There Was No Intermission

Dearest Friends,

It's almost a year to the day since our production of "Caring For Ailing Parents" began. To me, it seems like a Century. But we are approaching the final act, now. How strange to say that after living the drama for so long.

The most recent scene shows the Martineau Siblings returning to the 'round-the-clock' care-giving schedule.

When you add wine (lots of wine) to feebleness, you get falls.  One of those led Dad to an emergency room visit for a broken hand and bumped head. The severity of these falls, fortunately, is not great, but the frequency is.  Hence, intensified monitoring.  Add to that Dad's mental decline.  Although no one has been able to tell us with any certainty that it is Alzheimers, no one is discounting it, either.

As a family, we have decided that it is time for the professionals to take over.  The paperwork is in progress, and, if all goes according to plan, Dad will be moving into the Veteran's Home in Bristol, RI by the end of the summer. This is good news. Really.  He is agreeable --- each and every time we tell him about it!!!

Soon the old homestead that Dad and Mom purchased nearly 50 years ago will be up for Sale. Clearing it out for that purpose will be a time-consuming task that we are trying to coordinate even as I write this. I am anxious to have it all completed, and yet I am not sure how I will feel once it is.

Where will Our Family gather henceforward?

 'The End of This Era' might prove to be the most difficult scene of the play.

Til later,
xoxoxo, cd
p.s... many thanks and all my love to my darling husband jd.  sorry i missed writing our anniversary postcard on monday.  helluva year, huh?

Humor in Adversity

Hello, Dear Friends.

January, as you know, was a nightmare for us...but I am happy to say we have awakened sufficiently to continue.

We, as a family, have somehow always found the humor in the worst situations, and this is holding true now.

An anecdote or two to prove the point:

Time:  January 14th, 2013
Scene:  Mom's Funeral Mass:
                  The mood is somber, as at most funerals. Dad and Jerry and I lead the family procession to our pews. Due to a little mix-up, Jerry was unable to sit with us, so Dad and I had the end of the bench nearest the aisle. The pastor of their church, who shall remain nameless in this postcard to protect whatever reputation he may have left after this day, greets us solemnly and proceeds with the service.

All is going well...lovely readings by my cousins, a wonderful eulogy by my Brother Lenny. Then it is "Father Who"'s turn to say a few words. He has been Dad and Ma's pastor for many years, and we are expecting to hear at least one personal story about Mom from her Spiritual Adviser. Well, he must have been high on sacrificial wine, because what he chose to share with us was how Mom was now at peace, and reunited with her husband Albert at Our Heavenly Father's table in Heaven.

(insert audio of  many jaws dropping here)

Now, those of you who know me well are aware of my age, and it is certain that the trials of the past year have taken their toll on my face. And although Dad is 29 years older than me, he looks GREAT for a 90 year old man. So maybe "Father Who" should be given the benefit of the doubt for mistaking my Dad for my husband.  (Nah...I think not! How do you not recognize one of your most faithful parishioners???).

The entire congregation is in shock when "Father Who" repeats the sentiment further along in the service. Dad looks at me with a confused look on his face. I am at a loss. I can't very well interrupt his sermon to correct the error. I lean towards Dad and whisper, "No matter what this guys says, you are still among the living."  Again, the confused look.  A pause.  Then a chuckle.

Dad has never been a "quiet" man. His booming voice is legend in some parts of Providence.  His chuckle is more than audible. And it is contagious, (in a subdued way, mind... it IS, after all, a funeral.)

Now "Father Who" looks confused, in a "What's so Funny?" sort of way.  But that doesn't stop him from saying, AGAIN, how Josephine must be so happy to be with her parents and siblings and husband once more.

It was with a very little success that the Assembled Martineau Family kept from laughing out loud in church.

***********************

Time:  February 26, 2013 (Mom's 82nd Birthday)
Scene:  Mom's Gravesite
                Dad and Donna and I decided to visit Mom's grave on her birthday, to leave some flowers, say a prayer, say goodbye again. This is the first time we have visited since the funeral, so we are a little emotional about it. It's a very cold Tuesday, mid-morning, so there are only a few other people at the cemetery, and for some reason there are no burial services happening at this time.

Good thing.

We stand at the grave, shivering, lost in our own thoughts for a few minutes. Then Dad, softly for him, begins to sing..."Happy Birthday To You..."

Donna and I couldn't help ourselves.  We joined him in a rousing rendition of the Birthday Song --- in true "Martineau Style" (which means quite loud, and totally off-key).

I think Mom would've liked that...


xoxoxo, clare
                     

Goodbye, Mom

Dear Friends,

It is with extreme sorrow that I tell you that my Mom, Josephine Martineau, passed away yesterday, Friday, January 11, 2013

Some of her struggles were chronicled on this blog. Her suffering at the end was great. She suffers no more.

