Category Archives: Memories

June 29, 2012 · 7:12 pm

The good old days (not quite)

So my mom is still feeling terrible and her colonoscopy is schedule for 2 weeks from now. (Friday the 13th!) Anyways, we were talking about the prep for the test, which involves enemas (and drinking a lot of nasty-tasting stuff.) I reminded her that she had given me enemas when I was a little kid.

She remembered the story. I was three or four. She said I had not had a bowel movement in a few days. (It was actually more like a week. I remember with dread as each day passed and nothing came out. I was too little to be able to tell time or read a calendar, but I remember begging my mom to give me another day or two.) My tummy hurt really bad and finally I gave in.

Maybe if Mom and Dad had bought me an enema stuffed toy it would have made the experience more fun. Photo: http://kookykitsch.com/

Dad was given the exciting duty of going and buying the Fleet enema. I remember the green and white box it came in. I remember being in the bathroom and freaking out a bit. Finally, Mom got the dirty business done and I was ushered immediately to the toilet. I don’t remember that part clearly but Mom pronounced it a beautiful specimen, ha.

She ended her memory of that story by saying those were the good old days, and she didn’t know if they would ever return. Since she’s feeling so poorly, I didn’t mention that for me, as a constipated child getting an enema, it was definitely not a warm and fuzzy moment.

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June 28, 2012 · 8:45 pm

Bathtub races

I was too young to remember this specific memory but I do clearly remember a plastic baby-blue bathtub. Why not pink? Well, my parents did think I was going to be a boy for awhile! I remember how smooth it was, and how it smelled faintly of soap. It was one of those portable tubs designed for infants. As I got a bit older, my mom would delight me by pushing me around the apartment in the bathtub (without water of course). I would squeal with glee as we went around and around the small rooms.

My mom’s back howled in protest however. So Dad was brought in to be my captain for these bathtub races. He could push harder and faster so it became quite the thrill ride for me.

My parents told me that story so many times that I can almost see it in my mind, my damp shock of hair fluttering in the breeze as Dad whipped me around the living room. The sense of flying, while still on the ground. The unabashed glee and innocent giggles that only a baby or small child can display.

If only we could tap into some of that wide-eyed wonder and simple joy of being alive once we become adults.

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June 27, 2012 · 7:22 pm

How life turns on a dime

With my dad, Alzheimer’s disease moved slowly but surely. Tell-tale signs here and there, and then one day, boom, it hits you. Dad had dementia and there’s no turning back.

With my mom, it seemed so sudden, though probably her health issues had been creeping up on her for some time. Her issues are primarily physical, while Dad’s were mainly mental. So health-wise, they are on opposite ends of the spectrum, but for me, the stress is identical.

I feel like I’ve been dropped back into that video game world, where your character is supposed to navigate around the bad guys and tense situations. Even sleep is troubled with stressful visions. I spent almost all of 2011 in this state. It is not a healthy state to be in, but I must be there for my mom, just like I tried to be there for my dad.

Yet again, there’s that gnawing feeling, that I should be with my mom right now, and accompany her to her appointment with the specialist tomorrow. (For the record, Mom soundly rejected that idea. She’s not gone yet!) Still, the tension of living with a parent who inches ever closer to Death becomes a shadow that fills every crevice of your life.

I only have one more shot at doing this right. I already regret not spending enough time with Dad while he was alive. I feel like I’m walking the same road with Mom right now, but until we get a proper diagnosis, I feel we are in this terrible limbo.

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June 26, 2012 · 8:11 pm

The scorching steering wheel

As one would expect, it is hot here in Atlanta, GA where I live. Going outside is like walking into an oven … that’s on! The humidity feels suffocating, and everyone shuffles about in a daze, bathed in a pool of sweat. It’s bad enough entering the subway that’s so cash-strapped they can’t afford to turn on the air conditioning and instead set up a couple of industrial fans which just blow the hot air around. I definitely can’t imagine entering a car that didn’t have AC while enduring a Georgia summer.

And maybe that’s because I have flashbacks to some brutally hot summers growing up in Southern California. I remember plenty of triple digit days growing up, and we never had a car that had AC. At most of the apartment complexes we lived at, we had a shaded carport. In the summer, it was Dad’s job to go downstairs and “prep the car” for Mom and me, which meant rolling all of the windows down and trying to let all of the built-up heat escape. Dad did his best, but I still remember how hard it was to catch my breath the first couple of minutes I was in the car.

