Last Thursday morning we woke up to a brief snow flurry and a blanket of wet snow on the ground. The lake was barely visible, and then, suddenly the flurry was over and the sun broke out across the lake. The snow-covered trees were absolutely spectacular to behold, and there wasn’t a sound to be heard. This log home is situated in a place of such beauty and serenity, that one glance out the window calms the soul. On the other hand, there has been so much trouble associated with the actual building of the house, so many loose ends, and disputes with contractors, suppliers, and builders, that it is difficult sometimes to see the forest for the trees. Though we are essentially done working on the house, at least for this season, I wake up every morning anxious about what must be fixed or changed. I wrote a song a long time ago entitled “The Curse of the Sea”, and there is a line in that song which speaks to the issue of contentment:
"Everybody has a hideaway, kept under lock and key
In our mind’s eye we’re all travelers to where we’d rather be
Anxiousness can imprison you, you don’t know what you need
You just know you haven’t got it now, call it the curse of the sea…”
A week ago, while I was down in Buffalo, I took Mom out for dinner to a Chinese restaurant that had been recommended by one of the nurses. Mom had a craving for Chinese food, and whenever she is willing to venture out, we encourage her to do so. The trouble was, because her favorite nurse was not on duty, she wanted me to take her out, alone. On top of her litany of other chronic illnesses associated with old age, my mom was recently diagnosed with a not-so-well known and very challenging form of dementia known as Lewy Body Disease. For years we thought she had Alzheimer’s, but Lewy Body is quite different. The good news is that there can be long periods of lucidity. The bad news is that, one never knows when those will be. One moment she’s Mom, and the next she can turn into an entirely different person. It’s a bit like a geriatric multiple personality disorder, and it’s very strange to behold. Needless to say, I am wary of taking her anywhere without professional assistance, and yet, she was adamant about wanting to go with just me. The nurse on duty seemed to think I could handle the task, so out we went, with the implicit understanding that the nurse was available if she was needed. It was a cold, windy, miserable evening, and when we got to the restaurant, I realized it was a bit of a dump. That didn’t seem to bother Mom, and we decided to give it a try regardless. The food was quite good, and we had a very enjoyable time together. Most of my trepidation about the outing had faded away by dinner’s end, then, as we were leaving the restaurant, she seemed to get very winded from almost no exertion. I feared she was having some kind of coronary event, and by the time we got to the car, I was running through various disaster scenarios, involving nurses, ambulances, and a nearby hospital. Thankfully, she stabilized and we were able to go home. I dodged a bullet there, but that was probably my last dinner alone with Mom.
Having just watched my father slowly pass away, I am now watching it happen to my mom. In her moments of clarity, I see glimpses of the woman I once knew, but that woman is almost completely gone now. While I will not mourn a life well lived, and she’s had a pretty good life so far, I do find myself with ambivalent feelings about this difficult end stage. For my own peace of mind, I know I need to be there for her. For her there is ennui, and confusion, and anger, and a whole host of other emotions going on. For me there is only the futile effort to help her face this last challenge with as much dignity as she can muster. For her, dignity is in short supply these days.
“In my mind I travel distant lands, to where the mountains meet the sea
To Africa, to the South of France, to Ireland so green
And you can call me a fool to worship the adventure of uncertainty
But my life is filing papers, I prefer the curse of the sea …
Infatuation, imagination, no destinations,
Call it the curse of the sea”
As the late Warren Zevon once said, “you’ve got to enjoy every sandwich”
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
"Everybody has a hideaway, kept under lock and key
In our mind’s eye we’re all travelers to where we’d rather be
Anxiousness can imprison you, you don’t know what you need
You just know you haven’t got it now, call it the curse of the sea…”
A week ago, while I was down in Buffalo, I took Mom out for dinner to a Chinese restaurant that had been recommended by one of the nurses. Mom had a craving for Chinese food, and whenever she is willing to venture out, we encourage her to do so. The trouble was, because her favorite nurse was not on duty, she wanted me to take her out, alone. On top of her litany of other chronic illnesses associated with old age, my mom was recently diagnosed with a not-so-well known and very challenging form of dementia known as Lewy Body Disease. For years we thought she had Alzheimer’s, but Lewy Body is quite different. The good news is that there can be long periods of lucidity. The bad news is that, one never knows when those will be. One moment she’s Mom, and the next she can turn into an entirely different person. It’s a bit like a geriatric multiple personality disorder, and it’s very strange to behold. Needless to say, I am wary of taking her anywhere without professional assistance, and yet, she was adamant about wanting to go with just me. The nurse on duty seemed to think I could handle the task, so out we went, with the implicit understanding that the nurse was available if she was needed. It was a cold, windy, miserable evening, and when we got to the restaurant, I realized it was a bit of a dump. That didn’t seem to bother Mom, and we decided to give it a try regardless. The food was quite good, and we had a very enjoyable time together. Most of my trepidation about the outing had faded away by dinner’s end, then, as we were leaving the restaurant, she seemed to get very winded from almost no exertion. I feared she was having some kind of coronary event, and by the time we got to the car, I was running through various disaster scenarios, involving nurses, ambulances, and a nearby hospital. Thankfully, she stabilized and we were able to go home. I dodged a bullet there, but that was probably my last dinner alone with Mom.
Having just watched my father slowly pass away, I am now watching it happen to my mom. In her moments of clarity, I see glimpses of the woman I once knew, but that woman is almost completely gone now. While I will not mourn a life well lived, and she’s had a pretty good life so far, I do find myself with ambivalent feelings about this difficult end stage. For my own peace of mind, I know I need to be there for her. For her there is ennui, and confusion, and anger, and a whole host of other emotions going on. For me there is only the futile effort to help her face this last challenge with as much dignity as she can muster. For her, dignity is in short supply these days.
“In my mind I travel distant lands, to where the mountains meet the sea
To Africa, to the South of France, to Ireland so green
And you can call me a fool to worship the adventure of uncertainty
But my life is filing papers, I prefer the curse of the sea …
Infatuation, imagination, no destinations,
Call it the curse of the sea”
As the late Warren Zevon once said, “you’ve got to enjoy every sandwich”
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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