Not a lot to update but I’ve been hearing from people that they like updates even if there isn’t really any news to fill an update.  So here’s a non-update update…

Mom continues to receive visitors and enjoy having company (depending on how her day is going) although it is very exhausting for her.  I think she’s been surprised by the number of people who’ve heard about her cancer and have called to stop by and visit.   Mom and Mike still get out for lunch or dinner once in a while and still go on mini shopping trips just to get out of the house.  Mom has now become a Sudoku snob, preferring the “more challenging” puzzles to the easy books.  She seems to go through a book a week.

Today the minister came by to visit and give them communion.  I asked mom if she was going to wear a little white dress and veil since it had been so long.  She wore black, and no veil.  That woman has never been a conformist!

The next few weeks are going to be busy with more of Mom’s sisters, brother, Beth and my dad all heading her way to see her.  I’m sure there will be a lot of laughs.   And probably tears.  And maybe a brawl.  I sure miss those days!

Mom found a lump in her abdomen the other day.  She doesn’t know if it’s cancer that has spread or what it is and isn’t in any hurry to rush to the doctor since it isn’t causing pain.  Mom’s Oncologist offered to stop in at her house to visit anytime she wanted her to so I think Mom will take her up on the offer.  Isn’t that cool that a doctor is willing to make a house call?  I’ll be very impressed if she really does it. 

Better get back to screening photos of Mr. Beckham…

We were in Fargo to visit last weekend.  Mom had been feeling really good that week and had a lot of visitors.  The day before we arrived she started feeling lousy again but I wouldn’t have guessed it had she not spent most of Friday night puking up a lung.  I wished I could do something for her but the best thing I could do was to run and hide so I didn’t join in on the puke fest.  There’s a good reason why I’m not a nurse or other hands-on care provider.  I can’t handle bodily functions very well.   Neither can Mom.  It’s a genetic thing, I assume.

On Saturday, she was still feeling bum but was a real trooper.  As we sat together out on the porch conducting our nightly covert operations of spying on neighbors and any other passers-by, we were talking about a book I was reading and was going to leave for her and Mike. 

Then our conversation grew more interesting…

She asked me if I’d seen the David Beckham underwear ad.  I hadn’t.  She proceeded to comment on how “manly” (my choice of words) he was.  I was speechless.  This is not a conversation my mother and I would typically  have but it was sure hilarious to discuss this with her.  We pondered what the objects used to stuff the briefs may have been. 

Your guess is probably as good as ours.

As

I was sitting in the waiting room for Physical Therapy today and a couple of chairs over from me were a sister and brother who were waiting for their Mom.  The older sister was explaining to her little brother, who couldn’t have been more than five years old, what happened to Mom.  I figured she was in high school and it was cool to see her so patient and caring for her little bro.  She was saying that their Mom was in a car accident…she was sitting at a red light and someone hit her.  Then the boy started re-hashing that the firemen had to cut Mom out of the car because the car was mangled all around her.  The girl further said it was all her fault because she made her Mom drop her off at the back of the school rather than the front.  She told her little brother to remember that Moms are always right, so listen to them the first time. 

How surreal.    

     ~ BethAnn

When I was in Fargo in May, Mom had asked Karmen and me if either of us would like to speak at her memorial service.  Later that evening, alone in the guest room, I sat with my lap top and pondered what I’d say.  Since then, Mom has changed her mind and would prefer we didn’t get up, probably given that neither my sister or I would be in any right state to speak without gasping for air.  I guess I proved her right when I read it to her and it took me 10 minutes to finish (it’s only a 3-minute bit).

With that said, Mom thought it would be nice if I posted it here.  So here it is…

Mom’s Truths

 

When Mom figured her time on this earth was limited, she asked if one of us kids would speak at her memorial service.  I knew if either of us would be able to snap to and keep their bearing it would be me.  So after some introspective thought I came up with some of Mom’s truths.

 

What I’ve learned from my Mom…

 

- Treat others as you want to be treated

- Take care of yourself before asking others to take care of you

- Know yourself

- Believe in your own abilities

- Work hard and earn all you get

- If you don’t get what you want from life, keep persevering

- Believe in a higher power but depend on yourself to see things through because God doesn’t answer every prayer…His love is apparent in all you do

- Trust in the love of family (look at Bop, Karmen, Mark and the boys)

 

Growing up I questioned Mom’s words as though they were intrusive.  As a young adult I figured I already knew whatl I needed to navigate life.  But I learned that every year I grew older, I knew less and less.  At age 30 I finally realized I knew nothing compared to Mom’s life experiences, and from that point on I clinged to her words as truth. 

