Monday, May 18, 2015

The Oppenheimer Report - 5/18/15

Tomorrow Shauna’s mom will be discharged from the rehab facility wherein she is staying at present, and that is a mixed blessing for us. We are relieved to be leaving what has been I think a substandard care facility, mired in bureaucracy and more interested in shuffling beds than helping the afflicted, but clearly Mom Taylor is not out of the woods yet. According to a recent assessment by a neurosurgeon in Toronto it may take up to three months for her injury to heal, and certainly her advanced age is a factor. While she has been generally cooperative and feels terrible for having put her kids through this ordeal, the caregiving issues remain complicated. Fiercely independent, she will, I foresee, object to the 24-7 care we and her doctors now feel she requires, and while she may feel she is capable of handling all her own affairs, we have plenty of reminders that this is not the case. She does not want to go into an institution, and frankly neither do we want that, based on our observations of the care at a rehab facility. So now what do we put in place to make her safe? The house is handicapped friendly, something we did when Shauna’s Dad was so ill, and generally Ethel can get around with a walker.

I’ve been through at least five or six of these family disasters so far, and the inclination is to succumb to angst or self-pity. I wrestle with this from time to time; oh woe is me, after a long and harsh winter, here we are in the throes of spring/summer and there is yet another elder crisis with which to deal. But these are our parents, and they have been good parents. They sacrificed exponentially more for us than we are now called upon to sacrifice for them. I wrote my good friend Bob the other day, perhaps partly to rationalize my currently compromised circumstances, and partly to remind myself to practice what I preach. In the note, I referred to a photograph I use as the screen saver on my computer, and it is and action shot of the two of us participating in an offshore boat poker run several years ago. We are in Bob’s vintage 27’ Magnum Sedan Cruiser, a classic twin screw offshore powerboat, cruising along at 40+MPH in the Lake Erie chop. It’s an aerial shot taken from a helicopter, and shows us launching off a wave and in mid-air, with only the outdrives barely touching the water. Bob and I share of love of boats and rough water, and have done a bit of dangerous boating in our long career as friends, usually in small crafts.  That action shot is a reminder of a charmed life. As I strive to adjust my attitude, I pull my little mental Zen rake through the garden of my happy memories, and once again remember to be thankful for all that has so far been given to me. Even these challenges are a gift.

 
During my “shifts” in the rehab center, I took Ethel out for walks around the ward, and when we'd done a sufficient amount of exercise, we rewarded ourselves by sitting out on the back balcony, off the patient lounge on her floor, overlooking the beautiful grounds on the facility. The other day, the trees were erupting in green, and seemingly overnight we saw spring make a break from jail keeper Jack Frost.  Children were running around, playing happily, seemingly unaware of the unhappy circumstances that brought them to this place. As life unfolded beneath us, we had some  good talks. I’ve had my issues with my mother-in-law, and likely she with me, but we have shared over 20 years of our lives together and we have come to know each other pretty well. Maybe this sad accident has a silver lining, and maybe I needed to take a break from whatever it was I thought I was doing, that I deemed so important, to focus on the circle of life. I’ve waited in traffic jams, I’ve waited for elevators, I’ve waited for success, hell, I’ve even waited in line for an hour for a ride on Space Mountain at Disney World. So far, I’ve had many moments of joy with a beautiful wife who loves me, and I’ve had many moments flying through the air with both props out of the water. Finally, what give those moments meaning are the moments when I help another human being.  

              - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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