Escape

After my father left us in August Shawn found another one of those spots that he has such a talent for sniffing out - the Old Pioneer Garden Bed and Breakfast in Unionville, NV. Unionville was once a mining town and Mark Twain even spent a couple of weeks there in a miner's shack. We loaded my Jeep with our gear and the two Shepherds, Ryker and Kiri, and set out (no top and no doors!!! YEAH!) across the Stillwater Wildlife Range to get to our destination. By the time we arrived that afternoon we were literally covered in dust - the dogs were gray, we were gray but what a great ride! So much so that when the owner of the B&B pulled up and saw us I think he was having serious regrets for taking our reservation. But Mitzi and Dave Jones were the most gracious of hosts, and they have painstakingly built their cabins to reflect that time period when so many came with dreams of striking it rich. Unionville is an amazing oasis in the desert. We spent the next two days exploring the mountains, hunting for fossils and of course taking photos. Then, heartbreak!!! I realized that I had taken my card out of my camera! I know, stupid, but I have taken it so for granted that it is just THERE and I was so exhilirated to be out, with my husband, exploring areas where few people go that I didn't even stop to check. So now - we will just have to go back to get more than the 80 or so that I did get.

The first photo is of the dogs and my Jeep on a trail that had ended. The next one is of the shack that Mark Twain is supposed to have stayed in, and the last is of our "cabin" at the Old Pioneer Garden B&B - look it up and go stay if you have the chance!

Transition to Heaven

It has taken me a while to reach this point of readiness. To write about my father's death. On August 23, 2011 I sat with him and held his hand in the last hours of his life. I saw the brief look of what? Surprise, pleading, love, relief? on his face as he took his last breath. I felt he wanted to tell me one more time how much I meant to him and how proud he was of me, as he has done these last few years after he learned of what my life was really like before Shawn. And how much he loved me. When we were alone for a few moments I tried to tell him all of the things that I wouldn't get another chance at - how I was glad he had come out here, how sorry I was for the times when I was tired and didn't spend much time with him, how sorry I was that he wasn't able to stay in his own home for the last months of his life. I promised to take care of Andre, his dog, and to take him home to be next to Mickie, who passed away six years before he did.

Now I walk into his room and I wonder if there is still someone there. I tell him I hope that he found Mickie when he left us. I think he did. In the spring I will go to Texas, to the town where he was born when the bluebonnets are in bloom and I will leave a small part of him where he began and the rest will go home, where he will finally be next to Mickie again. But of course he already is.

Back on My Own Two Feet

After all of the funk that I have experienced over the last few months a few things have become very clear to me - but first and foremost is that I need to quit feeling sorry for myself. No matter what I have to get thru this mess and I will. I have been thru other bad poopy before and I survived, and I will survive this as well. I have learned that no one really wants to hear my calls for help, so I won't make them anymore. I thought that if I admitted that I was feeling lost and get over the fear of rejection that it would be better, but it didn't make a difference. So I will stand on my own, as I have done before, and I will remember that, no matter how bad things seem, someone out there has it a lot worse than I do. Despite what has happened lately the man I married is still the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. We are both going through big transitions in our lives and if we work hard to think of what the other is going through and not lose sight of what is most important we will make it.

I had to remind myself that I CAN do a lot on my own - it just takes the willpower to do it. I have that willpower back and I feel better about myself than I have in a long time - because I also realize that the only person I need to worry about proving myself to is me.

I will take that extra three minutes on the way to work to stop and take that photo of the lake that I keep putting off. I will remember to make myself a priority sometimes.

Loss

Today I had another argument with my husband. The man that I thought understood me, who used to know instinctively when I just needed him and would just come to me and hold me, is lost to me. Last weekend he came home from his job in Ohio to cook for a wedding and, when he wasn't ready to leave when I had to come relieve Daddy's sitter, promised me he would get a ride and make it home that night. He didn't - he chose to get inebriated instead. Now he has the Fourth of July weekend off to come home and he has offered to make an elaborate dinner at someone else's house and was impatient with me when I wouldn't commit, saying I needed to think about it - Erika had surgery on her ankle today and Daddy is coming back from another heart attack week before last. I just wanted something simple - maybe a potluck barbecue where we didn't have to prepare for hours. It is after all my three day weekend as well. When I told him he could do the dinner if he wanted to but not to count on my help he chose the dinner over his wife and family. I will be at home alone taking care of my 88 year old father and my daughter as she recuperates from surgery while he is out basking in the glory of his cooking talent and having to sleep on someone's couch again because he doesn't have the willpower to say no to a drink. I have decided I am tired of needing someone to lean on sometimes - because now if I were to do so I would fall down because there is no one there anymore. I am tired of being the "EOD-DD".