 

As a child I saw Mom take point on taking care of her kids.  I watched as she gained higher education, thus setting the example for Karmen and me to follow.  Karmen and I each have successful lives, be it family and/or professional growth.  I’ve learned that to gain a full and fruitful life meant to love yourself and your companion, and believe in their love. 

 

What I say next is to Mom.  I trust in your love and endless support for me in all I do in my life to ensure my happiness.  Please know that in your dying moments on this earth I thanked God for you and your lessons, and I take solace in knowing you were proud of who I have become.  You have been a phenomenal mentor, friend, confidante, and a role-model of strength.  I don’t know how I will endure my remaining years without your words of wisdom and keen insight, but I will cling to your words of truth.  I love you Mom and I miss you every day. 

 

 

     ~ BethAnn 

More Of The Same. 

Mom is still tired.  She’s tired of feeling sick and tired.  She’s even tiring of Oprah, the Judges, and Sudoku.   Like HOW could that ever happen? 

Mom has been enjoying all the visitors and, although it exhausts her, it is giving her something to look forward to each day besides her daily dose of TV, puzzles, and painkillers.   We are threatening to show up on her doorstep again one of these days so we’ll see if she’s up for the ruckus that brings.   We try to get out of her hair for a few hours during the day and evenings so she can sleep without interruption. 

We may want to bring her a little gift basket full of useful items like sleeping pills, ear plugs, and a blindfold.

Somebody found this blog by doing a search for “ANAL SHOOTING MUDSKIPPERS”. 
When Beth Ann and I named this blog, we intended its title to mean that we are tag-teaming to keep people updated, not, like, merging.  Physically. 

For people who want to “merge” with small slimy creatures, feel free to do so at your own risk of embarassment to your health and to the innocent mudskipper’s. 

I need to state publicly that Beth and I are all for the ethical treatment of animals and anal shooting a mudskipper is definitely not up our alley (no pun intended).  We are humane and kind to mudskippers and would not ever intentionally, or unintentionally place a mudskipper anywhere near Uranus. 

Or mine.

This? 

Is a promise.

*Insert mudskipper noises here* 
 

 

In the past few weeks Mom’s house has become the tundra version of Grand Central Station.  Friends from childhood onward have been stopping in to visit, reminisce, share laughs and provide support.  I’m sure it’s been wonderful for Mom to have a chance to reconnect with old friends and recount all the fun and crazy things they used to do when they were younger.  Even though it’s been a welcomed highlight to her days, Mom is exhausted after only an hour or so.  She even rejected my proposal to come this weekend.  Can you imagine?  NOT wanting ME to be there to entertain her?!!  She MUST be exhausted to the point of delusional!  I’ll have to call and harass her every few hours like I usually do so she doesn’t forget how much I love her…or that she raised a pest.

 

My mom’s siblings have been coming to town to visit and check in with her.  Getting them all together is rare since most are out of town, and when they are together, it’s quite fun but unpredictable.  They are a very interesting and funny clan but tend to revert to their childhood need to assert themselves at the top of the pecking order.  Depending on the day or who’s in a mood, things can get ugly.   So far the benches haven’t been cleared and reinforcements have not been needed for any riot control. This is one holiday tradition I have missed over the years.  Sadly, the primary instigator of such festivities passed away a number of years ago so the excitement level has dropped off significantly.  Mom’s sister who lives about 5 miles from her hasn’t called or stopped in to see her at all.  I’m sure it’s because she’s too busy attending church services and presiding over the children’s liturgy.  Bets are on that she’ll be the first one in line at the funeral though.

 

One of the most surprising things to evolve from this cancer journey has been how many people go above and beyond to help out and provide support.  I can’t even recall how many amazing notes of encouragement and support I’ve received.  Cards, plants, flowers and treats have been arriving at my mom’s from people you’d never expect them from.  My friend, Kathy, has been insistent on calling my mom and inviting her to go for rides or out to lunch. Mom hasn’t been feeling up to doing much and had casually mentioned during conversation that she had to get her porch cleaned up.  A few days later Kathy just showed up and did it.  No questions asked.  No expectations of payment or favors.  Just pure kindness.  My mom was overwhelmed that she would do this and was afraid she’d worked her too hard.  Kathy assured her that it was nothing.  Things like this make my eyes tear up and my heart well with joy that there are still a lot of good caring people in the world despite what we see on the news. 

 

Life’s toughest times seem to provide the greatest learning opportunities.  And it’s time for me to get off the short bus and start taking notes.

