Food, Food, Food, and Elvis

 

On 27 January 2014 I wrote, "Two of mom's former neighbors called on her this afternoon, bringing a pineapple, fudge, a baked chicken, bag of sweet 'taters, two baguettes, two six-packs of Boost, two eight-packs of Activia, a bouquet of flowers, and a balloon. They warned us they'll return next week. We gotta eat!"

We had also received a roast and another chicken the day before and we were expecting a pot of chili the next day. So our pantry was full.

And, yet...all my father wanted was "one of those Elvis sandwiches." Mom, dad, my daughter and I had traveled to Memphis to visit my daughter in school in 2010, and we took a sidetrip to Graceland. I don't think I need to say any more. I learned from my mother that the women always serve the men, but it was fun to watch my dad have a blast in the kitchen after mom died. At any rate, I was making the sandwich shown here for dad after our company departed.

My father made numerous concessions to health with his "Elvis" sandwich, though. He wanted rye bread rather than white bread, he omitted the bacon, and he didn't want it grilled like Elvis did. Nor could my father eat as many as thirteen or more of those sandwiches at one time. One would suffice, thank you very much.

Elvis's peanut butter, banana, and bacon sandwich is now known as The Elvis, and it's served on menus across the South. 

In another note, I wrote that mom greeted her friends with her usual southern gracious charm that always made her friends feel so special. "You cannot tell from looking at mom that she's so sick. Cannot tell, especially when she puts on makeup. It's frightening, really, beause there's such a disconnect between how she looks and what's going on beneath the surface."

And that was my life with my mother in a nutshell.

Interventional Radiology Tests My Patience, 2014

I took a few days off from writing this history about mom and her cancer, because sometimes the memories can be overwhelming. Additionally, little happened on the 21st. On the 22nd of January in 2014, I wrote, "I've only been pissed off twice with mom's treatment over the past year and both times my ire has been directed with the sub-par IR (Interventional Radiology) at this hospital."

I hope, sincerely, that much has changed at my mother's hospital's IR since 2014. I know the man in charge either quit or was let go before June of 2014, because mom told me he was no longer there. IR as a practice was first introduced in the 1960s, but became a medical specialty in 2012, just two years before mom experienced their treatments. The departments conducts angiography, angioplasty, embolization, stent placement, needle biopsy, foreign body removal, and more. While IR became a medical specialty in this century, they introducted biliary and genitourinary system interventions, and should have been very skilled with those process by 2014.

That said, my mother had to return to the IR just two weeks after her hospital stay to replace her biliary catheter because someone in IR did not suture her correctly. As a result, mom developed a fever and was in "pain". When she returned from the hospital, she was exhausted. The next day, 23 January 2014, I wrote, "Mom sleeps. Mom's been sleeping for hours. Mom's twitching in ther sleep. She's been sleeping in the easy-boy chair, and I can't get her to wake up enough to get her to bed. I keep watching her chest to see if she's breathing. I may have to sleep on the couch, because I can't bring myself to go to bed, either."

She woke at 1 a.m. and said, "I've got to go to bed." She took herself back to the bedroom, where she fell asleep again immediately. She had been awake for a total of four hours that day. 

The comments from friends regarding my anger were in empathy, and many responses focused on the anger they felt when their loved ones were shortchanged by any given department within hospital systems. When I expand these entries for my published journal, I'll include some quotes that hit home for me. I had worried at times that I shouldn't be making our private lives public, but my parents didn't mind as long as I directed my writing at friends, and not to the world in general at the time.

Now that time is over. They're both gone. I have learned, through this process, that sharing is what cements us as a society. We need to know that we're not alone.

Note for illustration: This is a graphic image of the digestive system showing the bile duct, which is in the public domain. It is one of the graphics used in the article on Cholangiocarcinoma at Wikipedia. If the cancer cannot be removed and is pressing on or within the bile duct, the patient requires a bile duct stent (aka biliary stent) made of either plastic or metal. That stent holds the bile duct open so bile can continue to flow into the bowels. See more at Cancer Council, NSW, "Inserting a Stent".