While we were out and about, Dad would search vainly for a shaded parking spot, but alas, we often came up empty. That’s where the rags came in. Dad kept a pair of rags under his seat so that he would be able to hold on to the steering wheel after the car had been setting in the sun too long! I can still see and hear my dad exclaim (sometimes with a four-letter word) as he gingerly touched the steering wheel. You would have thought it had shocked him! Still, I believed him when he said how hot it was, because I had to avoid touching the vinyl back seat cover for fear of melting into it.

As I got older, I became more and more mortified that someone would notice our old jalopy puttering down the road, with the driver steering a wheel covered in rags.

In hindsight, those were the good old days.

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June 25, 2012 · 7:56 pm

Dad’s favorite sweater

If I’m reunited with Dad again in another life, I fully expect him to be wearing his navy blue sweater with the red and white overlapping diamonds. It might as well have been Dad’s weekend uniform during the winter. In the summertime, he had a stable of short-sleeved shirts, always with a pocket where he kept his smokes. But for some reason, that sweater stands out in my mind more than anything else he wore.

The famous sweater, as much of a Christmas staple in our house as our tiny fake Christmas tree.

It’s probably because he wore it for holidays and “special” outings. The sweater itself was nothing special. It probably came right off the rack at Kmart and was made in China by illegal labor. It was thin, but those Southern California winters weren’t exactly brutal, ha. Dad’s smoking habit stubbornly clung to the threads of that sweater, no matter how religiously Mom washed it.

I wouldn’t be surprised if that old sweater, probably mended by Mom a dozen times over the years, still exists. It may still be hanging in their closet, or tucked away in a dresser drawer, never to be worn by its original owner again.

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June 24, 2012 · 6:37 pm

Pie for dinner

With Mom being ill right now, one of the things she misses most is going out to eat. Like I’ve mentioned many times before, we didn’t do anything fancy as a family, but we still enjoyed our dining out experiences.

When my parents decided for a “special occasion” meal, we would head to a stable of family-friendly restaurants. One of my favorite destinations was Polly’s Pies. I’m always excited to find out that a place from my childhood still exists, and apparently the regional restaurant chain is still going strong. I remember there used to be a long waiting list, sometimes we would mill about for a half-hour or more to get a table. I usually ordered a Polly burger, my dad would get the turkey dinner and Mom would get the tuna salad sandwich. Somehow, we saved room for dessert, which was the whole point of coming here in the first place!

One of my family’s favorite restaurants. Image: http://www.pollyspies.com/

Polly’s, as you might guess, was known for their pies. What’s funny is that my memory is fuzzy on what kinds of pies we ordered. My dad wasn’t much of a dessert guy (and was a penny-pincher) so I’m guessing he just had a bite or two of whatever my Mom got. I think we stuck mainly with fruit-based pies, though they also offered cheesecake. All I remember is my mom telling the waitress that she was going to have to roll us out of here we ate so much!

I just took a peek at their online menu and I remember some of the items! So weird, since it’s been over 20 years since my family has dined at a Polly’s. I’m even more impressed that they have a gluten-free menu! I have to be on a gluten-free diet, and a pie-based restaurant is the last place I would think would care about catering to the gluten-free crowd. Sadly though, no gluten-free pies!

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June 23, 2012 · 6:30 pm

Taking chances in life

My mom is doing an inventory of her life right now, as she awaits her diagnosis. She told me today how she was glad that she took chances.

One of those chances was on Dad. I like to think Dad took a chance as well.

They were both in their thirties in the late 1960’s. They met at a L.A. coffee shop, and bonded over horse racing results. They married in 1971 and I came along three years later. And the rest is history.

So for their generation, they were definitely older than average when they finally said, “I do.” It’s really just the powers of fate that brought them together at that diner on that day and had their worlds collide into one another.

There was no “love at first sight” or anything like that. But perhaps the romantic side of my mom got caught up in the allure of the mysterious, handsome dark-haired man from Ireland.

I’m glad Mom took that risk. Otherwise, I might not be here.

