Happy Father's day to my dad, and all the other dad's out there.
Today I met up with my dad in the city to take him to lunch. I wanted to take him to a baseball game today as it's the Bay Bridge Series, the Giants and the A's are playing each other, but I thought of this a bit too late and wasn't able to get tickets for the game. It was sold out a long time ago. Apparently a lot of others had this idea and they did think about it before me because there were lots of Father & Son's on Bart as I rode it to the city. A's and Giant's T-shirts, hats, jackets, everything. Although I am a fan of both...if I had gotten tickets and was going I would be in a Giants shirt. Dad taught us at an early age to root for the Giants!
Apparently so did a lot of other fathers, grandfathers...and they were all on Bart. It was great. There was one particular father/son that stood out. Dad must have been in his 80's and walked with a cane, like my dad, and the son was probably in his 40's like me. It was just the two of them and they both looked like they would have rather been no place else but in each other's company.
I guess I timed things just right because when I left Union Square, the return train home was full of fans heading home. That same father/son couple was on the same train I was for the return trip. I haven't watched the news so I have no idea who one, but if you spend the day with your dad, ball game or no ball game, it doesn't matter who lost, because everyone's a winner.
Happy Father's Day Dad. I love you!
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Are you missing a citizen?
Dear Ruler of Planet Jerk,
Are you missing a citizen? Because if you are, he was riding BART here on Earth yesterday morning. He managed to take up three seats on a packed morning commute train. His voice, his loud voice was the only voice heard on the train that morning. While the rest of us sat quietly reading our newspapers, trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep or just enjoy the usually quiet ride to our jobs, he managed to make at least 10 calls on his cell phone and laughed at the callers on the other end because they were still sleeping. Of course the laughter included lots of cussing, swearing and calling them names that we don’t yell out loud in public places here on Earth. I feel especially bad for one of the several women he called. Apparently she tried to inform him of the Earthly custom of not making phone calls to “friends” before 8:00 am. I only caught his end of the conversation which included something along the lines of “well hell, I’m not fucking married to you”. I’d be surprised if any woman on our planet (or any other planet) would ever want to be married to him, let alone fuck him.
I, along with many others, would appreciate if you would call him back to his home planet, along with any (and all) traveling with him. While you are at it, would you please stop issuing passports for travel for all your citizens.
Sincerely yours,
Cecelia Liss
Earthling
Are you missing a citizen? Because if you are, he was riding BART here on Earth yesterday morning. He managed to take up three seats on a packed morning commute train. His voice, his loud voice was the only voice heard on the train that morning. While the rest of us sat quietly reading our newspapers, trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep or just enjoy the usually quiet ride to our jobs, he managed to make at least 10 calls on his cell phone and laughed at the callers on the other end because they were still sleeping. Of course the laughter included lots of cussing, swearing and calling them names that we don’t yell out loud in public places here on Earth. I feel especially bad for one of the several women he called. Apparently she tried to inform him of the Earthly custom of not making phone calls to “friends” before 8:00 am. I only caught his end of the conversation which included something along the lines of “well hell, I’m not fucking married to you”. I’d be surprised if any woman on our planet (or any other planet) would ever want to be married to him, let alone fuck him.
I, along with many others, would appreciate if you would call him back to his home planet, along with any (and all) traveling with him. While you are at it, would you please stop issuing passports for travel for all your citizens.
Sincerely yours,
Cecelia Liss
Earthling
Friday, June 6, 2008
mov'n on
Mom, I miss you like crazy and could write about you forever, but it's time to get back to my blog....
Good news, they opened up the new BART parking structure and I HAVE RESERVED PARKING!!! It's costing me more than double the daily lot price, but I don't have the fear of getting there after 7:30 am on a Tuesday and not being able to find a parking spot. The $63.00 a month is a cheap price for piece of mind, well maybe not cheap but piece of mind none the less.
The first three days I was able to park in the one of the first 4 slots on both sides of the aisle. Now I'm getting there and parking in about the 10th slot. Either it's catching on or I'm pushing it how late I can get there before I really have to run to the train and people are beating me to the first spots, or others have signed up the reserved parking too. With the price of gas at $4.35 a gallon I'm sure more and more people are taking BART or will be soon. Either way, I'm a happy camper. Oh and bonus - this summer when it's 105 degrees in Pleasanton, my car will be parked in the shade.
I've noticed in the past 2 weeks that more and more people on the train smell like pot. Has my nose become more sensative or are the pot smokers of the world spending their money on pot and BART rather than pot and gas for their car? Has anyone else noticed this too. I can understand it a bit more on the ride home, but come on people, it's 7:30 am for christ sakes...and you smell like you just lit up!
Enough for now, but I'll be back...
Good news, they opened up the new BART parking structure and I HAVE RESERVED PARKING!!! It's costing me more than double the daily lot price, but I don't have the fear of getting there after 7:30 am on a Tuesday and not being able to find a parking spot. The $63.00 a month is a cheap price for piece of mind, well maybe not cheap but piece of mind none the less.
The first three days I was able to park in the one of the first 4 slots on both sides of the aisle. Now I'm getting there and parking in about the 10th slot. Either it's catching on or I'm pushing it how late I can get there before I really have to run to the train and people are beating me to the first spots, or others have signed up the reserved parking too. With the price of gas at $4.35 a gallon I'm sure more and more people are taking BART or will be soon. Either way, I'm a happy camper. Oh and bonus - this summer when it's 105 degrees in Pleasanton, my car will be parked in the shade.