I wish to thank all of my Blogging Friends for their love and support during our time of trial, especially Jim. S., who stood by every step. My cup runneth over.

I Love You, Mom.
Rest in peaceful slumber.

xoxoxo, Clare

The Year From Hell

Hello Friends,

We approach the end of 2012.  I, for one, will not miss it a bit.

While I wish '12 gone, the worry of what 2013 might bring is weighing in my mind.  Not that I like to be a worrywart --- on the contrary, my preference is to clear my mind completely of all negativity, worry being the uppermost negative emotion --- but it's a good bet that the issues we now deal with will not vanish immediately upon the stroke of midnight 12/31/12.

A good bit has happened since our last postcards. About a week after we were told that Mom was not responding to therapy, the Doctor notified Mom, Dad and me that this was due to the paralysis.  Not only is her lower body affected, but her diaphragm and a portion of her chest is paralyzed as well.  Mom didn't buy that diagnosis, and told the Doc that she believed in Miracles, and "take a hike" was part of her scoffing.

We decided that moving Mom to a nursing center in RI was the best course of action, as Kindred Hospital was, essentially, washing their hands of her further treatment.

She was moved last Friday. On Saturday morning, her new Respiratory therapist attempted to remove her from the respirator.  For 8 minutes, Mom breathed on her own...although with some distress. She was again vented, and Dad and I went home.

Late that afternoon, Mom had visitors. Her sister Catherine, nephew Stephen, S-I-L Lillian and nieces Beverly and Carol arrived.  The Therapist again disconnected Mom from the respirator, and rigged the trach so she could talk.  And talk she did!  Now, mind you, she hasn't spoken a word since the beginning of October, and neither her husband nor any of her children has heard her voice since that day they did the tracheostomy. (sp)

We heard about this when Stephen posted about it on Facebook that evening. It appears that Mom was unaware that she was breathing on her own, because her Sister had her full attention.  She was off the machine for two hours, chatting and happy. Aunt Catherine was ecstatic! She was expecting to see her Baby Sis on death's door, instead she was witnessing an amazing recovery!

Sunday... Dad, Steve, Larry and Ro, Mike and I visited. Again she was disconnected from the vent, and we heard her speak first hand. We laughed, we cried, we danced around the room! (Mom's roommate thinks we're bonkers.).

Paralysis?   Ha!   Take that, stupid Doctor at Kindred!

She remained off the respirator for three hours that day!

Christmas Eve...many visitors, including Donna and Tom, and my husband Jerry, witnessed the phenomenon for the first time. Conversation, laughter. She talked on the phone to our Brother Lenny. Another 3 hours without the respirator. Joy. Pure Joy.

Now, it has been a fact that, whenever I post good news about Mom and her condition, she immediately has a setback. So for a while, I wouldn't post anything, but that only caused the extended fam to get upset because they were not hearing positives except through the snail-like grapevine.  If I don't write something today, everyone is gonna have a canary for not letting them know about the "Christmas Miracle".  I log in to Facebook and tentatively report that, although we are not out of the woods yet, a glimmer of light shines in the distance.

Christmas Day.  Jerry and I go to visit, about noontime.  The woman who is always smiling is uncharacteristically cranky today. She didn't want to open her gift, she didn't want to talk.  We put it down to fatigue, and left her resting, comfortably.

Yesterday, Dad and I drove out there late morning. We found her complaining of pain in her left side. Her moaning was heartbreaking. Medication was ineffective. Transferring her from the bed to a chair only caused the pain to 'move' from her left side to her back.  She was totally miserable. There was nothing we or the nursing staff could do to make her feel better. I have never felt more helpless, useless.

It may be completely irrational, ...Yes, I know, I know...it's not possible that I am causing any of the nightmares she has endured, but it sure is a co-inky-dink that the crappy stuff follows my up-beat postings.

I am not going to visit today. Unless I hear from Donna, I am going to assume Mom is OK, and try not to think about how 2012 might never really end.

One Happy Wave in a Sea of Misery

Hello, Dear Friends,

I am sad to report that the situation with Mom and Dad is not improving.

But we had one happy day.

Albert and Josephine Martineau, November 24, 2012

Despite the fact that Mom is in a hospital in Massachusetts, we had our annual Family Reunion. It was held at the hospital, and we all took turns visiting Mom between plates of the usual Feast. She was feeling pretty good, happy that we hadn't cancelled the festivities, and excited to see all of her babies. We fixed her up pretty (don't you think?) brought her lots of gifts and flowers, and showered her with affection and praise.

It was, indeed, a good day.

Then we were quickly ushered back to reality. 

