My mother sits and talks to my daughter
Thinking she’s me
Telling her stories of my childhood, the same ones
I have heard all my life, over and over.
She smiles delightedly at my cousin,
Thinking she’s my aunt (long since passed away)
And calls me Mama, before she recalls
That she’s also been gone a long time.
The details of identity blur, are lost, but
We are familiar, beloved, and we belong to her.
I tell my daughter - she remembers with her heart.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
The moon hung low in the sky this morning
Early, earlier than I wanted to be up.
The bed was warm, daylight savings time had me discombobulated,
But it was time to get up, so I did.
The light through the window confused me,
It was bright enough to be a spotlight.
It was the moon, at its fullest round,
Brilliant and white in the dark, dark blue sky.
By the time I let the dog out and came back
It was almost down to the trees
Turned golden in the atmosphere
As the sky began to lighten.
It was worth getting up for.
Early, earlier than I wanted to be up.
The bed was warm, daylight savings time had me discombobulated,
But it was time to get up, so I did.
The light through the window confused me,
It was bright enough to be a spotlight.
It was the moon, at its fullest round,
Brilliant and white in the dark, dark blue sky.
By the time I let the dog out and came back
It was almost down to the trees
Turned golden in the atmosphere
As the sky began to lighten.
It was worth getting up for.
Mom has started seeing things,
Not sure what’s real and not -
Now everything is real, altogether and at the same time.
Don’t let that man cough on my food, she commands
Indicating the tv announcer.
There’s some one in there, she confides,
Patting her pillow - She’s hiding in there.
Really? I smile and smack the pillow, thinking
To drive out demons.
Oh no, don’t - you’ll hurt her! Mom cries.
Not sure what’s real and not -
Now everything is real, altogether and at the same time.
Don’t let that man cough on my food, she commands
Indicating the tv announcer.
There’s some one in there, she confides,
Patting her pillow - She’s hiding in there.
Really? I smile and smack the pillow, thinking
To drive out demons.
Oh no, don’t - you’ll hurt her! Mom cries.
My sister makes my mother laugh.
I get overwhelmed, worn out, grim
Until my mother says, who is she?
She’s here all the time!
But my sister grins
And says outrageous things
And makes my mother laugh.
My sister sings to her,
Dances her across the room
As she struggles to the couch
Says, where do you want to be, mom?
The couch or the chair, where to you want to be?
My mother sags, leans - I want to be alive!
I get overwhelmed, worn out, grim
Until my mother says, who is she?
She’s here all the time!
But my sister grins
And says outrageous things
And makes my mother laugh.
My sister sings to her,
Dances her across the room
As she struggles to the couch
Says, where do you want to be, mom?
The couch or the chair, where to you want to be?
My mother sags, leans - I want to be alive!
End quote
Sundays, too, my father got up early
My father gets up early too. Does all kinds of things.
The older I get, the more I recognize him
In the lines of this, one of my all time favorite poems.
Doing his best to care for his family.
Coping the best he can with the circumstances
that are beyond anything
He ever recognized, bargained for.
Children, wife, life -
All battered, changed, broken.
And still, my father gets up early. Makes
Breakfast for his wife, gets her up,
Makes her take her pills, eat, take more pills.
She’s starting to get cross, to resist. He fusses,
Worries over her.
He worries for his kids-
Offers what help he knows how to give.
This is beyond what he was prepared for,
This has never been his role in life,
Caretaker.
And he’s still holding on, still trying to
Take care of all of us. Hangs on to routine,
Every day the same again.
What did I know, what did I know
Of love’s austere and lonely offices?
My father gets up early too. Does all kinds of things.
The older I get, the more I recognize him
In the lines of this, one of my all time favorite poems.
Doing his best to care for his family.
Coping the best he can with the circumstances
that are beyond anything
He ever recognized, bargained for.
Children, wife, life -
All battered, changed, broken.
And still, my father gets up early. Makes
Breakfast for his wife, gets her up,
Makes her take her pills, eat, take more pills.
She’s starting to get cross, to resist. He fusses,
Worries over her.
He worries for his kids-
Offers what help he knows how to give.
This is beyond what he was prepared for,
This has never been his role in life,
Caretaker.
And he’s still holding on, still trying to
Take care of all of us. Hangs on to routine,
Every day the same again.
What did I know, what did I know
Of love’s austere and lonely offices?
Late
It’s time to go,
Get in the car and drive to
The recital.
This student has been in school
A long time, twice as long as average
He deserves his audience.
I drive - first through rain, then hail
Then snow - ridiculous weather -
I see traffic stopped ahead of me. A firetruck?
Yes, a firetruck with flashing lights, traffic backed up.
I stop in the middle of the road, turn into a driveway,
Go back to a side road and cut across to the next main road.
I still have time to get there.
I drive to the church - no one there, wasn’t he going to
Sing here? Nope, I will check at the school.
A parking place opens up as I drive up, perfect. I will be exactly on time.
I walk up to the recital hall, see the performers
outside the hall waiting to go in
Are you ready? I smile and ask.
Ready? For the last two arias, they reply.
Did you forget it’s Daylight Savings Time today?
Get in the car and drive to
The recital.
This student has been in school
A long time, twice as long as average
He deserves his audience.
I drive - first through rain, then hail
Then snow - ridiculous weather -
I see traffic stopped ahead of me. A firetruck?
Yes, a firetruck with flashing lights, traffic backed up.
I stop in the middle of the road, turn into a driveway,
Go back to a side road and cut across to the next main road.
