my experience.

 

With my newfound happiness and “transformation,” I made many changes to improve my life.

 

First, I stopped biting my nails.

 

Then, I stopped taking the sleeping pill. I had so much more energy and decided I’d allow myself the freedom to do whatever my body told me.

 

I stopped telling myself how many hours were necessary for me to sleep in order to function.

 

I slept whenever I was tired and if I wasn’t tired, I was fine with having more time to write or play music. That translated into my going to sleep well after midnight and waking up sometimes as early as five or six a.m.

 

I woke up excited to be alive and to have another precious day ahead of me. This was a huge contrast to how I could not face each day while I was in deep grief.

 

When people hear that I sleep so few hours, they often tell me that it is not possible to function that way.

 

I smile with the knowledge that those people are welcome to their beliefs and can continue give themselves that message if they so choose. I prefer to tell myself a different message.

 

My message is that I have more energy than I ever did before when I slept more and was sad.

 

The other area where I have more positive feelings surrounds the subject of menopause. I have often heard the belief that the “change of life” is something full of discomfort.

 

Pardon my honesty, but those occasional “hot flashes” have been manageable because I have felt “hot” my entire life. It wasn’t anything new. My poor children all blame me for the sweaty condition that they inherited from me!

 

I actually had my last period the month I began my blog.

 

I can say with complete candor that I have experienced the most wonderful “change of life.” It has dispelled all of my prior notions that menopause was something to dread.

 

I have rarely met any woman my age who feels this way.

 

I continue to find ways to appreciate my circumstances and feel blessed!



“A year in my life”


Today, I happened to drive by the Border’s Bookstore where I used to perform weekly. There were large signs up for the “going out of business sale.”

 

It is so interesting for me that it was exactly one year ago when I began performing regularly at Border’s Bookstores. I wrote a story called: BORDERING ON BREAKING OUT

 

On impulse, I decided to park and go inside. I felt that it was an opportunity for me to say goodbye to the bookstore where I had so many fond memories of singing. I was sad to see my performing there end because it was such a wonderful venue to share my music. However, that is nothing compared with the loss of jobs for so many people. I entered the store. It was crowded and frenzied because many people were there looking for a good deal. The few employees I saw looked overwhelmed.

Most of the equipment at the “Cafe” was gone.

This wasn’t even the most gorgeous of the smoothies I received after performing. (I always brought it home to share with my kids, but they were lucky if half was left!)

I went upstairs to the area where I used to sing. I could picture in my mind the nice girl at the coffee bar who would fix me a beautiful smoothie when I finished performing. I would always remember her.

 

I wasn’t sure if the manager was there and even if he was, I hated to bother him when he was so busy. He was such a kind and sensitive man. But I wanted to let him know how sorry I was and to say goodbye.

 

I waited patiently to speak with a harassed employee to find out if the manager was even there. She told me he was, but he was very busy. I told her I would wait. She asked me my name and I told her who I was. Suddenly, she hugged me.

 

Within a moment, the manager appeared in front of me. He was a tall, slender man and easy to talk to. At my last performance he told me his store had actually been profitable and was doing well. I felt sorry for him.

 

I reached over to hug him and then I said I would gladly write him a reference if it could be helpful. I was touched when he said he would appreciate it. He said the audio equipment would soon be available for sale if I was interested.

 

Tears started to pool within my eyes. As they fell, I looked the other way so as not to embarrass him.

 

I left the store feeling quite emotional and decided I wanted to write something regarding optimism when challenged by life.

  

The bankruptcy and closure of Border’s Bookstores most certainly affected many people with layoffs, and put their lives into a tailspin. I am very sensitive to grief and pain around me. As a writer, I avoid topics such as politics or religion.

 

But I feel I must address the pervasive atmosphere that surrounds me everywhere I look. With the current state of our economy, I am sad for the many people who are struggling. A good friend told me yesterday that people he had worked with for over twenty years were recently laid off. He is nervous because his job is in jeopardy. 