Time for Myself

I read a lot while caregiving my mother in Virginia. Mom lent me her library card to use at the only public library I knew about in Lynchburg. Campbell County actually has three public libraries as well as some private collections, and I just learned the library snagged the former visitor's center to create a downtown library. In 2014, however, the library on Memorial Avenue was the only one I knew.

I thought mom weathered the hectic and short-lived visit with friends the previous two days, because I felt comfortable enough to leave the house for the afternoon. I stopped at Starbucks on Boonesboro, then traveled down Rivermont to the library. I was familiar with their collections by this time, as I already had gone through the eight books in Stephen King's Dark Tower series, as well as the five books contained in The Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins. I read the former as a dare to myself, and the latter so I could understand my daughter's fascination with the movies based on those books.

This time I listed The Invention of Murder by Judith Flanders, Indiscretion by Charles Dubow, Deeply Odd by Dean Koontz, and House of Earth by Woody Guthrie as my borrowed reads. I don't remember reading any one of these four books, and I don't know why. I do remember the premise of Deeply Odd, because my late husband and I discovered "Odd Thomas" during one trip to Virginia as we listened to a book on CD. I became slightly addicted to poor Odd.

I won't know why I don't remember those four books in particular until I go through the upcoming memories that Facebook holds. I do know that, after my husband died in 2015, I couldn't read for years. I couldn't concentrate enough, and my retention of what I did read was at zero. Only recently, almost ten years after his death, have I been able to read and retain information. Fiction bores me now, even Stephen King. What I crave is non-fiction works that prove I am now capable of learning and retaining.

Who am I trying to prove anything to? Myself. I think that's important.

Photo by Vincenzo Malagoli at Pexels.

The DNR, Funeral Planning, and Time for Me

Today in 2014, I mentioned on Facebook that my mother's horrendous bed wedge arrived (that matched her bedroom walls), that mom's cardiologist wasn't happy with mom's edema, and that I had discovered the DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) and posted it on the side of the refrigerator. That was a handy place, as the kitchen was located just off the entranceway.

The responses I received from my friends to this post were both heartfelt and expansive. Some of my friends went into great detail on how they handled their own parent's DNR and then segued into how their parent sat down to plan their own funerals. My mother did write her obituary, but she was certain no one would come to her funeral or memorial service, so she vetoed that idea. Hospice had other plans, though, and we did get to enjoy a service months after she died. We lost her obituary, though. That's another story.

The cardiologist was a contentious issue, because hospice wasn't happy with the number of visits that he wanted my mother to add to her schedule. Hospice, at that time and place, was into providing palliative care to make the patient comfortable. The cardiologist was intent on keeping my mother alive, which was going to prove to be a losing battle.

Interestingly, both the cardiologist and hospice agreed that my mother should continue to see her nephrologist, the doctor who specialized in the diagnosis and treatment of kidney disease. I think hospice felt it would be good to keep tabs on that one kidney mom had to know more in advance about when her kidney might give up the ghost. I agreed. Cartainty in the face of uncertainty, for me, was vital at the time. That was a healthier compromise for us all.

Another friend wanted me to find a massage therapist for me, not for my mother. But, as I told her, anytime I left the house, I could count on my mother having an emergency situation. I was thankful for mobile phones, but I still didn't have much freedom.

The one joy I allowed myself to have in my trips back and forth between Virginia and home was to stop at the Blenko Glass Factory in Milton, Cabell County, West Virginia. I would pick up one piece, resulting in several dozen pieces that I eventually sold on eBay. The piece I purchased on my last trip to Virginia that ended with mom's death was a rare one. White frosted glass with dimples. I still have that piece.

I took the photo above during one pit stop at Blenko. It was a very colorful place, and I always enjoyed browsing all the interesting shapes and textures. I do miss those visits.

Some Days are Quiet

Caregiving is a roller coaster, with days that go up and down. On some days there is nothing to report, like today. That's when it's time to sit back and reflect rather than conjure up something out of thin air. I'm sure I'll be here tomorrow with news from the past.

