Being Ernest

As a family, we were preparing to leave town the following week for our annual trip to Lake Powell.
After my last visit with dad, I knew things were a little off.
His look was “droopy”… I didn’t think he would last the year.



I had a strong feeling that I should have a plan in place, just in case I was needed at home during our vacation.
I checked out pricing for flights home and knew the best route to take.
Little did I know, we would never make it to the lake.

Mom received a call from dads care center Sunday evening.
He took a turn for the worse and they didn’t expect him to last 24 hours.
My husband and youngest daughter joined me as I rushed out to meet Mom and my brother there.
My oldest was at work and would join us later.

Eric was already there when we arrived. I found him in the lobby, trying to console his youngest son.
I made my way to dads room and immediately recognized the death rattle.
Mom arrived not long afterward. There was no doubt that we were spending the night there.
Without hesitation, we canceled the hotel, and Eric postponed his business trip.
Both mom and dad were given a priesthood blessing.

Evan and Taylor left to meet Kylee back home.
They gathered some things to help keep me comfortable and the three of them returned with my care package.
Eric made arrangements for G to spend the night at a friends and retuned after dropping him off.

Mom, Eric and I spent the night in chairs placed in dads side of the room.
We listened to him labor in breathing all night long.
The nurses took great care of him, administering Morphine and Lorazepam as prescribed by hospice.
In the morning, mom left to care for her dog and eat some breakfast. Eric and I stayed.
Dad continued to struggle with his breathing. Just listening to him wore me out. I am certain he was exhausted.
Mom returned and the three of us watched, listened, and waited.
Dad took his last breath at 11:01 AM, Monday morning.

My immediate thought…. Dad has CLARITY!

we forgot…

Forgetting is a natural side effect of aging.
At least, that is what I am blaming my recent and shameful forgetfulness.
I might add my husband to this statement, because we forgot to remind each other.

Under normal circumstances, this is not a big deal.
Usually, we can overcome these oversights.
But, when it effects a third party, recovery is not as simple.

Ever since their first birthday, each of our daughters received roses from their father.
One, for every age.
A single on on their first birthday. A dozen for #12, Sixteen for sweet 16.
Well, you get the picture.

This year would have been 26 for our eldest.
But is wasn’t. We forgot.
But this is not the only forgotten tradition.
All of the usual pomp and circumstance of birthday week (as we affectionately call it)
were also downgraded. No wrapped presents. No birthday cake.

In our defense, we did not forget to eat.
That is something we hardly every forget to do.
And, Kylee did get to choose.

So, as I try to sort through my guilt,
I have to remind myself that we did do something good.
We raised a daughter that is easy going.
We raised a daughter that has never been overly dramatic, self centered or demanding.
We raised a daughter that faithfully served a mission and returned with honor.
This birthday came and went with hardly a peep.

As I prepare now for the birthday (week) of my youngest.
I laughed a little when I though to myself…
The first born has to deal with our mistakes.
The second born has to deal with our over-corrections.

Again, I remind myself that we did do something good…
TWICE!

Being Ernest

I bought dad a car magazine before our visit today.
He happily accepted my gift and started to thumb through its pages.
The first four pages to be exact.
While he was awake, he browsed through those four pagers, over and over again.
While he napped, I colored Easter Eggs with some of the staff and residents.

As we were finishing up the eggs, I was talking to one of the caregivers who shared this with me…
On Sunday, Dad was taken from his room to Church services in the lobby.
He sang the Hymns, in his own way, using his own words.
He partook of the Sacrament.

I think that his soul rejoiced in these familiar surroundings.
My hope, is that our souls do the same.

Being Ernest

Dad was in a good mood today.
He would hold eye contact for a moment.
He would randomly chuckle at nothing.
My visit with him was just what I needed.

I had a very difficult week.
The love and support of my husband and daughters
gave me everything I needed to start getting through it.
My mom encouraged me and loved me the way only a mom can.
I sat with my dad today, needing him too.

I was overwhelmed with the notion to talk to him,
to tell him what has happened, knowing it wouldn’t matter.
I teared up a bit and dismissed the thought.
But, it came back.
I looked at my dad and told him that I had a bad week.
He looked away at something that wasn’t there.
I told him that if he looked at me, I would tell him what happened.
In almost an instant, he looked my way.
I proceeded to tell him about my week.
When I was done, he chuckled.
I needed that too.
It was as if he was telling me that everything will be OK.
and I believe it will.

Thanks for being there for me, dad.

