I hardly know how to begin this...

But it's important to write, for myself.

On September 5, my mother died. She had been in the hospital for two weeks. She had her 75th birthday there. The doctor allowed her to have fried chicken chimichangas for her birthday meal. The Monday after that, she went into respiratory arrest, and was rushed in for an emergency cardiac cath.

Amazingly enough, it wasn't her heart. I could list a litany of treatments she was subjected to after her cath, emergent dialysis, life support...

On the one hand, I am furious with the hospitalist who talked her into rescinding her DNR. She would have gone peacefully the day she had the cath, but no. She never really woke again, that I could tell. I visited her, I talked to her, rambling on about ordinary things that seemed so trivial in the face of her grave situation. We held her hand, we smoothed her hair back. We prayed, sang to her. Told her it would be ok. And there is the other hand. We had time to say goodbye, and know it was right to let her go. We told her it was okay, if she was too tired to fight anymore. We told her we would be all right.

And she went. I wasn't there; the hospital didn't call me, and neither did my brother. I tell myself that the important thing is, she was not alone at the end. I tell myself I couldn't have taken watching that beautiful spirit take her leave of this world.

I don't know how it was for my brother and sisters; she was so many things to all of us. For me, I lost my mother, best friend, my child...I had taken care of her for the last two years. I don't know what I'll do with myself, now. She was my company late in the night. We talked, reminisced, played games, drank coffee together.

And then I think, Oh, what she gave me...laughter. Music. Poetry. Heart. Life.

I know how lucky I have been in my life, how fortunate I was to have her and be with her these last two years.

A long-distance cousin sent lavender roses flanked with lavender calla lillies. She wanted something unique, she said, because Mom was such a singular, beautiful woman. Last night, I woke to the scent of those roses. I like to think it was a visit from her, a message that she is here in all the rare, wonderful things in this world.

I'll miss you, Mom.

Waiting for the Floor to Dry

The picture on the left is of Dad, brother Mike and me. It must have been taken around 1962, not sure. My sister found it, scanned it, and I snagged it for my own personal use.

We're sitting in Grandma Parks' living room. I remember that old rocker! But barely remember Mike looking like that - so small and round and cute. The door behind us was Grandma's bedroom, and much later, was Dad's room. He would go in there, close the door to take a nap after working 12 or 16 hours, and we kids knew better than to make noise, lest he emerge, trip over one of us camped out in the floor and roar - "A bunch of cur dogs!" Well, that was Dad. Roar now (especially when he was in pain from hitting the floor after tripping over one of us), make a gesture of apology later. He never said the words...I'm sorry...but he would place one of his big hands on a shoulder and pat it. That's as close as he came, but it was ok, because we knew what he meant.

He has been on my mind a lot, lately, especially after this past weekend when someone broke into the house in which my baby sister now lives. They stole a few things, but the worst is, they managed to smash my father's picture. The one in his Air Force uniform. The one that sat for years in the cabinet you see in the photograph my sister scanned. They used his knives to stab his dog tags. It was a personal attack, yes, but not against my father; it was against my nephew, who adored him.

Some days, I think there's hope for the world, for the kids coming up, and other days I'm just tired from the violence and the insanity that surrounds all of us, every day, whether it touches us directly or not.

See that picture my sister scanned? It's from a time when the world was a little more tame, when morals were to the foreground for most, whether the background reflected them or not. It's from a time when I could sit in my father's lap and feel safe and peaceful.

Me, me, me, me me!

So, it helps to blog. It keeps me honest. ;-)

I started physical therapy two weeks ago, for my back. Didn't realize how much I needed some help until I got there, and the therapist kept looking at me like 1. I was insane. 2. He didn't know what to make of me. 3. He was completely puzzled by my presence.

He was great, though. He assessed and identified the problem and started me on exercises to strengthen my hips. He also introduced me to massage via electrodes and heat by ultrasound. Holy cow, it's worth the money per visit just for the massage. However, money and time are an issue, and three times a week x $$ is not doable right now. It's ok, though. I came away with a few tricks, how to move correctly, and it seems to be helping.

I will miss the massage, though. Shoot.

The diet is going well. I have been faithful to it all day today, and hope to make it a full week. One interesting note I came across while researching nutrition...gelatin contains collagen that, when ingested, is good for the skin. Who would have thought...still, it's a bit hard to ingest it when you read what's in it. Hooves?? If you can turn off that image, you can scarf down jello with no problem.