For people struggling with the loss of a job and coping with financial hardship, I have no answers.

 

I can only say that despite my own struggles in life, I continue to remain optimistic. Like the song “Tomorrow,” I always stay positive that life can and will get better.

 

Challenges are usually temporary and controlling my thoughts allow me to stay joyful, which in turn helps me to better cope.

 

Also, having my health is something I appreciate the most. Everything else pales in comparison.

The area where I used to sing. The chairs were gone.

“An anniversary of the heart”


Today was Cheryl’s birthday. Cheryl died from breast cancer three years ago and she would have been fifty-two years old.

 

We were very close while I was in college and she inspired several of my songs. I have never forgotten how I made her a surprise, twenty-first birthday party. It was hard to keep it a secret from her and I had counted down the days until the moment she would be surprised.

A picture taken when I opened the door to surprise Cheryl on her 21st birthday.

A picture from Cheryl’s surprise 21st birthday party.

Six months earlier, I had visited Cheryl’s eighty-nine-year-old mother and brought along my guitar. It was a very special visit for both of us. I called her mother tonight. I was able to discern from my phone call that a lot had changed for her since my prior visit.

 

She had withdrawn from life.

 

I listened as she shared that she no longer socialized or used her computer to see her grandchildren’s activities on Facebook. She rarely left her house.

 

It was important for me to let her mother know that Cheryl lived on in my thoughts and music. When I told her how deeply I missed Cheryl, she said she missed and thought of Cheryl every minute of every day.

 

I believed her.

 

As I hung up the phone, my heart ached for a fellow, bereaved mother. There were no words to express how sorry I was.

A picture of me with Cheryl a few years before she died. She visited me from Cleveland every few years.

© 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.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

EVERY TIME I SEE A SMILE

Posted on August 2, 2011 by Judy

A recent photo of me with Miriam, my mother’s amazing caregiver. I usually bring lunch for my mother and both of us every other week.

I aspire to make each day of my life precious. Every story of mine is honest as I express the beauty and pain of life as I experience it.

I want to write about what was truly meaningful for me yesterday.

“The appointment”

It seemed like a long time since my father had seen his urologist. I called his urologist’s office last week to see when my father’s next appointment was.

It turned out that my father had had an appointment the week before, but had not shown up. I was heartsick, because I didn’t even know about it and wondered why his facility didn’t keep the appointment. The receptionist then told me that only his facility could reschedule his appointment. Over the past week, I pestered his facility to make a new appointment for him.

It was getting harder and harder for me to witness my father’s discomfort and pain. I became tired of waiting. I called his doctor on Friday and demanded an appointment for him.

I was pleased that I got him an appointment for Monday. Otherwise, his next appointment was scheduled three weeks later.

Yesterday, I attended that appointment with his urologist. I packed some items for my father to eat since his appointment was close to lunchtime. I brought some tea in a bottle and my father’s favorite food item, which was pizza. I cut the slice of pizza up into small pieces and put it in a thermos to stay warm.

It was a humorous moment when my father told me to feed him. As I listened to the urologist explain my father’s condition, my father kept barking at me, “Please! Another forkful! And after that, my tea!” My father was intense; he was always that way when he became hungry.

What the doctor was saying was very important for me to hear. I fumbled with the thermos and kept trying to fork pieces of pizza into my father’s wide-open mouth, but they were all stuck together. I broke apart the pieces with my fingers while the doctor continued speaking. Thankfully, his doctor was understanding and kind.

I wasn’t surprised when the doctor said my father clearly had another infection; it made sense. On Saturday during my mother’s birthday lunch, the entire table of twelve people became silent as my father groaned so loudly that it became embarrassing. Everyone looked away in silence for well over a minute; no one was sure of what to do.

I looked at Miriam and both of our eyes locked together with deep sadness. She handed me a tissue. Tears equally rolled down both of our cheeks at the same time.

I was never so excited to see a box!

“Treating myself”

On Sunday, I picked up a brand new Mac computer! 

