Balancing Act

My mother is aging, and is needing more and more care.  Our roles have changed.  I am now the parent, having to deal with her as she did with me when I was young....a tremendous amount of patience, gentle guidance, but also sometimes "tough love", which is so very hard on both of us.  I do what I can to help, but there's also only so much that mom will allow me to do.   She's still protecting me. 

As I look forward to entering my sixth decade, time has become even more precious for Myron and me.  

We want to travel more, but I am reluctant to do so, because of mom.  Mom encourages us to "go and have a good time and don't worry about me", but that's almost impossible for me to do.   I know that she's cared for by her caregiver, Anna, so what's the problem.  Guilt? Yes and no.  I am a good daughter and am there for my mom whenever she needs me, but I also have a wonderful husband who has worked all his life for the pleasures that should come with his retirement.  We need a balance.  

I have to figure out a way to create that balance in my life.  I will be here for my mom when she absolutely needs me, but I need to enjoy this time of our lives too.  Too many friends around me are learning the hard way that things can change in an instant.  

So, we are going to travel.  Not long, extended trips, but shorter "can get home in a day" trips, if we are needed at home.  Marika has stepped up and will help look after her grandmother and that will definitely make me rest easier.

If I am not with her and my mother decides that her time has come, I will feel regret at not being with her, but I will feel no guilt.  "I love you" has been said many times a day, every day.  She knows how much I love her and how much I will always love her.  It's just for me that I will want to be holding her hand and that's totally selfish on my part.

Pandora's Box

My last post was almost five months ago.  It was just before we left for the Orient and I had been diagnosed with FMD.  I was gripped with fear and I let it get the best of me.  Even though I said I had "put it in a box" and shelved it, that did not happen.   We went to Japan and China, and I had moments where I'd forget, but the vacation was a melancholy time for me.  There was no follow-up from the doctor that treated me in the hospital and I felt like I had been abandoned.  When we were in Asia, my mother had a TIA and ended up at Toronto Western Hospital where she was treated by a doctor who, according to mom, was amazing.  When I had to take mom in for a follow up appointment in October, I asked if he would take my case on and he agreed.  My appointment with him was last week.

Dr. S. was amazing!  He explained everything to us (Myron, as always, was by my side), and helped to put my worst fears to rest.  I do have FMD in my carotid arteries, but I will probably live to a ripe old age and die with it, not FROM it.  He is going to make sure that my renal artery isn't affected, something that the original doctor was supposed to do, but dropped the ball on.

The Pandora's Box.....it was that little box that I put my FMD in and put on a shelf.  Except, I kept looking into the box and every time I looked, I panicked.  The things that flew out of that box were awful.  Irrational fear.  Depression.  No matter how hard I tried, I could not stop from opening that damn box.

FMD is rare, affecting only 4% of the population and according to "Dr. Google" can be devastating.  This is where my medical information was coming from...not from the doctor who treated me initially in hospital.  Had she sat down with me in September, and actually discussed my condition, rather than just telling me what I had and drawing a misshapen artery, I might not have spent the last five months in a state of constant doom and gloom.

But now, the box is gone.  I will always have FMD, but now I feel like it doesn't have me.

TIA's, FMD and LOL's.....

So my Next Chapter has yet a sidebar.....

I went to the Stroke Clinic last Thursday to have my follow up appointment from the TIA I had in July.  Since then, I've been feeling pretty good, getting out for walks, taking my daily aspirin.  Nothing like a good kick in the pants to bring you right back to reality!

I have been diagnosed with FMD or Fibro Muscular Dysplasia....big word for misshapen arteries.  Hello?  When did this happen.  It's genetic, so nothing that I've done wrong, and it's never, ever going away.  Now starts the long testing process to see just how much damage there is (if any), monitoring ultrasounds, medications, and on and on.

Since Thursday, I have been an absolute mess and that's my own doing.  When I left the Stroke Clinic, both doctors sent  me on my way, wishing me bon voyage for our Japan/China trip and said they'd be in touch re more specialist appointments.  They weren't the harbingers of doom and gloom.  I did that very nicely on my own, thanks to Dr. Google.  To say I became catatonic would be putting it mildly.

