Tale of Two Days

Subtitle: You Just Never Know

Easter was a lovely day at our/Grandma's house. Everyone except Mom and I went off to Sunday School and church. Mom had a quiet morning and I was able to put a roast in the crock pot, start jello salad, and prep vegetables. The kids came home after church and helped me finish up. (The platter on the left is Mom's pattern. The platter on the right is the only other Blue Ridge Pottery with the same color border as Mom's. Gayle found it for me. Thank you sister!)

By the time Dave got home, Mom had watched her 1:00 program and lunch was ready. Everything went so smoothly and Mom was so happy, I wished I had invited Dave's parents to join us. After Mom's nap, she enjoyed her Easter basket out on the driveway. Dave hid the kids' baskets and they colored eggs. It was such a nice day!

Brimming with optimism over our excellent Easter day, I awoke Monday morning ready to celebrate Nate's birthday. What is that saying about counting your chicks before they hatch? Mom had a hard day. She needed a diaper change every hour, sometimes continuing the deed during the change. At about the fifth change, I realized my staying up late to reread The Hunger Games had not been such a good idea. Mom didn't sleep well during her naps, which didn't give me a chance to do much of anything other than answer the bell. I'm so thankful I had Meg and Ev home from school! They essentially took over the kitchen, making Nate breakfast, baking gluten free cupcakes, handling clean up. They also wrapped presents and provided general cheer.

Ev and I made a mad dash up the street to the grocery during Mom's last nap of the day for some birthday dinner supplies and candles. Dinner was late, but at least it happened. Mom asked for her dinner at 6:00 as usual, and then joined us for Nate's birthday dinner at 7:30. She watched Hannity at 8:00, then came to the table again for cupcakes, ice cream, and presents at 9:00 when Karis came home from work. Happy Birthday, Nate!

Oh my. It makes me tired just thinking about it. I think I'll go have some more coffee, and thank God that today seems to be an easier day. And that my sister Ruth is coming Saturday.

Feeding the Monster

Mom is skin and bones. She is too weak to stand on the scale, so I can only imagine how much weight she has lost. She was around 110 in January. We thought she was thin then, but when Loren and I looked at pictures from the birthday bash, we realized Mom looked robust compared to now. This past week, Mom looked at her legs and said, "I've seen these legs before. On starving people in Africa." I didn't tell her that I had been thinking holocaust.

So it is amazing to me the amount of food this woman puts away every day! She so wants to lose her appetite, because that is in her hospice literature as a sign of approaching death. She pores over that literature and anticipates every change. When Nurse Christy asks if she has any appetite changes, Mom tries to tell her that she is losing her appetite, but the evidence belies her claims.

So far today, Mom has eaten:

1 egg, over easy
1 strip of bacon
1 piece multigrain toast, lightly buttered
1 cup coffee
2 scoops of ice cream (breyer's vanilla)
1 handful gluten free pretzels
2 bowls albondigas soup
1 small bag m&ms
1/2 chocolate cakeball
1 tuna sandwich, pickle slice on side
2 peach halves
1/2 c. tomato juice

Oh my word. The only explanation is that the cancer is getting all the nutrition. I'm glad though that Mom still has an appetite. Food makes her so happy. Nate loves to make her tuna sandwich so he can deliver it and be part of his grandma's happy place. Now Mom is watching Huckabee and I've ordered a pizza for Nate, Ev, and me. I might have to come back and add The Works pizza to Mom's list.

Sure enough, but just a 1/4 slice.

Lavish

Lavish. That's the only word for it. In the midst of all this poop and crankiness and weariness and shadow of death, God has chosen to lavish His love on me. Of course, I know God always cares for me, but this whole week has been a parade of love notes from Him. I don't know how He works it. Maybe my friends will tell me. But somehow He lets them know to send me a message, a reminder of His great affection for me, and they do it. Beautifully.

So a friend sends me an encouraging note with a couple of our favorite handcrafted candles.

And another friend texts to let me know she's thinking of me and my mom.

A friend texts to say she's on the way to the store and offers to pick up my list too.

A friend bakes a buttermilk pie, and helps my son put together thoughts on paper.