The Unwanted Bed Wedge and Donations

Today in 2014 I wrote that my parents decided to delay the arrival of the hospital bed, because that decision seems so final. Mom chose, instead, to obtain a wedge for the bed she shared with dad so she could sleep with her chest elevated to help her breate better. What a mistake that decision turned out to be. That wedge was huge, she used it once, and it stayed with us until my father died. 

The wedge was blue to match the bedroom walls, removeable fabric-covered foam, about 27° angle, and it took up more than 1/2 of my parents' queen-sized bed. When mom used it, she said the bottom of her spine hurt. I knew what she meant, and that position wasn't the best for her, or for anyone for that matter. But, since hospice ordered it and my parents didn't pay for it, they kept it.

Since that wedge stayed past dad's demise, it was up to me to decide what to do with that durn thing. I donated it. I hope it found a good home.

Speaking of donations, plan now to decide what you want to pass on to your friends, family, children, etc. and which things need to be donated. I had to make those decitions alone for both parents, as my siblings live out west and weren't part of the day-to-day plans and outcomes regarding either parents' deaths. My parents didn't say a word about most of their items, and I didn't know to ask. I wish I did. My life would be so much easier.

Even now, many of my parents' belongings are sitting quietly down in my basement, waiting for me to decide what to do with them.

Hospice Arrives and Our Brains Hurt

On this day, 12 January in 2014, my parents and I were introduced to hospice for the first time in our lives. Although my parents had already lost their parents, the only experience they had with hospice (that I remember) was when dad's brother engaged with hospice to help take care of his dying wife in 2007. We were intrigued, and lodged that possibility of help in the backs of our brains for future use. Now was the time to see if it would work.

I noted in a Facebook post that hospice nurses drilled my father and I with our parts in taking care of mom. Our days would be filled with counting sodium mg (3 grams per day max), liquids (no more than 1,500 ML per day), tactics on how to shoot saline into various tubes protruding from my mother's body, how to change dressings, and learning how to operate two different oxygen systems. Dad did panic once when he couldn't replace the cap correctly on mom's bile duct catheter, but he eventually got it. He also cooked most of the evening's dinner and I picked up a baked chicken at Kroger.

I don't know how many chickens we consumed during mom's illness and especially after she died, but that's a story in itself. I pray for all the chickens.

The man who brought the oxygen was entertaining. Dad had a great time talking with him. The parents had a gas fireplace, and the oxygen man was especially leery of that contraption, but dad promised they wouldn't turn it on while oxygen was in the room. We eventually stored the tanks in the corner of their master bedroom, and we "hid" the current oxygen tank in use behind the easy chair in the living room.

Now we waited for all the "contraptions" to arrive, including a hospital bed, shower chair, wheelchair, and walker. Mom was on cloud nine with all the attention, but when everyone left she became surly about the incoming items, especially the hospital bed. Dad insisted on it, though, because of all the conveniences it offered. Mom was insistent on where to place it. It would go into the living room, where anyone who visited could see it.

That hospital bed eventually became the center of attention.

Many Miles Between Here and There

I didn't note any progress or regression in my mother's cancer or her treatments today over the span of ten years. Sometimes I just had to walk away to gain some perspective. But I did note an interesting pattern to my posts. On this day for several years in a row between 2014 and 2019, I returned home to Kentucky after spending time with Dad over the holidays in Virginia.

Taking care of my father between those years is another story, so I'll save most of those details for later. The distance I traveled between 2015 (after my spouse died) and 2020 (when my father died) added up over the years, though, and that is a point of interest for now.

I'm fortunate that my little black 2014 Chevy Cruze LT, which I purchased after my husband died, made all those trips without major issues. We'll not count the time a buck charged at my car outside Beckley, West Virginia, in 2015 with my daughter and infant grandson in the car. It was rutting season, after all. We all were fine, and the Chevy braved it.

The one-way mileage between where I live and where my parents lived equals about 750 miles, or about eight hours. That's 1,500 miles per visit, which is why most visits were extended ones. Of course, I became very bored with traveling the interstate time and again, so I took back roads sometimes. I will never do that again when driving alone, because I saw so much beauty in the Appalachian mountains, and I couldn't stop, because--you know--a single woman traveling alone...

