Writing Prompt - (Miracles) and Wonder -

A young man was in a terrible roll-over accident five weeks ago. He nearly severed an arm and had head, neck, and brain injuries. As well, he wasn’t from Utah, didn’t have family near, and speaks Spanish. With the belief that his death was imminent, Palliative Care was called in. Family was found, quickly came. Our role was to explain the severity of his injuries and talk about Goals of Care for him. The parents, well-educated and employed, did not speak English. We have met with them weekly to discuss the patient’s status and ask about their concerns.

I have worked very hard to create a relationship of trust with the parents, and we have enjoyed visiting together, using my broken Spanish, their broken English, a translate app and a translator.
These very religious parents never lost their faith that their son would heal; he was intubated, sedated, a feeding tube placed, multiple surgeries and grafts on his arm. His brain injury was so traumatic that he would most likely be disabled, bed-bound, and needing fulltime care for the rest of his life.

I’m used to asking families what they hope for, what they’d like me to pray for, and these parents kept telling me they were expecting a miracle. Not hoping, but expecting, putting their full trust in God.

Miracles happened this week. The young man woke, his arm is healing, he is talking, and the family, caregivers, skeptics, optimists, have witnessed a miracle. In this career, surrounded by death, this young man is being raised from the dead and living.

This has been a blessing in my life; seeing these parent’s faith and diligence and love has warmed my heart; and I have needed that. We all need to witness and acknowledge these miracles and the dedication of parents who would not be discouraged (not only small tender mercies, but full-blown miracles). 

For no reason but my life typically attributes a song to any event. This one - 

Writing Prompt - Dread -

 The 2nd writing prompt is this: What is something you dread doing, yet need to get taken care of in a timely manner? 

Well, it's like this - I need to recertify every five years as a Board Certified Clinical Chaplain. I'm board certified through two organizations, and the more robust one requires this. And - it's an exam, 100 questions, multiple choice, T/F. 

I hate taking tests. During my first year in college at Utah Valley University, I took an Ecology/Earth Science course. I loved the material, the professor was odd but passionate, yet his tests were terrible. And I failed them, every single time. The one question I remember arguing with him about had something to do with a frog sitting on a log, sitting near a log, sitting by a log. What the crap? And I stood up in class and told him I was not taking class in how to take his tests. And the following semester, taking a Chemistry class, another professor did similarly, as did I, yet this time I walked right out of his class, with applause from the other students. 

What a bunch of crap to intimidate or separate students not on their knowledge, but on their ability to take and pass an exam. 

And I vowed that I would never take another multiple choice, T/F exam. And when I became a professor I vowed I would never do the same to my students, and more - I would never require them to take a test in the testing center. 

I've made it all these years, and now, I have to do this. I have over 1000 pages of material to study, I have a letter from my doctor stating that I have test-taking anxiety and may require more than the 2 hours allotted, and I need to have this exam finished by the first of December. 

This means setting aside time to study, to study the practice test, and to stress. I'm dreading it all. Very much. 

Here's to concurring that last bit of fear (falling is another, but that's another story). 

Writing Prompt, Change your Life -

 I'm taking a 14 day writing challenge. It's about looking forward. Something I haven't done in ages. Today's is: 

If you could change your life in two weeks, what would you hope to change? What areas of your life would you like to improve? What would you love to let go of? How would releasing emotional baggage help you move forward? 

I am all about change. I love change, in fact, probably, too much. I think growth is necessary or we stagnate, become dull, lifeless, and end up existing. I like to push myself! so I'm answering this without a "If". 

I commit to changing my life these next two weeks. Exercise this past year has been limited to walking - I miss my Cody-trainer, and Scott isn't much motivation. As well, sleep has been tough to get, and that's my excuse. I need to do some weight-bearing exercises; I feel so much better when I do. 

I will let go of that "whine" that I need more time to sleep, I will go to sleep earlier, and I commit to doing that by not reading my phone before bed. 

I hope the emotional baggage I release will be that guilt of knowing one thing and doing something else. 

I'll be accountable to myself - I can do this. 

Husband -

This man drives me nuts, frustrates the hell out of me, and he is the love of my life, my rock, my column, my shoulder to cry on. Occasionally he'll give me the "Calm down," or "It can't be that bad," statement, yet for the most part he listens to my philosophize and theory'ize tangents and explorations, even when he's a bottom-line "Just tell me straight," "Why worry about that," person. 

