*Warning – this is not a post about music.  It’s about life.

This has been an interesting time for me.  In my “spiritual” walk through the shopping mall of life, I always try to smile and look for the good side of bad situations.  While I’ve been incredibly stressed these past few days, I’m still positive that things will turn out for the best.  I should explain:

This past week was finals and I had juries throughout.  In other words, I was too busy to get my finals graded and missed the deadline by about an hour.  A few mistakes were made and I’m still sorting out the issues as they arise.  Friday was graduation and I scrambled to get the music set.  It dawned on me as I started the recessional that “Under the Double Eagle” sounded a bit too much like  circus march.  I probably shouldn’t use that one again.  And the arrangement of the national anthem was chosen in haste to fit the singer’s range;  it had a few strange harmonies in it, prompting an email from one of my colleagues.  No worries, though.  I scrambled to try to wrap up the last preparations for our anniversary on Saturday.  I drove to pick up one of my wife’s presents and the place had closed early.  So we went out to dinner Friday night, hoping that I could win brownie points and the present that I had already received would be suitable.  And I had planned to take my wife out Saturday, so things should have been good.

Saturday morning, I began my daily routine by hopping in the car to give my parents their medications.  Dad’s 94 and Mom’s 84 and while Mom gets the bulk of the meds, I always count on Dad to tell me what they need and how she’s doing.   I walked in and Dad was lying on the floor bundled up in blankets.  The patio door was open and Mom’s walker was outside.  Mom was sitting on the couch and said “Dad’s sleeping”.  I knew instantly that he had fallen outside when he went to check on the bird feeders and had crawled in.  He gets up at sunrise and Mom had just come from her room.  With her Alzheimer’s, she didn’t realize the severity of the situation;  Dad was shivering and his feet were ice cold.  I guessed that Dad had been on the floor for at least an hour and a cold snap had hit just a day before (32 degrees low on Saturday).  He was unresponsive and I called the ambulance, bundled Mom up and helped the ambulance folks when they arrived.  Dad opened his eyes but seemed to look past me.  When I tried to talk with him, he couldn’t reply.

The morning nurse at the emergency room was top notch.  That’s a good thing here because some of the ER doctors have a reputation for doing screwy things.  Given a different situation, I would have asked the ambulance guys to take him to a hospital in a neighboring town, but I didn’t think I had that option.  Dad’s temperature was 95.  They began warming him up and recording his vital signs.  The doctor admitted him and began an IV as nurses took blood for tests.  He had a CT scan and x-rays;  –no broken bones or other problems.  The test results revealed that he was dehydrated and his blood pressure was dangerously low.

Moving him upstairs to a room presented a new problem.  I took Mom first and got her into a chair.  Then I returned to the ER to go with Dad when they moved him upstairs.  The nurses came running and said there was a problem with Mom.  When I reached the room, the head nurse said that I wasn’t allowed to leave her alone anymore while she was on hospital grounds.  In fact, they really didn’t want her to stay.  This was the new problem;  Mom gets agitated when Dad’s not around and Dad never leaves her side.  It seemed to me that I really needed to keep them together, so I went into defensive mode and told them that if she couldn’t stay, I’d need to move Dad to another hospital.  That seemed to work and they put us into a semi-private room so that Mom could have a bed to sleep in with rails.  They brought in a recliner for me and when Dad arrived, he looked worn and tired, but was able to answer simple questions.  He was confused about the date and his location, but I knew he was going to be OK.

Dad’s appetite had been poor the last few weeks, but tonight it was gone.  He refused food and would only drink a little bit of liquids.  With the nurse’s reluctant approval, I ran home to take my wife to dinner.  We hastily ate and I rushed back to the hospital.  My wife is so understanding and supportive, but it’s got to be a similar feeling to the one where the husband forgets the anniversary altogether.  I’ll make it up to you, Dear!

Settling into the recliner for the evening, I realized that it was actually some instrument of medieval torture.  I pushed it out into the hall and spread a blanket on the floor.  No sleep happened.  Every time a nurse came in to check Dad, Mom woke up and started her barrage of questions:  “Where are we?”  “Who are you?”  “Is that a car outside the window?”  Mom’s normally pretty good, but this was not a good evening for her.  Dad was making steady improvement and we talked her into going home to rest the next day.  That requires a sitter and I was unable to find one on the weekend, so I had to stay with her, making quick trips out to the hospital, drugstore and home.  I managed to shower and make it to my church gig and then hurried back to the parent.  My daughter and cousin stayed with Mom Sunday night and things went well.  They brought their new puppy and that took Mom’s attention away from whatever plans she had concocted to bewilder her only son.

Monday morning and Dad looks great!  His color has returned and he’s back to his old self.  A new test reveals that he’s loosing blood in his stool.  The doctor orders physical therapy and talks about rehab.  I go check out the place while Mom’s with a linebacker-sized sitter that knows how to handle the situation very well.  I wrote her a check and paid her for a week’s worth of hours in advance just for my peace of mind.  The rehab place will do and if I want to place Mom there while Dad’s recovering, it will cost $140 a night.  I can handle it, but they’d darn sure better have a continental breakfast and indoor swimming pool at that price.  Back to the hospital, Dad’s taken a turn for the worse;  while his appetite has improved, he seems weaker than this morning and sleeps the afternoon away.  The doctor orders whole blood and they spend the afternoon preparing for tonight’s transfusion.  It was difficult to leave tonight, but I have confidence in the night nurse;  in fact, I’m blessed with quality nurses throughout Dad’s stay so far!  His doctor is very careful and professional and errs on the side of caution, so I know he’s doing his best.

So that’s my situation.  I’m handling it the best I can.  I cancelled a Christmas luncheon gig tomorrow and made sure they had a replacement.  I stopped by the bank to set up a home equity account on their old home because the 24-hour sitters that will be required from here on out will exhaust their savings in a few months.  Much of their wealth is tied up in property which is not very liquid in the current economy, so it seemed like the bank line of credit was the best way to go.

I was telling the nurse tonight some of my dad’s old war stories.  She grew up near the church that Dad and Mom helped build in the 1950s and remembered seeing him there at community services when she was growing up.  Dad was listening but kept his eyes closed.  I’m very proud of him and keep reassuring him that I’m taking care of Mom.  It seems to relax him.

Our family was Presbyterian and I’m an Episcopalian now but I’m playing organ at the Catholic church in town to help them out and make a little gas money.  Every Sunday there comes a part in the prayers where the priest petitions that we all might have a graceful death.  I understand that part a little bit better now and look at how gracefully my dad has aged.  Every day he’s with us is a blessing and even though he’s not his old self, he’s becoming my definition of “grace”. I trimmed his fingernails tonight and reassured him that Mom was doing great.  She actually is doing great.  She knows us and still has all these great old memories…except that their no longer in the right chronological order.  She’s graceful too.

I guess this post is probably too personal and you might even think it a bit odd to be reading this.  But take my advice;  –someone in your life has doled out some grace in your direction.  It’s a blessing to say “thank you” and you never know when that opportunity will cease.  All things considered, I’ve very lucky and you are too, so make the most of every day you have.

Peace,

-J