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June 22, 2012 · 8:17 pm

The downside of small-town living

With my mom’s health in jeopardy now, I’m reflecting back on my dad’s healthcare from the time he started suffering from dementia. The conclusion I’ve come to is that it’s okay to retire in a small town as long as you are reasonably healthy. My dad had COPD and emphysema but those were easy enough to manage, since he didn’t have any major symptoms.

But once you need more specialized care, you may be in big trouble. Certainly it wouldn’t make economic sense for every small town in America to have a horde of specialists at your beck and call. But for many Americans (and I suspect this applies in other countries as well), the high cost of living in a big city is just not feasible. Nowadays, people worry about living too long, and blowing through their meager savings, even if they live on a tight budget like my parents. So small-town life seems appealing. It’s easier to navigate around a small town and become familiar with your surroundings and maybe some of your neighbors. The cost of living is lower. It’s a more relaxed way of life.

It all makes sense, until you get really sick. Then one discovers, like I did with Dad, that the only care center that would accept him is over an hour’s drive away. The hospital in town is mediocre at best, and can afford to be, as they are the only game in town. It becomes disheartening to deal with the indifferent medical staff at doctor’s offices and at the hospital. You want your loved one to have the best of care, and you know this isn’t it. But you can’t just pick them up and drop them in a big city and have the best and brightest doctors treat them. Well, I guess you could if you won the lottery or something. Mom already did that, but she didn’t win enough.

I know my Dad’s care was not as good as it could have been, and now I fear the same fate for my Mom. In a weird twist, I felt like Dad’s dementia may have protected him from some of the medical gaffes that he suffered. My mom’s mental state has taken a hit, but she’s much more aware of what’s going on than Dad was. I fear she will be more aware of suffering. Sometimes I get tired of the rat race of city life and long to run to the mountains. But there’s no such thing as an oasis. Wherever you go, death will find you.

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June 21, 2012 · 8:06 pm

Life is full of irony

So it will be awhile before I learn of Mom’s official diagnosis. I predict colon cancer. I hope I’m wrong about that.

But if it does turn out to be cancer, there will be such irony.

For years, before Dad got dementia, I worried about every time his cough worsened, or he had some vague pain somewhere. A smoker since he was 16, I was certain cancer would get him in the end. He was diagnosed with COPD and emphysema, a result of that smoking habit. But somehow, he dodged the cancer bullet. Of course, one could argue that dementia is the worse fate.

Yet my mom, who’s practically a vegetarian, who doesn’t drink and who smoked rarely for only a very brief period when it was trendy for women to do so, she may be the one who cancer nabs. Life truly is a crapshoot. I still believe that it’s better to play the odds and try to live a reasonably healthy lifestyle, but there are no guarantees that clean living will spare you from terrible diseases.

And if my Mom is diagnosed with a benign condition that can be corrected, it’s still a good wake-up call. Make good use of the time you have. We’re all borrowers when it comes to time left on this earth.

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June 20, 2012 · 7:09 pm

Six months since Dad died

Today is the longest day of the year, in more ways than one for me. On a positive note, while I did not actively participate, I fully support all of those who took part in The Longest Day event sponsored by The Alzheimer’s Association. The stories are so inspiring.

On a sadder note, today is the six month anniversary of my father’s death. It’s hard to believe so much time has passed already. I still think about him often, and not just when I’m writing on this blog. There are still regrets and pangs of guilt to work through.

My parents long ago, before disease caught up to them.

But now, the bad news. My mom has been very ill for over a week now. Symptoms include vomiting (with brown flecks), shortness of breath, bloating and distended stomach, shortness of breath, fatigue, loss of appetite and extreme heartburn. My mom has been in very good health (other than depression and grief over Dad) so I’ve been very concerned. Finally she had some tests done, and per my mom, the doctor said there was a problem with her colon. Since the tests were just xrays, I guess the C-word couldn’t be used until Mom gets a colonoscopy, but of course, my mind is racing to the likely conclusion that she has colon cancer. I hope it turns out to be something more treatable, but it looks like surgery may be in her future.

What’s most troubling is that she couldn’t get an appointment to see a specialist until July 12th. Mom hasn’t been able to keep any food down for over a week. She says her regular doctor is supposed to follow up with her regarding nutrition. I hope so!

(I tried calling her doctor but Mom hasn’t filled out the form that allows me to get information so I’m barred per HIPAA from knowing anything. I’m all for privacy rights but at the moment it’s frustrating.)

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