Back roads also added to the mileage. So, I often kept to the interstate along with a book on disc. I kept measure of my time on the road by the towns I passed on my way, the roadside oddities, such as iron bridges spanning the interstate and log cabins off in mowed fields, and by pit stops. I tried to make only two restroom stops, one at the halfway mark, and one when I left the interstate to travel the mountain road into Lynchburg. One never knows how long that leg of the trip might take. It would depend upon any slow drivers or 16-wheelers in front of me.

Plus, I would always stop in Clifton Forge to visit with my father's brother. He passed this last year, so I won't need to make that trip unless I wanted to visit the cemetery. I guess that's a mandatory thing, so I'll see that gas station above at least one more time, I guess. The photo is one I took in 2019 in a pit stop outside Clifton Forge. It was the one time I didn't stop to see my uncle. I had bad feelings on that trip, and they came to a head at this stop, which is why I took the photo. I didn't know what was going on with me then, but I have a good idea now. Sometimes we do have premonitions.

At times I long to take that trip again. I would have a reason, as I still have an aunt and cousin in Virginia. I learned this past year that I have many more cousins, thanks to DNA testing, and they all want to meet up the next time I return. I wonder if I can take someone with me.

Cancer Caregiver? Participate in this Survey...

Hi folks -- I'm passing on this information for Alexis, who is studying the ways that caregivers might interact with their support groups. I'll let her tell you all about it...

"My name is Alexis Johnson and I am a doctoral student in the Department of Communication Studies at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. My research centers on health communication processes, and I am conducting research that I hope will improve our understanding of supportive communication between social networks and family caregivers of patients with cancer. As someone who has provided care to a patient with cancer, I am interested in conducting research that is aimed at better understanding the memorable, supportive messages that are shared with family caregivers in cancer.

"To participate: Participants in the states of Nebraska and Alabama must be at least 19 years old or older to participate, participants in the state of Mississippi must be at least 21 years old to participate, and participants in all other states must be at least 18 years old to participate. If you meet these requirements, and are a current family caregiver of a patient with cancer, and have 20-30 minutes to complete an online survey, you are eligible to participate in this important research."

You can learn more about this survey by going to the site and clicking on the link on that page. You can also find Alexis' credentials and contact information at that site.

Motivation

From Cure Magazine's article

This morning, Mara Eve Robbins posted a poem I wrote a year ago on my personal Facebook wall. It needs editing, but it hit home. The poem was about a comparison between my mother and myself, about death, and about the forty pair of shoes my mother left behind. It's been a little over ten months since mom died, and the last pair of her shoes left her closet on April 4. My daughter and I packed them into the car for the trek back home. Then, my daughter and husband piled themselves into the car and left me with dad.

Yep, I'm back in the caregiving saddle again.

Mara's post also hit home, because it was just a year ago that I took off with her to stay at her house in Floyd, Virginia for Easter weekend. Did I realize it was Easter weekend at the time? No. Something has happened to my thinking over the past three years that disabled my ability to connect with the rest of the world. Except for Christmas, holidays don't seem to exist.

And, it's Poetry Month, and I'm not writing poetry. I haven't written anything in the memoir, either. I haven't written my blogs or anything else other than work for a  new client. While I can use that client work for an excuse, I think, frankly, that I just needed a break.

Darrell Laurent, long-time columnist for the Lynchburg newspaper and author of several books, wrote something this morning in his public Facebook Group, The Writers' Bridge. He wrote:

"Losing our motivation is part of the larger creative process. We wouldn't have the bursts of inspiration and productivity without the difficult creative dips. 

"When we lose our creative steam, not only does our writing come to a crawl, but we also start feeling low about ourselves. 

"For example, when you aren't writing, the feeling that you should be working nags at the back of your mind. This tension creates further stagnation and deepens the creative funk."

Some tips he provided included 1) Honoring the rest period; 2) recommit; and 3) talk about your work...among others. Those three points stuck with me.

