I am Tallulah

This journal is my wee piece of cyberspace. Most entries are public. Comments are welcome but tread softly, lest you bruise me with your words.

Name: Tallulah
Location: Planet Earth

Entries for May, 2005

May 16, 2005

Monday evening

Instead of journaling about my life, I've become quite the hermit, hiding away from most everyone. The fact is, I haven't anything worth writing about. How many times can I write about my mother's illness? Sadly, I have become boring. However, this entry should sum up all the activities of late.

Mother isn't much improved. The swelling has gone down in her legs, but there is still a bit around her ankles. She isn't able to walk without a walker, and then only a short shuffle from one room to another. She is exhausted and sleeps many hours. Her mind, however, has cleared a bit and she is better able to focus on stuff around her. She isn't eating very much, but I have gotten her to at least take some Instant Breakfast, with some vitamins in it. She has vomitted a bit last week, and I was concerned about her becoming dehydrated. She is now drinking water, but only if it is really cold.

A few weeks ago, when she was feeling a bit more clear-headed, she asked me to throw out some stuff for her. That has resulted in my being able to clear out some junk. I come from a long line of pack-rats on my mother's side, and we save things because we feel we might need them some time. Usually I toss things two or three times a year, but mother doesn't. I faced a rather daunting task of clearing out years of stored items. Since the spring cleaning began I have rearranged some things that I thought she might go ballistic about, but she was quite accepting. I don't know if it is because she thinks she isn't going to be here much longer, or if she is now able to see the difference the change has made.

Still have a long way to go with this clear-out, including my own stuff. I plan to sell some items on ebay, some through the local newspaper (like the wood stove I bought them over 25 years ago!), some things have gone to Goodwill with more to follow, some will go to the church yard sale, and the rest to recycling. My father is worried because mother has said she wants to get rid of the couch and loveseat, and he says he can't afford to buy another one. He thinks he might be retiring in June of this year. I told him to worry about that if and when it comes.

My church job is the same. I am also the church board secretary and still have minutes of the last meeting to type up, but I don't have the energy to get to it today.

One thing that has become clearer since mother's health issues is the state of my friendships. Sad to say, those I thought would be supportive have not come through. Yet offers of support have come from places I least expected. Guess I know who my real friends are. Too bad they all live in other countries.

One of my elderly cats is nearing the end of his life. Trooper is around 20 years old and has failing kidneys. Because I was with mother for 11 days he didn't get the proper care and when I came home I noticed his health had failed. He is still eating, but his strength is waning, and he has trouble walking. Still, as long as he is eliminating and is able to take in food, I'll keep going. He deserves to live his life as long as he chooses.

My artistic endeavors have stalled. There doesn't seem to be enough time in the day, or energy, to get everything accomplished. That's another reason why I haven't kept up my Tabby journal. Pathetique!

Been watching some documentaries on photographers the last few nights. Very interesting. These people devote their lives to being where the action is to document the moments in pictures. I used to think I would like to be a photo-journalist, but travel wasn't in the cards for moi.

Still no word from/about my Indonesian friend. I found her brother's address, but am hesitating to write. I guess the only way to know the truth is to send them a letter. I guess a part of me isn't ready accept she is really gone.

A year ago I felt that changes were coming and that feeling intensified as the year end came. I know this is a year of change -- it is now a powerful feeling. I only ask for the strength to deal with the changes and to survive the fallout.

May 19, 2005

Thursday evening

Mother has had a rough couple of days. In her attempts to get out of the recliner she has utilized stomach muscles, thereby pulling on the incisions. Add to that some constipation, and she ended up with stomach pains and vomiting. The last two days she has slept most of the time, and I've had to help her sit the recliner upright so she could get out to use the commode. She also has developed sores on her upper buttock area. These are quite nasty and she has been putting polysporin on them but they are painful. Today I got some polysporin with lidocaine and she says that has helped. I also covered them with gel bandaids. She says the pain has eased considerably.

She commented as I applied the bandaids that this is something a daughter shouldn't have to do. I know it is embarrasing for her, and I can't say it's easy for me either. But we both know it has to be handled so we do it.

