The Queen Of Her Life...

A friend of mine posted this on Facebook the day after she took her mother off the ventilator.  Just a few months had past since she said goodbye to her father, she and her siblings had to make the horrible decision to let her mother go as well.  Her mother had gotten sick the week before Tony's and she too was was traveling two hours both ways to see her in ICU.  I can't imagine how hard it is for her to lose them both in such a short time, but I can relate to the sentiment of her post because well, I am right there with her.

Eleven months ago, on the day of my 40th birthday, I got sick unexpectedly, and while I was fine, it resulted in a six day hospital stay and several weeks of recuperation.

A week or so later, my mother also went for surgery and started her months of recovery.  She was and is still fine, but the recuperation is taking much longer than expected.

Nine months ago we got hit with the beginnings of the worst snow on record here.  Tony threw his back within days of the first storm, resulting in his being on the couch for a month.  A long needed MRI resulted in new bulging disks, spinal stenosis, and small hairline cracks in his vertebrae.  He is up and mobile now, but every time he does some thing outside or active I worry, will this be the day it finally goes?  

Seven months ago I learned that my son was starving himself to death by accident.  He is healthy and growing again now, but for a while it was very scary.  There was a lot of yelling about food, a lot of stubbornness, and I may have done a lot of crying in the shower.

Six months ago Tony's sister went to the doctor with back pain and found she had stage four cancer.  Their relationship was strained and a lot had been left unsaid, and while he wrestled with what to do and how to handle her illness, she continued to get sicker.

Four months ago Tony's mother got really sick and landed in ICU.  The toll her cancer and CHF had taken was inevitable and as the doctor's plainly said, she was lucky to still be with us.  But was she really?  We watched her get sicker and sicker.  She struggled to even get out of the chair.  Towards the end she would just sit and stare at her shows on TV, not really watching, just staring.  There were glimpses of her humor, her wit, and her sarcasm, and for that I will be forever grateful, but the months preceding were hard to watch.

Two months ago his sister died.

Last month I discovered that my liver is not functioning the way it should after gall bladder surgery.  Not the end of the world, but I am undergoing many, many tests to try and figure out the best method of attack so to speak.  One that won't set off the diverticulitis, won't trigger the Celiac, and won't leave me with further damage down the line.  It's a fine balance to find under stress.

About 3 weeks ago we noticed Mr. Chewey, our cat, was getting more and more anti social.  He's losing his balance, sometimes having his back legs give out on him, and escaping out the back door, which he's never, ever, done before.  I know that at 15 his life has been full, but it still, I am not looking forward to the moment it ends.  As much of a pain in the ass as he is, he's been our family for the last 9 years.

Two weeks ago Tony's mother past away.

A week ago I found out my mom has osteoporosis and two hairline fractures in her spine.  She is being treated, but like me, has to find the balance between fixing it and making something else worse.

Last week there was another cancer diagnosis.  The prognosis is unsure as appointments are still to be made, but it is scary none the less and is prompting us both to look at our own health for genetic probability and how well we are providing for things after we are gone.  Death does that. And while mine has been set up for quite a while and revisited since we got married, Tony's are antiquated and will leave me with virtually nothing is he were to go, which makes me nervous., sad... and scared.  And despite our conversations, I still think nothing's been changed.

Our roof is still leaking two years later, the dishwasher leaks now daily and until we get an estimate on the roof I can not spend the money.  I need new glasses, the propane needs to be filled for the winter heat, and we are slowly uncovering the estate finances that we thought were taken care of were not.  Which in any other  situation would be fine, except my husband owns the mortgage, and in doing so, has tied his credit to every aspect of the house... taxes, utilities, etc. Which means they will need to be caught up and paid.... somehow. And being a planner, my brain is running it's own circle of hell, attempting to keep it all together with a roofer that won't call back and will undoubtedly just show up when he's ready, an estate we have no control over but yet have to pay for, and keeping the household that needs to stay stress free and stable running despite all this.

It's like trying to carry around an octopus in a mesh bag, thinking I've got it all together until suddenly another leg falls out.

And all this is not to say that we have not had good in all of this.  We have celebrated birthdays, biked hundreds of miles, enjoyed many dinners, and had adventures together that would never have happened had we not decided to stick close to home this year. Youngest and I have spent countless hours eating and biking together.  Oldest has engaged with more friends this summer than ever, developed his social game, and started high school more focused than ever.  Tony and I are stronger, learning to put things aside that we can not control and learning when we need to tag each other in for the next round.

The next year will undoubtedly find us caring for sick family, juggling finances, yelling, crying, cutting losses, and letting go.  But it will also be full of the everyday moments that I will cling to... time to cook a real meal and maybe even sit down at the table, one or two more kayak trips before the weather turns to suck, leaves turning, cool nights, bike rides and camp outs with Youngest, basketball games for Oldest, a random visit from Bonus Son, and goofy moments watching TV with them, all while watching them grow into young men.

And in three weeks, my birthday...

...at which I will eat cake.

Lots and lots of cake.

