Hospice Arrives - So This is What It Feels Like to Exhale??

Lightning fast. That's the speed with which my focus changed during the first fifteen minutes of my interview with the Lower Cape Fear Hospice. I entered the process feeling sad and maybe even a little disconsolate that both of my parents were about to be admitted as hospice patients. Just a couple of minutes into the one-on-one interview with the hospice admissions nurse I realized we weren't in the club yet.

On paper, Lisa shared that the information she had gleaned from their medical records didn't make my Mom and Dad what one might call a "slam dunk" for the program. I filled in what blanks I could with impressions and facts of their past three years of history as my captive patients, but a lot would depend on the admissions nurses clinical impressions. 

After answering something like 45 minutes worth of questions, it was time for the nurse to, literally, "meet the parents". I escorted Lisa into their room. My Dad was still in the middle of an intense two hour plus nap, so I introduced her to my Mom. Lisa was very engaging and my Mom was gracious and accommodating. She allowed Lisa to take her vitals, various measurements and happily answered her questions. "Miss Maxine, who is this lady?", pointing to me.  

My Mom grinned, hesitated and then confidently stated, "She's my...she's my coworker. We get along great!". That was a new one on me - for months I've just been Susan - not to be confused with her daughter Susan, and sometimes I've been "that girl" and "what's her name". 

It was now my Dad's turn and he was still deep into his nap. I sidled up beside of him on his bed and said, "Daddy, you have company. Someone is here to see you. Wake up." Slowly his eyes fluttered and he looked around and saw the pretty lady smiling at the end of the bed and he worked his way into consciousness. "Hello there" he said as he reached out his hand to grasp hers. 

Daddy agreeably consented to the blood pressure cuff, pulse ox monitor and ankle and upper arm measurements, occasionally looking at me with a bit of a puzzled expression. When Lisa asked him who I was, Daddy hesitated and said..."I think she's my daughter. Whoever she is she spoils us rotten." He answered a few other questions - some of them right and a few of them not so right. 

After about forty minutes of checking over my parents, Lisa thanked them and we headed back into the hall. I searched her eyes for a hint at what she was thinking. She asked if there was a room she could use to go over her findings with the doctor who would make the final decision. I invited her to use my office upstairs. Of course, I pointed out all of the framed photographs of my three granddaughters and she appropriately agreed with me that they were most beautiful babies to grace the earth. (Good job, Lisa!). I then went back downstairs to join my best friend and "executive director of my support and sanity", Sharon. We held our breath, exchanged anxious glances and waited. 

I began hearing the "Jeopardy" theme song humming in my head. Crazy - just two hours earlier I was despondent over the fact that both of my parents were about to be admitted to hospice care and now I was scared out of my mind that they wouldn't qualify. Go figure. It was only 3:00 PM and I'd already been on a mental/emotional rollercoaster of epic highs and terrifying lows. Sharon was perfect; kind and just as concerned as I was, but having her right beside me was the most comfort I could hope for and I dearly appreciated her support.

After about thirty minutes, Lisa came downstairs and we reconvened at the dining room table. Sharon and I were both scanning her face for a hint at the verdict. Lisa pulled out her computer, two folders and a pen - as it turned out after discussing our caseS with the doctor, we were given the green light. 

Insert a gigantic, relieved and genuine "WHEW!". I believe Sharon and I exhaled in unison.

Then came the paperwork - material that Lisa had to explain to us and forms that I had to sign. I had absolutely no idea what all hospice might cover but whatever it was, it would be more than I had and my resources and reserves were running low. Lisa handed me two life preservers and I grabbed them and clung to them for dear life.

My parents' medical care will now be under the auspices of hospice. That means that if someone falls in the middle of the night, I no longer have to figure out how I'm going to go with one to the ER and wrangle the other one with me because neither of my parents can be safely left alone. When I allowed my mind to take that information in, it was only at that moment that I realized what a paralyzing fear that had been for me. Every night I'd go to bed with a hundred or so possible nocturnal terrors playing a vicious game of tag in my mind and at the moment we were officially accepted into hospice, it was as if a giant, powerful and benevolent playground monitor chased those terrorists away and locked the gate so they couldn't get back in to harass me. Call it hyperbole if you like, but that's exactly what it felt like.

