Make You Smile

I am ridiculous, there is no question of that. There are only a small number of people that get that with me. Dad and I were both bored sitting in the waiting room at the doctor's office. As soon as I asked him to look at my phone he busted out laughing. I snapped this picture.

Tightrope

Since Dad’s stroke everything about his life has changed. Everything about all our lives has changed. It is times like this you really find out what you’re made of, what you’re willing to sacrifice, who is there for you.  A friend of mine, whose husband had a similar stroke, with a similar recovery, said to me what seems like a lifetime ago, “My best advice is to let your heart navigate this one. Your head and what Doctor’s say is analytical, you need to break beyond that and remember what it was like to be a kid and waiting for Santa to come. Let your heart be open to all the wonders this universe has to offer. Miracles DO happen if you can believe it before you see it. Believe and trust that it will be. Reach out to everyone. You may be surprised at who shows up. I was.” Her inspirational words have stuck with me these months and continue to resonate with me daily. I’ve always been accused of letting my heart navigate situations when I should have been more pragmatic and listened to the rational head. As a result my blind faith has been my downfall on more than one occasion. Perhaps it’s my downfall now? The tightrope is a pretty vulnerable spot to be without a spotter below guiding you and being there for you. It takes everything in your being to not look down and let vertigo take over.    

The Clouds Finally Parted

Pointing different plants out in his backyard

On actual Memorial Day, the clouds parted and the sun came out. After a spring Nor' Easter, we had temperatures that didn't require knee high socks and winter jackets, quite the opposite compared to the last week or so. We BBQ'd, PJ came up for the afternoon, Dad had thirds of what we call crackaroni. It's macaroni salad who's secret ingredient, chicken bouillon, makes it so good I have yet to meet a person that can only have one helping. We may have found the secret food to help Dad gain weight! It was a good way to end a great Holiday. Below is a short video of Dad in the backyard this afternoon.  

Spring Tiny Planet of the backyard.

  

Today's Menu



Todays menu

I’m not embarrassed by the use of this dry erase board as a reminder of what to eat during the day. Mom needs to lose weight, Dad needs to gain weight. It’s as simple as that. I actually get a kick out of it and Dad laughed out loud when he read the dinner menu for tonight. There is no shame in the knowledge that Mom has no short term memory. She hasn’t since PJ was born and she went into a cardiac arrest and was in a coma for I don’t know how long. She woke up not knowing she had given birth to a baby. Since then she has been, let’s say forgetful. This is how I have always known Mom though.

Since Dad’s stroke, the bulk of his care falls on her Monday through Thursday while I’m at work. While he is quite self-sufficient, things like carrying a glass of liquid are something he just can’t do yet, without the use of his right hand. Our goal is to work towards the day he doesn’t have to use his hemi-cane and will have more use of his good left hand. Already he has shown tremendous progress with his balance and there are days I see him trying to move things like furniture around the house, albeit awkwardly, but he tries.  

With Mom’s lack of short term memory and Dad’s inability to completely care for himself right now, the dry erase board has become a great daily reminder for them. For Dad, who always liked planning out meals ahead of time, it’s a good constant for him to see every day and it also helps Mom remember what to do. Sometimes we all need to be reminded what to do.      



Infinite Possibilities

Dad sat outside directing me in what yard work needed to be done for much of the weekend. Since it’s spring and almost Memorial Day there was a lot to do outside. There’s a saying up here, you don’t plant anything outside until after Memorial Day. With the late frost we had last week, no truer statement could be made, this year at least. Needless to say it was a busy weekend. I tell Dad I’m just keeping up on the maintenance until he can do it himself. It does not matter if this actually happens or not. What matters is the hope in infinite possibilities.

While we sat outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun, I noticed Dad appeared frustrated. I say appeared, when really I knew he was and has been. He tried to tell me something and got stumped on part of the sentence, eventually putting his head down shaking it when the words wouldn’t come out. I can only imagine and even then have no clue what that’s like. The usual phrases, “It’s ok, it’s going to be ok, you’ll get there, give it time” resound like a broken record, repeated so often you forget you say them. They’ve lost meaning by now. I looked around Dad’s backyard. I looked at his garden, with his prize asparagus bed that he cultivated for two years before being able to pick any. I looked at his flower beds, with its assortment of peonies, lilies, clematis vines and such, all planted with no rhyme or reason, yet so pretty to look at and be around.  I looked at all the work he has put into this house and yard to make it his own and turned to him saying, “Think of it this way. You could be dead right now. But you’re not are you? You’re alive and improving everyday whether you see it, feel it or not. You need to stop looking at what was and look at what is. You need to stop looking at what you can’t do and look at what you can. You are alive right now and you are sitting outside on this gorgeous spring day in your backyard, watching the birds, taking in and enjoying what you’ve created. There is nothing else but this moment and this is a great moment isn’t it?” He looked at me and nodded because he knew it to be true, because it is true.

Happy spring everyone.    

May 16, 2013, Day 144

It’s hard to believe Dad has been home for just over a month now. The Hospital, the Skilled Nursing Facility, all the places spent visiting, spent living in, for four and a half months have begun to fade away like “tears in the rain” (to quote Rutger Hauer from the movie Blade Runner). Winter seemed so long this year, although I’m sure it was no longer or shorter than years past. But nature has “popped” the last two weeks in Maine, greening everything up with the sights and smells of spring, allowing the cruel winter to disappear from memory, much like Dad’s stay away.

New Year’s Day

It was cold. Somewhere between Christmas and New Years it had snowed and there was a fair amount of the white stuff on the ground. It was the most we'd had in over a year, enough to go snowshoeing. I had gotten into snowshoeing several years earlier, figuring I needed to have some kind of winter activity to keep me busy during the long months. You have to do something or you end up like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. I had a fear of going down hills, having fallen down a flight of stairs as a small child, so skiing was out, along with snowboarding. Cross country skiing was too rigid, ice skating too limiting and I didn’t have a snowmobile. Snowshoeing was perfect and made me a happy Goldilocks. Dad had a pair of snowshoes as well and we had gone a couple of times over by the Great Pond Mountain Conservation Trust, about 9 miles or so from their house. 

Snowshoeing 2011

I woke up New Year’s Day, ready to start the year. Prior to that day Dad had been sick with what was thought to be just a common cold. I could speculate more on this matter, but I won’t, because it would be nothing more than speculation. This day; however, was the first morning in over a week that he felt good. So much so that he asked if I wanted breakfast. Usually more of a coffee for breakfast type, I said sure, thinking well he’s feeling better, he wants to cook again. You could always tell when Dad wasn’t feeling well, because it was the only time he would actually do nothing. And he had slept more the last week than I could ever remember him sleeping. He set about getting everything ready for breakfast. We were going to have the standard, eggs, maybe some toast and home fries (something I had perfected a couple of years earlier that Dad was still learning how to master). I distinctly remember Dad asking me to smell the bacon fat that was in the fridge (because that is the secret ingredient). “Does that smell bad to you or spoiled?” he asked. I smelled it. It was fine. “Dad, bacon fat doesn’t go bad, especially if it’s in the fridge, “ I reassured him. I thought it odd that he mentioned this, but chalked it up to he’s still getting over a cold and you’re never quite yourself when you’re sick.

After breakfast I said I was heading down to Acadia National Park for the afternoon to snowshoe, but that I would be back for dinner. I invited Dad along, but he declined. Bill, or Mr. C, as I call him, was coming over for dinner and cards. Bill’s wife Judy, had passed away only a couple of weeks prior, on the 12^th of December, after a long battle with diabetes. She and my Mom had been the best of friends since her son Michael and I had met in nursery school, some thirty plus years earlier. What's strange was after our mothers became friends we discovered our father’s had known each other when they were little boys in the Cub scouts. 

Dad and Bill on the way up Great Pond Mountain 2010

It really is a small world with few coincidences. Bill and Judy had retired to Maine only a couple of years ago, moving into a house the next town over from my parents. Since Judy’s passing Bill had been coming over to the house several times a week for dinner and cards. It was our small way of trying to help ease with the loss of his wife and for Mom, her best friend.

Dad informed me we were having a huge meal this first day of the New Year with roast chicken, stuffing, mashed potatoes with gravy, the whole nine yards. It was one of Dad’s favorites and so he was going to be busy all day preparing everything. He really was feeling better and quite ambitious I thought and left it at that. 

It was a gorgeous day in Acadia with the bluest of skies. The snowshoeing was spectacular. I had one of those hikes where you just keep going, wanting to see the view at the top of every hill or what lies around every bend along the path. The trails were fairly busy with people, shaking off the previous year and moving forward with the new one, I suppose. That’s what I was doing at least. I managed to get off the beaten path a couple of times to find some seclusion away from the myriad of people around me. The whole time I remember thinking how much Dad would have really enjoyed this. Oh well, I said to myself, next time. We have all winter, there will be a next time.

views from Acadia

Tiny Planet in Acadia

Soon I headed back home for dinner. I shared my photos and told everyone what a great day it was and that the next time I went Dad and Bill had to come with me. They agreed. After dinner, I headed into the TV room, while they all stayed in the dining room and played cards. As I sat in silence, having a martini to relax, I could hear them laughing and joking. It made me smile. The previous month had been rough for all of us, Bill and Mom especially, so it made me happy to know they were enjoying this moment. I remember thinking what a great day it had been and that this was the first day of a promising new year where anything could happen, where the unknown future was bright and hopeful.  

Fritz the Cat

Fritz finally sits next to Dad

As Fritz the cat runs around the house, darting in and out of all the rooms during one of his "crazy" moments, I think about how much Dad loves that cat. I got Fritz when he was just old enough to be weened off his momma. He was two and a half months old, the tiniest little thing you ever saw. 