Another Phase

Yesterday Daddy had another heart attack. We didn't know it was a heart attack - just that he had been severely delusional and when he was still that way this morning with no change in his thought process I knew that there had to be something wrong. I thought it would be some sort of infection or dehydration, but I just didn't pick up the clues.

The hospital left it to me to decide to admit him for monitoring or to send him home. I chose to bring him home. If he is going to have another attack soon and leave us, it is not going to be hooked up to a bunch of wires in a strange place with a bunch of strangers coming in every half hour or so to poke and prod and ask questions.

So he is home. The medication they gave him that was meant to sedate him only caused more delusions and excitability, but at least this afternoon they were happy delusions. When I walked into his room and said hello, he smiled at me with surprise and said, "Kori, they've turned you into a frog!" I asked if I was a green frog or a brown frog and he said I was green.

Now comes the hard part - we move into the next phase of his care when he can't get to the bathroom any longer and can't remember how to hold a fork to feed himself, or how to clean himself up. He doesn't notice that I am here - he has a number of imaginary people from his past that he is talking with and doesn't really seem to hear me. And now, as I write this, he thinks that he is in the hospital with his wife Micki before she died from cancer. When I tried to help my heart broke a little more when he said, "Micki's here. She's dead, but they've made her ok, we just need to get her home."

As long as I'm a green frog I guess I'm ok with it. I'll just have to get my prince to come home and kiss me so I turn back.

End of the World

So some believe that today is "Judgment Day". Since I have no doubt that I would not be one of those chosen to be taken off this earth before the ensuing chaos begins, I have contemplated what I would have liked out of this day. First off, my husband. He isn't here and if today were it, would he make it home to me? Then my kids and grandkids - I would want them all here. Worse, I have a grand-daughter I have yet to see. What if I never got the chance? These are the things that occupy my thoughts. Then, there are the wonderful people who I have counted as friends and the experiences we have shared. So I guess that if this were it I would have to say that I have had it better than most and that my only regret would be that my family couldn't all be together for it. Maybe not good enough to save me a spot in heaven, but probably more than I deserved and definitely enough to have made me happy.

What We Take for Granted

Last week the world lost an amazing young man. Adam was one of Erika's best friends throughout our years overseas, and the two of them shared many adventures along with other friends. They went on sports trips together, shared the joys and sorrows of wins and losses, were athletes of the year together and graduated together. Although they lost touch briefly as so many kids do after graduation, they had begun talking again and sharing experiences and trying to advise the other when one of them was down.

We do not know the exact circumstances of his death - just that he apparently took his own life last Wednesday. Erika doesn't understand - they had just talked the day before and she was planning a trip to go see him and he had promised her a ride in his Mustang. And now he is gone. His family is left behind to try to put together the pieces and manage the pain that only a parent can feel at the loss of a child taken too young and a brother can feel at the loss of his hero.

We take for granted that our children will be there, that a husband or a wife or a friend will be there - and then, with no warning, they can be taken away. Love those around you - give them a hug. Never take them for granted.

Birthday Thoughts

There is nothing that makes a person feel more lonely than to be left alone on your birthday. With my husband gone I thought maybe I would hear from some of our local friends - especially those who knew that Shawn was leaving yesterday, who would care enough to call and wish me a good day. But I heard nothing, even from one person who sold him my birthday present on Friday. That really hurts, especially when this person talks to Shawn on a regular, almost daily basis. So I guess "our friends" really translates into "his friends" and I am just included because I happen to be there.

So yeah, I am feeling pretty sorry for myself lately. With my dad here, and Shawn gone, and the limitations that puts on me, I can't even go out and have lunch with Erika or anything, so here I sit.