B is for Brownies, or BAD DOG!

Tonight was my night to cook for the family. My mother, brother and his crew included.
I planned and prepared the perfect meal, including dessert:
Chocolate brownies infused with Blood Orange Olive Oil.
The house smelled of scrumptious oranges all. day. long.
The meal was timed perfectly.
All the guests arrived and we were enjoying a hot meal within minutes.
Good company. Great conversation. Dessert anticipation.

Suddenly, an unusual noise caught my attention.
I caught a glimpse of something under the pantry door.
Then, I realized, the dog was not at his usual spot
underneath the table in search of a dropped morsel.
I jumped up, opened the pantry door, and found him…
face down in the plate of fresh brownies.

Being Ernest

I had one goal today for my visit with dad... trimming his fingernails.

I set out with toenail clippers in hand (that's right!), and my youngest daughter.

When I arrived, he was not in his usual spot in the dining room. Today, he was in a recliner in the TV room, fast asleep. I nudged him awake and said my hello's. I gently held his right hand and promptly snipped away. Some nails already shortened by his own incessant picking, others quite long and thick. (Hence, the toenail clippers.)

Getting to the left hand was not as easy. I literally had a battle on my hands. He was pulling away, grabbing my wrists, hiding his fingers. Doing all that he could to prevent me from completing my task. I learned today, that patience is key. I sat and held his hand and waited.
And waited.
And waited. 

I talked to him as I continued to make my way to a finger. I would single one out, pose it and wait. More than once, I had to start this process over. I eventually won the battle and left dad trimmed and both of us, quite content.

Being Ernest

Friday has become my dad day. I spend at least an hour with him in the morning. Today is no exception. 

He has been in a Memory Care Center for two months. It was a hard decision to make. One filled with doubts and second guessing.  But, as we watch his continued withdrawal and decline,  we know now that this is right.  He is getting what we couldn't give and more of what we could... and this is good.

Today, I found him is his usual morning place. In a wheelchair at the dining room table.  All alone. I sat down in front of him and tried to make eye contact.  This is becoming increasingly difficult.  My eyes chased his and we finally connected.  I got a smile and a chuckle.  He doesn't speak much.

As part of our routine,  I scratch his back which is riddled with keratosis.  Some days this perks him up and he leans forward anticipating more. Today he didn't budge. I went to his room, got a warm, wet wash cloth. I wiped his face, cleaned the gunk from his lashes, and groomed his hair a bit. He enjoyed this, just as he did at home.

Most of my visit today was quiet. I just sat next to him as he slept. He perked up a bit after the nurses (who call him Ter-Bear) urged him to get up. He took a brief walk with their assistance. He sat down, in a chair this time, and we were able to connect eye to eye. He held eye contact for a bit this time. I like that. It gives our souls a chance to communicate. Another chuckle or two later he was back to dozing off. I said my goodbyes and told him I would see him another day.

Being Ernest

Ernest is my fathers name, although, he goes by Terry.

Several years ago, he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. His early decline was slow and subtle, but noticeable. As we have approached the late stage of Alzheimer's, changes are becoming more dramatic. I have been impressed to start documenting our journey with him. Sharing thoughts, insights, and memories.

Today, I had a good visit with him. He was alert. Interactive. Aware.

He found a newspaper on the counter next to the table where he was sitting upon my arrival. He took it and began to "read" it, eyeing the same page over and over again. He would straight it, fold it, open it and re-read it over and over again. I am reminded of how meticulous he was. His workshop was perfectly clean and organized.

There was some music playing in the background and the song change caught his attention. I couldn't help but tease him... his response was perfect and his smile causes me to smile every time I see it!

the perfect tribute

It has been over 9 month’s now since my mother-in-law passed away.
(Where has the time gone!)

There were so many decisions being made on her behalf during that time.
At least one of her three children were at her side the majority of the time she was hospitalized.
She was seldom alone.

The three of them, together, carefully selected the perfect casket and the most beautiful flowers.
Each decision was made with her in mind.
Asking themselves…. what would she like?
Telling themselves… that is perfect for her.

When discussing the head marker…
her youngest son spoke up and suggested the placement of something music related along with the dates.
There was absolute agreement. It was the perfect idea. The perfect tribute.

It took some doing… but finally… nine months later… it happened.

