Catching My Breath

Long time no blog, right?

There has been a lot going on at the Monkey Butt Ranch.  I’ve restarted my yoga practice and am loving it.  I’m signing up for a big race in spring.  You know, a big race.  Like twenty six point two, big, and beyond.  My race training ramps up in November when we are back from visiting family.

But that’s not what I want to talk about tonight.  Tonight I want to talk about my mom.

Mom is 72 years old.  She was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes about fifteen years ago.  She was a lifelong smoker until she had a heart attack and six bypasses a year and a half ago.

She never did a great job of taking care of her health.  She was in denial over her diabetes for a long, long time.  When her doctor advised her that she was showing signs of being pre-diabetic and gave her some small lifestyle adjustments to make, she didn’t do any of them.  One suggestion was as simple as cutting back on the sugary orange drink she downed by the gallon.  She didn’t even pretend to follow his advice.  When she became diabetic, her doctor told her that she needed to stop smoking. She didn’t make any effort.  She continued to smoke two to three packs a day, had a raging cough, yet denied that smoking was harming her.  She also continued to binge on sweets, and only occasionally monitored her blood sugar.  She never took her health seriously.

About a year ago, after her heart attack, she moved into a semi-assisted living place.  She was doing okay there.  In May she took a turn for the worse and was hospitalized.  In July, she had a below the knee amputation of one leg – not an uncommon thing for a diabetic.  She went into recovery and rehab.  And from there it has been downhill.  Downhill like a nose dive off of a cliff.

Mentally, mom isn’t herself.  No, that’s saying it too nicely.  I don’t want to sugar coat this because it is important.

This was *not* all that long ago.

Mom is in a nursing home now with 24-7 care.  Six to ten people attend to her needs on a daily basis.  It requires the assistance of four people just to transfer from her wheelchair to the bed.  She falls all of the time because she forgets that she cannot stand up on her own.  Worse, she lashes out at nurses and staff to the point where she needs to be restrained.  She has punched the staff at the nursing home, and recently struck one with a food tray and caused an injury. She gets agitated easily and becomes violent without warning.  The police even had to get involved this week.  And at other times, she is confused and scared.  She doesn’t know where she is or how she got there.  I dread the phone ringing now because it is often either my mom calling me, terrified and disoriented, or the nursing home calling with bad news.  Tonight it was three calls – one from mom, totally unsure of what to do with voicemail.  The second, mom again, this time sobbing because she thought she was lost somewhere.  The third was her nurse seeking permission to administer new medication that may help curb the violent outbursts.

Just six months ago, I was having breakfast with mom every week.  We’d go out to Denny’s and talk and laugh and have a good time.  That seems so long ago now.  Now, that which we took for granted is no longer possible.

She used to read this blog and comment on my Facebook page.  She used to read and write email and play online games.  Now she wouldn’t know how to do any of those things.  And if I taught her, she wouldn’t remember any of it by the next time she sat at the keyboard.

So far she remembers Jack.  Very well, in fact.  She remembers all kinds of details about him, loves to hear about him, and when she sees him she transforms.  Her face lights up (as does his) and she is full of love and light.  But it is only a matter of time, isn’t it?  One of these days we will walk in and she won’t recognize Jack.  And then she won’t recognize me either.

If you or a loved one has diabetes, please, please take care of yourself.  The immediate effects of uncontrolled diabetes are scary, but the effects that can come up further along are downright terrifying.  Diabetes is a lifelong disease.  Every day is management, and yes, that sucks.  But every managed day is so much better than the alternative.

If you or a loved one smokes, please, please find a way to quit.  Mom’s problems were exacerbated by her smoking.

Tonight I miss my mom.  If you can go hugs yours, go hug her.  Give her a call.  Same for your spouse, your child, your sister or brother, anyone you love.  Let them know now.  Someday you may not be able to, and sometimes that someday sneaks up damn fast.