I love him; these past nine years have been hard on our marriage - cancer, parents dying and Weaver estate to care for, child issues, caring for parents, sorting through Walker home, work-related trauma, 2020, and he's been still and the most amazing support - he's my calm presence; I can count on him; and he is all I need. 

Siblings and Life and Death and After -

Six weeks ago my mother passed away, 

at my home, in my library. 

The last few days of her life

 she was surrounded by family. 

And with that phrase I begin my list of the positives of having a loved one die. 

Mom loved having her children around her, and her last days fulfilled that desire; she was encompassed, enclosed, encircled with family. Every single moment; she was never alone from Friday evening when we brought her to my home until Saturday afternoon when she was laid in the ground, and then she was adjacent to Dad, to her in-laws.

Upon moving in to the Beehive Home where she lived her last year of life, she had, what my brother called a "Moment of Lucidity," and sent out a text to all of her children: "Why do I have to live here when you all have room for me and you are all good cooks." That moment quickly passed, yet it was a window into her dementia-connected frustration as well as her deepest desire. Company and Food, two elements in Mom's life she needed. Mom did not like being alone. Mom was not alone. 

Mom loved family dinners, reunions, celebrations, even if they put everyone out, having to rearrange schedules to make her guilt-trip work. These really were good times, and her insistence made her the worrier, listener, dinner-maker, party-planner, and damn stubborn - she would not allow anyone to step into her role, saying "Don't put me out to pasture." We all learned ways to unload some of this, while making Mom think she was still in control. 

Hence - 

I brought Mom home, my home became the gathering place, and there was not a single moment when Mom was alone. And with my kitchen under construction, we all were semi-forced into being right there with her; there was no kitchen for anyone to retreat to; and this is miraculous, really really the only blessing that came from my kitchen being 3 months behind schedule. 

We planned her funeral, figured out meals and transportation, called those who could not be there, and we had generations and genders together in deep personal intimate ways. We cried together, ate together, laughed together, told stories together, planned together, sat together. And not a single tense moment -  because for all of our lives we had learned how to be together, and together in tiny spaces. Thank you Mom, and Dad. 

After Mom's service we had a meal together, and then we quickly retreated to my home, again. We began in the family room, moved to the deck, hugged and cuddled and laughed and cried and asked questions and hypothesized answers and discussed dynamics and how we got to where we are and what if's and supported each other, again all generations and genders, and loved every moment. 

Our weaving of these last six years, since Dad passed away, and to a major extent years before, we have become pro's - we have learned all roles; no one was in charge, we know our strengths and weaknesses without having to point them out or discuss them. 

And just this last week, without a mother to "direct" us, we began planning our sibling reunion for next summer. We're stuck with each other, and I kinda like that. 

      

Stages of Grief - And How I'm Journey'ing Them -

Elizabeth Kubler Ross says there are 5 stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.  Her colleague and grief expert, David Kessler, added finding meaning to make this 6 stages. 

And here I am, four weeks from my mother's death, and feeling empty, pissed, exhausted, and too tired to give a f* with absolutely no f*'s to give. 

What stage is that?! 

Here's where I am today: 

Grief - for my mom that she chose to live safely, not taking any risks - even not wanting to have her ears' pierced, out of fear. She lived a life of walking cautiously, always less, never more. And I'm sorry for her. And I'm also grieving for her children who felt obligated to live life large, so that she could stand at the living room window and watch, participating vicariously, always so proud of us, always so cautious. 

Denial - Not really feeling that; or maybe I did years ago when I saw her sorting papers on the dining room table and then resorting them again; or when I asked her help in making face masks, and she couldn't figure out how to turn them over to pin the elastic in before they were sewn. Or maybe when she was short-tempered with my dad and got upset with him because he couldn't sort his medications into the pill holder. Denial that perhaps she was slipping, or just so busy focused on Dad that she had every reason to slip? 