There is no doubt she is singing with the angels!

a list

1. walked 3 1/2 miles with the hubby
   (our Friday / Saturday morning tradition)
2. ate Blueberry Pancakes
   (homemade by Evan)
3. spray painted the back lawn
   (outlining the future fire pit that I am dreaming about)
4. stepped in dog poop
   (not a tradition, or a dream)
5. dug a trench for retaining wall
   (back fence line… meant to keep neighbors dogs from lurking under the fence)
6. got bitten by angry ants
   (after destroying their farm while digging a trench)
7. washed hands a million times
   (I don’t mind the dirt, just don’t like dirty hands)
8. took a well deserved shower
   (you’re welcome)
9. received an epiphany in the shower
   (we set the retaining wall blocks upside down)
10. called mom
    (dad answered the phone too)
11. talked to dad on the phone
    (asked a few questions, told him good bye, and listed to him try to hang up the phone)
    #alzheimers
12. forgot to wish mom happy birthday
    (it’s OK. taking her and dad to dinner later)
13. dug through the trash
    (to look for a missing receipt)
14. washed my hands a gain
    (you know why)
15. went to IKEA
    (bought another project to build)
16. went grocery shopping
    (because Saturday is a special day )
17. took mom and dad to dinner
    (Happy Birthday Mom! )
18. went to Wal-Mart with the family
    (movie night prep)
19. flipped a couple of retaining wall blocks
    (against my husband’s wishes. he said wait until Monday, but they are really bugging me!)
20. put the finishing touches on my primary lesson
    (parable of the Sheep & Goats )
21. thanked my Heavenly Father for another productive day
    (prayer)
22. when to bed
    (whew!)

22

It started with an order from the doctor to stay in bed.
I was to follow up a week later.
I obeyed, knowing that a week in bed would drive me crazy.

Hardly no time at all passed before the doctor called me at home.
He told me that he consulted with a colleague and they both agreed…
We should not wait any longer.
Delivery was scheduled for the next morning.

We had to deliver Taylor one week early to save her life.
I think, however, she just couldn’t wait any longer.
We have felt the power of her unconditional and powerful love for us ever since!

             

Happy Birthday to our sweet Taylor.
You complete our little family!!

I became a mother…

Today is the anniversary of the day I became a mother.
25 years ago today, to be exact.
I remember it as if it were yesterday.
I’m pretty sure it was.

She arrived…wide eyed and curious.
She has always been open and honest.
She is adventurous.
She is head strong but obedient.
She makes me proud.

She is a dancer.
She is a photographer.
She is a blogger.
She is a returned missionary.
She is one of my most precious treasures.
She is my daughter.

Happy Birthday Kylee!

 

coming home

Yesterday, our Sister Missionary came home.
I have been anxious about this moment for weeks!
It was all that I hoped for.
The best part, was being able to hug her!!!

For 18 months, we have emailed weekly.
Skyped 3 1/2 times
(2 Christmases, 1 mothers day, and during a surprise visit from Uncle Eric and family)
Seen photos on Facebook and even in the newspaper.
She was near, visually and vocally,
but she was missed physically.

Last night at the airport, I got a taste of what our Heavenly Father wants most…
for us to return home

While we are here on Earth
we worship Him weekly on the Sabbath.
We communicate with Him daily trough prayer.
He guides us through the Holy Ghost and his living prophets.
He is anxiously awaiting our return. It is all that He hopes for.
I suspect His arms will be open for a hug too!

the quietus

[part five]

The following morning {Friday} we went back to the hospital to put in place the next course of action.
Consuelo had already expressed her wished to the doctor and he was in the process of preparing for her release when we got there.
All treatments were stopped and the IV was removed.
We were pleased to learn that she could return to Compass… this time, hospice would also be put into place.
She was back there before 2:30 that afternoon. She was peaceful and comfortable. It was good.
We knew she was in good hands, so we returned to her apartment to continue moving her things.
This time, we knew she would not be returning.

Saturday morning was spent clearing out the few things we moved to her new apartments and turning in the keys.
As Evan, Taylor and I were finishing up lunch, something nudged us back to Compass. We needed to go there.
Without hesitation, we did.

As we pulled into the parking lot, Evan received a call from the Hospice care giver.
Consuelo was not well. The nurses at the station confirmed. They also prepared  the tree of us for what we would see and hear.
Calls were made to Neale and Denise.
Neale would come as soon and he could.
Denise was in an airport in Arizona and would stop by after she landed in Salt Lake.
We made our way down to her room.