With a few signatures, I was to learn that if one or both of my parents experienced dizziness or signs of an impending stroke, or fell on the way to the bathroom, or spiked a temperature out of nowhere, or was suddenly incapacitated, no matter what the time of day or night, all I had to do was call the 24/7 hospice number and they would COME TO US. You have no idea how huge that is.

Durable medical equipment. Ummmmm, yes, my Mom does need a new walker and I've felt for months that my dad's cane was inadequate for his unstable, wobbly gait. With a few keystrokes Lisa ordered us two new walkers - walkers with SEATS! OMG OMG OMG!!!!   Ding, ding, ding, ding - I was beginning to feel that I was the winner of the lightning round of a game show. When she suggested a bedside toilet, I started looking up at the ceiling expecting it would open up with balloons and confetti because I had just been named the GRAND PRIZE WINNER!!!! 

If Lisa would have stopped at "bedside toilet", I would still have felt like the winner of the Powerball, but she went on to inform me that if/when the time came for hospital beds, they would be delivered and guess what? It's covered by Medicare. I looked over at Sharon, who's mouth was open just as mine was and said, "Get out of town.". I also looked to Sharon for confirmation that I was hearing all of this right - I mean, is this for real?

Now, my reaction to these benefits may appear to be over the top but I assure you it is not. Imagine taking complete and total care of a 90 and 91 year old, who happen to be your parents (so these aren't just any Joe and Jane Doe), who are completely dependent upon you for meals, meds, remote control...control, laundry, beverage delivery to keep the fluids coming and the UTI's at bay, medical visits and oh yes, walking, getting up out of chairs and keeping them out of harm's way and eventually arriving at the point where it's no longer safe to leave them alone with any level of confidence for the 20 minutes you dare take to careen through the grocery store aisles in an attempt to gather enough groceries for a meal or two and return home before the inmates take over the asylum. That's a "run on sentence" because it's been a "run on existence" for the past few years.

Let me tell you...offers of brand new walkers, a bedside toilet and the promise of a hospital bed if/when the time comes, not to mention a CNA who will be visiting us to assist with showers and personal care (huge!!)... the prospect of new durable medical equipment, visiting nurses, CNA's, nurse practitioners and a few hours a week of someone "holding down the fort" so that I have the opportunity to take care of things in the outside world without worrying if my house is in the process of being burned down - I promise - you would find yourself squealing with delight.

It's a crazy life where a grand prize of two admission tickets to HOSPICE could be considered a "grand prize" but, trust me, I'm in the middle of a crazy life.

Where do I sign, Lisa? 

...and in a moment that could only be orchestrated by a power much greater than myself, the doorbell rings right in the middle of the meeting and a man hands me the most beautiful vase of daisies and small pink roses; a heartfelt gift from a dear, sweet member of my inner circle who lives in Nantes, France and who has been a steadfast source of support and love for over eighteen years. Michel sent flowers to brighten up an extremely emotional, stressful day. I can think of no better time to be reminded that someone is thinking of you and channeling the best of thoughts than in the middle of hospice admissions. That's pretty amazing. I'm completely blessed.

So yes, the entire process took three hours and throughout the evening I felt my head swimming with all the information I had been given. "Did I hear that right?" and "Did Lisa really say that?", only reconfirmed my gratitude for Sharon's presence, who selflessly donated an entire afternoon, an extra set of ears and questions I didn't think to ask.

Please don't misunderstand...I know we haven't relocated to "326 Easy Street", but I can tell you that we're in a better place. Besides, I know "Easy Street" is a place of transition and one is never afforded the chance to put down roots there. We're all just getting by the best we know how. 

In addition to Sharon and Michel, I felt the presence and comfort of so many of my friends and family sending me positive thoughts and prayers, text messages and phone calls that reminded me of love and support from near and far away.

The cherry on the ice cream sundae appeared after dinner Friday Evening. I heard voices downstairs and as I walked into the living room, there was the ultimate stress-reliever in the form of my granddaughter, Evelyn, along with her Mom and Dad. Hugs and smiles from a seven month old sweetheart soothe the jitters of a long day and she worked her magic. My daughter in law and son offered comfort and we all rejoiced that, as many of my Facebook friends suggested, "Angels are on the way!".

I didn't really understand what all those comments about angels and helpers meant prior to Friday. 

Now, I know.