My childhood friend, Steve, helped me decided which one to order. I had the computer shipped to him first so he could prepare it for me. I sent him a backup drive to work with. When it arrived, he sent me a message and a picture. His message was simply; “Here she is!” 

Steve set it up and added significant and fantastic music software for me. There was no way I could ever repay him for all the extras he added for me.

I would not have gotten a new computer, except that the screen on my old one was increasingly becoming dark. A month earlier, I had paid $50 at a repair store to find out it wasn’t worth repairing. Two days before getting my new computer, my old one began to shut down unexpectedly on me. It was frustrating. 

It was so interesting for me that the day I picked up my new computer, my old one quit completely. I couldn’t have waited any longer. 

Today, I typed with a large, bright screen in front of me. I was overwhelmed as I searched for words to express my delight. I was especially thrilled that I allowed myself to buy a new computer; originally I had planned to find a used one. 

I had some anxiety about the cost, but let go of it. My journey has been about making sacrifices and not worrying about my lack of income.

My new baby.

“The older woman”

She reminded me of a younger version of my grandmother. Perhaps it was because she looked eastern European. Her accent was very thick.

It was still warm outside, and I had twenty minutes before I would perform at an open mic venue where I regularly played on Monday nights. In the twilight, I sat in the backseat of my van with the door open. I tuned my guitar and began to practice my song when she appeared in front of my car.

She listened as I continued singing. When she spoke, I didn’t understand her too well because of her accent. But I did understand when she told me that I was beautiful.

She looked very sad and poor. I knew she had a lot of stories to tell as she pointed to a bandage on her arm. It was then that I saw she was asking if I wanted to buy something. Clearly, she was down on her luck.

I asked her how much the item in the plastic bag was, and she told me it was three dollars. I gave her more than that and she thanked me profusely. I told her not to give me the item, that she could keep it and give it to someone else. She insisted, so I took it. I didn’t even know what it was. Later on when I opened it, I saw pajama bottoms; they were a perfect fit for my mother and I looked forward to giving it to her.

As I left my car to go perform, the woman grabbed my hand. Her eyes were shining as she hugged me. I would never forget her eyes or her face.

My new computer with a nice desktop!

I don’t usually put an image on my desktop because it is distracted. But I do for my screensaver.

“All the songs I’ll long to play”

I waited and checked my cell phone before my turn, which was approaching.

I was excited when I received a message from Nancy, my good friend and former illustration teacher who lived on the east coast. She said she would be watching my performance. The show was always broadcast on the Internet. I quickly texted a message to her: 

I’m next and i’m nervous! i love u nanc!! 

She wrote back: 

You’ll do great!!!

XXX 

I sang my song and poured out my heart. The audience was very warm and receptive to me. The music lifted me higher than I could ever find the words to describe. When it was over, I saw a message from Nancy. She wrote: 

Clap clap clap clap clap!!!!! You’re soooo beautiful Judy!!

Love, Nan

I received another message. It was from Peaches, my voice teacher. She wrote: 

I am absolutely blown away by the beautiful vocal tone you now consistently produce. It is becoming 2nd nature for you. 

As I drove home, I reveled in how my day had indeed been precious. 

Emotion overwhelmed me and I allowed myself to express a few tears. 

My tears were about happiness and how meaningful my life was for me.

Message to my brothers after my appointment, yesterday: 

The urologist did a few tests on dad to see if he could urinate. He could not. His prostate is beyond enormous. 

The catheter needed to be replaced. IT WAS A GOOD THING I GOT DAD AN APPOINTMENT FOR TODAY!!! He already had an infection going on and looked sick. He was given an antibiotic injection. His doctor is growing a culture to see what bacteria he has before ordering any more antibiotics. I pray it isn’t something where he’ll need another pic line put in. 

His doctor wants to try one more procedure that might shrink his prostate using a “microwave technique.” I told him that I don’t have a lot of faith in his “non-invasive” procedures now. He told me that 99% of the time he has seen them work. It is currently scheduled to happen a week from Friday. 