The death rattle was the most obvious symptom of what was to come.
She was not conscious , but we spoke to her, expressed our love, stroked her head.
She could hear us. She responded with her eyebrows or even a slight turn of the lips.
Evan called Denise again, this time alerting her of the urgency of her visit.
She and Alan were trying to catch an earlier flight.
Evan also called Kylee’s Mission President.
President Cooke would be seeing her later that evening and assured us he would speak to her.

Neale arrived a few hours later.
Then Denise called… they had just landed and were on their way.
Evan and Neale each took a hand. They told her that Denise would be here soon and asked her to hold on a little longer.
Sensing that she would not last, we prayed by her bedside.
Evan offered a beautiful prayer. He released her from this world and invited her to go home and to be reunited with her husband.
She could not hold on. Within minutes, she was gone.

After Denise arrived, we all sat in Consuelo's room for what seemed like hours.
Reminiscing.
Paying tribute her life.
She was an honorable woman.
She left us with dignity and grace.

the decision

[part four]

Phenomena was confirmed. Her body was also septic.
Bed sores were developing.
Antibiotics flowed though her veins.
During one of Neale’s visits, he left her with Dennis’ wedding band.
Neale wore it around his neck.
Connie now wore it on her hand.
If we learned anything, we learned the impact that an infection can have on the mind of the elderly.
Dementia being a very common side effect. Perhaps even a mercy, as she will not remember most of what is happening to her.
The next day, after being admitted into the hospital, she pulled her IV out.
She kept telling us that she is falling… falling out of bed. We tried our best to assure her that she was not.
She told us she was afraid. Of what, we could not determine.
Sunday marked 24 hours of no sleep for Consuelo.
The nurses report that she is in kidney failure.
Confusion was prevalent, with brief moments of lucidity throughout this next week.
Conversations seemed to take place with members of the family that have previously passed on:
Mama, Papa, Lily, Fermina, Sophia.
Reminiscing also took place.
We listened to Consuelo as she spoke of the days when she and Dennis met and started their courtship.
She was troubled with anxiety and had many restless nights.
So much so, that she was moved to a room closer to the nurses… the fishbowl as we called it. No walls. Only windows and a door .
During one of her good moments, She expressed to him, her desire to fight her way back. She needed to get her life in order.
She desired to work on family history and take names to the temple.

Nights continued to be troublesome for her.
There was no significant improvement, so we asked to nurses to administer morphine to help her rest and relax.
Evan would go sit with her until late at night, so that the nurses could get something done.
During those moments when her mind was here, he would continue to have important conversations with her.
Thursday night, she made a significant decision. She was exhausted and she was ready to go home.
She was at peace with her life here. We could see it on her face.

the rehab

[part three]

Visits at the hospital were frequent. Christmas was a little different this year. More time spent at the hospital, less time spent in the chaos that the holiday often brings. Friday finally arrived and Consuelo was transferred to Compass Rehab. Her room was beautiful! Homey. Warm. Inviting. Comfortable. We could not be any happier with this decision. We went back to her apartment to pack a bag with clothes and other personal effects. This would be home for the next several weeks and we wanted her surrounded with familiar things. She was anxious to read a book, so we selected a few from the library in the Center.

We continued to visit several times a day. It was GO time and she had a lot of work to do. Many of our pep talks seemed to be in vain. She was not giving rehab her best effort. She was tired. She slept more than she needed to. We encouraged her every time we saw her. Another week passed and we did not see much progress.

Two days into the New Year, we received an early morning phone call from Compass. There was concern about her behavior. She was slurring her speech and not very responsive. The biggest worry was a stroke. It was agreed that she needed to return to the hospital. We found ourselves, once again, in a familiar room in the ER. Several tests later, it was determined that the Urinary Track Infection she developed earlier had progressed. The worse news... Pneumonia was developing. She was admitted back into the hospital for treatment.

the recovery

[part two]

As expected, the surgery lasted an hour. We received the news at 1:15 AM that it was a success. A rod and two pins were holding her delicate hip in place. I went home to catch a couple of hours of sleep before heading into work. Evan stayed by his mothers side. He wanted to be there when she came out of the anesthesia. He paced a lot. He worried constantly. He napped as mush as he could. When she awakened, he was relieved... she was a survivor. She was taken to her temporary home, Room 408. Her pain level was relatively low, she was groggy but aware. Evan was able to break away long enough to go home, shower and pack his briefcase so he could work from the hospital.