It's easier to be positive when you're being good to yourself...a month ago, I found myself growing short tempered and intolerant of almost everything. Requests from other people came across as demands. I was not having fine moments by a long shot.

So I prayed. My own request was for help to make me what I needed to be, and what Mom and others need me to be. I was sincere in prayer. And then, things started happening. The PT, the desire to take care of myself, but something else...friends started reappearing in my life.

My buddy Charles called and actually invited us over. We went, and had a good time. Got caught in an explosive electrical storm on the way home, and it was great!

Old friends from school found me on facebook. I had an invitation for coffee, and conversation.

My boss started putting limits on what other departments could ask me to do. That, alone, is wondrous. And highly unusual.

I hope this is a trend and not a fad. But even if it stops, it all came at a time when it was sorely needed. I can be happy with that.

Good Sunday Evening

I never saw what the last couple of years had done to me (oh, I suspected, but didn't pay it much mind) until I looked in the mirror last Thursday morning - holy cow, was that me?! - no pun intented.

I have gained 30 pounds and it really, really shows. My face looks like an overinflated balloon, my hair was shapeless, past my shoulders and I looked horrible.

I have no point of reference, except myself, but my guess is, most women are so busy taking care of everyone else that they forget they have to figure somewhere into the equation. Eat right - take a little time for exercise, like a nice, long walk. Get a haircut every now and then, why don't we, and maybe even read a book. Have a bubble bath, soak until the rest of the skin wrinkles. Write once in a while, because cliche or not, if you don't use it, that muscle will atrophy and may never recover.

After the initial shock of being confronted with an honest mirror, I took a few steps toward finding myself again. I recommitted to South Beach, waited an hour and a half for hair cut, and since I was already in the chair, had the eyebrows waxed and sprang for a shampoo - which I have to tell you was the next best thing to the best ... intimacy... I ever had. Tea tree shampoo. It is heaven in a bottle.

I bought a book, the new one by Pat Conroy, filled a grocery cart full of fresh vegetables and fruits and spent a small mint on shower gel.

Sometimes, you have to be good to yourself. I think sometime has come for me.

warming up

It's Saturday morning, and I'm sitting here with my customary cuppa, Miss Thang hiding under my feet so she doesn't get banned to the garage. It's so hard to believe it's November already...

This time last week, I was sitting at the Golden Griddle in North Myrtle Beach with Mom, ordering pancakes (bad girl) and getting excited about the flea market. It was a nice trip, mostly, and the farthest from home we had been in two years. That's a shame, being that the ocean is only two and a half hours away from here.

The exception to the "mostly" came when Mom had a sugar drop while she was sleeping. I heard her talking and bent over to ask her if she was ready for dinner. Her eyes were open and she was pointing at the wall and she suddenly started repeating, "Maser maser maser, wester wester wester" over and over. I shook her and said, Mom, wake up! and she screamed Noooo! Folks, I'm here to tell you, I have never seen anything like that in my life and it only took a split second to call for EMS. I thought she had had a stroke - a sugar drop would never have occurred to me. And I'm usually good in emergencies and don't crumble until everything is over, but I lost it. Thank God for the EMT's. They gave her an IV and in minutes she was back to her normal self. She didn't remember any of it and hasn't had a hypoglycemic episode of that magnitude since last week.

When we got home, we took her levels and they were low over a period of time, so I decided to check me to see if maybe the meter wasn't working right. Well, her level was 52 and mine was 233.

I do believe I'll be good now.

As for Mom, her doctor has lowered her insulin dosage. As for the flea market, there wasnt much there...

As for the week, it ended on a special note, literally, when I opened my email at work and someone very thoughtful had sent "a little poetry to go with your morning tea."

Surprising, isn't it, how small things can make things right.

AUUUGGHHH!

I knew it, could tell something was wrong the other night when I tried to save the 600 words I had just added to my November Novel. Works did not save! Shoot, and I was just getting into a groove.

How's everybody else doing?

National Novel Writing Month

Okay, friends and neighbors and fellow scribblers - November is coming up fast, and so is the Novel Writing event. The goal is to write a novel in 30 days (175 pages) no matter how bad it is. The goal is productivity. I'm posting a link here for anyone who is interested. Let's do it!!!!

http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/whatisnano