November 12, 2012 · 6:22 pm

Dad that’s gross!

With the flu season getting underway, I’ve heard a lot of people sneezing, wheezing and coughing around me lately. Dad was pretty dramatic when he came down with a cold. He would complain and Mom would nurse him (baby him) back to health. While he was vocal with his complaints, he never missed work because of the sniffles, he always toughed it out.

But what I remember most about those times when Dad had a cold were the hankies. Dad was old school and always carried a hanky with him, which mom dutifully washed (and I think she even ironed them!) I never understood the concept of carrying around a snot rag in your pocket when tissues were readily available. Sure, it’s more eco-friendly I guess, but gross!

One of the sounds I will never forget, just like’s Dad’s cough, is Dad honking like a duck into one of those hankies. As a child, I was so disgusted by the act but poor Dad was just trying to find relief!

I did find this article about the history of handkerchiefs on Wikipedia that was pretty interesting. I had no idea a king is thought to have created what became known as a hanky!

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November 11, 2012 · 6:28 pm

Trying to grab the elusive prize

I was browsing through some popular smartphone apps and saw one that was a prize claw game. I remember those enticing, frustrating machines from my childhood.

Normally, I would hit my parents up for a nickel or quarter and choose something from those toy and candy dispensing machines that are in the front of stores. Most times I would get a brightly-colored gumball that I could barely fit in my mouth. Sometimes I would get sour candy of some sort, which would come out in a rush from the dispenser, and would often go spilling over my tiny hands. I also collected dozens of tiny toys stuffed in plastic capsules from those vending machines. I always had the bad luck of getting something I already had.

The claw machine that I remember was located in a restaurant geared towards kids. It was a destination spot for birthday parties. I remember my parents and I going to get ice cream one hot summer afternoon. As we were leaving, the claw machine captured my attention. A little boy watched eagerly as his dad worked the claw and magically grabbed a stuffed animal. He squealed with delight and ran off to show his mom what hero Dad had captured.

I had doubts Dad could recreate that magic. Dad was not mechanically minded, and as it turns out, neither am I. As an adult, I would never attempt to work one of those claw machines, as I know I would just embarrass myself. Even though I was filled with doubt, I begged Dad to drop a quarter and win me something. He obliged, but was completely confused about the controls and how to work them. He managed to move the claw an inch and grab some air. Game over.

So much of our lives are spent going after the prize, but it’s the effort and the reason why we try at all that should be celebrated.

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November 10, 2012 · 5:13 pm

Trying to track down a slip of paper

My mom is trying to get one of Dad’s pensions. This one is from his brief work history in England. We must send them a certified copy of my parents’ marriage certificate in order for the government to release the funds. It’s only a $100 a month, but Mom has become obsessed with getting it.

It seemed like a simple enough of a request. Until I started looking for it.

My parents were married in Mexico in 1971. Mom had this mysterious document that appeared to be a receipt for a marriage license. But it was unclear if this was the real marriage certificate. It was all Mom had, so we sent England a copy of that.

Not good enough. They still want what they originally requested.

And that’s where the real fun began. I figured I could easily find resources online, but even though I consider myself quite adept at Internet research, I found information to be spotty at best. I finally found an address that I hope is correct. I’m now awaiting a response (fingers crossed.)

I find it interesting that two people could be together 40 years and go through hell for those last few years and we have to track down an elusive slip of paper to prove it to the world. Death comes with plenty of red tape, that’s for sure.

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November 9, 2012 · 6:19 pm

Driving without insurance

With talk about the election this week and the health insurance requirement that is part of Obamacare, it made me think about the time Dad skipped a government-mandated insurance requirement.

This was during Dad’s unemployment period. It went on for several months, and money was tight. Auto insurance in California was expensive, but required by law. Dad decided to save a few hundred dollars and not renew his plan when it expired.

And that led to many tense drives around town, where Dad would panic about being pulled over or being in an accident. As it turned out, he did end up getting into an accident, though it was one of those situations where the other driver hit him from behind yet it was still determined to be Dad’s fault. Dad was hit with some pretty big fines. Lesson learned. In later years, he always had car insurance.

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November 8, 2012 · 7:39 pm

An Irish wake

Mom was telling me about someone she knows who just revealed they have pancreatic cancer, stage IV. Realistically looking at their odds, he has already started planning for his departure from this world. An Irishman, he wants his life to be celebrated via an Irish wake versus the sad mourning of a traditional funeral.

Dad had no ceremony when he left this earth. It was impossible to know if that’s how he would have wanted it, because he had a fear of death and would not discuss the particulars when he still had his mind. Dad’s family is in Ireland and Australia, so there’s no way they would have come to New Mexico for a funeral. And while Dad was liked by the locals, he didn’t have any close friends, so the invitation list would have been small. Then there was that winter storm, combined with the Christmas holiday that delayed Dad’s physical departure from this earth. (His cremation was delayed until a doctor was available to sign the death certificate. He died five days before Christmas, but was kept in the morgue of a funeral home for several days until the paperwork was completed.)

I do like the idea of a wake, where one’s memory is celebrated. Mourning certainly has its time and place, but I prefer to do that privately. And the sadness, the grief comes because of what the deceased person meant to others. I think Dad would have approved pint glasses of Guinness raised high in his honor and memory.

