At Least the Turkey Was Frozen

 

“What was that weird noise?” I asked.

“Your dad?” Bob replied.  “Should I go check?”

“Please, cause he may be on the toilet, and I don’t want to see that”

CALL 911

I can’t feel a pulse

Where is he, ma’am?

On the toilet.  No pulse.  Not breathing.

Get him on the floor, ma’am, lay him down

Toilet FULL of poop.

Dad laid out on the floor, shorts around his ankles

Eyelids flutter

Make sure the doors are open and all pets secured.

Wrangle 8 cats to a locked room.

One off duty EMT

One fire rescue

Three fireman

One VERY tall sheriff

Two EMT’s (women)

Dad sitting up

Flirting with EMT’s

Refusing hospital

Vitals ok

Did you know you can pass out from pooping?

The vasovagal syncope trigger causes your heart rate and blood pressure to drop suddenly.

But at least the turkey was frozen

On Thanksgiving morning, I went to the fridge to fetch the turkey.  The turkey that had been thawing for SIX DAYS.  It was still mostly frozen.  Panic set it.  Company was coming.  WE HAVE TO GO BUY ANOTHER TURKEY!  Bob and I both showered and got ready to go to the store.  I was googling how to cook a frozen turkey (it CAN be done!) when we heard the weird noise from upstairs.

There was so much to be grateful for this Thanksgiving

The turkey was frozen, so we were up and dressed early.

Lake Cunningham Fire Department responding so quickly

AJ, the off duty EMT, first on the scene and so calming

All the responders who were so kind and attentive.

The women EMT’s, because Dad would never miss an opportunity to flirt.

Thanksgiving dinner on the table, on time, all at the same time, with everyone alive and well… that may be a Thanksgiving miracle.

Grief

My last post was April 18, 2018.  On May 2, 2018, my mom kept telling us her tummy hurt.  She didn’t want to eat.  This was not abnormal.  She hated eating.  With her Alzheimers, it was hard to tell what she was actually communicating and feeling, so we took her to the hospital…

Twisted bowel.  Hard decisions to be made.  Mom alert and aware.  No surgery.  No life saving attempts.  Please let me go.  Hospice placement.  Kids and grandkids arrive. Everyone has a chance to say goodbye.  After everyone had left, quiet.  Unreponsive.  Whispered love.  Gentle touches. Tears shed.  Quiet permissions to go.  May 8, 2018, while nurses were in the next room and I had fallen asleep, mom slipped away.  Ever and always, trying not to disturb anyone.

What has grief looked like since? Not what I expected.  Not at all.

Relief… mom is no longer fighting with her own mind to live each day.

Sadness.. Alzheimer’s stole my mom in bits and pieces. Heartbreaking.

Anger.. Why? Just… WHY?

Denial and avoidance.. Stay busy. Stay detached.  Stay away from feelings. Build a protective wall around my heart.

Guilt.. Shouldn’t I feel worse?  Shouldn’t I be crying buckets?  Shouldn’t I miss my mom way more than I do?

Depression..letting go of activities that gave me energy.  Doodling.  Writing.  Crafts.

If you are reading this, you have been on this journey with me.  You have held me close in prayer and in person. You have encouraged me, made me laugh, helped me to wobble through the whole journey of Alzheimers, live in parents, and more.  You’ve carried me through the past 18 months of loss.

We are five days into the new decade.  There are choices to be made going forward.

I choose to

Pick up my pens and doodle.

Write.

Let go of guilt.

Be vulnerable.

Look forward and trust the journey.

Trust the One who loves us through our grieving.