206. Mother-Daughter→Husband Journey: After The Fall
I can barely lift my fingers to the keyboard. My hands are slow and scared, they write words I do not want to write, that I don’t want to see or read or think about. I am wedged between my mother and my husband.
My mother is leaving, falling, she’s been down the rabbit hole for months; she can no longer speak or raise her head from the bed. Little pieces of her break away each day and I tell myself during the tiny moments of quiet that everything is OK because the phone isn’t ringing.
“Dear Jack,” she dictated aloud to Candy, the aide, last week, “I want to have dinner with you between four and eight.” She recited the same about having dinner with her mother. “But first I need to go to the beauty parlor.” Sometimes she says she is going to work. I wonder which job, she’s had many. I wonder where and how old she is on that job. Is it the job at the Brooklyn Army Base, where she met my father? Is it the job at the little law office on East 14th Street? Is it the job at Community Services Society? Is she working on East 22nd Street and then walking to East 20th in her high heels and swing coat to shop for dinner at D’Agostino’s and cart home the bags through Stuyvesant Town? Is she broiling lamb chops for her husband and two daughters? Were we part of her work?
There are no more words to dictate this week. There is no more strength. Ninety people have died from Covid and old age in my mother’s building. Matt, the dining room manager was passing by the room. My mother would call Matt every morning for seven years and dictate her meal order to him. Candy invited him in. He said hello to my mother. He looked at her, looked at Candy and began to cry. He had no more words except to express admiration to Candy for not giving up on my mother, even though I gave up a long time ago. And then there is Judy who works some of the night shift and who buys my mother Cream of Wheat. Look, I never expected my mother to go on this long.
These are bad times, sad times, scary times. I have been living on the brink of reality; it has been tapping on the windows with leaves and branches during a fierce wind. It is reminding me of a new season. It is reminding me that there was no Halloween. It taps out in codes that I will be achieving another year on earth in a matter of days, of moments and it is likely my mother will not be there. Reality taps me on the shoulder and tells me I am a caregiver and a care taker. Don’t forget! it says. It nudges me to remind me of who I am and not to lose myself in the mix, while I give myself away. The sun shines and the wind still blows and I don’t know what to do with myself. I have Candy hold the phone to my mother who babbles and slurs and fades into her vocalizations when I say hello and ask how she is. I say I love you and disengage. I know how Matt, the dining room manager felt.
I sense the end is near. I have been saying this for years, and as the years wind down, for months, then weeks and days. My mother has fooled me, over and over, she has tricked me into believing that she is never going.
This is a beautiful time of year, Fall. The golden light, the fading leaves, the oncoming chill. It is a season of warmth in the heart. I usually look forward to it but this year it is a tease. It only looks nice: It is harboring secrets.
I have lived through grief many, many times. I have lost a husband, family members. I have lost friends, close friends. I always thought that after all of that I would be prepared, but that’s a lie. I never will be prepared for another loss.
My husband has received myriads of tests for muscle, bone, blood, cancer, autoimmune diseases. Thousands upon thousands of dollars of tests that sent him to labs, that extracted parts of him and sent those parts out to be analyzed, and all of those cells came back as reports: NEGATIVE! NEGATIVE! There is nothing wrong and everything is wrong! He was fine but couldn’t eat! He was fine but couldn’t stand! And so it was verified by the doctor of thirty+ years and the “movement specialist,” a neurologist, and by me, that he should be taken off Parkinson’s medication. I knew it caused side-effects, I also knew that he doesn’t have Parkinson’s, he has Parkinson-like symptoms. But they keep feeding a person dopamine and it does no good. Because no one has a cure. That was something the neurologist-gait specialist made sure hit me in the gut.
In a short time, he is eating better. He seems to be a bit stronger. There is a physical therapist coming to the house. But he still loses his balance, he still falls. There is now a walker at the top and bottom of the stairs, linked by the chair lift. It helps relieve some of the terror of a fall on the stairs. But, there is still plenty of space to topple over and the last time, yesterday, was near his side of the bed in the late afternoon. He has to lie down after he exerts himself. Bathing and shaving are exertions. He fell asleep. He woke up, got up and fell.