Happy Birthday to me...

Tribute

Although the forecast says we may get some clouds and rain today, for at least right now it is a gorgeous day outside. The fact that I went outside a while ago and found that Kyrie had dug up one of my rosebushes and chewed on it didn't make me happy, because each one of my roses represents someone in my life who has or had cancer, and I have tried to choose the colors based on each persons personality. This was Nellie's rose, a fiery Puerto Rican friend who lived across from us in Sicily. She was great fun, but fiercely protective of her family. We shared more than a couple of bottles of great Italian wine together. She was taken by breast cancer two years ago. The fact that for the last two years I have thought that Nellie's rose had not survived the winter/dogs/critters only to dig down and find new growth was only testament to her spirit.

The photo above is of Nellie and her husband Rick. They have big grins on their faces despite the fact that the task they were working on was cleaning their house out after we were flooded in 2005. Our area of housing was fortunate - we got less than three feet of water inside our homes and while we were all living upstairs for two days waiting for the water to go down, Nellie crawled out an upstairs window onto the carport roof and pretended to do the breast stroke.

Empty Nest

So many changes these last few months! Moving my dad in, Shawn's retirement and now my last baby prepares to leave the nest. Brandon has decided to move to Reno so that he is closer to school and has also found a job there. Within a week or so he'll be gone as well. It leaves me wondering if I have taken on too much - with Shawn taking a job that will have him away most of the time and Brandon moved out I wonder at my ability to hold down a full time job, take care of my father AND everything at the house - birds, cars, garden, minor household emergencies. I won't even be able to go for groceries without arranging a caretaker.

I have realized what a lucky mother I have been. My kids have, despite early traumas and their mother's interference, turned out to be good people. While they have given me a few gray hairs they have avoided drug, alcohol or legal problems, and they have good hearts and morals. Brandon, being the last one to go, has been a huge help with his grandfather - getting up at night when he heard him moving about, staying home with him so I could run a few errands on the weekends, even offering to stay up on a couple of exceptionally long nights so that I could get some sleep before I had to go to work. At 19, he amazes me. And now it is his turn to fly. I hope, I know, he will soar. I can't help but hope that his winds won't carry him too far away from me. The hardest part of the military life we lead was the distance it took us from loved ones. But what a wonderful adventure it was - and if we instilled the desire to see more in our kids, who would I be if I tried to hold them too close?

How do other people do this? Can I maintain a positive outlook or will I fall victim to depression? What if high winds blow the shingles off? I hate heights. What if I break down? There won't be anyone to call for help. I know there will be times I will want to scream in frustration - and maybe that's what I'll do! Just walk to the back of our property and yell out my frustration so that I can come back in and laugh at myself. Because of one thing there is no doubt in my mind - if I can find the humor in everything to come I'll make it through. And well, if the neighbors here me yelling and call the cops I'm sure I can convince them that I am working to retain my sanity.

And hey, I'm better off than our neighbor, whose mother has called the sheriff twice to report that he was abusing her - the reason the first time? Because he wouldn't let her have more than one glass of wine. Hey, if I can't have wine when I'm that age I'll probably feel abused too.

At least Daddy doesn't know where the phone is...

Birth, Death & April Fools

This first day of April has been a roller coaster of ups and downs. I have a new grand-daughter! Her name is Madison Chanel Lynn and she came into this world at 1:46 pm Eastern time after more than 15 hours of labor and an eventual c-section, weighing in at 7lbs and 15ozs and 20 inches! Not shortly after another lady I work with also announced that she, too, had a new grand-daughter as well, but at the same time we received word that another fellow employee had passed away in his sleep last night. As new life was preparing to come into this world an older one was preparing to leave. As I rejoice another family is in mourning.