 

- Karmen

 

PS – Beth hasn’t “skipped” out on the Mudskippers duo, her hard drive has crashed.  (Personally I think it’s because she threw her laptop at the wall when the Pittsburgh Penguins lost but she’s not owning up to that).

We tempted fate, or at least another snow storm, by heading to Fargo for the Memorial Day week-end.  No snow this time – believe it or not.  Mom had asked if Mark would be willing to help do some yard work.  I didn’t hesitate to confirm, knowing full well that Mark would be thrilled to do it.  On Saturday afternoon we sent Mike and the kids to the park while Mark and I weeded the flower beds and mowed the yard.  I realized there’s a very good reason I never went into business as a hair dresser or landscaper.  I hacked the hell out of the hydrangea bushes trying to get all the old woody stalks down.  The poor things looked like they’d been trampled by elephants when I finished.  Luckily, the new growth should cover my ineptitude thoroughness in a couple of weeks. 

As I stood amidst the flower beds with all the new life sprouting up around my feet, an overwhelming sadness washed over me when I realized that my mom will not be around for another Spring.  She loves those gardens and spent a good part of the winter drawing plans for the next Spring.  She enjoyed countless hours during the summer hanging out on her patio gazing at the gardens, the birds, and animals that came through the yard.  It is her own little sanctuary. 

I treasured every moment I was there even though my hamstrings and back weren’t as thrilled.  I was honored to make the yard beautiful for her and Mike to enjoy once again.

The garden had some blooming bleeding heart plants that drew me in for a whole slew of photos.  How ironic, I thought to myself, that I would be so captivated by a plant whose flower looks like a heart with a tear drop falling from it…

Every day last week Mom had someone from Hospice visit to complete the intake process.   She was overwhelmed by it all.  The nurse, the LPN, the Social Worker, a Chaplain – everyone wants a piece of her these days.  She likes all the staff, but gets exhausted having company.  I think she’s glad that Hospice is involved and they have already offered up some ways to ease medication management by providing her with meds that she can just put under her tongue instead of having to swallow.  Nausea has been a big problem so it will be good to get that under control, and start taking in some nutrition.  Hopefully, she will get some energy back.   

We went over the memorial service arrangements again and updated the music.  We figured out the luncheon menu to some extent.  She is worried about what to serve and how expensive everything is.  I wish she wouldn’t worry about that.  I showed her the slideshow I put together for the memorial service and even gave her editorial rights to take out the pictures she didn’t want in there.  I had debated showing her the slideshow but figured, it’s her party – not mine.  We sat together perusing pictures that spanned her lifetime. 

She was quiet.  

During one of Mom’s naps, I crawled into her bed like I used to do as a kid.  We hung out and talked.  We also just laid there quietly.  It was delightful just being close.  Living.  And Loving.

This whole ordeal is getting crazier by the day.  I think having the opportunity to really discuss everything and get the cards on the table has removed a lot of my inhibitions about what I say and do around my mom.   My sense of humor often teeters on the insensitive side – in a very sensitive way, of course.  

Yesterday Mom and Mike went to the funeral home to pay for the cremation and get all the service stuff taken care of so that Beth and I won’t have to.  Part of me is convinced that she doesn’t dare leave anything open to chance for fear Beth and I might do something radical.   My sincere apology for the years of calling her Idi Amin and Muomar Qadaffi has never seemed to be fully embraced.  I think she got over the fact that Beth and I used to tell people that our favorite movie was “Throw Momma from the Train”, but the years of referring to her in the likes of evil dictators has been a bit harder to jettison from her ever-gripping mind. 

The little outing to the funeral home brought about the revelation that even simple memorial services are expensive!  There are all these charges for everything:   The cremation, the obituary (over $200), flowers, the program, the room rental, the minister, etc.  She was a little shell shocked – especially the obituary cost.  I know in her head she’s thinking about all the fun stuff she could get with $200, instead of a couple inches of Times New Roman plunked down on a strip of newsprint.   “Geez Mom, the cancer isn’t going to be what kills you, it’s being nickel and dimed to death that’ll do you in.”   I was totally amused, she was less so. 

I threatened to replace one of her funeral songs with Meat Loaf’s Paradise by the Dashboard Light.  She thought that would be kind of cool.   Honestly, I think she would find it hysterical if I really did that.   I never would.  Too chicken.  Afraid of lightening coming out of nowhere to strike me down.

Hospice came out for their initial visit with Mom today.  The nurse was nice enough but Mom was a bit unnerved when she first went to the wrong house.  Apparently the nurse wrote the address down wrong.   We laughed at the idea that this woman may someday be administering meds.  

Mom could be in for a real psychadelic experience.