I'm pissin'

[originally posted June 8 2011, 9:47 AM]

There's a certain kind of freedom that comes at the edge of life. It's one of the things that us middle-lifers can be jealous of. 

Among the things my family can already laugh about are the choice words of humor coming from my mother's mouth in her last days. 

She'd already had a few incontinence episodes in the bed that week. At first, there was an urgent attempt to stop, followed by regret and embarrassment. After a while, just sweet surrender, as if saying "You can have your social conventions. I won't be needing them". So on her final morning, her announcement of letting go surprised and amused us all. 

"I'm pissin'!" 

For context, you have to imagine Mother Theresa saying this. We all swore last night that none of us (including dad) had ever heard her use those words before. We laughed. A black pearl.

Ask for Help

[originally posted June 7 2011, 6:44 AM]

It took me a long time to learn this lesson. 

I used to think that asking for help was about me. That I didn't know enough, or couldn't handle it, or didn't know which way to turn. By NOT asking for help, I was somehow exhibiting my competence or confidence. 

Yesterday, I was reminded that asking for help is letting others in, or in on it. 

During the last few minutes of a meeting yesterday, I got a call that my mother had just died. "Now what?" I asked myself. I found an open office. Alone, I sobbed. Then I was flooded with uncertainty about what to do next. Go to clinic to see patients all afternoon? I called my wife, Sandy. We were both flummoxed. 

Ask for help? But where?

Earlier, one of our managers had offered to help. Social nicety or sincere? I was about to find out. Gina gave me wise, caring advice. Cancel clinic. She took a load off by immediately placing a call to set that in motion. I was off the hook, and felt considerably clearer and lighter. And touched by the sorrow visible in her face. 

Back to the meeting room to pick up my laptop. I announced to the group that my mother had died, and that I would be gone the rest of the week. I saw in their faces that the sadness was shared. "I'll let the gang know you won't be at tomorrow's workshop." Me: "Would you? That would be a big help."

So, asking for help is about the connection. Letting someone in. 

But asking for directions? I'm not so sure. A man has to draw the line somewhere.

One Square Block

[originally posted June 6 2011, 10:41 AM]

My mom never lived more than a block from the house she was born in. So it is fitting that the funeral home where she will spend her last hours above ground is within that same block.

I'm grateful that my brother in Atlanta GA had a chance to be with her yesterday and today before she died, and that my wise and wonderful wife had the intuition to tell him to come sooner than planned.

I remember one day last week thinking "this could be the last hug I ever give my mom". It wasn't the last hug, but it wasn't far from it. We got to tease and joke, to feel the warmth of one another's touch, to look into one another's eyes, and to just be together. I even got to feed her a few times, after all those many times she fed me.

Too bad the cemetery is so far from home... That one square block.

Readiness, Reflection, and Presence

[originally posted June 5 2011, 9:10 AM]

Caring for a loved-one takes patience, maybe more on their part than mine. I'm grateful for the life-training I've accumulated.

Readiness

I'm naturally inclined toward readiness. I'm an inveterate list-maker, retired Boy Scout (motto: Be prepared), and Consumer Reports shopper. I've already read "The 36-Hour Day" and the 50-page owner's manual to every Palm Pilot and iPhone I ever owned.

With my parents in this time of need, I'm grateful for WiFi and 7-hour laptop battery life. Many facts are there for the taking. But that's not sufficient.

Reflection

I was a slow learner when it came to reflection. My friend, Bill, would constantly amaze me by saying "I thought about what you said last week". Me: "Really? What I said?" He's a contemplative and a writer who has studied among many monastic communities.

So I've learned the skills of reflection. This little blog is one of them. It gives me joy, and it challenges me to find words amidst the swirl of confusing feelings and second-thoughts. It leads me to cleansing tears as well.

Reflection in a quiet moment, while waiting for someone to show up or wake up, or in a conversation as I untangle thoughts by giving them words.

My wife, Sandy, has been the best teacher about reflection by her constant example and by the unending, unfunded series of hands-on impromptu workshops she has unwittingly led me through.

Presence

I've learned the power of presence through two dear chaplain friends, Dick and Bob. Presence is the main tool in the chaplain's toolbox. The main lesson is "I am enough". Enough just as I am. Enough when I just listen silently. Enough when I just remain with you. Enough even when I make a mistake.

So this particular little old lady, Iris Belden, is getting my version of the royal treatment. I don't exactly know what the next action will be, but it will be enough.