This first day of April was glorious and as I came home I looked forward to going outside and preparing my planting areas a bit in the warmth, but I hadn't been out very long when Daddy called for me and announced that he needed to discuss something with me. My anticipation to enjoy this beautiful afternoon turned to a sinking feeling as once again he talked about not being a burden to us, wanting to see his dogs and asking how long I thought it would take him to "drive back home." And of course having to come up with the half truths and false promises that would keep him from becoming too upset. I hate this part - knowing that he will not be able to go home, yet giving the hope that he might do so. And yes, there was resentment as well - with the further realization that I will no longer have the time to call my own when I can go out as I please and play in the garden. The discussion went on for hours and I watched the light fading as my heart also sank. I know that this was the right thing, and while I knew that there would be sacrifices, I didn't realize that I would also have to give up the smallest of pleasures too. And now I feel selfish - I AM the April fool today.

Sun & Sadness

The last few days have been increasingly saddening to me as I realize more of the changes taking place in my father. Sunday we planned an outing to the dog park, hoping for the nice weather to continue that we had last week. I have been extremely fortunate the last few weeks to be in places where the sun was shining and the temperatures were in the 70s and 80s, giving me hope for the spring. Well, the weather didn't cooperate but we decided to go anyway and take all of the dogs. We got there and due to the wind Daddy didn't really want to get out of the car. This is when I got the first inkling of what has been going on the past few weeks when he has been so protective of his dog. After all of the dogs, including his, had been running around and having a blast for a few minutes I went over to check on Daddy and see if he was ready to get out yet. He asked me if I was planning on leaving Andre there! And he asked a few more times, even after he came out and joined us. Then he wouldn't let the poor dog go - held it in his lap and kept a death grip on it. After a while he said he was going to go back to the car, but not without his dog. I finally realized what all of the night checks have been about when he wakes us up asking where Andre is - he has convinced himself we are going to get rid of his dog behind his back. Then tonight the questions about his money and if he has any left. It breaks my heart to know how much his disease has caused him not to trust me. And there is nothing I can do.

The photo represents this fading - I took it in Germany at the prison camp at Dachau a few years ago and it seems to represent what is happening here - the feeling that somewhere the ghosts are waiting to be heard, to tell their stories. Somewhere in my father is that ghost. The horizontal flat areas on the ground are all that are left of the buildings that once held so many lives and saw so many pass in one of the most shameful moments in human history. Just as we should never forget what happened here, please let me never forget my father's stories.

The Next Phase

How do you explain all of the mixed feelings that go with a retirement? After 22 years as an EOD tech in the United States Navy, Shawn has retired. As I watched him listening to the words being spoken about him at his ceremony I could see a tear or two, and I knew he was reflecting, as I was, on all of the wonderful, terrible, proud, fearful moments that were experienced as we moved thru deployments, separations, robberies, hellos, goodbyes, natural disasters and losses of some of his brethren in the community that we have known for so long.

Now we move on to another chapter. It seems strange that I am no longer 'the Senior Chief's wife", although I know that I will always be an 'EOD wife'. The friends that we have made in our travels, the wonders we have seen, will be with us always.

Thank you, Shawn, for a wonderful adventure. I love you.

Joshua Tree

I was sent to the Marine base at Twentynine Palms to work for a week and a half. The entrance to Joshua Tree National Park was only about five miles from my hotel, so on my free weekend I took my camera, got some water and snacks, and headed out for a day of indulgence. I fell in love with the place. I hiked where I wanted, took as many photos as I could and made a vow to return. I returned with a sense of peace that I haven't felt in a long time.