Anger - Like I said, I'm pissed. The November I was 3 years old my father bought Sheri and I cute fluffy brown and cream winter coats; he was so excited to show us off to Mom, and so excited to share with his world that he had a son. And as this 63 year old remembers, my mother shamed him for not buying us something practical, and she never honored him for wanting us to be cute and cuddly and presentable to Mom and my new baby brother. And I've carried that with me for all of my life. That shame that I would want "more," and that fear that if I did, I was not worthy, or wanting was unacceptable. And even more, knowing that my dad had disappointed my mother, and that he would continue to do so, and that it would be my responsibility to take care of her and make sure she was never left alone, and she would always have a companion, someone who understood her "wishes" and made them come true. I'll write more about Anger as I process this. 

Bargaining - With God and with my heritage. Because I've honored the women who came before me, can I leave them now? Can I leave them behind and move forward honoring me and my future? Can I ask the same for my daughters and grand-daughters? Can I tell them that because I carried the past, they don't have to? Dear Mom and Grandma and Great-grandmothers and aunts - I carried you throughout my life, doing the best I could to make you proud of me, to not disappoint you, to live a life you would be proud of. Can I stop now? And live my life? Can I sever those ties that not only connected us, but bound me to pull the past behind me like a mother duck and her ducklings? And why oh why have I felt morally obligated? Are there ancestors or angels or guides and do I want any of these? 

Depression - Just absolutely befuddled at how I got here, and yet knowing how I did, and feeling very sad that for the past 9-19-63 years I have been caring for those who can't care for themselves (Who told me this? I have no idea.). Scott and I bought the home we live in 17 years ago, so squeezingly close to both sets of parents, so we could care for them as they aged, and then buried one parent, then cancer, then another parent, then no cancer, then aging and pain and needs and another parent buried, and dementia and lonely and fear and fulfilling, and death. And somewhere We disappeared and caregivers appeared. Somewhere Ronda never recovered, never gave herself permission or time to move forward - to find the new Ronda; rather, I've been marking time, waiting, waiting. 

Finding Meaning - Not finding meaning for Mom's death, for the deaths that I see and assist with every single day. That's not an issue for me. Yet Finding Meaning for me, for my life, for making plans and goals and moving forward without being feeling responsible, for letting go. How do I find my own meaning now? What is my "Vision" "Mission" "Values"? What is my meaning? What do I want for myself today and what do I want tomorrow to be? What brings me joy? What brings me happiness? What brings me passion? What makes me come alive? I have no f*'ing idea! 

So here I go - an adventure awaits! I now just need to be ok with looking forward - forward, alone, with Scott, no past to weigh me down. Yikes! 

Coping -

 "Ronda, how are you? I know you've been so involved in your mother's care these past years, how are you?" 

Tough question to answer. Right now my answer is, "Coping." One day at a time; being intentional, and being at work, which is safe, known, and busy. 

I see dying and death on a daily basis; Mom's preparing to die and dying really didn't phase me. Or so I think! 

And yet I'm not sleeping, not focusing, and just numb. Which also happens when I'm faced with a crazy day at work. 

Today this came, and I'll be perusing it while mulling over my own thoughts and connecting some dots. 

Coping is Essential to Manage Palliative Care Professionals’ Challenges 

Healthcare professionals learn to take care of themselves while taking care of others. Coping mechanisms in palliative care extend beyond the management of emotions and problems, and beyond the disengagement of personal aspects from the environment. It is a learning process over time, in which influencing factors, coping strategies and personal and professional development are interrelated. This development is probably the most central pillar in training on providing healthcare to others.

The degree of self-awareness can be trained with practices oriented to the development of attention, allowing better management of emotions and greater emotional balance. This is a factor that makes a difference between ‘suffering’ and ‘enjoying work.’ Health professionals are the most powerful medicine for patients, emphasizing the importance of personal and professional aspects. The effectiveness of the healthcare process for end-of-life patients and their families will depend on providing healthcare ‘without getting burned,’ and, to that end, harmony and personal balance is necessary. If these health professionals manage to establish a deep relationship, in which the bond is healing for both the patients and themselves, they will achieve deep personal satisfaction, an expanded perception of reality and participation in the transmutation of others’ suffering. This practice is not only non-exhausting, but a source of satisfaction and personal growth, which promotes self-care activities performed by the health professionals during the therapeutic processes. 

  Adaptation and continuous learning: integrative review of coping strategies of palliative care professionals. [2] Sapeta, et al.

Palliative Medicine. 2021. September.