The Fall of Autumn...Transitioning into a Transitional Season

"There are a few more freckles on your shoulders.
The hammock swings lower and touches the grass.
The apples are ripe and the corn is past .
Everyone says summer goes by so fast,
And we just got here..."
~ Carly Simon, "We Just Got Here"

The last day of summer was sweet. It was just such a delight - the entire day and into the evening. It was the perfect coda to a tumultuous, crazy, adventure-filled period of time. The summer of 2007 is now, officially, one for the books. It is history. It was quite an interesting time, indeed. (Photo, top: Sue & Susie, 22 September 2007.)

My good friend Sue dropped in yesterday morning bearing gifts from Starbucks. Whenever she comes by, she's always got a surprise or three up her sleeve. She never quite understands that she's the real deal, the main event and even if her hands are empty as she raps on the door, she IS the "gift". And so it was yesterday.

We were all so happy to see her. I hadn't seen her since we last had coffee at Starbucks (where else?) way back in April on a Saturday Morning at Mayfaire. Too much time had passed and so much had happened in our lives. It was so wonderful to reconnect with my energy-infused friend who now lives in Topsail but brought her NY accent and verve with her. She's a force of nature, this one.

My Mom joined us for coffee, talk and a discussion of all that had transpired in the season of sun that was coming to a close. It was great being with both of them. We spoke of her impressive daughter who is in her 3rd year of residency at a hospital in Charlotte. She shared news of her visit with her Manhattan-based son and his wife, who visited her last weekend. Both he and his wife are attorneys in NYC and what interesting lives they lead. She no longer has her side-kick, Cody, who is her daughter's bouncy, boisterous and beautiful Labrador who, one night when Sue was sharing dinner with us, decided that he wanted to go for a swim and we watched in awe as he leapt in our pool with wild and reckless canine abandon. What a show he put on for us! It was hysterical. (Photo: Maxine, Susie & Barbe, 22 September 2007.)

We talked of sailing misadventures and the beauty of the Abacos. She told me that when she read my e-mail back in August when I wrote about my car wreck and, after visiting the blog and checking out the late, great PT Cruiser, she literally cried. She's a passionate woman and I knew she was giving an honest account of her initial reaction. I was spellbound. I reminded her I was in the car wreck and I didn't even cry! She must have gotten emotional enough for both of us.

My Dad finally got up and joined us at the table and collected his warm hug from Sue. Vanessa and Joe came by Friday Night and of course, my Dad got an enthusiastic hug from Vanessa so he had two blond hugs in two days. He felt he was living large.

The conversation around the table went in every possible direction and eventually my Daddy pulled out his diaries and shared some old memories with Sue, who listens with rapt attention to his eager and colorful storytelling. It was just so good to have her back among us. I sat there sipping my hot coffee, surveying the scene, and feeling so happy to be in my home, among family and a good friend, warm sunshine bathing us; a perfect accompaniment to the goodness of those sharing this table with me. Life could only be "tagged" delicious in every single way possible. Moments such as this may look ridiculously common and maybe not so noteworthy, but it's a collection of such "notes" that make any life notable and, I suspect, the recalling of these times comprise a great deal of one's "best recalled times", a little later in life. In fact, I'm sure of it. (Photo: Maxine, Barbe & Sue, 22 September 2007.)

I received an e-mail from my wonderful friend, Mike, serving in Iraq. Well, to be more accurate, I got an e-mail with a heading of "Look! Santa Came Early!". I opened it up and nearly fell over. I signed on to try and talk sense into him, but what can you do with crazy people hanging out in Iraq? He definitely rendered me temporarily mute, but I found my voice quickly when I found him on Yahoo Chat and even though I'm his "elder" by 6 1/2 years, he paid no attention to my admonitions. I'm going to have to schedule a "sit-down" with that boy when he gets stateside this December. If he thinks Iraq is challenging and has "fireworks", he's got no clue until he's dealt with me in person. Thanks Mike - you're an amazingly generous and sweet soul, but you're in so very much trouble. It's sad to reenter the United States in such a way, but you brought it on yourself and though you may be a good foot taller than me, I'm not easily intimidated. But you will be! :-)

Then, I took on something crazy. I had been at a friend's home the night before and was admiring his house and the moulding, and decided I should strip the wooden moulding and handrail of my staircase. I blame him for this, though he refuses to take any responsibility. I got out the liquid stripper and started peeling and melting the paint adhered to the wooden spools and rail and I'm in the middle of a mess, but I think the results will be worth it. Right now, it's just too soon to tell, but I remain optimistic.