It seems that we have been unlucky with dad being in the 1% that didn’t have a successful result so far. Maybe we’ll luck out on the next procedure. 

I packed dad a lunch and he was so glad I did. He was very hungry and ate a slice of pizza while we conferred with the doctor. 

Love, Jude

A message from my doctor friend, Sam: 

Same story all over again…your dad gets a urinary infection…he’s placed on antibiotics, gets better…then you’re told he’s too ill to do anything else, then two weeks later…your dad gets a urinary infection, etc. etc. This urologist needs to do something definitive…it wouldn’t be a bad idea to keep your dad on a small dose of a daily antibiotic after the infection is cleared just to see if you can break the cycle…sometimes this just breeds a resistant organism, but other times it does work…still would get a second opinion on this…agree that the approach at this point should be more aggressive!…Sam

My reply:

Hi Sam, 

Thanks so much for writing. 

I agree with you 100%. My dad is against going for the second opinion, but I’m just going to follow through with making an appointment today. 

The thing is, his urologist says the surgery is pretty invasive and that there is nothing to lose by doing the microwaving procedure. He wants my dad to clear up the infection (and find out which bacteria he has) and give it a shot. I’m with you, though. I feel like with time marching on, my dad’s chances are less. 

I also think his urologist feels my dad won’t survive this surgery (he called it a “bloody mess”). Certainly, I heard that they usually don’t like to do two procedures at once – prostate and kidney stones. But of course, they’re in close proximity and it makes sense to take care of both things together. 

I do think the surgery will kill him. But he does not know I feel that way. He actually told the doctor he is so miserable that he wants something done as soon as possible. I think surgery is imminent, but only if he doesn’t succumb to infection. The microwave thing is a week from Friday. Surgery will be scheduled after that. 

Judy 

I think the microwave procedure is a reasonable choice, but still would get a second opinion to see if there are any other options. It is true that a major surgical procedure in an 86 year old is difficult under the best conditions, let alone when he keeps having recurrent infections…but I do think that these recurrent infections can be prevented, or at least watched for more closely! And I think the reason to be aggressive is because your Dad appears to otherwise be in good health, right? He is mentally sharp, and a lot of the changes in his condition can be explained by pain or infection. Prostate enlargement and kidney stones should not cause his demise! You should continue to strongly advocate for him (you are the best advocate anyway, from all of your experience!), and make sure that his docs are paying attention to him! It’s really hard to have an ongoing daily challenge like this, and it can wear you down, but know that you will handle it well!…Sam

A picture from one of my last shows at Border’s Bookstores, which went bankrupt.

© 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.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

I’M TRYING TO BE STRONG

Posted on July 27, 2011 by Judy

“I Remember Tigger” 

I always felt (and still do!) that pets add additional challenges to my life. For many years my children had begged me over and over to allow them to have a pet. Six years ago, a good friend finally convinced me that a cat wouldn’t be too much work. She recommended a certain pet store where she knew the owner. I followed her suggestion and went over there to purchase a kitten. The store owner told me he could sell me a kitten that had been abandoned behind his store for $50.

When I brought home the kitten, it was like bringing home a new baby. My children were ecstatic with the tiny black and white tuxedo cat. They decided to name him Tigger. Tigger cried a lot that first night when I told my children that he needed to stay in the area near the washer and dryer. Not long after that, Tigger ended up sleeping with my children.

Sometimes in the morning after my husband left for work, Tigger would visit me. While I was still lying in bed, he would jump on top of me. He tenderly purred and flattened himself over my stomach. In between, he would do dance steps. I marveled at what a friendly creature he was. 

I told myself that I was too busy to become attached to this creature. I wasn’t happy at all about the additional responsibilities related to him; I hadn’t wanted any more work in my life. However, it was all to make my children happy, and they certainly loved this special kitten.

Tigger was only about four months old when I took him to have his nails trimmed at a local pet store. I was too inexperienced to know how to trim them myself back then. The lady working there brought something to my attention. She told me that Tigger’s ears were unusually yellow. I hadn’t noticed it at all. Tigger’s illness began with that simple observation. When I brought him to a veterinarian, he explained how the yellow color was a result of jaundice. It turned out our kitten had a liver problem.