I've noticed in the past 2 weeks that more and more people on the train smell like pot. Has my nose become more sensative or are the pot smokers of the world spending their money on pot and BART rather than pot and gas for their car? Has anyone else noticed this too. I can understand it a bit more on the ride home, but come on people, it's 7:30 am for christ sakes...and you smell like you just lit up!
Enough for now, but I'll be back...
Friday, May 16, 2008
May 1, 2008
I stare at the calendar and I can't wait for May to be over with. May 1 stands out and I can't wait to not have to look at anymore. Mom died that day, a few minutes after noon. It's so hard not seeing her always welcoming smile and hearing her voice. The last time I heard her speak was on Tuesday April 22. I miss her.
Here is the link to her obituary I wrote if you care to read it.
http://www.legacy.com/MarinIJ/DeathNotices.asp?Page=Lifestory&PersonId=109286638
If I knew how to post a link with just a click, I would, but I don't, so you'll have to copy and paste it in. I just don't feel like learning how to do it today.
Please feel free to leave a comment on the guest book there.
We buried her next to her mom, my grandmother, in Cary, IL on Monday May 12th. It was a really beautiful day, having rained the day before. All my cousins were there, thank you all for coming. Someone counted and I think there were 68 family members there. I hope to see them all again, under happier circumstances....someone get married. We need a reason to celebrate.
It was wonderful seeing all my mom's brothers. They were all born in the Philipine Islands and the stories about them growing up during the war are just now starting to be told. All of us cousins want to hear them. I saw first cousins that I hadn't seen in years. I don't know someone them all that well, but I think that will change. I can't wait to get to know more about them and grow closer. I can't even begin to count all their kids and grandkids. Yes, grandkids! How can we our generation have grandkids? We are just kids ourselves. But I guess with Mom gone, my siblings and I are the old generation when it comes to our immediate family. Scary thought. I'm not ready to be that yet. That was Mom's position. She was good at it, she had all the answers, she knew how to do it.
I didn't know how to do something the other night. Mom would have. And I couldn't call her to ask. Be it knitting, baking certain items, family receipes, she was the keeper and she left before she taught me everything I'm suppose to know. I miss her
Here is the link to her obituary I wrote if you care to read it.
http://www.legacy.com/MarinIJ/DeathNotices.asp?Page=Lifestory&PersonId=109286638
If I knew how to post a link with just a click, I would, but I don't, so you'll have to copy and paste it in. I just don't feel like learning how to do it today.
Please feel free to leave a comment on the guest book there.
We buried her next to her mom, my grandmother, in Cary, IL on Monday May 12th. It was a really beautiful day, having rained the day before. All my cousins were there, thank you all for coming. Someone counted and I think there were 68 family members there. I hope to see them all again, under happier circumstances....someone get married. We need a reason to celebrate.
It was wonderful seeing all my mom's brothers. They were all born in the Philipine Islands and the stories about them growing up during the war are just now starting to be told. All of us cousins want to hear them. I saw first cousins that I hadn't seen in years. I don't know someone them all that well, but I think that will change. I can't wait to get to know more about them and grow closer. I can't even begin to count all their kids and grandkids. Yes, grandkids! How can we our generation have grandkids? We are just kids ourselves. But I guess with Mom gone, my siblings and I are the old generation when it comes to our immediate family. Scary thought. I'm not ready to be that yet. That was Mom's position. She was good at it, she had all the answers, she knew how to do it.
I didn't know how to do something the other night. Mom would have. And I couldn't call her to ask. Be it knitting, baking certain items, family receipes, she was the keeper and she left before she taught me everything I'm suppose to know. I miss her
Thursday, May 1, 2008
somthing a bit deeper
When I first started blogging about Mom rather than the commute, I said that this was to be a place for me to vent how I'm feeling inside. Well I have to an extent, but today I need to use it attempt to justify what's going on inside of me.
Tuesday's emotional roller coaster can not be describe in words. Thinking we were going to lose her those couple of times a day took a lot out of me. I didn't realize it till this morning when I woke up and laid in bed thinking. I got home Tuesday night, exhausted, and was talking to my boyfriend Mark about the day. I hadn't hit the wall yet, until he made a comment that I would have normally not really thought to much about, but that night after he said it I couldn't get upstairs fast enough to bury my head in my pillow and let it all out. It wasn't anything awful he said, I think if he had something as simple as "great weather", it would have had the same effect.
That was the first time I've really cried. Sure through all of this tears have streamed down my face and my throat was too chocked up to talk and I was on the verge of loosing it, but not to the extend of sobbing, I held it back, but Tuesday night it finally came, and I haven't cried since. Did I get it all out of me? With all the time that has past, have I become desensitized? Or has it just gotten easier? Is the shock of all this wearing off and I'm less emotional about it? Or have all my raw nerve endings begun to heal already, even before it's really over?
I'm here with Mom and my sister this morning. Her blood pressure is at 94 over 60. She's running a slight fever, but she's holding her own. Day 9. Pretty incredible for someone they weren't sure would make the ambulance ride here.
Tuesday's emotional roller coaster can not be describe in words. Thinking we were going to lose her those couple of times a day took a lot out of me. I didn't realize it till this morning when I woke up and laid in bed thinking. I got home Tuesday night, exhausted, and was talking to my boyfriend Mark about the day. I hadn't hit the wall yet, until he made a comment that I would have normally not really thought to much about, but that night after he said it I couldn't get upstairs fast enough to bury my head in my pillow and let it all out. It wasn't anything awful he said, I think if he had something as simple as "great weather", it would have had the same effect.