A friend and her daughter construct that darling resurrection scene with the flower pot as the empty tomb and the grass seed growing around the three empty crosses. And they leave it at the office for me.

An out-of-state friend that I have never met in real life sends me a care package of springtime goodies and pretties, plus a card that makes me gasp and sob before I even read the inside.

A friend mails me an encouraging card, reminding me she and others are praying for me, my family, and my mom.

A friend zips by on her lunch hour to deliver homebaked goodies, including a package of gf chocolate muffins for Meg. (And in an interesting mash up of love notes, I seriously think her irish soda bread was a recipe from a magazine in the care package from my out-of-state friend!)

A friend texts to see if she can bring a Starbucks by for me, and stops by with her entire charming family for a quick visit.

It was such an outpouring, I may have left some off and might need to come back and add more. I'm telling you, it was a flood. An outpouring. Lavish.

Thank you, friends. Thank you, God. I got Your message.

How great is the goodness you have stored up for those who fear you. You lavish it on those who come to you for protection, blessing them before the watching world.
Psalm 31:19

Dear Grandma

This week a letter arrived addressed to Mrs. Anna [middle initial, last name] (Grandma). Inside was a triple folded sheet of notebook paper with a handwritten note.

Dear Grandma,

Thank you for always being a good role model for me. Even though you're near the end of your life, you're still reading your Bible and listening to sermons. You also taught me how to cook like you. Never as good, but still, I am getting better. You loved Grandpa 'til the end. Thank you for being such an amazing and wonderful grandma! I love you soooo much!!!

Love, Ev

I asked Ev about the letter, and she explained it was a school assignment. The students were to list people who had influenced them in a good way, then write a letter to one. A nice assignment, nicely done.

My Tribute to Grandma

By Nate Schneider.

My grandma has lived a very interesting life! Anna (middle name, last name) is 91 years old and she lives in (Small Town), TX. Prepare yourself for the exciting life of grandma!

Most people don't know that my grandma lived in Kansas and ran a restaurant called the "Yucca Inn" in the summer of 1948. She ran the restaurant with her sister, Helen. They started the restaurant for the experience. The Yucca Inn had a cordial atmosphere and great food.

One thing that a lot of people do know about Grandma is that she loved to garden. My grandma even had her own garden plot in (Small Town). Grandma grew snow peas, tomatoes, lettuce, broccoli, potatoes, green beans, and squash. Grandma also loved to grow flowers and trees around her house. She planted azaleas, pansies, impatiens, gardenias, and redbud trees.

Although Grandma loves the outdoors, she was not a stranger to the kitchen. My grandma's hamburgers were the best in the world! She also used to make a great shrimp gumbo. Grandma was famous for her baking skills too. My grandma used to bake bread and cookies. In my opinion, her Swiss Braided Bread would have won in any competition -- hands down! My grandma and I used to make exceptional molasses cookies. We would use a rolling pin to flatten the dough and then we cut it into different shapes, depending on the season.

My grandma has always been a strong patriot and has very definite political beliefs. Grandma has always felt that keeping up with the national news is important. Presently, to stay informed, Grandma listens to "Rush" and watches Fox news and Hannity. In this coming election, my grandma is leaning towards Rick Santorum.

Grandma started going to church at an early age and trusted Christ as her Savior. She loved to ride her favorite horse down to the creek to reminisce on Scripture. My grandma's favorite Scriptures are the Psalms. She is currently working on reading a one-year Bible. My grandma finds that, "The most important truth is that your neighbor is the one you live with everyday and is the one to whom you should practice love and kindness."

These are just some of the stories and truths from Grandma's life. No matter what Grandma has done, whether it was running a restaurant, gardening, staying involved in politics, or caring for her family, she gave 100 percent! Now you know a little bit more about the interesting and exciting life of Grandma!

Nate wrote this essay as an assignment for his weekly educational therapy. He went one paragraph at a time, interviewing Mom and taking notes. The wonderful Ms. Catherine edited and assisted. Today Nate read the finished product to his grandma. Mom even turned off Rush to listen and looked at Nate a few times as he read. She especially seemed to like the bits about her cooking and was struck that Nate included the truth about loving your neighbor. She tearfully observed, "It only took me 90 years to learn it." Well done, Nate.

