Bearing Witness

So much of what I do for a living is about bearing witness.

end of life processing

Mind. Blown.
IB was late coming to breakfast the other day.  I went to check on her, and found her looking at photos. We took them into the front room, where she spent the afternoon while I shopped for groceries.  When I got back, she showed me the pile.  There were about 15 that stood out with coloring from the 70's, and I glanced at them...then again, then again, in further disbelief.  They were photos of a wedding, HER wedding, to a man other than the man we know as her husband.
I called the weekend aid, who has also noticed her doing a lot of photo searching.  She took a look, and she was blown away.  She asked.  IB layed out her tale of a boring marriage, an interesting man at work, a divorce, a marriage to whom was now a lover, a death of said lover, and consequent remarriage to the first husband.  WOW.
The next day, she pulled out the photos again, and showed them to me.  We talked for a long time.  About love and loss, scandle without regret, following our hearts, all that stuff that holds the juice of life.  How fabulous.  As I was leaving, she said, "Honey, there's only a handful of people who know...".
I met privately with MR, wondering if there was anything we needed to know about helping IB process all of this as she continues to "Awaken"...MR had no idea about any of this (I'd assumed she knew)...MIND BLOWN.  Keep on as we are, she said.  Keep the family out of this.  Have IB lead the way in any conversations, be supportive.
The processing at the end of life...I am stepping into this now, and I am so very interested.


KS is weakening quickly.  I have begun a series of small discussions with him and his daughters and MR about the coming months...how does he want this to go, how can we help him set up his house to stay in it, how can I help his family to prepare...
They have skipped the Assisted Living step.  He's on several waiting lists, but we all realize that he is no longer capable of the ADL's required to live there...nursing homes don't feel right for him.  If he continues to fade away, that may be best for him...it fits his style, inch-by-inch...he will stay with us, we will up the shifts however possible, and call Hospice when the time seems right.  I have asked MR if I can be on his Hospice team, and she is all for it.  His duaghter told me that one of the reasons they did not want him in AL is because they wanted him to keep me as his caregiver.  Wow.  Just wow...

Things are getting very big...very real....very enlightening.

gravy lessons

IB stopped cooking because she could no longer sequence. Her kitchen is stuffed with cookbooks.  She was a member of the cooks of America group.  To date, I have been excited to have her placing slices of cheese on home made pizza.
A few days ago, I made braised short ribs for the first time.  IB asked if I was going to make gravy.  I told her I had never made gravy...I could have knocked her over with a feather.  She told me to save the drippings...that night, we would make gravy.
We started just after 5.  She was in the breakfast nook, I was in the kitchen. When she smelled the drippings starting to steam, she made her way into the kitchen.  Within minutes, she was in front of the stove, spatula in hand, asking me to ge this, measure that, pour more, scrape that, wait some more, don't be shy....it was awesome.  She's done enough exercising now to be able to stand for a while without her walker, and I was amazed at her stamina.  Sequencing was spot-on, her face was so focused...what a treat for both of us.
Good food.  Good exercise.  Good sleep.  Good lovin'.  This is posted in the front room.  It is our motto.  Look what it unfolds.

how do we make them feel?

Maya Angelou died one year ago.  There have been many quotes on FB, and this one spoke to me:
"People will forget what you said,
 people will forget what you did,
 but people will ever forget how you made them feel."

This is my connection to IB in a nutshell.  My goal at the end of the day is to have her spirit in a good place. Period. All the small things throughout the day add up to that end-of-day summary, which in her brain, is more feeling than thought.  How do you bring about a mood that leaves her drifting off to sleep in a safe and sweet presence of mind?  I am a Libra, and I know this helps me here.  For every heavy conversation we have, I balance it with some humor.  Effort is balanced with rest, engagement is balanced with quiet.  

Bad things happen. We watch and discuss the news.  I don't try to sheild her from the darker things of life. She knows they're part of life.  We deal with the harder stuff together..that is part of that safety at the end of the day.  She doesn't always know what bad thing happened, but she does know that she will be helped through it.