That was the first time I've really cried. Sure through all of this tears have streamed down my face and my throat was too chocked up to talk and I was on the verge of loosing it, but not to the extend of sobbing, I held it back, but Tuesday night it finally came, and I haven't cried since. Did I get it all out of me? With all the time that has past, have I become desensitized? Or has it just gotten easier? Is the shock of all this wearing off and I'm less emotional about it? Or have all my raw nerve endings begun to heal already, even before it's really over?
I'm here with Mom and my sister this morning. Her blood pressure is at 94 over 60. She's running a slight fever, but she's holding her own. Day 9. Pretty incredible for someone they weren't sure would make the ambulance ride here.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
fooled again
Well twice this morning my mom has fooled everyone. When the nurse called me this morning telling me it was very close, she didn’t think I would get here on time. I did. About 2 hours later after I arrived they gave mom the anxiety med and her breathing changed completely. It was about 45 seconds between breathes, each breath was a struggle and all the nurses came in to hold our hands and be with us and mom. 2 hours later Nancy and I gave up and went to lunch, thinking maybe she wanted to wait till we left the room. We ate at the Italian place close by. As we were finishing up lunch, the background music playing was Ave Maria, one of my Mom’s favorite songs. We took that as a sign and rushed back here. At this point we think she is hanging on for another 2 days so she’ll get another social security check….
Sunday, April 27, 2008
That's Amore
It's 10:00 pm on Sunday and I just got back from Bruns House, the Hospice facility that my mom is at. I am feeling really good inside. Mom is still with us and was able to be with me on one of the most incredible nights of my life. It was my sister Nancy, my mom and me, the three of us together in her room. Nancy had picked up a cd of Dean Martin's greatest hits for mom, so we played it. Not only did we play it, but we sang, we danced and even though my mom couldn't participate with us, I've never felt more closer to either one of them. It was awesome. I'm sure the other people that at Bruns house may have felt differently, but for those 2 hours, the world revolved around just three of us. I feel kind of bad for the family of the gentleman across the hall, as they were giving him last rites, we were belting out an interesting rendition of That's Amore. He is of my mom's generation, so I'm hoping be enjoyed it too.
If mom passes tonight, I'll feel good about how the three of us celebrated her life tonight. As horrible as Nancy and I both sing, there was nothing but happiness and love in the room tonight. I didn't cry on the way home, in fact I smiled the entire way. I can go to sleep tonight without tears and sleep knowing it was a happy night that I'll never forget and will remember always. Be at peace Mom, I love you.
If mom passes tonight, I'll feel good about how the three of us celebrated her life tonight. As horrible as Nancy and I both sing, there was nothing but happiness and love in the room tonight. I didn't cry on the way home, in fact I smiled the entire way. I can go to sleep tonight without tears and sleep knowing it was a happy night that I'll never forget and will remember always. Be at peace Mom, I love you.
the night
It's hardest at night, leaving Mom's side, saying goodbye for the night, and not knowing if she'll still be with us in the morning. I cry all the whole drive home thinking that might have been my last goodbye to her. I go home exhausted, even though I haven't done anything but sit by here side all day. I did manage to leave yesterday for a couple of hours. Just because Mom is in the hospital, the laundry doesn't do itself. My oldest son has been incredible and hasn't wanted to leave her side. None of us do, but life goes on for us and we need a good night's rest to be with her the following day. We have the option of spending the night there with her, but we've decided we are better off in our own beds, no matter how difficult sleep comes for us.
My cell phone is right by my side all night long, waiting for the phone call, but it has yet to come. I'm greatful, but it's a selfish greatful. She is in so much pain and she is ready to die. We've all said our I Love You's and good byes, but each time we see a smile on her face that she knows we are there, it's like one more gift from her to us. And I cherish them with all my heart.
My cell phone is right by my side all night long, waiting for the phone call, but it has yet to come. I'm greatful, but it's a selfish greatful. She is in so much pain and she is ready to die. We've all said our I Love You's and good byes, but each time we see a smile on her face that she knows we are there, it's like one more gift from her to us. And I cherish them with all my heart.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
a simple nod of the head
It seems like a month ago since I last wrote that blog about my mom, even though it was just on Monday, two days ago. Well that's where my thoughts still are. On Tuesday we moved her from the hospital to the most incredible Hospice House. Tuesday, yesterday, which already seems like a lifetime ago, was an emotionally exhausting day. That morning in the hospital mom was coherent, she would say a few words to us, but you could tell she was in lot of pain. The hospital, as wonderful as they all were there was in incredibly difficult place to be. She didn't have a private room, it was loud, noisy and anything but peaceful. The hospital social worker (at least I think that's what her title is) contacted Hospice on our behalf and they met with us that morning. After meeting with them for about 1/2 an hour, my sister and I decided to move Mom to their facility. We were very nervous about her surviving the short 4 mile drive there. That afternoon before the ambulance came, the hospital Chaplin came in and spoke with her. He also talked to us which was comforting, even though I never really considered myself a religious person. Spiritual yes, but not religious.
My sister asked if I would be the one to ride with her. How could I say no, even though I was very afraid about seeing her in the extra pain I knew she would be in and even more scared about her not surving the ride. It was my duty as her daughter and a chance to be there for her. They gave her extra morphine before we left.
The ride there was easy, but after we arrived and they were moving her into her room you could see how much pain she was in and how much anxiety she had. My sister and I were at her side trying to comfort her. The nurses there gave her more morphine and we had the chance to talk before it took complete effect. Many I love you's were said, the tear flowed as she told us she had little left. We held her hand and tried to be strong. I don't know what's worse, saying goodbye or seeing her in so much pain.