Since I don't believe in coincidence, I honor the fact that Mara posted that poem and that Darrell posted that article. They both motivated me to blow through this fog and get something down in writing.

And, now that I've started, it seems the flood gates are opening in my head. There's just so much...so much.

Two major events happened recently regarding the book. Denise Brown at Caregiving and I had another little blog chat, this time about marriage (and the marriage, btw, is doing much better). That 1/2 hour discussion is available at Blog Talk Radio.

The other issue is the article in Cure Magazine about caregiving. I'm not sure why they have me in that article, because it opens with me, but doesn't go anywhere with me. The initial article was much more involved. But, they had a photographer come out to my town to take a photo, so I guess they felt compelled to use it. As a result, I have a speaking engagement in Louisville in August. This is a good thing.

Last, but not least, I'm been somewhat gainfully employed by Merchant Negotiators since January. I have conducted a lot of writing and research for that company over the past few months leading up to that site's "going live" this past week. Once again, I'm writing about financial issues. If I ever win the lottery, I know a lot about how to manage those winnings!

As for dad -- he's doing fine. He's actually doing great. I just needed to validate that information for myself. More about him later at my blog on Caregiving.com.

Beating the Flu

Dad's Gifts, Christmas 2014

Happy New Year! Sorry I've been absent over the holidays, but my body chose that time frame to contract the flu and hold onto it like it was gold. I'm not one of those individuals who likes to complain in public, but dang -- I feel for anyone with this flu, especially for those individuals who received the flu shot. Seems the authorities missed out on this strain big time.

Despite my down time, I accomplished a slew of tasks. I couldn't visit Dad over the holidays because of my illness (hubby was sick, too) and because we were strained financially by the loss of my last client. Still, my daughter and I managed to get out and purchase a few things for Dad and send them to him. He especially loved the kitchen scissors and the denture cleanser (something he can't find that easily where he lives). More about this effort at my Caregiving.com blog, I Won't Be Home for Christmas.

Also enjoyed the Caregiving.com Blog Party. I met a lot of new caregivers who blog about their experiences (many listed already in my "links" section), and I had quite a few visitors. Was happy to hear that "Jennifer" won the invisibility cloak that I offered as a prize. That cloak arrived from London the day before the winner was announced, and I'm sending it back out to Jennifer tomorrow. Hope she enjoys!

Making progress on the memoir, too. I'm looking forward to one more writer's retreat in January to finalize the poetry for the book. Then, by mid-February, I should be able to hand the book over to my editor. After a few beta reads, I'll self-publish the book and it should be available by May at the latest. To celebrate, I've created a website for the book and for future publications, too. Easy enough to remember -- lindagoin.com!

January 3 was a huge day for me, thanks to Denise at Caregiving.com (I happen to love that site, can you tell?). She provided an opportunity for me to plug my memoir and talk about caregiving during a live interview. That interview now is available online at Caregiving's Blog Talk Radio. Give yourself about 40 minutes to listen to us jabber away.

That's about it for now. I am feeling much better, and if you were sick (or if you're currently ill), I wish for your health to improve soon. Let's all focus on a great 2015 so we can stave off the monsters. Cheers~!

A Warm Welcome to the Blog Party!

Young woman decorates the Christmas tree, painting by Marcel Rieder (1862-1942) from 1898

A warm welcome for all my new visitors (and old friends as well). Today marks the beginning of the Caregiving.com's Fifth Annual Holiday Progressive Blog Party, and I'm one happy participant! Throughout the week of December 7, you can stop by the blogs of family caregivers and drop off holiday well-wishes and good cheer. This year, the party also includes companies that provides services and/or products to help family caregivers.

1. Be sure to stop by each site during the week. The sites are listed at Caregiving.com.
2. When you stop by, share a comment and let the blogger know you’re visiting because of CareGiving.com’s Holiday Progressive Blog Party.
3. Be sure to stop by that page at Caregiving.com regularly, as more participants may be added as the week goes by.