I had not wanted a pet that involved extra work! 

But that wish was not the reality. After spending several hundred dollars on lab tests, the vet told me that our best chance to help Tigger would be with medication and a special diet. The problem was that Tigger had stopped eating. I purchased a special formula from the veterinarian that was very expensive. It had to be administered with a syringe into his mouth. It did not escape me that my five-year-old son, Jason, had also been fed that same way many years before because he did not have the strength to suck a bottle. 

Tigger needed to be fed every few hours. My husband helped during the evenings and on the weekend. My two older children made a chart and they took turns. While they were in school, I became responsible for Tigger’s feedings. I became very focused on saving our pet. It was a job I took seriously, and it was very familiar for me. This went on for several months. 

Some good friends asked our family if we could go to the beach with them that summer. They were stunned when I told them we could not be away for that period of time because our cat needed to be fed. It was becoming an ordeal, but our family was determined to save Tigger. 

I took Tigger to the vet at two-week intervals. At each appointment he would be weighed. He continued to lose weight. Every morning, Tigger still came to lie upon me. I welcomed his visits and realized that I had become attached to him.

A week ago, someone at my father’s facility told me that she noticed my father had “turned.” Turned was a phrase I hadn’t heard of before. 

Now I understood.

I remember the moment Tigger turned. After that, each day was excruciating for him and for me. I hated to watch his pain. 

Every morning, I wondered if Tigger would still be alive. He no longer came to purr and dance upon me. I felt dread as I wondered where I would find him. He was often under a certain piece of furniture in the living room. Sometimes he was on the cold floor of the downstairs bathroom. My heart would be pounding when I would go looking for him. 

When I would find him, he would look right at me with his pleading, large eyes. Eventually, I could no longer look at his eyes. I prayed it would end soon and I would find him lifeless and at peace. Despite that, I kept trying to feed him and gave him water. However, it was hopeless. This went on for perhaps five days. Each day became harder than the day before. Soon, Tigger’s eyes were half closed, but the pleading look was still there.

Finally, I could not stand it any longer. I made our last appointment with the veterinarian. This veterinarian was a good-looking man who always wore Hawaiian shirts and had a broad smile. At our appointment, I told him that it was hopeless now. This vet understood. Prior to this appointment, he had mentioned invasive and expensive treatments that might work. I was glad my children understood I would not go that route. 

I was amazed how all the work to feed Tigger was for naught, because now we were going to end his life. 

I had been raised to avoid death. However, I felt like I wanted to do things differently with my children. I decided to allow my two older children to stay and say goodbye to Tigger as he was put to sleep. At the time, they were twelve and fifteen years old. 

They spent a lot of time saying goodbye to Tigger before the final appointment. Now the moment had come. The vet left the room and came back with a syringe.

I remember he had such a firm hand. I was sad because Tigger was so trusting with us all there. 

He gently injected the syringe into Tigger. Tigger looked right at me. He flinched ever so slightly, and then his eyes became vacant. 

It was over. 

I stifled a sob and thanked the vet. He warmly hugged my children and me. I asked the receptionist how much I owed for our final visit. She said, “I was told there is no charge for today.” My children were silent as we left. 

I drove home and the car’s silence was broken first by my son’s sobs. He began to howl. Soon my daughter joined in. A moment after that all three of us were wailing in unison as I drove down that freeway.

It was something I would never forget.

“I’m hanging in there”

Currently, my book is with an editor. My journey led me to a very special woman who I am certain will be pivotal to my success. It happened through meeting someone at my parents’ facility who recommended her. I believe it was meant to be, and is part of my beautiful journey. 

Last week, my editor let me know that she had completed reading approximately 75% of my material. In another few weeks, she said she would be ready to meet with me and discuss some of her ideas to improve my book. I have been very patient and I let her know I was eager to implement her input. Her response was that she appreciated my willingness to do so. She said many writers were not so eager to make changes to their material even though they had sought out an editor’s advice! 

