“We’ll take it one day at a time.”
~~ what my dad would say during the months of my mom’s illness and what we are all doing in our current global challenges, although sometimes it is hour by hour instead of day by day
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The last few weeks have been hectic. My mom, known here as Nana, has been dealing with an increase in fatigue, weakness, and edema as the congestive heart failure progresses. The hospice team continues to be helpful with trying to re-balance some medications but there is always some amount of compromise among symptoms with relieving all of them an impossibility. A couple of months ago, we had to expand private aide coverage from overnight to daytime as well. There have been a number of issues with scheduling, though, plus a few unexpected events that have kept me in a bit of a whirlwind, not being able to tell how any day may develop.
This unsettled feeling is exacerbated by the constant maelstrom of the news. I have been very concerned about Russian interference in the United States and other nations, something that I posted about during the 2016 campaign and have followed since. The indictments that have been handed down so far as a result of the Mueller investigation are disturbing and more may be coming soon. It appears that the obstruction of justice report may be finished in the coming weeks. Having been brought up during the Watergate hearings, just hearing about the possibility of another president under suspicion of obstruction is chilling.
Then, there is Syria. And the rest of the Middle East. And North Korea. And a trade war with China.
Immigration issues. A Congress that is dysfunctional. Gun violence. Racism. Sex/gender discrimination, harassment, and abuse. Bullying and incivility.
I could go on…
And on….
Everything feels impossibly complicated and tenuous and unbalanced. I don’t know if things were more stable in the broader world if I would feel a bit better equipped to cope with personal family issues, but I do know that it isn’t helping my mindset in the least.
I had hoped that my next post would be about ABC’s baptism and the family visits around that, but I haven’t been able to get organized to write it.
There has been a lot going on and a lot swirling in my head, so maybe this post will help…
My parents raised me to always do my best. I was fortunate that my best generally also stood me in good stead in school and in life experiences, as I juggled my various roles and tried to do good in the world.
When my children were young, there was a book about being a “good enough” parent. I remember bristling at the concept, because I was geared to be a “best I could be” parent – and daughter, spouse, sister, friend, citizen, Catholic, volunteer, committee member, musician, person.
The current roster of roles now includes grandparent, blogger, and poet.
And it doesn’t feel as though my best, even when I am able to muster it, is good enough.
Not even close.
With my mom in hospice care and granddaughter ABC in residence, there has been massive re-prioritizing, which is necessary and good and understandable. Some things in which I was accustomed to being very active, such as public policy and social justice advocacy, have been sharply curtailed, unfortunately at a time when my country is coming apart at the seams. I am keeping some of my poetry and blogging activities going, but in a scattershot way as I have time/brainpower available.
(It is not especially helpful to have Facebook reminding me how many days it has been since I posted to the Top of JC’s Mind Facebook page.)
I think, though, that the root of the problem is that nothing I do, whether it is my best or not, can change the fact of the mounting losses. Illness and decline and death and people moving away and rejection and running out of time and all manner of losses, anticipated or unforeseen, will keep happening, no matter what I or any of us do, think, or philosophize over.
And, yes, I know circle of life and faith and recommendations to take care of myself notwithstanding, some days are just difficult to get through without tears.
Sometimes, those days with tears string together.
I am blessed, though, with people who bring me as much support and comfort as they can when I am struggling. B to talk with and give me hugs. The warmth of ABC snuggling in my arms. E and L to step in and make dinner when I can’t wrap my head around the concept of eating, much less shopping and cooking. My sisters with calls, notes, and visits. Friends who are sending thoughts and prayers and who understand my sporadic contact.
Earlier this week, I was looking for a bell for Nana to use to call her nighttime aide. Unsure where to look, I went to a dollar store near the pharmacy where I was picking up one of Nana’s prescriptions. I don’t often go to dollar stores, so it was a bit difficult to figure out where to look. I had started to check out some possible aisles when I heard the unmistakable sound of a bell. I followed it to find a girl carrying a little bell toward the checkout where her grandmother was waiting for her. I waited until they had finished their transactions and asked where they had found it. (The grandmother told me that the bell said “Ring for Beer” on it and that they were getting it for a beer-loving dad.) The girl cheerfully led me through the store to the shelf in the gifts aisle that held the bells. I thanked her. I chose a bell that said “Ring for Service” on it, paid $1.08, and brought it up to my mom’s, who was surprised that I had been able to find a bell so quickly.
(Feel free to insert your favorite It’s a Wonderful Life, serendipity, answer to prayer, etc. thoughts here.)
For me in that moment, it was a reminder that hope and help can appear unexpectedly in the midst of sadness and confusion and uncertainty.
I just have to listen and allow myself to be led.
Sharing this thought-provoking, heart-breaking post from Nancy of Marginalia.
It is hard not to lead with our wounds. We all have them. Some are personal. Some are from childhood. Many are cultural. Every day we step out into the world
Source: Wounded
Top of JC's Mind 