I woke up this morning and said "enough".  Crying, wallowing time is over.  I am getting my clothes together for our amazing trip tomorrow and I've decided to put my little FMD in a box and make it stay on my shelf until we get home and the I am going to tackle this bugger like nobodies business.  I may have surgeries, stents, renal issues in my future, but for now, I'm trying to focus on the present.  I feel good, I have the best family in the world and dammit, I'm going to be around for a long time.

FMD??  LOL to YOU!!

Livin' the High Life

It's been a crazy year.  That's obvious from my absence from this blog!  We started renovations on our condo in February and it's been a rollercoaster time.

Myron took on the role of "project manager" and it's a good thing he's retired, because someone needed to be on site every day to make sure that everything got done properly on site, and that we did everything according to the rules of the condo, etc.  The contractor was supposed to do all that, but I actually think Myron enjoyed his role, however stressful it was.

We had two homes to clear out...ours and Marika's in Ottawa.  We had to sort, PITCH, donate, sell, pack up both places, so to say it was a bit overwhelming is an understatement.  Garage sales, numerous trips to Goodwill and Salvation Army and thank God for 1-800-GotJunk!!!

A lovely man bought our home on Friars....not the family with 2.5 children that I thought would buy it. A is 74 and the most interesting character we have ever met.  He loved our home at first sight and the place was sold in days.

We are now living the "high" life and I only say that because we are on the 36th floor and enjoying the view from here.   Do we miss the old house?  No, because we were truly ready for this "Next Chapter" of our lives.  We brought all the memories here with us.  We've already made new memories here.  Home is where we are, not where we live.

Stay tuned!

A tragic Tuesday, ten years ago

Monday, September 10, 2001, my friend Lety and I left for New York City on what was supposed to be an overnight jaunt to shop, have a nice dinner, see some theatre and head back to Toronto on the 11th, in time for Marika's first piano lesson of the school year.

When we arrived, the tail end of Hurricane Erin, was blowing through New York City, making for a soggy afternoon.  No problem!  We were in NYC and having fun together in the city that never sleeps.  We tromped the streets for hours trying to keep our umbrellas right-side-in, not caring that we were soaking wet.  In the evening we took in "Chicago" and then had a late Italian dinner at Orso, still a favourite of ours. We made plans for the morning....either the Empire State Building or Windows on the World to take some black and white photographs....a new hobby of mine.  We decided to do the Empire State Building first as it was near our hotel and then save the World Trade Centre for lunch...we could then head for the airport directly from there.

Tuesday morning was brilliant!  The unsettled weather of the day before had disappeared and the sun was sparkling.  We didn't turn on our television in our hotel room.  We got ready for the day and headed down to Starbuck's across the street.  Our hotel was kitty corner from Pennysylvania Station.  The streets outside our hotel were teeming with people.  I remarked to Lety how crowded it was at that time of the morning.  We were about to find out why.  We went into Starbuck's and bit by awful bit, it became clear that all was not normal.  We overheard two men talking about "a plane, maybe commuter, crashing into Tower One".... then we overheard "airport is closed"...I excused my interruption and said "we are supposed to fly out this afternoon"....he shook his head and told me to check with our airline.

We hurried back to our hotel and by the time we got back to our room,  it was becoming obvious that something was terribly, terribly wrong.  We switched on the television and there on the screen was a horror unfolding that was unimaginable.  No sooner had we sat down on the bed, than the second plane crashed into the second tower.  This was certainly no "commuter plane" accident....this was evil incarnate.  Lety said "it's that goddamn bin Laden".... I had no idea who she was talking about....
Then both Towers fell and almost 3,000 were murdered...in the Towers, at The Pentagon in Washington, in Shanksville, Pennsylvania...