With both my parents in nursing facilities at separate locations, my life was quite stressful. I received numerous calls throughout my day, and many of them were quite sad. Often, a nurse would call to notify me that my mother had an unexplained bruise or had lost weight. On top of the many calls from their facilities, I also received many calls from both my parents. My father’s boredom was such that it was the highlight of his day to speak with me. 

My mother’s dementia had caused her to become so agitated and confused that calling me was often the best way for her to achieve comfort. Many of her calls became even more tragic, because I was already on the phone with my father who was moaning to me. My mother did not comprehend my father’s situation at all, and he definitely had no patience for her. In August, they will celebrate their sixty-first anniversary.

I concentrated upon singing whenever I had any free time. My recording area was my bedroom walk-in closet, and without air conditioning I was limited to the times I could record. Much more energy was invested for me listening to my recordings and inserting the best vocal lines into my songs’ arrangements. It was tedious, but very rewarding when I completed a song. 

There were many similarities between creating a song and creating an illustration for me. Just like illustrating, sometimes the process was magical. A sensitive vocal could emerge easily without a lot of concentration. Other times, I worked so hard to “get it right” that my song became overworked. I put in endless hours on something that in the end I didn’t feel was good enough. 

However, all of the my singing practice was useful and became a learning experience for me. Even if only one song in five was good enough, I reveled in the fact that the one song was still vastly better than it’s prior version. 

Yesterday, I went to my weekly voice lesson eager to share my progress with Peaches. I told Peaches that I had heard an amazing singer perform the night before at an open mic venue where I played. However, I was not impressed with her vocals because her words were not sung clearly enough to be understood. Her magnificent and powerful voice eclipsed her message. I always made sure that every word I sang could be clearly understood. I decided that I far preferred my own voice. 

I had never felt that way before about my own voice, so it was wonderful to have that realization! 

It was so comforting to be with Peaches because she truly understood about my passion. My passion was about creating music that was the best I could do and at the same time completely connected to my heart. 

After our lesson ended, Peaches asked me how things were going with my parents. I shared with her some of my challenges, hugged her tightly and went to my car with an aching heart. Despite having “my musical elixir,” there was still so much pain for me. 

I left the lesson to go over to the nursing facility where my father was. I prepared myself to have the strength to handle my evening. 

My father had invited himself over to my house. When he had mentioned it to me a few days earlier, I was pleased. He had said, “I want you to pick me up and bring me to your house. I’ll eat one slice of pizza and I’ll look over my mail. Then you’ll take me home.” 

He told me he was bored to death, and I felt glad to know he had some motivation to live. 

Still, I wondered how I would physically bring my father into my house. I would need to take his heavy wheelchair because he was far too weak to walk. Earlier in the day, I had received a call from a physical therapist at his facility. She said, “We are going to discontinue your father’s physical therapy because he is uncooperative and he cannot progress.” 

My father always kept his room dark, as he slept most of his day away. I came into his room and asked him whether he was sure he still wanted to come to my house. He said he wanted to try, although he was moaning loudly. 

I asked him if he was in pain and he told me he was defecating. I quickly left the room and waited outside until his diaper was changed. I decided I would call my mother while I was waiting. She answered the phone, but her confusion was quite evident as we spoke. It was hard for me to even respond to many of her statements. Our conversation abruptly ended because she accidentally hung up on me. I tried calling back but could not reach her because her phone was now off the hook. I was frustrated.

I went back to my father’s room. A kind nurse had him sitting up and was buttoning his shirt, but many buttons were missing. He barked commands for me to help the nurse put on his shoes. I ignored him and allowed the nurse to finish dressing him. 

My father often yelled at me. He told me he could not help it and I believed him. 

I pushed his wheelchair over to the nursing station. The nurses joked with me as I signed my father out of his facility. It was a big moment. I also remembered going through this same experience with my mother. 