I was happy to be able to donate a prize for this party -- an invisibility cloak. Everyone (caregivers especially) would love a chance to become invisible every once in a while, I believe. Put on that cloak (provided by Cat at her Etsy shop -- if you don't win this cape, you can purchase one from Cat!).

Welcome, welcome, welcome. I hope you can stay a while...

Blog Parties and Invisibility Cloaks

The silver "invisibility" or "superhero" cape -- perfect for caregivers for the holidays!

If you've followed me on Twitter, Facebook, or here at the blog, you know that Thanksgiving sucked for me. But, I recovered nicely, mainly because I was grateful that dad had a great time with his friends. Plus, my brother called, and -- despite my initial nausea over the smell of my husband's turkey -- that meat sure was good on a sandwich.

Next up -- the "real" holidays. Christmas, Boxing Day, Hanukkah, whatever individuals celebrate during December. I'm dreading the upcoming holidays and all the traditions that go with them. In a discussion with other caregivers and family members who lost their loved ones this past year to bile duct cancer, one woman said, "Christmas will even be worse" than Thanksgiving. I thought, "Wow -- I don't know if I want to project that far ahead," but then another woman agreed that the holidays will be worse, and then another woman agreed...

So, maybe Christmas will be worse than Thanksgiving, but I'm going to do everything I possibly can to reverse that direction for myself. Someone else asked if it was acceptable to be "peacefully inactive" for the holidays. Of course! Even more so, it would be wonderful if caregivers could become invisible. Just for a few hours, maybe, or a day...and, in the right situation, maybe for an entire week through New Year. What if we could wear an invisibility cloak that could serve us throughout the entire year when needed?

So I went hunting for an invisibility cloak and I found one at an Etsy shop based in England. This cape is not for me, however. I'm giving it away through Caregiving.com's upcoming Caregiving Holiday Blog Party. I've posted a link for this event in the right column on this site. If you cannot see that red background photo, please let me know and just use the link in this paragraph. Those links can take you to the event page to learn more about how to win this cape and at least five other prizes during the week between December 7th and 13th.

Many thanks to Cat and her to her Etsy invisibility capabilities! I'm excited about providing a caregiver with a way to become invisible anytime he or she wants. What a great gift, period, for any caregiver!

The Holidays for Caregivers

What will Christmas be like without mom? I'm about to find out, with support from the folks at Caregiving.com...

The holidays will never be the same after a death of someone close to you. Even if that person got under your skin, something in you will expect that irritation -- especially during the holidays. That voice! Will it stay in your head forever?

On the other hand, the loss can be overwhelming. Not only is a loved one gone, but your life has changed. Forever. There's no pulling a cat out of a hat on that one. What are you feeling now? Rage? Frustration? Guilt?

No matter what you're feeling (if you survived Thanksgiving, that is), you might find comfort in the holiday survival articles posted at Caregiving.com. The "Attitudes on Platitudes" gave me my first laugh-out-loud moment yesterday. "Bah Humbug? A True Tale of Christmas" showed me how I have the power to alter my holiday traditions to make a new history for myself and my family. "Ten Signs an Aging Relative Needs Help" helped me decide if my remaining parent needs help or if I need help...(reading halfway through the list made me realize I'm in dire straits!).

I invite you to snoop around at Caregiving.com to see if this site fits your needs. I know, while caregiving, that little time is spent on what the caregiver needs or wants...and it takes time to commit to dedicating yourself to a group of individuals who may really understand you and care about you...but, hey. During the holidays, it might be just what you need.

Membership is free. Just join us. Now.

Overcoming Another Major Organization Hurdle

My desk this morning and then...this afternoon.

By the end of November, I should have this house in fairly decent shape. I need to be more organized, because I'm juggling several balls right now -- my Etsy shop, Amazon book sales, an upcoming writing workshop, clients, and -- the main purpose behind all this activity -- my memoir.

It made perfect sense for me to tackle my desk today in light of the deadline I set for myself with clients and the book. In the photos above, you can see a cluttered desk filled with items that I needed to list on Amazon and other items I need to photograph for sale on my Etsy shop (links to both venues are listed in the right column). All those items now are in their proper places, mostly. I did make it through the books today, and they're all out the door, listed on Amazon, or on my bookcase in the bedroom. I'm limiting myself to one bookcase for books I want to keep.