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November 7, 2012 · 7:43 pm

Fights with Dad

I may have been Daddy’s little girl, but as I became a pre-teen, I tended to side with my mom when our family had domestic upheavals.

My parents didn’t have a storybook relationship, but it did endure over the years. I think most couples hit some roadblocks along the way, and for me, that came during my pre-teen and teenage years. It also was the time that my mom was going through menopause. You can just imagine what a hormone-enraged household that was!

A lot of the arguments would take place while we were driving home from some local errand. Mom would threaten to get a job and leave Dad, and Dad would scoff at the idea of Mom being able to find employment. Frankly, he was probably right, but I did my good daughter duty and sided with Mom.

I remember one particular incident clearly. We were coming home from grocery shopping. Whatever Dad said (which I don’t remember what it was now) really enraged me. I picked up a stool from the breakfast bar and raised it at Dad. I didn’t strike him, as he retreated, no doubt to go smoke a cigarette and cool off for awhile.

The whole incident blew over and was never mentioned again.

Looking back on the whole thing, I think there were legitimate frustrations on all sides. Perhaps attacking one another verbally and otherwise was not appropriate, but the important thing was that we worked through it. And at the end of Dad’s life, Mom and I stood proudly by his side, trying to make his exit from this life as dignified and painless as possible.

Love endures.

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November 6, 2012 · 7:05 pm

Dad a voter

As an immigrant to the U.S., Dad took his voting duties seriously. Mom never remembers him missing an election, except in 2008.

By then, Dad was mentally drifting quite a bit. I do remember having a few phone conversations with Dad about the upcoming election back then. Sometimes he would be coherent, other times, he could not finish his thought. As I’ve mentioned before, Dad was a Kennedy-loving Democrat. I don’t think he would have predicted a black man being elected U.S. president in his lifetime. Unfortunately, he was not well enough to participate in the historic election.

After that, Dad sunk into the black hole of dementia. During one of Dad’s many hospital stays, the staff was trying to assess Dad’s mental state. They asked him who the president was. Dad’s eyes were blank. His mouth didn’t move.

If there’s an election in the afterworld today, Dad is voting Kennedy all the way. 🙂

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November 5, 2012 · 6:12 pm

A phantom wheeze

As we march closer to the one year anniversary of my father’s death, Mom seems to be sensing Dad’s presence more at home. She told me the other night she fell asleep only to be awakened to the sound of someone wheezing. She instantly thought that it was my dad. He had suffered from both COPD and emphysema in the last several years of his life.

Then she reminded herself that Dad was no longer suffering anywhere on this planet.

She then thought it was me, but I’m in Atlanta at the moment. She then convinced herself that she was the wheezing (or snoring) culprit.

Our loved ones leave us on a mental and physical plane, but sometimes part of them lingers in the minds of those that mourn them.

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November 4, 2012 · 5:58 pm

A life controlled by machines

Dad was very sick this time last year and he would not get better. Soon, he would find himself hooked up to a multitude of machines that kept him alive, yet without awareness. This summer I also experienced the power of machines in the hospital when my mom had her surgery.

I read recently how many of the machines used in hospitals are running on software that’s ancient by today’s constantly-evolving standards. The worst part of it is that there are no simple ways to update the machine’s software, making them very vulnerable to malware attacks. Apparently, it is quite routine for a machine that is hooked up to a critically ill patient to just stop working. Luckily, the staff usually notice before the malfunctioning machine causes any real harm to the patient.

Certainly I saw my share of machines going haywire while my dad and then my mom ended up in the hospital. It’s frightening to think that you are placing your well-being on machines that could stop working at any moment. Sure, when the machines are working they are saving lives, or at least, preserving life for a bit longer.

I remember how my mom received her medications late while she was in the hospital because they were launching a new version of medication-dispensing that was computer-based and it had some glitches. Overall, the new system seemed to offer benefits such as cutting down on medication errors, which cause many deaths each year in hospitals.

But after learning about the potential dangers lurking in the outdated technology used at many hopsitals, I will never ignore or overlook a beeping machine in a hospital again.

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November 3, 2012 · 7:06 pm

Landmines for dementia patients

Until you spend a good deal of time with a dementia patient, you can easily overlook potential triggers that will create an explosion of confusion, fear and anger in certain people with dementia.

Take for instance, the simple act of getting on and riding in an elevator. I’ve heard that a way to keep dementia patients from crossing a door’s threshold is by putting a black strip of tape on the floor, or painting a black strip on the floor. Dementia patients see this as a black void and are afraid they will fall into it. I think this is what Dad experienced as we ventured towards the elevator. As we coaxed him to join us in the elevator, he jumped back as if he had been shocked. We finally were able to get him safely in the elevator, and had him hang on to the railing at the back for support. He was very unsteady and I could feel his anxiety level rise.

Fortunately, we only had to go a few floors up so the frightening incident for Dad didn’t last very long. He forgot it as soon as he exited the elevator. The trip back down was uneventful. But I remember that “scared out of your wits” gleam in Dad’s eye. It’s not something you ever want to see on a loved one’s face, but with dementia, it becomes an expression that one sees all too often.

What the experience has taught me is to be even more aware of my surroundings, and other’s special needs. What may seem like a routine, mundane task for me may be a journey of terror for someone else.

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