{"id":487,"date":"2016-06-19T12:02:17","date_gmt":"2016-06-19T17:02:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/?p=487"},"modified":"2019-06-07T15:50:48","modified_gmt":"2019-06-07T15:50:48","slug":"the-journey-ahead-continued","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/the-journey-ahead-continued\/","title":{"rendered":"The Journey Ahead: Continued"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/p>\n

An age-old instinct was triggered the other day, when I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, felled by a nasty stomach virus and trapped at home, recovering but still weak and irritable.<\/p>\n

I wanted my Mom.<\/p>\n

A little old for that, aren\u2019t you, you might say to a woman with grandchildren who is approaching a significant birthday, one of those landmark years that ends in zero.\u00a0 Who cares?\u00a0 If your Mom is good at doling out sympathy, why bother to outgrow reaching out for a healing dose?<\/p>\n

Mom ranks with the best at dispensing heartfelt consolation to the sick or injured.\u00a0 (On some other matters, she leans more toward the help-thyself-and-get-over-it methodology, but that\u2019s another story, another day.) Lucky for me, she\u2019s as close as the phone, so I dialed her up, hoping for the desired helping of conversation.<\/p>\n

A few months back, it seemed those days might be over.\u00a0 \u00a0With no warning signs, Mom was suddenly taken by something that looked and felt like a stroke.\u00a0 Conversation became halting, confused, a struggle, and in a blink she went from taking daily strolls to being unable to rise from a chair unassisted.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Immediately, painful decisions shadowed the horizon.\u00a0 Maybe a different facility was needed, with a higher level of care?\u00a0 And a smaller room, with more reduction of her beloved inherited belongings, another change, another set of caregivers to learn. From where we stood on the path–and certainly for her– the journey ahead dictated hard, hard steps.\u00a0 My attentive brother and sister, both in the same town with her, shifted into efficient action.\u00a0 They got her on the list for a good nursing home.\u00a0 There was a long round of doctor\u2019s appointments, parallel to conferences with the staff at the assisted living facility that has become Mom\u2019s home and community these last two years.<\/p>\n

The thing about living with aging parents is the uncertainty.\u00a0 Those blessed with good genes and life choices may walk the aging path with few health-related diversions, but for so many, there are constant ups and downs that leave us, still the children at whatever age, unable to know what any given day may bring.<\/p>\n

Against the odds, the days might bring a pleasant surprise.\u00a0 A little time passed, and we paused to reassess.\u00a0 Slowly and determinedly, Mom showed some improvement.\u00a0 Physical therapy renewed strength and motion.\u00a0 She brightened up in conversation and felt strong enough to tell my patient brother in no uncertain terms that she was simply not up to moving anywhere, period.\u00a0 A second episode occurred, but she recovered even more quickly.\u00a0 The inevitable, detailed physical workups revealed—nothing. \u00a0Mysteriously (as modern medicine remains, more often that we think), the doctors told us what didn\u2019t happen, but not what did.\u00a0 There was no stroke, no heart problem.\u00a0 Mom has changed greatly in recent years, that\u2019s for sure, but for now, she is pretty much back to where she was before these frightening, inexplicable episodes.<\/p>\n

So what does that mean for today, for the journey ahead?<\/p>\n

It is hard to fully banish, in the back of the mind, a whispered undercurrent of unrelenting dread.\u00a0 Practically speaking, of course it can\u2019t last forever.\u00a0 When my cell phone flashes my brother\u2019s name at an unusual time of day for his calls, a small vise grips the heart.\u00a0 Is it The Call, the one I don\u2019t want to answer?<\/p>\n

Of course, the flip side of this thought process is simple. What could be more absurd than seeking to predict what cannot be predicted?<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

To release that anxiety and turn to living each day to the absolute utmost, I probably should study the example set by:\u00a0 my Mom.\u00a0 Along with the hoped-for sympathy for my embattled digestive system, a rather persistent state of misfortune she acknowledges I probably inherited, there was other news on the recent phone chat.\u00a0 There were updates on the summer garden, a visit by the great-grandchildren, and a satisfactory report on the interim pastor at church.\u00a0 A recent surprise engagement party for one of her granddaughters required dressing up and traveling two hours in the car, each way, with a late-night return home.\u00a0 True to form, she firmly refused to miss a good party. Even with all that time has wrought, and the roller coaster of what has been and what will someday inevitably be–for now, for today, the things that matter, matter still.<\/p>\n

And that includes a few helpful details, such as instructions on what to eat when one is recuperating.\u00a0 \u201cNow, you take care of yourself, sweetie,\u201d she instructed cheerfully, wrapping up our chat.\u00a0 \u201cYou\u2019ll have to eat something to get your strength back.\u00a0 Bananas, lots of bananas.\u201d<\/p>\n

And there was nothing to be said in response except, \u201cYes, ma\u2019am.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

An age-old instinct was triggered the other day, when I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, felled by a nasty stomach virus and trapped at home, recovering but still weak and irritable. I wanted my Mom. A little old for that, aren\u2019t you, you might say to a woman with grandchildren who is approaching a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":1761,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4,16],"tags":[14,15],"class_list":["post-487","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-aging-parents","category-siblings-2","tag-engagement-party","tag-mom"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/487","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=487"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/487\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1761"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=487"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=487"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gmachronicles.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=487"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}