The other items are sitting on the folding table behind me as I sit at my desk. My next task is to photograph those pieces, then list them on Etsy and put them away in a nice, neat box until they're sold.

I don't know if I would have found the motivation to become more organized without Caregiving.com's 30-Day Organization Challenge. I don't like to fail at anything, and making a commitment to this challenge was one of the best things I could have done for my family and for myself. I have been battling depression for the past two years since before mom's diagnosis, and my struggle seems to be worse lately. I think it's because I don't have to focus on mom's caregiving anymore, so the focus is on me and my losses. It's all part of grief and grieving. A competition to become more organized was, surprisingly, just what I needed to begin to look at my life with new perspective and with less stress.

I'm happy about seeing my desk again. I'm also happy that I've untangled the speakers and separated them for better sound since I took that second photo. During this "desk-cleaning" project I was pleased to find a bracelet I thought I had lost. Bonus!

Now, to rid myself of this paranoia. I feel like the objects lurking on that table behind me are making fun of me and just waiting for me to fail at moving forward on these tasks. Little do they know that I have them on my "organization" hit list for tomorrow.

New Post at Caregiving.com -- a Great Community for Caregivers

Dad and my husband at a market this past fall.

I have a new post up about long-distance caregiving for dad at caregiving.com. This task of caregiving for dad is not a chore at the moment, but changes have altered the scenario both here at my home and at dad's place. My footing as a caregiver for dad is totally off-balance and unsure. I don't really know what he needs right now, but I guess that unknown is alright. At least, he seems to be doing well for his age. He seems to be doing somewhat fine alone, but I think I know he's not happy.

I'm not happy. None of us are happy right now. Life is stressful, but we all keep going along, doing what we think we need to do. Some of that "knowing" has changed, though, since mom's death. I am finding support at Caregiving.com -- what a great little community with some great leadership through Denise. In fact, I can't keep up with all the blogs, the activities, the podcasts, or the events this site offers; but it's great to know I have those resources available.

Without caregiving.com, in fact, I wouldn't have had the initiative to get organized around here. Hugh, my husband, wouldn't have a studio for making his baskets. I owe all that to the short amount of time I've spent with Denise and the other caregivers at that site.

I wish dad would find a community similar to what I've found with caregiving.com. He's not computer savvy, though, so that community would have to meet in person. But again, I don't know what dad needs right now. I don't think he knows what he needs.

I'm a Caregiver, and I Matter

A birthday present to myself. Brenda Avadian leads caregivers in a simple Mirror Exercise to remind them, "I'm a Caregiver and I Matter." Caregivers experience a wide range of reactions depending on where they are along the caregiving journey.

There's No Turning Back...

My Logitch K120 keyboard, which I've owned for about three years. Note the dents, the missing letters, and possible pieces of peanut butter sandwich lodged between the keys. This is a writer's keyboard.

If I had been on the ball today, I would have written a post for Caregiving.com about caregiving my father from a distance. That topic is so muddled these days that I can't make sense of it, though, and I can't put it on paper yet. Death, when it touches someone close to us, changes us. All of us. There's no turning back.

That change goes very deep, too. I realize, in my conversations with other caregivers, that we're a breed apart in many ways. We have one portion of our lives (usually our own) that's disorganized and unimportant. The other part of our lives is insanely organized, much like Temple Grandin's Livestock Handling Systems. What goes in follows a defined path until it exits.

My life as caregiver to mom was organized. It became more organized the sicker she became. The one-time-per-day seven-day pill holder went to a two-week pill holder that held morning, noon, and night pills. The journals became real journals instead of sticky notes. The physical observation went from downright obvious to sly, so it wouldn't upset mom to know that I was becoming more concerned about her yellow skin, her swollen ankles, her swelling stomach.

My life, on the other hand, kept fading into the distance. It helped that I wasn't at home for this illusion to work. Home became a lone fragment of fog floating up and over a mountain away from my daily routines.