That noise is deafening. It enters through my ears, travels south and breaks my heart.
📌The series starts here:
Part 1: And The Band Played On … a mother’s life, a daughter’s journey
The previous post is here
The next post is here
With all the love I have in my heart and positive desire to stay focused . I send to you these words that my heart is heavy reading about your Mother and Husband.
Susan you have been there for you loved one.Always making sure the best care and kindness is 100 % .
Always remembering through your beautiful photos of your Mother and You your journey through life . A gorgeous face child that grew into a stunning lovely woman. And the joy you found in your local deli or colorful experience at one of the many wonderful restaurants. Yes due to the covid restrictions we have seen less photos but I go back on your many posts and remember there were days of such joy spent with your family.
No matter how difficult it has become for you . You have never forgotten the part of life you experienced which includes your beautiful joy for education.Your God given talent that you reached so many children in your life. Your beautiful talented ways you have in describing a meal you enjoyed. You made me feel I was there tasting every flavor that approached your lips.
Your treasured times of a loving and kind husband. And a gorgeous handsome son so gifted so talented. But most of all a husband and son and mother that I do believe adores you and is so thankful to have such a tender loving beautiful person in there life .
And that is you ,Susan !
With all love i send to you with many hugs .
I am proud to say were friends .
I am so proud to say I know you.
And I am so thankful to my beautiful wonderful sister Theresa (Tina) who many years ago introduced me to you.
Love , Susan (Susie)
Sending prayers and hugs my sister 🙏🙏❤️
We have all lived through bad times. Also sad times. And scarey times. But to live through all of them at once for such an extended period…one can only surrender and hope for relief in the not-too-distant future. I hope you can find some peace in little moments (like shooting pictures of flowers) throughout each day.
Dear One,
I read your word and nod in agreement . “”I will never be prepared for another loss”. How true these words! Nothing prepares us. You are already mourning your Mother who is slipping into her own reality as she fades from this world. Such a sad and sobering event to witness.
I wish you peace, my friend.. I also wish that those secrets that await include an improvement of your husband’s condition.
I first have to comment that who write so eloquently. You seem to have found some acceptance and inner peace. Coast along, dear Sue, and let life take you where you need to be. Your mother is comfortable and you husband is showing signs of improvement. You will get through this because you are who you are. Just breathe in deeply and calm yourself as you must take care of yourself as well. Love you. Pat
Sending you LOVE and Hugs.
I have no words for you except prayers for strength and peace. Love you and I’m standing with you in spirit (virtually). Hugs and love
I am so sorry, that you have to go through, all of this! xoxoxo
There’s absolutely no doubt that you’ve been dealt a double whammy. You seem to have been dealing with this forever. You know how sorry I am for your pain and anxiety. Hard though it is to think of, your Mum is going to go and for you, it will be a blessing. She has no quality of life and there is no more you can do as you have done all you can. There is no more. Never forget that. No daughter ever wants to lose a mother. It’s so final but it’s closure. No more wilderness for either of you. Your husband’s case is baffling and it would be easier on you if there was a diagnosis. I hope that there are some answers soon. I feel your pain and as I have said before your strength and courage is nothing short of incredible but you have to give yourself time to breathe. Life is a curve. Love as always my darling.
Sending love!!❤️❤️❤️
Times are very disturbing/I am almost afraid to move things are so iffy!I just see your Mothers health so bad,your husband just having his falls.He does sound more like parkinson ‘s Disease.I will continue to pray for all of you.
I have a friend whose husband has been diagnosed with atypical Parkinson’s. No tremors but significant mobility and balance problems I don’t know what meds he’s on but your description of your husband’s symptoms sounds very similar. He does PT 3x a week. Johns Hopkins has a page about it. I’m so sorry you are all going through this.
Just breathe
Breathe in deeply, dear soul <3