The airports were shut down...so why were there aircraft buzzing overhead.  We were panicked.  It turned out to be U.S. fighter jets patrolling for more attackers.  We sat in our tiny room, transfixed by the history we were witnessing.  We held on to each other and cried.  We were scared.  Telephone lines were jammed so we couldn't get through to loved ones for a few hours.  My mother was the first to get through to us.  Our only comfort was each other and speaking with Myron, Marika and Lety's husband, Trevor and my parents.   Getting out of New York was impossible.  We stayed glued to that television set, afraid of what was going to happen next.

For the next three days, we went through the motions, except that these were no ordinary days.  New York was deserted.  The first day, around 6, we ventured out in search of some food.  We found an Au Bon Pain.  As we waited for our order I turned and watched a ghost walk by the shop...except this was no ghost...this was a man, covered in soot and ash...walking up from Ground Zero.  Too much to bear, too much to bear.  For 24 hours a day, all we heard were sirens heading down to Ground Zero.  Instead of the usual smell of pretzels on New York City street corners, the acrid smell of smoke filled the air.

We finally secured train tickets back to Toronto on Friday, but not before the anxiety of another bomb threat at Pennsylvania Station.  Sniffer dogs searched us once we crossed the border into Canada.   Our new way of life.  Innocence is gone.

Trevor, Myron and Marika met us at Union Station in Toronto, all of us weeping with joy.  How lucky we were to be back in the arms of our families.  Not so, all those souls who perished on 9/11.  They were now in the arms of Another.

Aaaannnd....she's offfff!

Marika's off to her fourth and last year at Carleton.  This was taken at breakfast at Cora's the day Marika headed back to Ottawa.  A few precious moments in a summer that literally melted away.

With Marika having spent 6 weeks in Europe and with my mother being in hospital for the past three weeks, we haven't had much time to spend with our girl.  So, if it looks like I have a death grip on her in this shot, it's because I did.  I'm hanging on for dear life...

Fourth year has come so quickly.  She'll be busy applying for graduate schools and getting the most out of her last year in Ottawa.  It will be different for her...her beau has graduated and is now working in Toronto.  I'm sure she will be home a lot more often!

I remember that first day of junior kindergarten...off she went, not really knowing what to expect.  The second day, there was a quivering lip and grip on my hand that cut off the circulation.  And now, she jumps in her car and gives me a wave as she backs out of the driveway...but I think the lip might have been quivering just a bit...

Miss you sweetheart.

Reprieve

My mother is not yet done with this life.  We have just been through a horrendous three weeks with her in hospital, having contracted a very serious staph infection.  For a few days, it was touch and go...I was told to "prepare myself" by one of the doctors.  After three weeks, two hospitals and many incredible doctors, nurses and physiotherapists, our tough prairie girl is back home, albeit a little bit worse for wear.

At 86, every day that we have mom is a blessing.  I had honestly resigned myself to losing her and only wanted peace and comfort for her.  To watch someone suffering is the hardest thing.  She's stoic and always has been, but to have a chest tube drilled into your lung is no picnic.

As she began to recover, I spent many days and nights, cuddled up with her on her hospital bed, all the while avoiding drainage tubes and IV lines.  We talked about lots of things...Marika, Dad, The Blue Jays, her wishes for her "exit strategy" and how much we loved each other.  It becomes simple.  Love is what is most important.  According to mom, her goal in life was met...she lived to see me happy in my life and she was able to see her granddaughter grow into an amazing young woman.  How simple is that?  No bucket list.  No regrets.  Nothing for herself.  All for us.

During the course of her hospital stay, there were many xrays and CT scans.  An unexpected discovery was a mass on one of her kidneys, that the doctors believe is probably malignant.  Mom has decided, along with the doctor's advice, to "leave well enough alone"... in the doctor's opinion, she wouldn't survive the operation to remove the kidney.  It is likely she will die with the mass, not of it.

Mom is now home and recovering her strength.  We are so lucky to be able to have her in her own home, with 24 hour care supplied by two amazing personal care workers with me filling in the gaps.

I know I can't expect her to live forever, but for now, we've been granted a reprieve.  For now.