Adjustments

The last couple of days with my dad have been aggravating and heart-wrenching. I came home from work yesterday to find that Daddy seemed mad at me but not sure why. He was curt in his answers, didn't want to eat dinner, and was just downright rude to me. He has thought he was in Alabama for the last couple of days and kept asking when we had to leave to "go home." Then when it was time for bed he said that he would "turn out the lights." Well, seeing as how he can't see the light switches I waited with him until he got into bed around 11:00. Feeling that he had something in mind I put a couple of aluminum cans in front of the door as an impromptu alarm. At 11:30 we were awakened by a noise followed by his cries. Ran out and found him on his hands and knees at the front door, apparently having reached down for something on the floor and losing his balance. He refused help at first, until Brandon just reached down and did it. Then he was mad again, and went to his room. He only laid down when he realized that I wasn't going to leave him alone, so I got a blanket and a pillow and settled in on the couch for the night where I could hear better if he got up and began moving around. Sure enough! About thirty minutes later he came out of his room. I got up and went over and asked if he needed something. He said, "Nope" rather curtly and went back to his room. Shortly thereafter it happened again. When I went back to his room with him he looked at his window (we had 40 mph winds whistling around the house last night) and I told him the wind was blowing really hard and was the noise he heard. He said, in the most sarcastic manner, "That's nice." Well, I decided that I had to try to find out what this was all about and asked him if he was mad at me. "Nope." Then, why he was acting this way towards me. "I'm not acting any way towards you." I dove in then and asked him why he had been rude to me since I got home from work. He didn't answer for a moment, then exploded. It was all about CIGARETTES!!!??? How he had been smoking since he was 10 years old. I tried to explain that he was on patch to help him quit and he went into 5 year old mode. Been smoking for 78 years and it hadn't hurt him yet. Well, yes it had - he had a heart attack and stroke related to smoking. His answer? "That's ridiculous - I can go out right now and find ten people who have had heart attacks and strokes and never smoked a day in their life." Then I tried to explain how when we moved him here we had to get rid of most of his clothes because they all had burn holes in them, how his couch and carpet had burn holes, and how everyone was worried that he was going to catch himself on fire. The 5-year old came out again and said, "I haven't done it yet and I've been smoking for 78 years." My response? (I'm not his daughter for nothing...) "And I haven't wrecked my car yet but it doesn't mean I won't go out and do it tomorrow." The 5 year old said, "I'm not the only one that has smoked in that house." Which, by the way, isn't true. So finally I tried to reason with him by using his beloved dogs: "Daddy, do you really want to take the chance of burning your house down and killing your dogs in such a horrible way?" He had no reply to that - wait, am I making headway??? No. He went back to how hard it was to quit smoking after 78 years and that I had no idea what it was like.

These are the hardest days. When there is no getting through to him, no way to reason. To remind oneself that this is not the parent one knew and that the hatefulness is part of the disease. Not knowing if I will come home to a father who will sit and talk to me or hate me for "hiding" his cigarettes, or if we will get decent sleep or hardly any at all.

And then there is my family. Brandon, who doesn't want to sleep with his door closed in case Grandpa needs help and gets up every time Daddy does, even when we tell him he can go back to bed. Shawn, who is my anchor and my oasis. Last night I lay on the couch and wanted nothing more than to be back in our room with his arms around me, but knowing that I needed to be where I was. How many nights will be like that one - where my husband is 20 feet away from me but we are unable to touch? I know that this is the best thing we could have done for Daddy, but I feel so guilty for putting them through this. And it will get much worse and more heartbreaking before it is done.

Happy Days

Today was a great day! While work was, well, work, I was trained on how to drive a HMMWV! Not something I ever thought I would be adding to my list of things I've done. Then I came home to an even better surprise - Daddy was still up when I came in and stayed up, talking with me, until after 9 pm. I shared my day with him and he asked questions, shared memories and we talked the whole time. In the coming months I know that these moments will be fewer and farther between, so I can only be thankful for what was given to me tonight.

Settling In

My father seems to have accepted that he is now living with Shawn and I. He does fairly well most days, but the worst ones are when he gets a shower, especially if I help him. I believe that to have his daughter help him bathe is the ultimate sign of his dependency on others and he is always weepy and irritable when it is done. I try to reassure him that he can still get stronger with a little bit of work, but despite his words stating that he doesn't want to be an invalid he has no will to make it otherwise.

The other night he seemed to be plotting his escape. He asked me how far we were from his home and when I told him that it was about 2300 miles away he exclaimed, "You're kidding!!!" He pondered that for a few moments, then asked me where the nearest big town was. I exaggerated only slightly and told him that Reno was a little over 100 miles away. Then he asked the clincher: "Does it have transportation - an airport and bus station?" Hmmm...

Then last night he asked when he would get to move back home. How do you answer that one without breaking his heart?

Laugh or Cry (Bringing my father home)

After a few months of flying back and forth trying to undo the damage that my sister had done to my father's mental health Shawn and I made the trip we had hoped we wouldn't have to - to go against my father's wishes and take him out of his home so that he could come live with us here in Nevada. We hope to be able to provide him with the interaction with family and extra stimulation to slow the progression of his Alzheimer's disease and make his last days before he loses knowledge of who we are joyful.