You may not know how this whole thing started. A simple infection. On June 8th, she cut her leg, tried to self-doctor, and failed. At the time, she was caregiver to our Dad, who was recovering from a C-Diff infection he contracted when HE was in the hospital (what seems like a thousand years ago). Since she was put on antibiotics for HER infection, her immune system was more susceptible to acquiring the C-Diff, which she did, and she became exponentially more ill than Dad.

And the rest is...horrible.

Five hospitals, two major surgeries (triple bypass, colectomy) several minor surgeries and many screw-ups later, she is now a paraplegic, cannot speak, and is connected to a respirator and a feeding tube. This is the woman who, on Easter Sunday, was running all over the yard helping the youngest Martineau's hunt eggs.

We were told on Wednesday that she is not responding well to her physical therapy, so it is being discontinued. In addition, she is not responding AT ALL to respiratory therapy due to a fluid build-up in her abdomen which causes pressure on her diaphragm, which in turn causes pressure on her lungs causing the inability to breathe on her own.  The suggestion of the hospital staff is an additional surgery to release some of the fluids, in the hope that it will help.  If it does not, (and they are not terribly confident that it will be anything more than temporary, anyway), she will be in hospital, on life support, for the duration of her lifetime. She is completely sane and lucid, so there is no way that discontinuing life support would ever happen.  The quality of her life, however, has been reduced to shit.  (Sorry.  It's the only word that fits, here.)

And in the meanwhile...


...we are still caring for Dad, at home, 24/7.   He is failing.  As you might remember, he suffers from heart disease, emphysema, COPD and circulatory problems. In addition, we have recently been told that the likelihood of lung cancer is high, and senility is becoming an issue.

Dad is 89, and never did take care of himself all that well, so his condition is not all that surprising. He still smokes two packs of cigs per day, and a glass of wine, for him, is 20oz.  He can put away several glasses before falling into a drunken stupor. We have stopped trying to limit these bad behaviors, on the advice of his Docs.  Really.  And they're right, of course...his days are numbered, so he may as well 'enjoy' them.

But we are not enjoying watching him slowly die.
While watching our Mom 'despondently live'.

More on Mom

I can"t believe that it has been nearly a month since I was here last, and you are so totally unaware of what's been happening.  For this I apologize.

Mom was moved to Kindred Hospital in Stoughton, Ma.about 3 weeks ago  This is a Long Term Acute Care Facility, and their main focus is to wean her off the respirator and get her well enough to be transferred to a "regular" Nursing Home. However, their efforts have been thwarted by a laundry list of events, some of which they could have averted, some that Mom herself created. I won't go into them right now, because it depresses me to lows I didn't know existed before 2012.

Suffice it to say she is less well now than she was when we first admitted her to the hospital on September 10.  It is my belief that hospitals are dedicated to keeping you at their mercy rather than assisting in your recovery. (Ya' think???)

Here is my latest Facebook Update. I have been posting there since the word gets out to more Family members that way (my family isn't crazy about my blog, and many of them avoid it at all costs.)


Mom Update:
Larry, John, Dad and I went to visit Mom yesterday (Nov 10), and she is doing just ok. There are a great many hurdles for her to overcome, and she is frustrated by the whole process. Physical and respiratory therapy has been hard for her...after all these weeks lying in a bed, her strength is tapped, so even the least exertion is like running a full marathon.
She is not able to speak at this point (and that part is driving her to distraction) due to the respirator, and although she has feeling in her lower extremities, there is no mobility. We are left hoping for a miracle as far as walking is concerned.
Our main focus right now is to keep her motivated, and to keep her spirits up, so she will stay cooperative therapy-wise.  The lovely cards and letters she has received from you all make a huge difference.  Keep her in your thoughts, please!
xoxoxo, me

If any of you are on FB, and want to friend me there, I will gladly accept your request. I believe there is a link somewhere around here...

xoxoxo, cd

Challenge Boulevard. ad nauseum

Thursday Oct 11.

When Jerry and I arrived at the hospital at 10:30 am, we found Mom in great distress.  She was is terrible pain, and the nurse told us she was being given morphine for it. All I can do at this point is cry and cry and cry.

Donna arrives,  John arrives.  Joe comes by during his lunch hour. By the time Lenny arrives, Mom is looking better.  she can't speak...the trach is affecting her voice box... but otherwise she is doing ok.

And we head back uphill...

Friday, Saturday, Sunday, little bits of improvement each day.

Is she out of the woods? The answer to that question is No. And we are not deluding ourselves that she ever will be.  It will be Acute Nursing Centers once she leaves the hospital.  She is not aware that most likely she will never return to her home and her beloved "Things". Just the thought of this is heartbreaking.

And we also know there will be more screaming before this ride is over.