About 9:00 she finally seem comfortable. And we were somewhat comfortable. I can't begin to describe the incredible facility she is at. It's called The Bruns House and it's located in Alamo, CA. It's like being in hotel. They only have 6 beds for patients and at the time they only have four patients there. The room is really nice. It's cheerful, quiet and very welcoming. There rest of the place is equally as nice. It's like walking into a really nice home. A beautiful dinning room and living room, a full kitchen, the grounds are landscaped. It just feels right.
I left at about 9:45 in a completely exhausted state. Mom was finally out of pain, thanks to morphine and lorezepam. I got home and finally collapsed about 11:00. I was back there at about 7:30 this morning. Mom was pretty unresponsive as she was the night before. Occasionally her mouth would move and her eye brows would show expression. But no words were said. The day before when we spoke with the Chaplin, he told us a bit on what to expect. He had mentioned that sometimes it would be a while between breaths. Well he was right. At one point we were both just looking at her and she took a breath. It was a really long time before she took her next one. Unbenost to the two of us, my sister and were both mimicking her breathing patterns, when she finally took another breath, my sister and I both gasped for air, looked at each other and laughed and said it was time to turn the TV on. At 9:00 they came in to bathe her and change her sheets so I decided to go to work for a couple of hours while my sister stayed with her.
I was back at her side at 1:15. I was able to log onto the Internet there and was answering email from work and trying to get a little work done. The priest we had wanted to come see her came by that afternoon. Of my Mom's three children, I was probably the one with the least religious upbringing. But I am so glad that I was the one there when he did the last rites. They say that the hearing is the last sense to leave you. I know my mom heard every word and felt all the tenderness that Father Ray put into it. It was beautiful and I'm glad I was there to experience it with her. Mom, I hope you are proud that I remembered all the words to the Lord's Prayer! You taught me well.
Later this evening our friend Meiwei came to visit. If my mother had had a third daughter, it would be Meiwei. Her and I sat in my mom's room and just talked. Well, more than talked, we laughed, we told stories. It wasn't to just each other, but my mom was included in the conversation. Most would start off as "Hey Mom, remember when..." The only thing missing was my mom answering us. About 9:00 I looked over and said to Mom something like "Mom, isn't it great remembering the good times" and she responded by nodding her head and smiling. I can't begin to explain the joy and happiness that filled my heart. We know all along that she was listening and understanding and being a part of our conversation, and she proved it to us. I didn't tear up all night until then, but the tears that streamed down my face were tears of happiness, joy and pure love.
It's on the drive home tonight that it hit me. Will this be the last time I get a smile and nod? Will she still know that I'm in the room with her tomorrow? Tonight she was so with me and it felt so good. I know she only has a day or two left in her. I'm not ready for her to leave me. Yes I want her to be pain free. She is ready to go and we have talked about it. She's told me so, and I've told her that it's okay to go. I tell her this because I love her and want her to be at peace. But I can't imagine her not always being there for me. If you only knew the smile and twinkle in her eyes that can light up a whole room. I don't want her to die. I want my mom.
My sister asked if I would be the one to ride with her. How could I say no, even though I was very afraid about seeing her in the extra pain I knew she would be in and even more scared about her not surving the ride. It was my duty as her daughter and a chance to be there for her. They gave her extra morphine before we left.
The ride there was easy, but after we arrived and they were moving her into her room you could see how much pain she was in and how much anxiety she had. My sister and I were at her side trying to comfort her. The nurses there gave her more morphine and we had the chance to talk before it took complete effect. Many I love you's were said, the tear flowed as she told us she had little left. We held her hand and tried to be strong. I don't know what's worse, saying goodbye or seeing her in so much pain.
About 9:00 she finally seem comfortable. And we were somewhat comfortable. I can't begin to describe the incredible facility she is at. It's called The Bruns House and it's located in Alamo, CA. It's like being in hotel. They only have 6 beds for patients and at the time they only have four patients there. The room is really nice. It's cheerful, quiet and very welcoming. There rest of the place is equally as nice. It's like walking into a really nice home. A beautiful dinning room and living room, a full kitchen, the grounds are landscaped. It just feels right.
I left at about 9:45 in a completely exhausted state. Mom was finally out of pain, thanks to morphine and lorezepam. I got home and finally collapsed about 11:00. I was back there at about 7:30 this morning. Mom was pretty unresponsive as she was the night before. Occasionally her mouth would move and her eye brows would show expression. But no words were said. The day before when we spoke with the Chaplin, he told us a bit on what to expect. He had mentioned that sometimes it would be a while between breaths. Well he was right. At one point we were both just looking at her and she took a breath. It was a really long time before she took her next one. Unbenost to the two of us, my sister and were both mimicking her breathing patterns, when she finally took another breath, my sister and I both gasped for air, looked at each other and laughed and said it was time to turn the TV on. At 9:00 they came in to bathe her and change her sheets so I decided to go to work for a couple of hours while my sister stayed with her.
I was back at her side at 1:15. I was able to log onto the Internet there and was answering email from work and trying to get a little work done. The priest we had wanted to come see her came by that afternoon. Of my Mom's three children, I was probably the one with the least religious upbringing. But I am so glad that I was the one there when he did the last rites. They say that the hearing is the last sense to leave you. I know my mom heard every word and felt all the tenderness that Father Ray put into it. It was beautiful and I'm glad I was there to experience it with her. Mom, I hope you are proud that I remembered all the words to the Lord's Prayer! You taught me well.