The saddest part of aging, it seems, is not just the body breaking down, but the loss of dignity. We spend so much of our lives protecting ourselves, sheltering our bodies from others, hiding behind clothing, codes of decency and morality. Yet our elders are told not to worry about showing parts of their body. "Oh, it's okay, I've seen lots of bottoms." Comments often followed by light laughter to make the patient feel less self-conscious. My mother felt exposed in the hospital, unprotected, naked in front of total strangers. Her upbringing had been vastly different and this was not only embarrasing but degrading.

It was truly heartbreaking to watch her suffer through this, knowing that one day I may face the same thing.

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This afternoon I was chatting with Amazing Brother and we both have the feeling that this segment of time we are living is a kind of bridge, between the time prior to the operation, and the end of mother's life. The time to prepare for when she is no longer with us. A breaking of the bonds, so to speak. Both of us fear she won't be around much longer. Yet neither of us is willing to write her off either. If we could see signs of improvement... but right now...

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For some time I have wanted to write a book about my relationship with my mother. It would be cathartic for me, to exorcise those demons and expose all that darkness to the light. Yet I never wanted to hurt her, or dredge up those moments the way some writers have done. It doesn't serve any purpose. I wonder sometimes if I will ever be able to write about that past. Is it even important?

To the broken part of me, it is. The need to be vindicated, to know that it wasn't my fault. To hear someone else say the anger was all hers and I shouldn't have had to endure the wrath.  

The other part of me, the sensible, reasonable, understanding Me, says it's all over, water under the bridge, and I know it wasn't my fault. I understand why it happened, why all those years were wasted with anger, bitterness, jealousy.

I think about it now because, amidst the compassion for her as she deals with this health crisis, I feel anger. Unrealistic anger. It bubbles up, tainting what could be my last days with my mother, and I become angry with myself for the merest indulgence in this old feeling. I feel like a bad daughter, an uncaring bitch, mean, vindictive. I should be embracing this time with mother because it, too, will be a memory one day.

The bitter-sweet relationship continues, even to the end? What a waste. 

Remembering the past: we always remember the bad things, it seems. It is a struggle to remember the good moments, but the bad ones inevitably rise to the surface like pond scum.

Will I ever write the book? Who knows. Right now I am too tired to analyse it further. 

 

May 25, 2005

Wednesday evening

Watched one of my favourite shows last night, Navy NCIS, and was shocked by the season ender: they killed Kate!!! That was definitely not expected! Apparently Sasha Alexander asked to leave the show. Please explain to me why an actor would choose to leave a successful show? Unless the show isn't doing as well as one might think. There was some question whether it would be picked up for another year. Still, last night's episode was so much of a shock it upset the rest of my evening. Doubt I'll watch the new season if "Kate" is gone.

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Today was sunny, a slight breeze, no mosquitoes yet, with fresh air. A beautiful day. I told myself all this as I walked to the mailbox. 

Why, then, didn't I feel any of this? Looking around at the trees in youthful green bloom, at the green fresh grass, at the clear blue sky, listening to the chirping of birds, why did I feel so numb? Why did I want to find a place to hide?

And, to make things worse, there was no mail! 

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This evening, as I brought Bella up from the field, I felt a tiny twinge of euphoria. Actually, I felt a couple of twinges, and heard: "She is going to be okay." Not my words - I still do not believe that, and have no evidence to support that statement. Someone else's words, carried on the breeze?

Dare I believe it?

Or is it simply wishful thinking?

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Started making a list of all the stuff that has to go. Mother has said she wants to donate some to the Diabetes society. The rest can be given to Goodwill or sold. Still not sure if I'll sell anything through ebay. Maybe I'll try a consignment shop first for the clothing. At any rate, I need to get photos taken asap.

It will be so good to finally clear out some of this junk! 

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I am getting kind of ticked off. I've retyped my entry four times due to the italics being on. I didn't want it on and tried, unsuccessfully, to remove it. Plus, every time I start a new paragraph the view flips up to the top of the page and I have to scroll down to where I want to start typing. Maybe it's just gremlins again.