There seems to be something slightly amiss lately.  I cannot really identify it or guess what it may be about, but I am aware of it.  We are in sync, and I am listening....the balancing act is more deliberate now, but I don't yet know what I'm balancing her for...

one room

Mom's now in one room. One Room. It signals to her that which is inevitable...that which we do not mention...that which everyone tip-toes around.  She is in her FINAL place, and she wishes she had known before she ended up there, as she thinks something else could have been done, some other option tried. One day she was in her apartment, the next in the hospital, then transitional care, and then this....the SENIOR CARE UNIT.  My sisters did the best they could.  At the time, she was too far gone, too close to death, too weak, to think about any other idea.  Now that she's stronger, I'm sure they may have had a few back-tracking moments, maybe not.
In my work with IB, I've seen with my own eyes how someone can go from near-death to a sort of thriving within a couple of years...when most their age are going downhill, she is rising...waking up.  Mom is one of the downhill gals, I'm afraid.  And she knows it.  And is, as she has been for what seems like ages, ready for it.
I think about the physical and pchychological aspects of the One Room.  Mom is bothered by the fact that she did not have control of what she might bring...and that has my mind going, often as I'm out walking Bubba, letting my thoughts float around.  If I had say, one day to decide what I would like to bring with me to my One Room, what would I bring?  The functional and the thought-provoking.  God, only One Room. Would it be possible to create a studio in a nursing home?  One Room that was a functioning studio with a hospital bed in it?  Probably not. I am thinking almost daily about the need to figure out something else by the time my time comes to move into constant care. A studio assistant/home caregiver, perhaps?  Shared living/studio quarters with other old artists, with a shared home caregivier would also be nice.  A barn should be in that picture somehow.   I just don't think One Room is going to be enough for me.

Off the Wall

I've been with I.B. for 31/2 months now.  Everything is different...enhanced. Everything.  #'s are lower, muscles stronger, balance better, brain sharper, with awareness that now resides in the "keen" catagory. There is great freedom here, in this space that floats between us.  Humor has always been a key component of our relationship, but recently, it has expanded to loud, raucous laughter...the kind that buckles the knees and brings a sense of ALIVE-ness to the surface.  It is joy...simple and powerful joy that we have found.

She taught me how to make fried chicken one evening last week.  Stood side by side with me for longer than I've ever seen her stand.  I've waited for that moment for a long time....it's hard to keep focus on hot oil with tears in your eyes.  Later that night, we were debating something...I don't remember....but I suddenly told her that I would thumb wrestle her for it.  She'd never thumb wrestled before (or so she claimed).  It took 1/2 second for her to catch on, and we were off...I got the stink-eye from her as she tried to psyche me out before and during the match.  She's really quite good.

We've started screaming to/with each other while doing the evening's standing stretch.  I guide her up out of the big lounge chair, and while holding hands, we together swing our arms all the way up towards the ceiling....something about that movement makes both of us open our mouths...it was a quick transition to screaming like children on a rollercoaster.

She told me the other night (after stretching) that she's been feeling more aware lately, and wondered if I had noticed any change in her..."every day", I told her.."every day".

Namaste

Along the same lines as the last post, for this is a recurring theme....IB and I were discussing memory..she said she felt so sorry for the old people in the nursing homes who cannot remember their loved ones who come to visit.  The irony slapped me all over the place...we talked about how those "old people" may remember their kids, but only as kids, and may not understand that those kids have grown up... But the fact remains, the senior remembers the kid on the HEART level, regardless of age.
I taught IB the sanskrit word "Namaste".  "The light in me sees the light in you".  Age makes no difference. Names makes no difference.  Brain function makes no difference. The heart knows, and the heart remembers.  She loved the term, and asked me to write it down.  It sits on the kitchen table, where she can look at it every day.