The nurses gave me a packet of paperwork, which I brought home with me. There were a lot of forms for me to fill out. My father’s Medicare coverage would soon end and he would have to be readmitted into the facility as a permanent resident in skilled nursing. He could no longer live in their more independent program. 

I felt strong and powerful pushing my frail father; I knew he was depending on me. I lifted and folded his heavy wheelchair; I easily put it into my minivan. I was far more experienced now than in the past because I had learned so much while dealing with my mother’s illness. 

My father moaned and told me I needed to help pull his legs into the car. His legs were like toothpicks and he was light as a feather as I gently moved him. He cried out as I touched him. 

He told me not to buckle his seatbelt; that he wouldn’t wear it. I ignored him and buckled him in. As my car exited the facility, my father moaned loudly with every bump on the road. I drove carefully, but it was disconcerting that he still groaned so loudly despite that. 

I unloaded his wheelchair from my car, and even managed to push my father over two steps near the front door. I was amazed at my strength. I pushed my father into the dining room. He said, “Please get me a pen so I can help fill out some of those papers.” 

For an hour he struggled to fill in a few spaces on the forms. It was apparent that he did not want me to be further burdened with paperwork. He repeated over and over again, “I am going to come over more often to help you with paperwork. I am going to get you started on last year’s taxes next time!” 

He ate his slice of pizza after I cut it into small pieces for him. I jumped when he choked on a soda he had requested. He said, “It’s too strong for me.” 

Suddenly, he told me it was time for me to take him back. It was not even 5:30 p.m. and he said he needed to leave so he could go to bed. 

The ride back was even more excruciating for my father. Although he was weaker than when we had started, I could see that his spirits were higher. He kept thanking me. 

He said, “I’ve been bored to death and I appreciate what you’ve done.” I told him I could bring him over every Tuesday and it would be our special date night. 

Then, I reached over to caress his hand and he yelled at me not to touch him. I had forgotten that he did not like to be touched, and reminded myself to be more careful. I mentioned to him that he could visit me more easily if he would cooperate with his physical therapists. He snapped, “I hate them all! I want them to leave me alone so I can sleep!” 

With relief I wheeled my father into his room. I kissed him goodbye, smiled at the nurses and quickly attached myself to my iPod. Even though I was hungry for dinner, I still had to go shopping at the market before going home. 

I loaded the groceries into my car and listened to my most recent song recordings. It was when I was driving home from the market, that I allowed my pain to erupt. 

I knew I had not written for a while and that it was time for me to write for therapy. But I wasn’t sure how to write about what I was feeling. 

It was so deep. Then it hit me. I knew exactly what I would write about. 

It was about setting a soul free. 

As I thought about the story I would write, my sobs erupted. I cried as I drove. However, I wiped away the tears before I entered the house and no one noticed them at all. I was pleased when my youngest son ran to help carry in bags of groceries. 

Finally, I sat down to eat dinner with my family. My family could see that my father’s visit had been quite difficult. 

My youngest son told his father, “Mom could have filled out those papers in two minutes. It took grandpa an hour, but she kept thanking him!” 

I smiled inside. My youngest son had learned a valuable lesson from me. 

My brother, Norm, is on the right. I am about thirteen years old in this picture.

 Email message from my brother: 

Yea I know how stressful it can be with Dad. He has given up. He said he wasn’t going to cooperate and his body was too weak to walk. I told him about his comment about he would rather die on the operating table than live the way he was living. I told him he couldn’t have the surgery unless he got stronger. At that point he didn’t have any comment. I don’t know what to do with him. He is being such a pill as they say.  

Love, Norm

Hi Norm, 

I am so proud of myself for pulling off Dad’s visit to my house. It was amazingly difficult, but I did it! I’m exhausted emotionally, and I can’t even think of what I could write because I am in so much pain. 

Mom’s dementia is getting worse. She had an episode today where she started screaming at a singer there. It’s almost funny because this happened before. She thinks I’m having an affair with him and he is stealing my songs. 

Love, Jude

© 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.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment