DD#41: The Moon

I've always been fascinated by the full moon - La Luna - she represents our feminine aspect. It was beautiful in the clear sky last night and will be again tonight. I feel cheated when it's lost in the clouds and I can't see it clearly. 

I remember riding in our car as a child and watching the moon out the window, thrilled by how it followed us no matter what turn we made. It had chosen to shine on me and I felt connected to it. The moon loved me and watched over me, protective, smiling, always there, even when it wasn't full. 

Last fall on the night the moon was closest to earth, I was taking my Grandson home after he'd spent the weekend with me. The full moon was sitting on the horizon huge, orange and so close we felt its hypnotic power over us. No pale two dimensional photo, it was alive and we wanted to reach into it. Climbing through the foothills I knew if I steered directly toward this beautiful orb it would enfold us.

It has always had a deep, profound effect on me - pulling me towards it like the ebb and flow of the tides it controls. Sitting in my hot tub with the gentle light of a full moon caressing me and softening everything around me makes me feel safe and nurtured. Unlike the sun's burning hot rays, from which I need to protect myself, the moon's light guides me gently through the shadows of the night, lovingly lighting my way.

DD#40: Little Boxes

Every time I wrestled with an old belief or problem to a point of feeling a sense of resolution, I thought I could put it in a box, wrap it with a note saying "DONE/FINISHED/OVER/ENDED/FINAL" and put it on a shelf. I dusted myself off and moved forward freed from ever having to address that issue again. 

I've dealt with a litany of issues: mommy issues, daddy issues, sibling issues, love issues, hate issues, forgiveness issues, resentment issues, man issues, health issues, weight issues, work issues; food issues - I've used up plenty of tissues dealing with my issues. But I'm an imperfect human living in an imperfect world, so I was bound to bump into a situation that brought my shelf of neatly wrapped boxes tumbling down around me - UNFINISHED - again.

I have sporadically kept a journal for many years and one day when I was cleaning my bedroom, I discovered an old journal dated 5-6 years earlier. Thinking I'd chuckle looking back at how little I knew then, I sat down to read some of the entries and was dismayed to see that I'd written about the very same stuff I was still dealing with! What kind of progress is that anyway? I felt awful - like I was stuck in a time warp destined to repeat my painful choices without ever seeing the results of changes I'd manifested in my life. I was so distraught that I tore up the old journal pages determined to never be reminded of how little I had changed despite all of my efforts to grow spiritually and emotionally. 

As I continue to ask the Universe to show me results from my willingness to shine a light on the many obstacles that hide me from my Sacred Self, the Universe says "Yes!" and I get an opportunity to see what I want to change. As long as I keep asking, and stay conscious of my feelings and actions, I can open each box carefully and examine the contents with a new perspective. Oh, there's that piece from when I thought I was being a good friend, but the truth is that I was simply terrified of being rejected. I didn't give freely, with an open heart. I gave with a fearful expectation of a return - that they would like me and need me and never leave me. Right - I didn't know how to be an honest friend who loved herself enough to know that she didn't have to earn the right to be here by working harder, giving more, and being the most agreeable person ever, just to be accepted. Yes, I remembered that and continued to learn more and practice being honest and authentic. 

Now I'm happy it's not DONE - I get to improve it every time I'm in a situation that encourages me to be real. Over time my separate little boxes have merged into a larger, more profound blend of lots of little facets of me representing the wholeness of me - who I AM, why I AM here, and how I AM gratefully living my life connected to the Divine in myself and everyone I encounter.

DD#39: Maybe

It's almost lunch time and I'm hungry, so this will be short and sweet (I know you'll be relieved not to have to wade through a long one:>)).

Today my sister and I had to complete a huge package of paperwork for our mother. She will most likely (90%) not be returning home from the skilled nursing facility where she's currently receiving care. The paperwork is mind numbing and required us to go through all of her files in search several verifying documents necessary to determine her qualification to receive the benefits. 

Three things are going on for me: dealing with the amazing level of bureaucracy we live with - there are forms to sign saying we didn't want to file a particular form; the feelings associated with 'invading' Mom's private files; and the awful realization that she's clearly not leaving the nursing home, while in the back of my mind I'm thinking maybe, just maybe she might...

DD#38: The Sun

It's a beautiful sunny day - finally! We've had so many rainy overcast days that I began to believe the sun was never going to emerge again. I've never been a sun worshiper, my skin is very fair and, as a child and young woman, I suffered through many severe, painful sun burns. (The upshot of this is that I now have to be inspected annually by a dermatologist for skin cancers.)

I wanted to be tan and sought every trick to tanning that I could find: baby oil & iodine, tanning lotions & creams, daily exposure in 5 minute increments - never between 10 and 2, heck, I even tried olive oil and crisco! Oh, and lest I forget, the Coppertone self tanning cream that turned me a bright orange with dark orange elbows, knuckles and knees. I could have posed as an upside down traffic cone! I was determined to make my skin turn brown, but all it did was go from pale pink to dark red and blistered.

At the age of 29 I discovered sun block with PABA and it was a real treat for me to protect my skin and enjoy limited exposure outside. I still covered up and wore a hat, but just being outside in nature was exciting.

Over the years, I've armed myself with increasing levels of SPF coverage and still wear a hat, with very little exposed skin, but have felt safer to venture out on sunny days. Every outing requires me to spray or spread sunblock on any part of my body that risks even a slight possibility of peeking through my garments. I can't just casually run out of the house on a whim. Stepping out the door requires me to be armed with sun block and all of the accouterments I've collected to guard against the punishing rays of the sun.

My preparation sometimes irritates me, but I know it's necessary and I do it. There is an upside to all of this hiding from the sun, however; my skin is still quite youthful for my age - unharmed by years of sun damage.

So even though the sun has been my enemy, I've discovered that it's also my friend. I lived for several years where the mornings were either foggy or slightly overcast and the sun burned through it by about 10 or 12. It was just a way of life, like snow in Minnesota - I was used to it. In Sept 2007 I moved to Folsom, where the sun is like a fiery weapon hurdling UV rays at us with 100 degree summers. No more of the soft, gentle sun shining through the trees, filtered and tolerable. Knowing this, I arrived armed with my sun protection program. 

What I wasn't prepared for was the amazing energy I feel when I wake up to sun in the morning. It's like a shot of caffeine - and I'm decaffeinated. When the sun is shining through my bedroom windows, I awake feeling ready to start my day - alert and alive. Quite a change from the slow starting, slow moving, dullness I feel when it's overcast or dark out. The sun became my friend. I love the seasons with the sunlight visible when I arise. My friend the sun is smiling at me. I think of one of the pictures drawn when we're very young, with the house, the tree in the yard and the sun shining big fat rays of yellow down on everything. It's as if I've been given a gift and makes me smile at the sun smiling at me...

DD#37: Venting

Oh my! Once again, I've let a day pass without blogging! What's up with that? How can I become so distracted that I simply forget something that's important to me? Well, OK, yesterday I was distracted by my anger.

When I'm angry I need to vent - to feel that I can say whatever awful thought I have and remove it from my brain so I can deal with it. It's very important to me - having a witness helps me make it real and sets it free from being trapped in my head where it constantly circles around and around and eats away at my peace of mind. It most certainly destabilizes my balance, and I feel pulled toward old acting out behaviors. I think and act in extremes when I'm angry - I become superlative -  no moderation in sight - "always" and "never" are the operative words in my vocabulary. I often say that I feel like I want to hit someone then take a nap, because it also exhausts me.

Now, while I've never hit anyone, I have fine tuned the creative art of venting. It's usually as simple as calling a friend and asking her for 5 minutes to hear my tirade - free of judgment - to just agree with me even if she doesn't. When I stop to take a breath, steam vented, anger subdued, I can see the humor in what made me angry and laugh about my perspective. It has produced a kind of catharsis that is concrete. My venting has given me insight and I can now address whatever it was that I felt angry about and my need to feel angry about it.

Co-operative venting is particularly satisfying. When I call a friend to vent who says she also needs to vent, we become partners in recovery. We can see each other's silliness and laugh. The real value of venting is not in the harsh words I need to convey loudly in colorful language - the benefit of venting is the laughter. As I hear myself I begin laughing and it is healing. We can laugh at ourselves and at each other. What a gift. Anger to laughter in 5 minutes. Why haven't they written volumes on this? (Maybe they have and I just haven't looked for them?) In life (my ongoing learning) I am presented with the gift of hearing and seeing myself - and oh, what a vision that is when I'm banging on my high chair tray because, once again, I didn't get my way...

DD#36: Ready...

Here's Monday again. This Monday doesn't feel like a "monday", full of irritation that I have to work at my job another day. Feeling depressed and angry that I even need a J-O-B. This Monday feels full of hope - the 1st day of the rest of my life, to use an old cliche'. 

I'm excited about a new phase in my life that is taking me closer to supporting my healthy, prosperous life doing what I love. How can anything be better than that? (OK, I can think of some things that are JUST as good like, love, good health, happiness, connecting with others, but this is a life-long dream for me, and feels attainable - for real.) I'm looking forward to sharing this as it unfolds - more will be revealed because this student is ready!

DD#35: Waiting

It's Sunday and I didn't blog yesterday - not because I didn't remember (which has happened the other times), but because my day was consumed with waiting. I do waiting pretty well up to a point, then it becomes stressful for me to continue to wait. I want action. I want answers. I want results. I want to see the Rule Book. Waiting past my threshold makes me irritable, impatient, angry, restless, and ready to point my finger and blame anyone and everyone who is causing me to wait beyond  my tolerance level. 

Yesterday my day was pretty well planned out: I intended to visit Mom then do my grocery shopping, arrive home, fix my lunch, and generally do my weekend chores. I arrived at the facility where she has been receiving care for the past 3 weeks at about 11:15, well within my schedule. I walked to her room and the bed was made but she was nowhere in sight so I began searching the hallways knowing that when they get her in her wheelchair she often wanders around finding others to talk to. 

As I rounded the corner, just past the nursing station, there she sat - slumped over, legs akimbo, with her left arm dangling over the side of the chair looking like she'd fallen asleep. I approached her and touched her shoulder while asking her if she needed to go back to her room for a nap. She didn't respond, so I spoke a little louder, "Mom, it's Toni. Are you OK?" Still nothing. I was terrified and thought the worst - maybe she'd died out there in the hallway without anyone there to hold her hand and comfort her! I shook her shoulder and spoke to her again and she opened her eyes a crack and mumbled something.

I called a nurse and said I'd never seen her like that before - what was wrong? The nurse tried to rouse her and we got her back to her bed, thinking she was just sleepy. The nurse kept reassuring me that she'd just seen my mom passing the nurses' station about 10 minutes prior to that and that she'd been wandering around the hallways most of the morning. When we got to her bed, the aide, a big strong man, physically lifted my mother out of her wheelchair and placed her on her bed and they began taking her vital signs and continuing to speak loudly to her trying to rouse her from her stupor. She wasn't responding coherently and mumbled infrequently, just fluttering her eyes and drifting off again.

After checking her vital signs a few times to determine that all were well within normal limits, they called 911 to have her transported to the hospital - this was going to require much more than they could provide at the facility. I was in tears and couldn't stop myself from thinking this was the end - that she'd made a decision to depart. Even though it's always a possibility and even more possible given her age (almost 87) and condition there was a part of me that wasn't ready - perhaps would never be ready for her final transition.

As always, the firemen and EMTs that arrived were so gentle and kind and efficient, working as a team to determine her condition so they could take their next action. One took her history from me while the others worked around the close quarters of her bed, trying to get a response from her, calling out her vital signs and generally doing their jobs. 

They were going to transport her to the emergency room of the hospital she'd left exactly 3 weeks ago. The one who was taking information from me asked me if I was OK to drive and it hit me that he recognized how emotional I was and was concerned for my safety in the middle of all this smoothly run chaos. I couldn't stop crying but told him I could drive and would meet them there. 

When I got in the car, I called my sister, who was in class all day. Thankfully it was close enough to lunch time that they were on their break and she could talk. We're so fortunate to have each other to share the responsibilities and emotions that are associated with this situation. I poured out my fears while reassuring her that I'd call her if she were needed, but to continue her class and let me know when she was on her way home and I'd give her an update.

We arrived at the emergency room at 11:50AM and began the waiting. More history required along with the vital signs and various pokes and prods for lab work. I cried as I watched her react painfully, crying and pulling at her arm to stop the pain from the needle being inserted for her IV. I thought of when my daughter was little and didn't understand and couldn't express in words when she was in pain. Her startled reaction when she felt the sting of the needle for an injection or blood drawn. How horrible it was to watch and want to protect her but knowing that what was being done was necessary. Here was my mother, helpless, not aware of her surroundings - being stuck, and moved, and invaded in so many ways - it broke my heart. Strangers were calling out her name and talking to her and all I wanted to do was tell them to get out and leave her alone.

Her assigned nurse came in with the computer stand and we went through yet another session of history - current meds, medical conditions, past surgeries, allergies and more, more, more, as I worried about whether I had missed anything important. (Let me warn you, learn all you can about your family members. If you accompany anyone without a full knowledge of their medical history there are too many "unknowns", and they'll hesitate to proceed or take many more tests than necessary just to be safe.)

More needle jabs as they needed even more blood for tests. More witnessing of her crying out automatically reacting to the pain even in her semi-conscious state. More waiting. More waiting. More waiting. Finally the ER doctor determined what had caused the episode (a TIA) and what the possible options were, but nothing was resolved until the results of a urine sample were available. More waiting.

 I sat by her, holding her hand, talking to her as if we were having a conversation. I reminded her of the time she held my hand the whole 48 hours I was in labor with my daughter. How, with every contraction, I had squeezed her hand so much that it was painful for her to move it for days afterward. How she had said it was absolutely worth the pain because she now had a beautiful granddaughter. Remember, Mom? What a wonderful Grandma you've been to Jenn and how much she loves you. How much happiness you've given your Granddaughters Hallie and Mary Joy. How your Great Grandson, Christopher gives you a hug when he sees you. Remembering all of the good stuff - the happy times that would remind her how loved she is.

More nurses, lab people, pokes, finishing the history, and more waiting, waiting, waiting. Seeing her lying helpless, in pain, and not knowing how to help kept reminding me of how little we control in this crazy world. By this time Mom had begun a series of muscle spasms in her legs and feet that were causing her to arch her back and grimace as she jerked and twisted on the gurney. It was as if she were having a seizure and it was appalling to watch helplessly. They didn't seem concerned that it was due to a medical condition and I wanted to scream at them to do something to relieve her discomfort. Couldn't they see that she wasn't resting, wasn't calm, was probably in pain as she moaned and cried out.

My sister arrived at 5:30. I'd now been here 5 1/2 hours and my tolerance for waiting was nearing its end. When the lab results came back positive for a UTI, the doctor decided to admit her for treatment there. I could stop the sensation of free-falling - I had the sense of a safety net to catch me. A decision had been made and I knew what would happen now - more blood drawn and more waiting. 

At 6:15 I watched the lab tech go to another room to get samples after the nurse told him he needed to draw blood before she could start the antibiotic for Mom. I was furious with him for not rushing to my mother. Didn't he know we'd been here since noon! How could he calmly go to another room when his lab work was all that was needed to get the healing antibiotics coursing through my mother. It was like watching someone else cut in line ahead of us and I was way past my patience level and into the blame zone. It was his fault if my mother got worse! The nurse didn't insist strongly enough! Who was to blame for this whole thing anyway? I wanted to take names and kick a---!

Mom began a whining sound and was trying to find her way through all of the wires that connected her to the monitor so she could rub the area around her IV. We saw a dark red streak running up the vein from the IV and called the nurse. She was having a bad reaction to the antibiotic, so it required more consulting with the doctor and, guess what? More needle jabs and more waiting. By now Mom was sporadically able to respond, not always coherently, but she acknowledged the spasms were painful and hurting her back. We waited, and waited. I was hungry (hadn't eaten since breakfast at 8:30AM), tired, and pretty close to hostile by now. My sister was tired, hungry, and patient - how does she do it?

They finally got all of the paperwork done to admit Mom and the young man arrived to transport her to her room. (Here's where I want to insert how loving and gentle the caretakers are in these places. I'm amazed and grateful for their compassionate treatment of their patients.) After she was settled into her bed, the PM nurse came in and said, "Oh, she's here. Are you family?" My sister and I both nodded yes, and then she said the words that put me over the edge. "Good, while you're here I can get some history from you." 

I shot a look at my sister and she said, "Why don't you go home so you can eat and get some rest. I'll take it from here." I argued that it was just as much my responsibility as hers and that I'd stick it out until Mom was resting. She reminded me that it didn't take both of us to do what one could do, so leave. She wasn't hungry, she was tired, but was OK with staying and giving yet another history. I knew that if I had to give another history I'd probably be an a-- to the nurse and alienate her. Of course I wanted Mom to get the best possible considerate care, so the last thing I wanted to do was have her nurse pi---ed at me and dislike Mom because of it. I left.

As I walked to my car I looked at my watch and it was 7:25PM and I was completely exhausted. I'd left my house at 11:00AM with all of the best intentions to have a nice Saturday - getting all of the things on my "To Do" list accomplished and then possibly spending some down time watching a good movie after dinner. I had no other plans, but life interrupted and scattered my intentions like litter. I spent the day on an emotional roller coaster because we never know where life will take us. Can we ever prepare for these interruptions? I'm not sure, but I think the best we can do is ride them out like a surfer who's unsure of the wave, but has practiced enough to know his board and what it will do. I've invested the time, energy and practice to know myself  at least as well as that surfer knows his board - pretty sure of my assets and my limits. Knowing myself is the only possible preparation for when life interrupts my plans. Like the surfer, it's amazing when I catch a good wave and it's a learning experience when life comes along and wipes me out. While on some level yesterday was a wipe-out, on another much deeper level, it was another good teaching wave...