What had been a beautiful sunny "last day of summer" Saturday, soon clouded over and thundered boomed in the distance. We had a heckuva storm late yesterday afternoon! I actually took a nap, uncharacteristic for me, and woke up to three nervous cats pacing around my room. It lasted quite a while and looked impressive on the radar. Eventually it passed, as storms always do. If I learned nothing else this summer, I did learn this.

Finally, I took a friend up on an invitation for a final beach walk of summer. I drove over to Wrightsville Beach and we walked in the waves just shortly after low tide, the moon now sprinkling the undulating water and it looked like diamonds dancing in the dark. It was as close to breath-taking as imaginable and I scanned the almost empty beach and just breathed it all in. I was aware that fall was washing in and taking summer out with the tide. It wasn't sad. As we walked down the beach, my mind silently did a quick rewind of the summer - so much of it involved the waters of the Atlantic my feet were stepping in at that very moment. I reached down and dipped both hands in the surf and just let it flow through my fingers.

I can honestly say that this past summer, I didn't just make casual observations from the safety of the shore. I was in the middle of it, in more ways than one. I'd made mistakes, misjudgments, miscalculations and misread the signs, but even with so many "misses", I can say I lived this summer. I guess when you "jump in the water", you're just going to get wet and maybe knocked back by a rogue wave now and again and that's life. It's OK. It is absolutely OK.

For as many mistakes as there were, I learned a lot; I participated. I splashed, sailed and swam and I made it safely to shore and how grateful I am that the shore I returned to was the one on which I found myself walking last night. Wrightsville Beach. The first place I met the ocean when I was six years old. It seemed so oddly apropos that summer 2007 ended where my love affair with the ocean began way back in 1966. My 2007 summer started with a bang, a tropical storm and the illusion of promise. The summer ended with a serene stroll on the beach, calm waves, "a few more freckles on my shoulder", but none the worse for wear and, in many ways, wiser, definitely in better shape physically, and a much more peaceful mind, heart and soul.

Before we walked off the sand, I turned for one last look at the "summer ocean" and I had to smile and whisper, to God, a sincere and heartfelt thanks. For the beauty, the wisdom, the adventures and for surviving it all!

I'm going kayaking this evening. I've never been on a kayak and I'm looking forward to it. It seems a reasonable way to begin Fall - communing, once again, with the water and nature. No tropical storms are forecast so I think it will be a safe expedition. Of course, I'll be taking my camera and if we don't encounter rough marsh conditions, I'll upload the photos later tonight.

As for the Autumn, well, it's not this particular season I have issues with - it's the one that follows that I don't care so much for. I may have been born in February, but I am not a winter person by any stretch of the imagination. However, were it not for the diminished hours of daylight, the chill of the air, the occasional gray skies, summer probably wouldn't hold such charm. I'm definitely going to look for the good stuff, enjoy the days, remain open to opportunities and celebrate every single morning I'm afforded the gift of hopping out of bed and into my days. I'm stunned at how fast they continue to fly and I swear I think time gains momentum in terms of warp speed with each year I celebrate in February.

Maybe the more days we're allowed to hang out on this planet simply increases our awareness of how precious it is and, as we all know, there isn't an infinite quantity of them so that means there's just no time to waste and plan on "living large" another day. No, this is it. This is the "big show". The seeming ordinariness of these "days of our lives" are the "show". How (extra)ordinary they turn out to be is largely up to our own creativity and invention. I aspire to being as creative as I possibly can. I want more nights when I can look at the 24 hours I've had at my disposal and think, "Yeah, I squeezed the most I was capable of out of 'em.". And, because I'm human and know all of my days won't report such stellar results, on the ones I've lagged and been careless with, I want to look back at the end of those, and hopefully determine to do it better next time. And then do it!

And, on a happy note, there's only 272 days until summer but, of course, there's a lot of living to do until then. Happy Autumn to all you leaf lovers out there.

Oh, and a special congratulations to my dear friend Michel and his daughter Anne! She received her Ph.D in neuroscience yesterday! I had the great fortune of meeting Anne on a trip to Nantes a few years ago. We consider Michel part of our family and that makes Anne family, right along with Gwenn, Brieg and Charles. I also know Michel is so proud of her as well he should be. I'm proud of her, too! Well done! C'est Magnifique!

(Photo: Michel and Susie in Central Park, Oct. 2006.)