Back and Revamped - This is 2020

After a long pause, I am back writing on this blog again. I started another blog, connected to my dad with a longing to reach out to him in spirit, and have those conversations that never happened while he was still alive - so I created sort of a "musings" type of reflection blog because I really ached to reach out to him and share some of the things that were buzzing around in my head. The link is to the right, and it's called "The Stories We Tell". It's about family, connections and lost connections and all the stories of our lives and how they fall down through time, through the decades and generations, and what happens to them as they fall, and how do we keep sharing them. Questions, discoveries, musings and stories.

We are in a critical time right now in our country, and many of us are worried - so worried that we are sad and angry and frustrated. It is a time when leaders tell lies and some people believe them; in fact, some people look to the lying leaders as some sort of saviors and at the same time become a cult of hate, bigotry and deception. It is a time of greed and taking sides and looking at those who are different from us as the "others". It is the most difficult time we have endured in a long while and I hold on fast to hope and the idea that intelligence and compassion and truth will resurface, and win the day. 

In our little home, we are OK. We are holding on to each other, our family, our faith in what is right. We hold fast to daily rituals, baking bread and gardening and sorting and cleaning; and doing good work and cooking good food and being well. There is a virus that has become a world-wide pandemic, the CORONA Virus. It has us sequestered in our homes, afraid, careful, obsessed with ritualistic cleaning and staying safe. It, too, has become a game piece in the steady stream of lies that our current leaders tell. It is terrible and outrageous and hurtful and dangerous. But it is currently where we are at in this country. 

So, I will continue this blog, this journey of words, and try to console myself when I need to let the words out. And try to record all the layers of my life; the good, the bad, the difficult, the times when I must just get it down on "paper", this virtual perpetual sheet of digital paper. 

Stirring up Old Yearnings

I am thinking about trying to contact my brother again. It's about feeling like I should, and feeling like I don't want to run out of time. And it's a lifelong yearning for that connection. However selfish, or self-serving, it may be, I am thinking about the other side of it...the idea that it might be helpful to my brother, or it may be painful. That is the risk. That is why if I write to him, I have to send it off, and just let it go.

Spring is Seeping in All Over

It must be Spring because it's persistently raining outside, the windows are wet with raindrops, they hit the metal ladder outside and the cat will only stay out for short periods of time. I can hear the chickens clucking two houses down, proving that chickens are much more resilient than cats.

I'm planning the trip down to Modesto to have the memorial for my mom, to settle her into her final resting place. My head is full of lists of things to do, preparations, plans, arrangements, responsibilities.

Then I feel this loneliness that has seeped into my soul since mom passed, the feeling of being an orphan, and missing the love of two parents who surely did their best, and gave me everything two loving parents could. Like the persistent rain outside, I am longing for the chapter to be done, complete, my responsibility to be finished, so that I can come back home, move on to other things, feel the sun on my face, and know that I did all I could and did it right, with care and attention that only a daughter can do. 

A mother and a daughter. I have come to realize that as I have lost my mother, I am also giving up my daughter, and the distances of both leave me with a feeling of loss that is both terribly painful but emancipating as well. Hurting and freeing. Questioning my abilities, and knowing I've done my best. It's two vines intertwined; they grow over each other, sometimes they are the same thing; other times they are so far apart, and ultimately they are each their own, but they each take so much of my energy, and time and spirit that I am left unable to speak, to sleep or to breath. 

Linnean Society Prints

Here at Swedish Hospital I have spent a little time walking around and in the process came across some wonderful botanical illustrations from the Linnean Society from 1792. It got me curious about this society so I looked them up:  http://www.linnean.org/specimen-collections
Here some photos I took of what what hanging in the wall. If you are interested in medicine or art you may find this really interesting.

The View from the 9th Floor

Here at Swedish with Mom. She is comfortably sleeping now. Had a visit from Chaplin John who knows mom from Elder Place. He said she attended services at the adult daycare when she would go to Elder Place on Thursdays, which surprised me. He prayed for her and we had a lovely talk. Every time I turn around someone is coming in and offering their support. Also spoke with 2 docs here at Swedish about potentially moving mom to a hospice place. While I hate the idea of moving her again, it could be a more soothing and comfortable place for her to be. Time will tell. For now I feel blessed just to be here with her and have all this support.

Settled in at Swedish

Mom is now at Swedish hospital. I am home to sleep and will go back in the morning. She is stable and seems to be in a deeper sleep. I feel a bit worried leaving her. But I know she is in good hands. Met the doctor and two nurses. It's a great hospital. She is comfortable and cared for. More tomorrow...

Waiting and waiting...

Here at NW Hospital with my mother. This is our 5th day here, though I have gone home some to sleep. Mom has suffered a stroke and is now in a coma. Her vital signs are stable. She sleeps peacefully most of the time; at times she moves her legs, raises her feet, kicks off the pink fuzzy socks that Sarah brought her, and she may yawn or even make little noises.

We are awaiting her transfer to Swedish Hospital, where she will be cared for by the Elder Place doctors. I wanted her to stay here at NW, but she should be in good hands at Swedish. They did talk about moving her to a family home or nursing home, but I did not want that for her. You have to speak up about these things.

So I am here waiting. Listening to the sounds of the C wing of this hospital, the little hum that goes on here that can be difficult to get used to.

From time to time I hold mom's hand, stroke her forehead and talk to her.

I'm tired of waiting and tired of seeing my mom in this state. But all I can do is be here with her and for her. It is the easiest thing to do and the hardest thing to do.