Posts Tagged 'death'

My Life Today

It’s been a long time since I’ve written on my blog… Quite a bit has happened since my last entry.

My mother passed away on February 6, 2013. The last 2 years of her life she actually became quite nice, it was like she finally forgot what she angry about. Her dementia had gotten worse and she would forget everything within minutes.

A few months after my mother passed away I became the caregiver for her older brother my uncle. He became ill and within 6 months was bedridden. His illness seem to have sped up his dementia. He never became angry but he suffered Hallucinations and Paranoia. He passed on March 18, 2014.

In the last 16 months I have had to change my life as a caregiver back to a wife, mother, grandmother and friend. I am now almost comfortable going back out after being a shut in for 9 years. I have many funny and heartwarming stories about the last few years as a caregiver but right now there my memories and I’m not ready to share. I will someday write about them as the final years of a loved one suffering from dementia can and do effect an entire family.

But, at this time I need to tell you about; Aging Life my story… So be prepared in the next few months I’ll be writing about me, my weight loss after a Vertical Sleeve, my family, friend’s, things happening in my life, things that make me laugh, cry and make me mad. So hold on the ride is about to begin….

Locks Of Love, Lots Of Love. Six Degrees of Separation

Six degrees or as some call it the “Human Web” is an idea that everyone is six steps away from knowing everyone on the planet. For instance I know six people; they all know six people (36) now they know six people (216) and each one of them know six people (1296) get the picture. In this day and age, the internet connects you to people all around the world. Having said that I will venture out to say everyone is one degree of separation from knowing someone with cancer.

My granddaughter Mackenzie is six years old, her grandfather passed away from cancer before she was born, and her aunt and cousin have been affected by cancer, plus other distant relatives and friends. But now it’s one of her friends in her kindergarten class, Andrew, who has liver cancer. This has made it too real for all of us, any age, anyone, anytime.

For her it’s seeing someone who is unable to come to class, someone to weak to go to parties, someone who had a crazy Mohawk hairdo before he would lose his hair. Mac says the only thing we can do is to love her friend and pray. Everyone is willing to help in anyway they can, even a six year old.

Mac decided to cut her beautiful long hair, while this will not directly help her friend it will help some other child.

So today my daughter will mail Mac’s hair to Locks of Love (a non profit org) that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children (under the age of 21) in the US and Canada who have lost their hair due to any illness.

Mackenzie, grandma is very proud of you, we’ll keep praying for everyone affected by illness, and I’ll and keep thanking God for sending you to us, sometimes we all need to see how pure a child’s love is. Your hair will grow back, but the gift of providing another child some type of normalcy is a life lesson to us all.

Love Grandma
XOXOXOXO

I wrote this entry on Saturday March twentieth, Andrew’s condition remains the same, however Jessie age fifteen a former student at Mackenzie’s school who was also battling cancer was called home to our Father’s arms on Monday March twenty-second. Both families are in our prayers.

I Want To Die or I Asked The Lord To Take Me

In past entries I have mentioned that there are at least twelve things my mom says everyday that drive me crazy. 

Previous entries listing one through six were; “Anger Management, Why Are You Yelling”, “Mom’s Dietary Commentary”, “Water Torture”, “Coffee Water”, “Vomit”, and “I Can’t Eat Like You People”. Now, seven and eight are; “I Want To Die” and “I Asked The Lord To Take Me But, I’m Still Here”.

Everyday she will say those two sentences, if not to me, to someone, anyone who will listen. She really doesn’t want to die, she just wants attention. When my dad was alive she would say; “Dominick, why are we still here?” he would reply, “I don’t know, let’s do a suicide pact you go first,” then he would laugh.   

Well, I heard it so much, for so long, I can’t laugh anymore. I no longer have the energy to have the same conversation everyday; she lives for anyone to persuade her to live and to tell her how lucky she is. Well, I can’t do it anymore, so I’m now taking the same route as my dad. 

“I want to die,”
(Silence) 
“I want to die.”
(Silence)
“Nancy, did you hear me? I want to die.”
“I heard you; sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”
“I ask the Lord, everyday to take me, but I’m still here.”
“If you ask him everyday, and your still here, it’s either not your time, or he doesn’t want problems in heaven, or dad’s telling him to leave you here just a little longer.”
“Don’t be funny.”
“I’m not being funny; you’re still here aren’t you?” 

Well, it’s not funny, but it’s easier not to take her seriously. Since I’ve been laughing it off she’s saying it less to me. Everyone else finds it easier just to ignore what she’s saying. 

I’m so tired of being here, I wish I could leave, but, I won’t at least not yet. 

Do I think it will be worth it at the end? Yes, after all she’s my mother. 

But, it’s whose end I’m worried about.

Put a Mirror Under My Nose

After 18 months, I am still having trouble with the death of my father. He was one of the great ones.

I know my dad went through a lot in his life. He was a prisoner of war, held in a slave camp for 6 months. His weight went down to 89lbs, he ended up losing his teeth, suffered from high blood pressure, as well as diabetes. But in my mind, it wasn’t his health that did him in; I believe he wanted to escape.

He loved my mom for 60 years, but we would laugh later as he would run away to our house. We would visit, and after her complaints, he would merely tell her to go to her room. Oh my gosh, now its me, “just please go to your room.”

I have raised two beautiful children, and went through it all: school, sports, boyfriends, girlfriends, sickness, weddings, and a grandchild. Nothing prepared me for this, Mom.

I am a plus size gal. I know I eat when I’m stressed and Mom has always been a pint-sized person, but she doesn’t understand that I take after my father’s side. All my life, weight has been an issue for my mother. Every story has started out with a person’s weight. “When I was young my sister was fat like you, all my friends were fat, they used to called me pee wee because I was so thin, I had to wear hand-me-downs because I was so small, I could wear everything, no one wore my clothes because they were so fat and I was petite.”

So I ate. I’m not going to blame my mom for my weight because I had choices: I could have purged, I could have run away, or I could have eaten her like the wolf who ate Little Red Riding Hood’s grandma. Yes, I had choices.

So the Saint and I moved in.

As not to disrupt Mom’s life, I didn’t change anything except for the couch and chairs in the den.  The couch looked nice, but like every Grandma’s couch, you sat in it and your butt got sucked in like quick sand. The chairs were two wooden rockers, which after a half hour, blood stopped circulating in your thighs from the chair pressing in above your knees. So I bought a couch and two cushioned chairs, according to Mom, the new furniture is too big for her, “you can two of me in one chair.”  I guess everyone else has to worry when they are in a chair that it doesn’t come up, stuck to their butt because, again, we are not petite people.

Nothing else has changed, the Saint and I haven’t brought our furniture or bed over, so we sleep in a queen-size.  We are used to a king!  When one of us turns over, so does the other one, and the bed is so small, I can turn over and switch the light on at the same time.

Sometimes, I’m so stressed, I lay on the couch and I just can’t move. On more than one occasion I have awoken to the Saint placing a mirror under my nose to see if I’m still alive, I’m just that tired.


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