Later this evening our friend Meiwei came to visit. If my mother had had a third daughter, it would be Meiwei. Her and I sat in my mom's room and just talked. Well, more than talked, we laughed, we told stories. It wasn't to just each other, but my mom was included in the conversation. Most would start off as "Hey Mom, remember when..." The only thing missing was my mom answering us. About 9:00 I looked over and said to Mom something like "Mom, isn't it great remembering the good times" and she responded by nodding her head and smiling. I can't begin to explain the joy and happiness that filled my heart. We know all along that she was listening and understanding and being a part of our conversation, and she proved it to us. I didn't tear up all night until then, but the tears that streamed down my face were tears of happiness, joy and pure love.
It's on the drive home tonight that it hit me. Will this be the last time I get a smile and nod? Will she still know that I'm in the room with her tomorrow? Tonight she was so with me and it felt so good. I know she only has a day or two left in her. I'm not ready for her to leave me. Yes I want her to be pain free. She is ready to go and we have talked about it. She's told me so, and I've told her that it's okay to go. I tell her this because I love her and want her to be at peace. But I can't imagine her not always being there for me. If you only knew the smile and twinkle in her eyes that can light up a whole room. I don't want her to die. I want my mom.
Monday, April 21, 2008
a different direction for a while
Hello everyone,
For the next week or however long it takes, I'll be taking this blog in a different direction temporarily. My mom is ill and we don't expect her to make it. So I need to use this blog at an outlet for what I'm feeling inside. I'm not one to cry, especially in front of other people, so I need to use this as a source of letting go all I am feeling inside me right now.
I came in late to work today because I had to stop at the hospital this morning. Yes, I had to.
Let's go back four weeks ago yesterday. It was Easter Sunday. I picked up my mom at the Independent Living facility she was living at. She could shower by herself, dress herself, feed herself, walked without any assistants, she was very independent despite some dementia. She did have problems managing her medication, so the decesion was made to move her into the assisted living wing there. Essentially it's exactly the same as before, the only difference was that they come by first thing in the morning and make sure the take their medication, and then again at night. Easter was wonderful. The family together on a beautiful spring day.
Now lets go back three weeks ago. My Mother's 80th birthday. We all met at McCovey's restaurant in Walnut Creek. Growing up we had seasons tickets to the SF Giants and mom has always been a baseball fan, especially of the Giants. We had a wonderful day and toasted her and her birthday was a round of beers. The moment of the day was when my mom realized she was 80. The look on her face was priceless She thought she was 78. Funny thing, Im 47 and I keep thinking I'm 35. Guess her and I are more alike all the time.
Now go 2 weeks back. My cell phone rings at 7:23 in the morning. I ususally don't answer that early on a Sunday morning, but I did. I saw my sister's name on the call waiting and new something was wrong. She told me that Eskaton, the facility where my mom lives, had call, they found Mom on the floor and in a lot of pain. They had called an ambulance and it was on it's way to take her to the Emergency Room. An hour later I'm walking into Kaiser in Antioch where my sister is waiting for me. Mom has a broken hip. I'm not going to go into all the details that went on there, but surgery was performed that night.
The next Thursday she is transferred to an Assisted Nursing facility in Walnut Creek. When I visit her there, the twinkle is still in her, but not shinning as brightly as ususal. Fast forward to Tuesday April 15, I get a call from the facility and Mom's lab work has come back out of whack. Her white blood count is at 38 when normal is about 9. She is lethargic and they are taking her Kaiser in Walnut Creek. My sister goes that night. I picked the wrong night to have a couple of cocktails after dinner and didn't feel comfortable driving up there safely.
The next morning I get there at 8 am and she is still in emergency as they don't have a bed for her. I hold her hand, tell her how much I love her. She calls me by my sister's name and tells me how much she hurts. At this point she has pnemonia, a blood infection and her kidneys are workning as they should be. There is no twinkle in her eyes. I stay with her for a while till my sister gets there, then I go to work and just barely go through the motions as my desk.
I'm there again that night after work, and she is more aware and recognized that I'm there. Occasionally she manages a smile, but she is still obviously in a lot of pain.
At this point I don't think she has eaten a full meal since the surgery. She went in weighing about 80 pounds, but I can tell she's gotten even smaller. I try to see her everynight. Friday I didn't make it because of a commitment I had in the city. Thank God for my sister who lives about 15 minutes from the hospital and is able to go buy 2 or 3 times a day.
When I get there on Saturday her blood is still out line. Her white blood count is in the mid 20's even after having blood tranfusions. The only words she speaks over and over to me are "help me, help me Cecelia" "I just want to die, please help me". I try to tell her that I'm doing all I can for her. That I love her and that it's in God's hands. She has a constant thirst that she can't seem to quench. She isn't strong enough to sip through a straw, so we all take turns holding the cup up to her lips. Everyone is there with her today, me, my sister and her husband, a very good friend of the family, my ex-husband and his new wife. Later in the day my oldest son arrives from Roseville.
It's absolutely horrible seeing my mom in this much pain. We call for the Dr. and he tells us there isn't a lot he can. They giving her pain medication but it isn't enough to keep her comfortable and she isn't responding to any of the other medications. At her age and in her conditions they really don't want to give her to much more morphine.
My sister and her husband, me and my ex-husband who adores my mom as much as she adores him, his new wife and I all meet in a conference room to talk. We've all held my mom hand's and heard her wishes and see the pain and suffering she is undergoing. We have her wishes that she had made up with attorney years ago about how she doesn't want life prolonged if it isn't going to be a life worth living. After lots of tears and talk, the decesion is made to put her on a morphin drip and to discontinue the other medications that aren't really working.
