concerning Mom or Dad, another arose and my energy to care for my sisters or what they were feeling simply didn’t exist.
Late that afternoon, Dad experienced another cardiac event. All his doctors converged for a conference. Their conclusion was succinctly explained by the cardiologist. “There is nothing else that we can do. We have exhausted our options. Your father may last a few days or a few weeks.” He was aloof and unemotional as he delivered the truth, and that helped me discover a stoic self control I needed in that moment and in the succeeding days…weeks…months…
More relatives arrived Wednesday night because my two sisters sounded the panic-alarm due to Dad’s cardiac episode. Sanctimonious Shirley was not among them.
After their tiring visits, most of the extra people left as there was little anyone could do to help. For some reason, that night Exhausted Teresa and Weak Wanda decided that they distrusted the hospital staff to care for our parents. The two of them fashioned beds out of chairs, and stayed in the room with Mom and Dad through through the night. Weak Wanda, although camouflaged by her self-created inadequacy, loved our parents from some distant internal space. Of all of us, she was undoubtedly the most visibly shaken by the thought of losing our parents. Exhausted Teresa found Weak Wanda’s energy contagious and so the two of them stuck together, bonded by some invisible familial glue. I felt the need to conserve my energy for whatever happened next, so I refused to share the night shift. My decision was not well received by my sisters, but the hospital staff seemed grateful to have one less person in the room... And so the vigil continued.
…
Reflection
Self-Control
How do you control yourself in an uncontrollable situation? Isn’t that a great question? How I wish there were a simple answer, but here is one way to look at it. If the situation with which you are dealing is out of your control, the only thing you can control, is your self. You can dissolve into a million emotional pieces or you can choose to deal with whatever is in front of you.
Falling apart may be exactly what you want to do for lots of justifiable reasons. Maybe you are too young to deal with what’s happening. Maybe you find yourself alone with no support. Maybe the choices that you are facing are life altering, for you or for someone else. Life doesn’t always seem fair and now is a good time for some acceptance.
It’s time to reach deep and find your self. It’s there. Your self is the part of you that you can trust. It’s the part that speaks to you when you desperately need an answer. Now is the time for your self to show up to help you deal—right now!
Decide to fall apart later. There will be plenty of time after the crisis. Make a date with yourself to disintegrate when you can do it in style. You will deserve it!
For now you need to control that which you can—your self.
Not being able to govern events,
I govern myself.
− Michel de Montaigne
…
Chapter 11
No Change
Very little changed on Thursday. Like the preceding string of days, time had no measurement. I waited and watched. I hoped and prayed for something—anything that might make the situation better. I continued talking with medical personnel and monitored Dad’s condition throughout the day. Time dragged on. Dad seemed to be somewhat stable and was aware of his surroundings most of the time. Mom, although weak and disoriented throughout the night, continued making progress. No longer swathed in confusion, she usually recognized me, and her appetite seemed to be returning.
Late in the day I stayed with Mom and Dad while my vigilant sisters took a break. As Dad slept in the adjacent bed, I crawled in with Mom, laid beside her, and held her thin, fragile hand. We watched a funny television show that made us both laugh. I didn’t know who was comforting whom, but we both felt safe, even if it was only for a few moments. In actuality I wasn’t really watching the television. I was pretending to be a little girl whose mommy would make sure everything was okay. Mom always assumed the position of worrier so I didn’t have to, but in a flash when the phone rang with the news of my dad and the ambulance, the roles reversed and I took over the job. The idea of being in a hospital room with both of my parents was never, ever the tiniest possibility in my mind. Yet, there we were—the three of us with all the responsibility congesting my heart. Surviving those days, filled with uncertainty, I functioned using instinct and logic, because I didn’t dare actually feel what was happening.
Friday arrived and I learned from my sisters that the previous night was as incoherent as all the others for Mom and Dad. Their lack of routine and loss of familiarity had taken its toll on each of them.
In spite of the uncertainty of our parents’ future, each player in the cast of characters I called family, enacted their roles perfectly. Weak Wanda, after spending 48 tiring hours with Mom and Dad returned to her home because “she had her own life to live.” Long ago she had been a compassionate, loving daughter, but over time she evolved into a self-absorbed existence where little else mattered. Although Weak Wanda lived less than a half-day's drive away, due to her "very busy life," she managed to keep her visits with Mom and Dad to once or twice a year. Her interaction with our parents amounted to a weekly phone call and apparently, that was enough to soothe her conscience. Sanctimonious Shirley’s decision not to make the trip to be with Mom and Dad in the hospital, was predictable. If God didn’t tell her to do it, she didn’t, and apparently her request about spending time with our parents was met with silence. Exhausted Teresa, overtaken by her stress level and anxious to go home, remained and watched me to see what I planned to do about Mom and Dad.
As the care-coordinator, social worker, and I conferenced, I tried to be sensible and unemotional in order to make the best choices for my parents. The decision about follow-up care vacillated from sending them to a skilled nursing facility, or to a nursing home, or back to their own home with additional care. Each choice was like an iceberg. What little I could actually see was supported by the vast unknown that lay below the surface. Every decision was left to me as my sisters silently waited and watched, seldom lending encouragement or support.
I felt the invisible weight on my shoulders growing with each passing moment. Where would I find the wisdom and common sense to make a decision that impacted all of us? Trying to contemplate the decision, my mind chose instead to wander through a cocoon of memories. I remembered my dad’s strength and determination as he added on to our home in 117˚ summer heat to create a nicer house for his growing family.
In my mind, I wandered through my dad’s beautiful flower and vegetable gardens. I remembered Mom and Dad telling me the stories about their years of canning meat and vegetables throughout the night and into the early morning hours in order to feed our large family. I relived the books Mom read to me at bedtime and remembered how she listened to me rattle on every day after school as she prepared our evening meal.
While in high school and college, Mom and Dad supported my interests and activities rarely missing a musical performance, play, or basketball game. As my mind skipped from one memory to another, the hurt and rejection I’d felt from Mom and Dad so many years ago, melted away.
In those moments I accepted that they were human just like me and capable of making a much regretted choice. Accepting their humanity allowed me, also, to accept my own. In that moment, my memories filled me with warmth and seemed to magically erase