We started our adventure on the morning of New Year's Eve. Loaded up the Volvo and set out for Winslow, Arizona. Yep, just like in the Eagles song. I am so thankful for a husband who tried to make an unwelcome trip have some pleasant memories for me. We had such a great time together, even though it was a quick drive - 2300 miles in three days. We had New Year's Eve dinner in a wonderful restored hotel that was as much fun to tour as it was to eat in. La Posada is a stop worth making for the history of the place. We "stood on the corner" with the statue and the wall mural of the "girl in the flatbed Ford" in 2 degree weather on New Year's Day and then hit the road again. We enjoyed each other again like we used to when we had more time on our hands and weren't so tired each day from work and routine. The next two days were relaxed and fun and I think I was the friend I used to be to my husband. Now others have taken that place in his life, but for a couple of days it was us again.

In Alabama we tried to figure out what to do with his house and his belongings, but it was a process that my brother and I were reluctant to make final decisions on. Then there was the heartache of being appointed my father's guardian. Afterwards we rushed to take care of the changes that needed to be made to transfer him here, packed everything we needed immediately in a bag and prepared to leave the next day. It was hard having to tell him half truths to get him in the car peacefully, especially since no one could tell him goodbye properly for fear of upsetting him. He was OK for most of the first day, but as darkness began to fall he started wanting to go home and asking where we were going. Even then, he was upset, but soon forgot and we spent the first evening in Oklahoma City in relative quiet, although he had some vivid dreams that prevented him from resting well.

Saturday he asked again where we were going and we explained once again, but this time it seemed to sink in and he demanded that we turn "his van" around and take him home. We explained why we couldn't and he grew angrier, and it broke my heart when he told him to get the hell away from him and never speak to him again. Then he cried. When I tried to offer him a napkin he slapped it away, so we let him be for a while.

That evening we stopped in Flagstaff, AZ and this is when his worry and fear overtook him. At first his delirium was cheerful - he somehow decided that we were traveling on a train in fine style with a cabin to ourselves. He thanked us for taking him on such a great trip, and knew who we were. As we went to bed he asked who was driving the next day and was very excited when I told him Shawn.

Then, at 3 am it turned into something else. He woke me up and insisted that I come sit near him so that he could tell me something I needed to know. When I sat on the edge of the bed he told me that the driver was "drunker than hell", that the kids next to us had just told him so. So I told him we were stopped for the night, but he said no, that he was looking at the speedometer and we were going 80 miles an hour. I asked where the speedometer was and he pointed to the ceiling...From there I watched as he went in and out of sleep, working on tasks with his hands that only he could see.

Our final day on the road was the saddest and the funniest all at the same time. As we drove his delirium reached its high point. At one point we had eight dogs and two or three imaginary passengers with us. He spent a few hours telling us that the horses, chickens and turkeys would not eat various foods that he offered them, and his neck pillow served as a freezing wet dog that someone had thrown in a pond, a sack of feed and various other objects. He shared food and jokes and even cigarettes with someone in the seat next to him. He had Shawn pick him out some fresh turkey hanging on the ceiling of the car. The high point was when Shawn offered him a drink of water after all of his hard work with the turkeys, and upon tasting the cool water he smacked his lips and chirped "COCKADOODLEDOO!!! and grinned the happiest of grins. He was obviously enjoying himself immensely and I was both gladdened and heartbroken. I thought to myself that if the choices were to see him miserable and angry over being removed from his home or lost in a world of delirium that he was happy in that I would rather see him in this happy state, even if it meant he didn't know who I was. How unfair is a world where a man takes pride in providing for himself and never asking for anything except to be able to live out the end of his days in his own place where he is comfortable, only to have that decision taken away from him by strangers?

His first night in our home was the most surreal as his delirium included a lady who insisted on using the restroom first, and a man who was under the sink in the bathroom trying to fix the toilet. He talked throughout the night, and at four in the morning went into Brandon's room and when Brandon put out his hand to let Daddy know where he was, Daddy promptly began dialing numbers on Brandon's palm, saying he needed a cell phone.

Laugh or cry.