I went straight to the hospital after work. Recovery was going along as best as we could hope for. A physical therapist was already working with her, helping her sit up and even stand. We were asked to select a rehabilitation center as they anticipated transitioning her there on Christmas eve. We chose one close to home for the sake of convenience. They had a bed and reserved it for her. Denise and Alan came down from Wyoming  and he daughter spent the second night at her side.  Connie was still in a fog and tired very easily. She slept a lot and ate very little.  There were concerns about her progress with the physical therapist. It was decided to keep her in the hospital through Christmas in hopes that she would become more alert and gain more strength.

Something kept gnawing at me about our rehab center choice, so I did some research online. I was prompted for a reason. Our first choice did not have very desirable reviews and very low health grades. I did some more research and found two other centers nearby that met our high criteria. I called Evan and shared with him my concerns and had him check for rooms at the other centers. Our first choice had a room and would be ready for her on Friday.

the call

[part one]

December 21, 2014 was like any other Sunday. We attended church, ate dinner as a family, and spent the evening relaxing. We were winding down for the night when the phone rang. The caller ID indicated that it was the Sister Missionaries. Evan answered the phone, not realizing that this phone call would change our lives.

The Sister on the phone confirmed that it was Evan, the son of Consuelo Rowley. She then informed him that his mother had taken a fall and that the EMT's were on their way. We quickly changed back into clothes and went over to her apartment. She was still on the ground in the lobby when we arrived. Several strong arms easily lifted her into a chair, where questions were asked and answered. It was estimated that she laid there for 15-20 minutes, calling for help, before she was found. She was alert and not in pain. Her vitals were good. The EMT's asked her if she could stand and she tried, with their assistance. Then, there was pain. They quickly sat her down and asked if she would like to go to the hospital. With our encouragement, she agreed it was best. She was skillfully placed on a gurney and Evan and I ran to her apartment to grab her wallet and lock the door.

We arrived at the hospital just as she was being wheeled in, so we followed her in. Room 8. The same room she was taken to when she broke her shoulder. Evan called our friend, Doug Martin, who rushed over to assist in giving her a blessing. Calls to Denise and Neale were held off briefly while we gathered information from the doctor. He wanted to X-ray her hip so we made those calls while she was in radiology. The results were not good. She fractured her hip. Immediate surgery was required. Because of her age, failure to do so would lead to phenomena and most likely, death. An Orthopedic Surgeon was called in. Neale arrived just in time to see her before she went to the operating room. He left shortly after and Evan and I escorted her to pre-op where we spoke with the anesthesiologist. It would be an easy, routine surgery, requiring only an hour if all went well. Shortly after midnight we found ourselves in the waiting room.

extended family

We recently laid to rest my husbands aunt Esther.
She was 100 years old at the time of her passing.

The funeral was not a sad occasion. (I have not been to one that was.)
Because we believe in the great Plan of Happiness (the Plan of Salvation), members of
the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints believe that death is a temporary separation.
We believe that there is life after death, and that our families can be together again… forever.
It is a wonderful gift, from a loving Heavenly Father, who wants nothing more
than for us to return home to live with him again.

Many surviving family members gathered to pay their respects.
Aunts, Uncles, Nieces, Nephews, Cousins, Grandchildren.
Many had not been seen in nearly 30 years.
In the few short hours that we had, we tried to catch up on all those years.
We said our goodbyes and resolved to do better… to not let another 30 years go by.

This is not always an easy task. Distance and responsibilities seem to get in the way so easily.
How blessed are we to be able to link ourselves through the proper use of social media.
Somehow, distances are shortened. Gaps are narrowed. Relationships are strengthened.

We are looking forward to reacquainting ourselves with so many important people. FAMILY!

“We ought to encourage our children to know their relatives. We need to talk of them, make effort to correspond with them, visit them, join family organizations, etc.” ~Spencer W Kimball

t-i-m-e

I remember a vacation Evan and I took 15 years ago.
We left our daughters at home and cruised the Caribbean for 7 days.
We had a great time together. We met some wonderful people. We missed our girls!
Halfway into the trip we vowed to never take an extended vacation without them.
We have kept that promise and have had the time of our lives.

We have traveled, served, laughed, prayed, worshiped and cried together.
We have grown in our relationship with each other.
We have bonded with our daughters.
We have strengthened our family.

"In family relationships love is really spelled t-i-m-e, time. Taking time for each other is the key for harmony at home. We talk with, rather than about, each other. We learn from each other, and we appreciate our differences as well as our commonalities. We establish a divine bond with each other as we approach God together through family prayer, gospel study, and Sunday worship."

—Dieter F. Uchtdorf, "Of Things That Matter Most"