My two therapies are these: exercising and writing. The latter of those I just have not made time to do. But all I can manage to do at this moment is write and get my thoughts out before they are gone. My heart is about to explode...bear with me...
The last 3 days have been an emotionally exhausting whirlwind...beginning with a Thursday morning text that knocked the breath out of me, and ending with tears of joy near the end of a two hour car ride.
The tears began when I heard these song lyrics on the radio:
Cause I'll be by your side wherever you fall
In the dead of night whenever you call
And please don't fight these hands that are holding you
My hands are holding you
I've always loved that song by Tenth Avenue North, but they hit me differently today. Let's back up a couple of days.
Thursday morning shortly after getting Ella on the bus, I got one of those "punch you in the gut" texts from Dad, saying that he and Mom were at the ER with my 94 year old Mema after she pushed her Med Alert button in the middle of the night, and they thought she had a stroke.
Let's back up again to explain 94 year old Mema. Like most people born in her generation, she is one tough cookie. She was born in 1920, endured the Great Depression, had a husband who fought in WWII (and only came home by the grace of God and a hole in a boat), lived and worked on a farm and had several trying years after her husband and my Papa suffered two massive strokes. The second stroke left him totally dependent on her as he lost his ability to walk, talk and take care of any basic needs. But that's not all - 94 year old Mema lives in her house independently, she can tell you the whereabouts and job descriptions of all of her six grandchildren and their spouses, she can tell you what grades her four great-grandchildren are in, she can tell you when all of their birthdays are and you are GUARANTEED to receive a birthday card in the mail from her on your EXACT birthday. She apparently also knows the speed at which the United States Postal Service operates. She watches the news and reads the paper daily, and can talk about current events better than I can. She remembers the name of anyone she's ever met. Though her body has not been in the best of shape the last few years, her mind literally works better than most people half her age, or even 1/3 of her age. For myself and my siblings, we never met our grandparents on our father's side of the family, and none of us remember Papa before his first stroke, so she has really been the only true grandparent we have ever known and been able to communicate with, and having a "sharp as a tack" mind like hers has been such a blessing because she can tell us stories about life in a time that is completely foreign to us.
Back to Thursday. The thought of losing her in this way literally made me sick. And then the regrets set in. The regrets of not calling her regularly, or spending more time with her, or asking her more questions about her life. The outlook was not good. We found out that she could not remember Mom or Dad's name, she could only get a few words out at a time, and those words were very negative and discouraging, she had lost the use of her right arm, and her mouth was drooping on one side, which resulted in difficulty eating. Not the news you want to hear. We spent the day praying. My prayers were all over the place. I wanted more time and didn't want to lose Mema, but I also didn't want her to suffer and have the quality of life that we watched Papa endure for nine years. And we knew she didn't want that either. We knew God had a plan for her life, including the end, and were trying to be at peace with whatever that plan was.
I struggled with what to do. After getting a lot of updates and hearing that she was somewhat stable that night, I decided that the girls and I (Ronnie had to work all weekend) would head down to see her after Ella came home from school on Friday. Friday morning we got good news, that she was much better and talking more. Then came more bad news...because of insurance reasons the hospital was afraid they were going to have to discharge her the next day. Mema was in good spirits until she heard this, and communicated to the family that she was not ready to go home. I got word that she had said several things implying that her memory was working better and she was communicating better. I was hopeful going into the room, but still scared to death that she might not know who I was. Boy was I surprised. We walked in to see a smiling Mema, who immediately started talking to me, talking to the girls, interacting with us almost as if nothing had happened. The girls started asking about her PICC line, hospital bracelet and some bandages and she moved BOTH of her arms around to show them. I couldn't help but blurt out "I thought you couldn't use your arm..." I couldn't even tell which one it was. "Well, it's getting better," she said. She moved her fingers and twisted her arm around and it looked completely normal. Then I immediately analyzed her mouth. No droop whatsoever. Every nurse who came in that evening said something along the lines of, "We can not believe how well she is doing." One nurse told dad that she had never seen anyone make such progress overnight. Most everyone there was under the impression that she would never leave the hospital, and now she was passing her tests with flying colors.
Saturday morning things were even better. We found out that she was going to be able to go to a rehab facility for a few days to get her strength back. Mom went to her house to get a few things for her and she specifically told Mom to get her a specific cream out of the blue bag in the bathroom cabinet, and her warm purple socks in the second drawer of her dresser. Then she told Mom that she had been thinking that she really needed to find some curtains for her kitchen so that anyone who might be outside wouldn't be able to see her china cabinet from the window. Maybe Mom could work on that while she was in the rehab facility. Seriously?! Then came the next sign that Mema was officially back. Dad bought the girls a candy bar, and mentioned something about how cheap they were when he was a kid. These were the exact words that came out of her mouth: "When I was in school at Petroleum we used to go to the store down there and we could get a coke for a nickel, and you could get a sandwich for 25 cents...either ham or bologna." She's baaaaack!!!! Two days before she couldn't form a sentence or remember her daughter's name. Now she's talking about the price of coke and sandwiches 80 years ago! Mom, Dad and I just looked at each other and laughed! We got to the rehab facility, where she seemed really at peace and comfortable, and as we were leaving to come back home, a man I didn't recognize came in. Turns out he is one of Mema's neighbors, and he wanted to come by and check on her and assure her that they would keep an eye on her house while she was away. Super sweet of him. But the funny part was when he left and Mom and Dad looked at each other and said, "Now what is his name?" "Donny," Mema said from the bed. Again, we couldn't do anything except laugh.
I realize this stroke has left the future for Mema, her health and her independence with great uncertainties. But seeing God's grace in this situation has been incredible. If He had taken her home we would have all been at peace with it, knowing she didn't suffer and live a life she wouldn't have wanted. But seeing her strength and perseverance as she overcame the "terrible Thursday" is nothing short of God's grace on her life, and giving us a little more time with this Superwoman. It's certainly made me appreciate how quickly things can change, and how important it is to take every opportunity you have with family, especially the older ones, whose stories and perspectives you can never get back. As she told my Dad on Friday, "I just lost a day." When I asked Ella what she thought about seeing Mema this weekend she said, "She looked sick yesterday, but today she just looked like normal Mema."
Cause I'll be by your side wherever you fall
In the dead of night whenever you call
And please don't fight these hands that are holding you
My hands are holding you
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