Poop

Advisory: This post deals with bathroom issues. Please read no further if you have a weak stomach or are easily grossed out. Proceed at your own risk.

Poop occupies a lot of time and energy around here. Since her colo-rectal cancer surgery and radiation twenty years ago, Mom has had little bowel control. As a result, she used to just run to the bathroom all the time, and her bag of supplies was a constant companion. Now she cannot run to the bathroom, or even walk, plus she is not always aware of her bowel movements, so toileting herself is not an option. On a good day, when Mom doesn't have diarrhea, she needs a diaper change every couple of hours. Without doubt, it is the ultimate indignity for Mom, so I work hard to make it as painless, emotionally and physically, as possible.

When I first started changing Mom, she declared that wipes hurt her bottom and she only wanted to be cleaned with a tub of hot water and paper towels. Yes, ma'am. As the skin began to deteriorate, Mom requested the spray cleaner from hospice instead of hot water. Actually, she hinted for days and days ("Carissa just uses that spray." "That spray is cold, but Ceturah just tells me, 'I'm gonna spray you.'"), then finally asked me to use the spray. Yes, ma'am. Next, Mom admitted that the paper towels were too rough. I didn't have any cloth diapers left from baby days, so I cut up some of Dave's old cotton undershirts to use for wipes. Finally, as Mom's skin has broken open the last few days, she told me yesterday the spray stings.

Last night after Mom went to bed, Meg and I ran to HEB to gather supplies for homemade wipe solution. I looked up a lot of recipes and settled on water, pure aloe vera gel, eucerin aquaphor baby wash, and baby oil. Back home, I mixed it up and put the solution in a tupperware-type tub with the undershirt wipes. Good to go! Maybe that's why it really got under my skin this morning, when at Mom's third change of the day she said:

Mom: [peevishly] Ugh! Has there ever been a hole more scrubbed???

Gwen: [stunned silence]

Mom: Gwen, that might sound like complaining. [pause] And it might be.

Gwen: I believe it is! [continues cleaning]

Mom: Ugh!

Gwen: Would you like me to stop?

Mom: Not until it's clean!

Gwen: [continues cleaning]

Mom: Ugh!

Gwen: I'll tell you what. You quit pooping, and I'll quit scrubbing.

Mom: Now that's a deal!

Someday, I'm sure I will read this and laugh. Today, not so funny.

Happily, soon after this exchange the wonderful Catherine Davis arrived, delivering both Nate the Great and homemade buttermilk pie. Just what we needed.

Goodbye, Bwudda

Loren is gone. He left this morning and I miss him already. He was so attentive to Mama. They listened to their favorite radio propaganda together, sat outside together, watched Fox News Channel together, talked together. Yesterday, when I wheeled Mom out from her third of four naps, Loren was not stationed on the couch. Mom said, "Where's the boy?" I asked, "Which one?" She replied, "The big one!" Mama loves her boy. I love him too.

Even the presence of her favorite child could not slow Mom's downward spiral. During Loren's visit, he observed she slept more and more so that by the end of his week here, she was awake for less than 8 hours a day. Sometimes the urine in her catheter tube is red. Not pink, red. And she is weary, so weary. The sobering thing is, this is as good as it gets for Mom. The golden boy by her side for a week, attending to her every request, making her so happy. I figure it's the downhill slide from here.

Everytime Mom gets up, it takes a supreme effort. Yesterday as she lay her weary body down for a change and a nap, Mom exclaimed how good her bed felt and said, "One of these times, I won't get out of bed again." And it struck me that as tired as she is, when that time comes, she will want to stay in bed. All this time, in my mind she would be trapped in bed. In reality, it will be a temporarily welcomed respite.

I don't think bedbound is far away. And I don't think heaven is much beyond that. Praying for mercy, grace, and peace.

Postscript: And then, I change her after her noonish nap. Before I even get the bed lowered, Mom asks, "Is there any pear sauce left?" That woman! She's not quite done here yet.