But I'm home now. It's real. I'm becoming more organized. You may have read about part of that organization in my previous entry about changing the spare bedroom into a basket-making studio for my husband. My office? Still the same -- I have a path that leads from the door to my chair. I have a keyboard with no letters from overuse. I have chaos.

But, I'm focused on my mission to finish this memoir. My tool is the clock. I've used it before in keeping time with mom's daily routines, and I can use it again in writing this book. I know how that time-keeping works, as do so many other caregivers. Time. That linear framework consisting of hours, minutes, and seconds is all we have to align ourselves among the realities of health, sickness, and death.

There's no turning back (except for this damnable daylight savings time bullcrap).

Making Progress with the Organization Challenge

Two days ago I posted photos that I took of the spare bedroom that my husband and I are working on so he can use that space to make his hand-made baskets. Those photos, which I took on November 1st, represent the mess created by me from traveling back and forth between my parents' home and my home over the past two years -- plus dragging a lot of mom's things back with me to my home. Today, just seven days into the month, we've made tremendous progress on this room.

I'm very grateful to Caregiving.com's 30-Day Organization Challenge, because I don't believe we would have made this progress without a challenge. Take a look:

The first image of the corner near the closet -- everything is gone! I won't tell you what my office and our bedroom look like, though...

I couldn't back up far enough to take a photo of this corner of the room -- now that corner holds my husband's desk, computer, and basket supplies that were, initially, in our bedroom. We did a little switching around here.

As you can see from the photos above, we moved a lot of things out of the spare bedroom. But, a lot of my husband's things were in our bedroom, so we simply switched the portable closet for the desk, and his bookshelf with basket supplies for my bookshelf that still has a lot of junk on it.

This shot shows a LOT of things moved. I still have the rest of the month to go through all the boxes.

I'm very proud of the images above -- even though I haven't gone through all the boxes yet, I was able to organize the bags and loose items into separate piles to make my task easier.

Uh-oh...I have "stuff" on the top of the bookshelf. I'll move those items this evening.

All my husband needs to do to get started making baskets again is a table. We've got one -- he just needs to bring it up from the basement. And -- ta-da! This part of the task is done, all in just one week.

30-Day Organization Challenge, or How I'm Dealing with "Stuff"

One corner of the room -- and this was after I had already moved some boxes.

Caregiving.com started a 30-Day Organization Challenge for members on November 1. Denise is providing daily prompts for folks who want to follow along and spend 15 minutes per day organizing a purse, a mud room, bills and receipts (which would take me three months alone!), or under the kitchen sink. Members also have a choice to pick another project to organize. Since I knew I'd spend more than 15 minutes per day on most of the prompts, I decided instead to tackle one large project.

I couldn't move far enough into the room to capture the entire mess in one corner.

Since we're trying to work together on projects, I approached my husband about this organization challenge. He makes beautiful hand-made baskets and he could bring in income with these baskets if he had a larger space to work with. For the past two years he was stuffed into a corner of our bedroom, with no room to work at all.

The chifferobe? It's for sale (local only)!

I suggested that we clean out the 'spare' bedroom that isn't a bedroom at all. As you can see from the photos, this room is a catch-all for my clothes as well as for my mother's things that I'm salvaging from my parents' home. The room was, on day one, so dysfunctional that I couldn't find clothes to wear. For the past five days now -- every day this month -- my husband and I have spent approximately 15 minutes per day moving things back and forth between our bedroom and that spare bedroom. You wouldn't believe the difference already!

The books are mine -- but most of them will go up for sale on Amazon. That's just one bookshelf out of ten in this house. A little bit of a nutty obsession -- each book I own has a story behind it.  The clothes? They belonged to mom. What the heck am I doing with them? I'll figure it out...

This project could have been a daunting task, but with my husband's help it's coming together quickly. At this point we're just moving things back and forth, though. The task of going through all the boxes and organizing things is going to take the rest of the month, I'm sure.

I'll post "after" photos when we're done. Then we can tackle the living room, which is almost 1/4 filled with more boxes from the folks' house. Oy.