The first time Mom and Dad came to our house in South Paris Maine, Fritz was nowhere to be seen. He had never really been around strangers, so he hid, the moment he heard them enter the house. I had already told Dad all about him. Now there are dog people, cat people and the equal opportunity animal lovers. I, for example, am more of a dog person, but that's neither here nor there right now. While Dad loves dogs, over the years, I've come to know him as more of a cat person. They are very different animals from the beloved man's best friend. Regardless, Dad couldn't wait to meet Fritz. I remember he and I snuck into the basement to see if we could sniff him out of his hiding place. We found him tucked away on top of a metal cabinet. His eyes went wide as can be the moment he saw Dad, kind of like "What the?, Who the?" Needless to say, Fritz that was pretty much the only time he was seen during their visit. Dad was a little bummed out about this.   

A couple of years later I was getting ready to move out of my house and so brought Fritz, along with my two dogs, to my parents, for them to watch. It was here that Fritz became Dad's cat. Where once he was shy, he opened up to Dad and the two quickly formed a bond. He would follow Dad around the house, sit on his lap at night, take a nap with him during the day. Dad loved it.  

Then there was a harrowing incident when Fritz escaped and was gone for two winter days and nights, while at my parents. Having already lived through a cat that had gone out one day, never to return again, Dad was beside himself when this happened. Simply beside himself. Since Fritz had never really been outside before, Dad was worried that some animal would get him or he would wander down to the main road and get hit by a car. Then something happened. It was Friday night. The weathermen were predicting a snowstorm. Dad had not given up hope and had been outside constantly calling for Fritz and looking for him. I was in the TV room when all of a sudden the door to the mudroom flung open and Dad came running into the room exclaiming, "Guess who came back!" In his arms sat Fritz. Dad was ecstatic and wouldn’t let go of him. At that moment I realized how much that little cat meant to Dad.

When he was in the Hospital I would tell Dad he needed to get better because Fritz missed him. It made Dad smile every time. There’s something about animals and the animals we have in our lives. It’s an unconditional love that only exists with them.

As we all adjusted to Dad being away, so we have all adjusted to him being home, the dogs and cat included. It took a month to the day Dad returned home, for Fritz to once again sit next to Dad. When I walked into the TV room this past weekend and saw the two of them sitting there I smiled. Dad had his cat back again.   

Out With the Old, In With the New



View of the two bridges taken last April after a rainstorm

My weekend routine has been to do everything I cannot get to Monday through Thursday, since on those days I'm away from the house for upwards of 10 hours. Everything includes cleaning, laundry, food shopping, prepping meals for the week, and going to the dump. My parents don't have garbage pickup. You have to take it all to the dump, several miles outside of town. Since Dad is stuck in the house and not able to drive, when I go out on the weekend he likes to come along with me for the ride. It helps that it's spring. It helps that for the last eight days we have had spectacular spring weather here.  

As a result, Dad comes with me for the ride. We go to the dump, we go to the supermarket. Along the way he checks out Bucksport and all the places that have become familiar since Mom and Dad have been living here, almost nine years now. Sometimes he asks me to drive down this side road or take this turn to check out this section of town. More often than not, though, he asks me to drive to Verona Island and then across the Penobscot Narrows Bridge to see the progress being made on the disassembling of the old Waldo-Hancock Bridge.

You see, the Penobscot Narrows Bridge was built and was opened to the public at the tail end of 2006. It is one of three in the world built with an observation tower and is the tallest public bridge observatory in the world. To this day I have no idea how and why they decided to build it in Maine, let alone across the river from Bucksport, but hey, go Maine! It was built as an emergency replacement for the above mentioned aging Waldo-Hancock Bridge. I remember when the new bridge was finished. After seeing its progression every time I visited my parents, officials had decided to open the bridge to foot traffic for a grand opening one Saturday in October 2006. It was a big to do at the time, with such dignitaries as then Governor John Baldacci and Senator Olympia Snowe showing up to give speeches. The military was there to pomp and circumstance across the bridge. There were engineers on hand to explain how this unique looking bridge was built and how it was held together. Dad and I had walked to it from their house, not wanting to risk no parking spaces closer to the bridge. Unfortunately I lost all photos taken that year and thus have none to share. You just have to take my word for it, it was a pretty cool event.

In the seven years the new bridge has been open, the old one has continued to slowly fall apart. Last fall they finally began to tear down it down. I’m not sure what the thought process as to begin this arduous task so late in the year, with winter right around the corner, but that’s what they did. Now, here we are, however many months later and with the exception of some connecting cables, all that remains of the old bridge are the massive towers that nest on top of concrete casings driven into the Penobscot River (click here for more on the bridge removal). As slowly as this project seemed to begin, is how quickly it appears to be going now.

So every weekend now we drive over the new bridge to check on the progress of the old bridge. It’s fascinating for Dad. Since he missed most the dis-assembly being in the hospital, he is very excited to see how far they’ve come now. Soon, It won’t be long before photos can be taken of the new bridge without the old one cluttering it up the background. Then it won’t be long before people will be able to look at the new bridge and remember with nostalgia when the old one was still there. Isn’t that always the way it happens?