They give her another shot of morphine before I leave and she seems a little more comfortable. I kiss her, tell her how much I love her and that I'll see her in the morning.
The next morning my youngest son went with me to visit. My sister and my oldest son were already there. The morphine drip was in place and she was pretty much asleep the whole time I was there. Her eyes would open and she would say a few words before closing her eyes again. I'd brush her hair, stroke her arm for her face and just let her know I was there. After a few hours I had to leave to drive my son to work. We said good bye and as I kissed her good bye and said I'll see you later, she opened her eyes and said "See you when you get get here". The tears in my eyes were for joy. Those moments of clairty with her get me through the day.
I go back that night and sit down next to her. My sister came in a few moments later. Mom woke up enough to talk with us. So for 5 - 10 minutes we talked. The sparkle in her eyes was so strong and alive. I left that night feeling very peaceful.
At my visit this morning, well she was pretty much asleep. She'd open her eyes and look at me, but then drift back into a drug induced sleep. I spoke to the nurse and I guess she was uncomfortable during the night so they up'd her morphine. I think she knows I was there, but I'm counting the minutes till I leave work so I can be there again with her.
I'm not going to bother running the grammer or spellcheck, these words are just coming out of my hands from my heart, so please excuse any errors, but I really don't care.
I'll check back in and let you know how she's doing, or maybe it's more like how I'm doing.
For the next week or however long it takes, I'll be taking this blog in a different direction temporarily. My mom is ill and we don't expect her to make it. So I need to use this blog at an outlet for what I'm feeling inside. I'm not one to cry, especially in front of other people, so I need to use this as a source of letting go all I am feeling inside me right now.
I came in late to work today because I had to stop at the hospital this morning. Yes, I had to.
Let's go back four weeks ago yesterday. It was Easter Sunday. I picked up my mom at the Independent Living facility she was living at. She could shower by herself, dress herself, feed herself, walked without any assistants, she was very independent despite some dementia. She did have problems managing her medication, so the decesion was made to move her into the assisted living wing there. Essentially it's exactly the same as before, the only difference was that they come by first thing in the morning and make sure the take their medication, and then again at night. Easter was wonderful. The family together on a beautiful spring day.
Now lets go back three weeks ago. My Mother's 80th birthday. We all met at McCovey's restaurant in Walnut Creek. Growing up we had seasons tickets to the SF Giants and mom has always been a baseball fan, especially of the Giants. We had a wonderful day and toasted her and her birthday was a round of beers. The moment of the day was when my mom realized she was 80. The look on her face was priceless She thought she was 78. Funny thing, Im 47 and I keep thinking I'm 35. Guess her and I are more alike all the time.
Now go 2 weeks back. My cell phone rings at 7:23 in the morning. I ususally don't answer that early on a Sunday morning, but I did. I saw my sister's name on the call waiting and new something was wrong. She told me that Eskaton, the facility where my mom lives, had call, they found Mom on the floor and in a lot of pain. They had called an ambulance and it was on it's way to take her to the Emergency Room. An hour later I'm walking into Kaiser in Antioch where my sister is waiting for me. Mom has a broken hip. I'm not going to go into all the details that went on there, but surgery was performed that night.
The next Thursday she is transferred to an Assisted Nursing facility in Walnut Creek. When I visit her there, the twinkle is still in her, but not shinning as brightly as ususal. Fast forward to Tuesday April 15, I get a call from the facility and Mom's lab work has come back out of whack. Her white blood count is at 38 when normal is about 9. She is lethargic and they are taking her Kaiser in Walnut Creek. My sister goes that night. I picked the wrong night to have a couple of cocktails after dinner and didn't feel comfortable driving up there safely.
The next morning I get there at 8 am and she is still in emergency as they don't have a bed for her. I hold her hand, tell her how much I love her. She calls me by my sister's name and tells me how much she hurts. At this point she has pnemonia, a blood infection and her kidneys are workning as they should be. There is no twinkle in her eyes. I stay with her for a while till my sister gets there, then I go to work and just barely go through the motions as my desk.
I'm there again that night after work, and she is more aware and recognized that I'm there. Occasionally she manages a smile, but she is still obviously in a lot of pain.
At this point I don't think she has eaten a full meal since the surgery. She went in weighing about 80 pounds, but I can tell she's gotten even smaller. I try to see her everynight. Friday I didn't make it because of a commitment I had in the city. Thank God for my sister who lives about 15 minutes from the hospital and is able to go buy 2 or 3 times a day.
When I get there on Saturday her blood is still out line. Her white blood count is in the mid 20's even after having blood tranfusions. The only words she speaks over and over to me are "help me, help me Cecelia" "I just want to die, please help me". I try to tell her that I'm doing all I can for her. That I love her and that it's in God's hands. She has a constant thirst that she can't seem to quench. She isn't strong enough to sip through a straw, so we all take turns holding the cup up to her lips. Everyone is there with her today, me, my sister and her husband, a very good friend of the family, my ex-husband and his new wife. Later in the day my oldest son arrives from Roseville.
It's absolutely horrible seeing my mom in this much pain. We call for the Dr. and he tells us there isn't a lot he can. They giving her pain medication but it isn't enough to keep her comfortable and she isn't responding to any of the other medications. At her age and in her conditions they really don't want to give her to much more morphine.