Because while I do not need to be the queen, it is still MY life and the choices are mine.

The Expected Unexpected....

She had started on a new medication and things were just out of balance.

When she fell, for the first time in her life, she did not argue about going to the Hospice center to get her medications tweaked.

She checked in around 11pm.

She was thrilled to have a nurse that spoke Portuguese.

She was restless so they gave her a bit of morphine so she could sleep.

They said their good byes and assured her they would be back in the morning.

They left, she fell asleep.

A half hour later the nurse came to check on her and she was gone.


The thing about death is that even when it's expected, it's not.  So while no one expected it at that moment, it could not be argued.  His brother will never have to worry that he slept through her last moments.  His brother's girlfriend will not have to wonder if she had missed something, as she had been doing the bulk of her home health care.  There was no commotion or craziness at the house to wake up her 10 year old grandson at 2:20 am.  She felt no pain. No struggle. No sense of panic as her lungs filled and her heart gave out. She just fell asleep.

I think she was ready.  I keep telling Tony that if she wasn't she'd be hanging out in the basement as all spirits tend to do here.  He just rolls his eyes and thinks I'm crazier than usual.  But she's not here, I can't sense her at all, even in her own home, which to me, means that she was happy with her life lived, and that she knew her boys would be okay.

And while her sons may have been prepared, her estate was definitely not ready.  While there is a will, there are lots of loose ends to tie up.  Things she could never have known are happening, complicating the process, slowing it all to a dead stop if it were not for my husband who must keep it moving forward.  He has paid the mortgage faithfully for five years and now the house needs to go, not just for us financially, but for everyone's sanity.  In uncovering financial details we have learned far more than we ever should have, details that can taint is relationship with the only family he has left, which would be the worst tragedy of all.

In the end it will happen the way it should.

Death magnifies everything.  Good.  Bad.  Greed. Generosity.  Control.  Love.  Family.

It's up to them which ones they will chose to look past, and which ones they will embrace. I just hope we can keep the process moving forward fast enough that they can't move past the ones they get stuck on.

Epic Parenting Fail Number 187-ish....

Dropping the F-bomb over getting homework done on only the second day of school.

I'd like to say that this was actually only my 187th parenting fail, but I'm sure it's nearing the thousands by now.  I'd love to blame my frustration on the cold medicine I've been hoarding the last few days, but I can't.  But the truth is nothing says "Back to school" at our house quite like a flailing teenager on the couch spending 45 minutes whining about how he can not possibly do his homework and my gradually rising voice about how the whole thing only taking him ten. Stinking. Minutes. TO. FINISH.

Oldest started high school on Tuesday.  Someone asked me if I was sad and truthfully, I am not. I have watched him grow and learn, succeed and fail. I don't spend my time looking back missing those days.  Sure, I have my moments of he-was-so-little, and reminisce of when he would climb into the car and ask for the "Rock and Roll" song and miraculously, it was always on, but I don't wish for that time back.  I was there through it all.  Ever present, through good and bad, warm and snuggly, sticky and oh-my-god-where-did-you-get-that? I do not want those days back.  Instead, I want all the days to come.  Watching him become more independent, learning, questioning, slamming his door and wanting my grilled cheese. Each year that passes is a new adventure with new mountains to move and I am confident and proud to see how he handles each and every day, head on, facing forward.

Youngest, if given his choice, would live his life from under the covers of his bed. No matter what year of school he's in, the previous year was always his favorite.  Even if it was a disaster, he'll want to go back.  None the less, he started eight grade this year. He hates his teachers.  He hates his homework.  He hates the bus, but he's willing to take it, so I'm calling that a win.  Every year is the same struggle and every summer I look back and check that grade off the list. His high school graduation will be such an accomplishment, let me tell you, I may request a diploma for myself.

Face book has this feature that shows you a "memory" from previous years posts.  Today there was a picture of Youngest standing on Tony's shoulders next to his sunflower "Sunny" that he grew from a seed, on a napkin, in a ziploc bag, into a 7 foot 5 inch sunflower. You can see the look of pride in his face... his little, round, chubby-cheeked face. His smile, missing only one of his baby teeth, beamed with pride. You'd think that I'd miss that face, those moments of starting sunflower seeds on the window, of him being small enough to put on Tony's shoulders.  But no.  Not even an inkling of regret passed through me.  Not one thought of doing more, or of missing out.

And I refuse to feel guilty for that.  I may not be the best parent, but I am the most effective parent they could ever have.  If I can not give them what they need I find someone that can, because I am not the only influence they will need in life. And in being there, either next to them or waaaaayyy in the back, peeking from behind the curtains, I have not missed, and will not miss a moment of it. Every good, stinky, pimply-faced, brokenhearted, proud, life changing minute of it.

Incidentally, I after checking the other "memory moments" from September 3rd, I found the post from 8 hours later that said, "Had to leave work early today to pick my son up from the principal's office.  It's the THIRD day of school.  That's got to be some kind of record."

Yup.

No. Regrets. At. All.