My sister and her husband, me and my ex-husband who adores my mom as much as she adores him, his new wife and I all meet in a conference room to talk. We've all held my mom hand's and heard her wishes and see the pain and suffering she is undergoing. We have her wishes that she had made up with attorney years ago about how she doesn't want life prolonged if it isn't going to be a life worth living. After lots of tears and talk, the decesion is made to put her on a morphin drip and to discontinue the other medications that aren't really working.
They give her another shot of morphine before I leave and she seems a little more comfortable. I kiss her, tell her how much I love her and that I'll see her in the morning.
The next morning my youngest son went with me to visit. My sister and my oldest son were already there. The morphine drip was in place and she was pretty much asleep the whole time I was there. Her eyes would open and she would say a few words before closing her eyes again. I'd brush her hair, stroke her arm for her face and just let her know I was there. After a few hours I had to leave to drive my son to work. We said good bye and as I kissed her good bye and said I'll see you later, she opened her eyes and said "See you when you get get here". The tears in my eyes were for joy. Those moments of clairty with her get me through the day.
I go back that night and sit down next to her. My sister came in a few moments later. Mom woke up enough to talk with us. So for 5 - 10 minutes we talked. The sparkle in her eyes was so strong and alive. I left that night feeling very peaceful.
At my visit this morning, well she was pretty much asleep. She'd open her eyes and look at me, but then drift back into a drug induced sleep. I spoke to the nurse and I guess she was uncomfortable during the night so they up'd her morphine. I think she knows I was there, but I'm counting the minutes till I leave work so I can be there again with her.
I'm not going to bother running the grammer or spellcheck, these words are just coming out of my hands from my heart, so please excuse any errors, but I really don't care.
I'll check back in and let you know how she's doing, or maybe it's more like how I'm doing.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Sitting in a Sea of Denim
I see jeans, it must be Friday
Without looking at a calendar, or checking the date on my morning newspaper, it’s almost possible for me to predict the date of the week it is by the morning BART riders’ wardrobes. Today is Friday and the train is full of denim…thank you Casual Friday! On Monday, its business casual - not to extreme casual, but far more casual than Tuesday and Wednesday. On Tuesday and Wednesday people are dressed up and I see more suits on men and women in more conservative dresses. Thursdays it’s a little more casual than Monday, but not too many people in jeans. Then Friday rolls around and everyone is in jeans. Sure there are the occasional suits, but I’d like to think they either must be going to court or have a hot date that night they are trying to impress and don’t have time to go home and change.
Then there is the footwear game. It’s easier to play this game with the men. I’ve often heard the saying you can tell a lot about a man by his shoes. It is so true. Take for example the man who sat in front of me the other day, Man A. I’d say he was in his mid to late 40’s, good looking. He had on a really nice gray suit. He carried a canvas type messenger bag and shoes that would have looked better with Dockers or dressier jeans. Not exactly suit shoes, but they still looked nice, just a little more casual. With the looks of his suit, I would have pegged him for the leather briefcase and black shinier and dressier shoes to go with the suit he had on. The seat next across from him was open. Since this is the first stop of the train (Dublin/Pleasanton) we sit at the station for about 10 minutes each morning before the train heads out. Another gentleman, Man B entered the train and took the open seat across from Man A. Man A looks over and calls out Man B’s name. Man B turns and looks at Man A and says “I didn’t recognize you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit!” Man A answers with “Yeah, I clean up really well. And it’s not my suit; I have a meeting to go to with a prospective client so I went out and rented it”. Can I call it or what! I knew something was wrong between the shoes/briefcase and the suit! Man A’s personality fit his shoes exactly, and the suit didn’t.
It’s not that I’m a fashion snob, I just can tell a lot about a person by their shoes. This works for women too, but not on BART. I love shoes. High heeled shoes. The higher the heel the better. But I have to transfer trains and on that second train each morning and night the train is packed when I get on it and I have to stand. It’s not easy to stand on a packed train in high heels with all the stopping and starting. Even holding on to a railing I’ve come close to falling over when wearing anything but flat shoes. So I wear flats….cute flats.
Most of the women on BART commuting to work are in flat shoes. Some in sneakers, some in flip flops, but mostly in the ballerina type shoes that are so popular these days. They do carry a bag of some sort that has their other shoes in them. I know that my flat shoes don’t represent how I usually look. It’s a necessity rather a statement describing me. Anyone who knows me, if asked would say that if shoes had a personality, I’d be a high heel shoe personality…plus the fact that I’m short and feel better about the 2-3 inches that heels add to my height.
What does your commute wardrobe say about you?
Without looking at a calendar, or checking the date on my morning newspaper, it’s almost possible for me to predict the date of the week it is by the morning BART riders’ wardrobes. Today is Friday and the train is full of denim…thank you Casual Friday! On Monday, its business casual - not to extreme casual, but far more casual than Tuesday and Wednesday. On Tuesday and Wednesday people are dressed up and I see more suits on men and women in more conservative dresses. Thursdays it’s a little more casual than Monday, but not too many people in jeans. Then Friday rolls around and everyone is in jeans. Sure there are the occasional suits, but I’d like to think they either must be going to court or have a hot date that night they are trying to impress and don’t have time to go home and change.
Then there is the footwear game. It’s easier to play this game with the men. I’ve often heard the saying you can tell a lot about a man by his shoes. It is so true. Take for example the man who sat in front of me the other day, Man A. I’d say he was in his mid to late 40’s, good looking. He had on a really nice gray suit. He carried a canvas type messenger bag and shoes that would have looked better with Dockers or dressier jeans. Not exactly suit shoes, but they still looked nice, just a little more casual. With the looks of his suit, I would have pegged him for the leather briefcase and black shinier and dressier shoes to go with the suit he had on. The seat next across from him was open. Since this is the first stop of the train (Dublin/Pleasanton) we sit at the station for about 10 minutes each morning before the train heads out. Another gentleman, Man B entered the train and took the open seat across from Man A. Man A looks over and calls out Man B’s name. Man B turns and looks at Man A and says “I didn’t recognize you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit!” Man A answers with “Yeah, I clean up really well. And it’s not my suit; I have a meeting to go to with a prospective client so I went out and rented it”. Can I call it or what! I knew something was wrong between the shoes/briefcase and the suit! Man A’s personality fit his shoes exactly, and the suit didn’t.
It’s not that I’m a fashion snob, I just can tell a lot about a person by their shoes. This works for women too, but not on BART. I love shoes. High heeled shoes. The higher the heel the better. But I have to transfer trains and on that second train each morning and night the train is packed when I get on it and I have to stand. It’s not easy to stand on a packed train in high heels with all the stopping and starting. Even holding on to a railing I’ve come close to falling over when wearing anything but flat shoes. So I wear flats….cute flats.
Most of the women on BART commuting to work are in flat shoes. Some in sneakers, some in flip flops, but mostly in the ballerina type shoes that are so popular these days. They do carry a bag of some sort that has their other shoes in them. I know that my flat shoes don’t represent how I usually look. It’s a necessity rather a statement describing me. Anyone who knows me, if asked would say that if shoes had a personality, I’d be a high heel shoe personality…plus the fact that I’m short and feel better about the 2-3 inches that heels add to my height.
What does your commute wardrobe say about you?
Monday, March 24, 2008
I'm back....and riding the rails daily
Hello….anyone remember me? Yes it has been WAY to long since I posted, but I’m back, and I’m commuting again by train…daily! So I should have plenty to blog about.
To catch up on things – the fast version, after 7 wonderful months of being off of work, I’m on my third job since the very end of December. I worked for 2 weeks for a company in Concord, CA. It was a case management company. Really fascinating what they do, but a position working for a software company in Jack London Square came up, and that job was far more of what I had in mind. I drove to work each day and worked with some really great people who I miss a lot. I would have stayed there, except for that my old boss at Aon in Los Angeles called and offered me a position working with her again. I couldn’t turn it down! I’ve been here since the end of February and I love it!
I’m taking BART everyday to work…so hello blog! With the price of gas out of control taking BART is great. Plus I work at City Center in Oakland, right a BART station. As you can imagine, after riding almost a month now, I have plenty to write about.
Today’s blog comes from something I saw when I logged onto the Los Angeles NBC website. After 3 years they are finally picking a jury for the idiot that parked his car on the MetroLink tracks in Southern California in January 0f 2005, killing 11 and injuring over 180 others while he survived. This wasn’t the train that I rode to work each day, but I had a co-worker that was on that train. While she suffered minor injuries, it wasn’t just about the physical injuries she suffered; it’s about the emotional and mental injuries that were inflicted upon all of us. Broken bones, bruises and concussions heal in a matter of weeks and months, but those emotional injuries will take far longer to heal. Prior to that day I never thought about which train car I got on. But after that “accident”, I never want to board the first or last car of a train and I’ll go out of my way to avoid those cars. I’m sure that BART has an excellent safety record, and I feel very safe about the system, but still, the memories of that morning will be with me every time I board a train, any train.
On my commute, BART doesn’t cross any city streets where some selfish jerk can put his car on the tracks for the first commute train of the day to hit, but deep in my brain and in my heart when I get on a train I can’t help but to think of those who were killed or hurt on that fateful day just because of where they happen to sit.
So this blog goes out all that were on that train back in January 2005.
To catch up on things – the fast version, after 7 wonderful months of being off of work, I’m on my third job since the very end of December. I worked for 2 weeks for a company in Concord, CA. It was a case management company. Really fascinating what they do, but a position working for a software company in Jack London Square came up, and that job was far more of what I had in mind. I drove to work each day and worked with some really great people who I miss a lot. I would have stayed there, except for that my old boss at Aon in Los Angeles called and offered me a position working with her again. I couldn’t turn it down! I’ve been here since the end of February and I love it!
I’m taking BART everyday to work…so hello blog! With the price of gas out of control taking BART is great. Plus I work at City Center in Oakland, right a BART station. As you can imagine, after riding almost a month now, I have plenty to write about.
Today’s blog comes from something I saw when I logged onto the Los Angeles NBC website. After 3 years they are finally picking a jury for the idiot that parked his car on the MetroLink tracks in Southern California in January 0f 2005, killing 11 and injuring over 180 others while he survived. This wasn’t the train that I rode to work each day, but I had a co-worker that was on that train. While she suffered minor injuries, it wasn’t just about the physical injuries she suffered; it’s about the emotional and mental injuries that were inflicted upon all of us. Broken bones, bruises and concussions heal in a matter of weeks and months, but those emotional injuries will take far longer to heal. Prior to that day I never thought about which train car I got on. But after that “accident”, I never want to board the first or last car of a train and I’ll go out of my way to avoid those cars. I’m sure that BART has an excellent safety record, and I feel very safe about the system, but still, the memories of that morning will be with me every time I board a train, any train.
On my commute, BART doesn’t cross any city streets where some selfish jerk can put his car on the tracks for the first commute train of the day to hit, but deep in my brain and in my heart when I get on a train I can’t help but to think of those who were killed or hurt on that fateful day just because of where they happen to sit.
So this blog goes out all that were on that train back in January 2005.
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