I still have time to get there.
I drive to the church - no one there, wasn’t he going to
Sing here? Nope, I will check at the school.
A parking place opens up as I drive up, perfect. I will be exactly on time.
I walk up to the recital hall, see the performers
outside the hall waiting to go in
Are you ready? I smile and ask.
Ready? For the last two arias, they reply.
Did you forget it’s Daylight Savings Time today?
Sunday, March 8, 2009
March Snow
It snowed this morning.
Early March, big fat flakes
Filling the sky
Drifting straight down, silently.
The dog bounced out into the wet white yard
Returning with a big grin and snowflakes in his fur.
Early March, big fat flakes
Filling the sky
Drifting straight down, silently.
The dog bounced out into the wet white yard
Returning with a big grin and snowflakes in his fur.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Pressure
I’m feeling overwhelmed.
The world presses in from all sides.
I’m tired.
Every day I want to cry.
I don’t know what to do to make it better.
I finally realize that there’s nothing I can do.
I just have to keep going until I come out the other side
Wherever that is.
----
There’s nothing we can do about it, they say.
Just go home and wait.
Waiting for someone to die is depressing.
How sad, people say.
It must be so hard on you.
No one tells you about the endless days
Watching her fumble through her routine.
Day after day after day after day. Slipping
More each day.
My dad lived for another ten years,
The neurologist told her.
Oh my god, my mother said to me later,
Not another ten years. I don’t want to
Do that to any of you.
The problem is, of course, that my mother stopped living
When they gave the diagnosis.
Now she spends her days waiting to die.
There’s a big difference.
____
Ah, ah, ah! My mother cries out as she
Loses her balance, turns,
hits the table with her hip
Bounces off the chair and turns again
Ah, ah, ah - I finally reach her, catch her,
Hold her hands to steady her -
Just let me sit down here.
She’s ok, just shaken.
I hold her hands and lead her carefully
Across the room
To safety.
----------
My friend the nurse listens carefully, shakes her head.
That doesn’t sound like Alzheimer’s, she says.
Too much physical deterioration.
Haven’t the doctors done this test, or that test
Haven’t they tried to find out what else it could be?
I don’t know, I tell her. They all keep saying it’s Alzheimer’s.
Last summer our cousins, all nurses, clustered around and listened
And chatted - doesn’t look like Alzheimer’s to us, they say.
Sure there’s not a misdiagnosis?
She’s too much present, mentally
And too deteriorated physically.
Doesn’t act like Alzheimer’s.
But in the fall the neurologist gently discloses the brain scan results
Deterioration consistent with Alzheimer’s.
All hope is crushed.
My mother withdraws, prepares to die.
And now we’ve spent months, waiting.
Watching as she shrivels into herself
Crumbles away one ability at a time.
It’s as though she’s shutting down all exterior functions
One by one
As she hangs on tightly to the small thread of self
That ties her to life.
----------
No one listens to the daughter.
Get a second opinion, I insist.
Take her up to OHSU.
I call, I talk to people, I get the information.
I get nowhere.
After her first two falls I say, you need to go to the physical
Therapist, Mom. The osteopath massage therapist acupuncturist pain pills antidepressants.
You should be going to the gym. Let’s at least find another doctor.
Oh no, it’s too expensive. I can’t do that. I don’t want to do that.
Mom, you don’t have to live in pain. We can do something.
Oh no, it’s all right. I don’t want to spend the money.
Dad, you have to make her go. You have to take her somewhere
Talk to someone else
Find out what’s really wrong with her.
But it was all they could do
To do what they did.
I finally realized, you can’t make people do any more than they are able to do.
This was it for them, all they could do.
And in the end, would it have made any difference, at all?
-----------------
I’m feeling overwhelmed.
The world presses in from all sides.
I’m tired.
Every day I want to cry.
I don’t know what to do to make it better.
I finally realize that there’s nothing I can do.
I just have to keep going until I come out the other side
Wherever that is.
----
There’s nothing we can do about it, they say.
Just go home and wait.
Waiting for someone to die is depressing.
How sad, people say.
It must be so hard on you.
No one tells you about the endless days
Watching her fumble through her routine.
Day after day after day after day. Slipping
More each day.
My dad lived for another ten years,
The neurologist told her.
Oh my god, my mother said to me later,
Not another ten years. I don’t want to
Do that to any of you.
The problem is, of course, that my mother stopped living
When they gave the diagnosis.
Now she spends her days waiting to die.
There’s a big difference.
____
Ah, ah, ah! My mother cries out as she
Loses her balance, turns,
hits the table with her hip
Bounces off the chair and turns again
Ah, ah, ah - I finally reach her, catch her,
Hold her hands to steady her -
Just let me sit down here.
She’s ok, just shaken.
I hold her hands and lead her carefully
Across the room
To safety.
----------
My friend the nurse listens carefully, shakes her head.
That doesn’t sound like Alzheimer’s, she says.
Too much physical deterioration.
Haven’t the doctors done this test, or that test
Haven’t they tried to find out what else it could be?
I don’t know, I tell her. They all keep saying it’s Alzheimer’s.
Last summer our cousins, all nurses, clustered around and listened
And chatted - doesn’t look like Alzheimer’s to us, they say.
Sure there’s not a misdiagnosis?
She’s too much present, mentally
And too deteriorated physically.
Doesn’t act like Alzheimer’s.
But in the fall the neurologist gently discloses the brain scan results
Deterioration consistent with Alzheimer’s.
All hope is crushed.
My mother withdraws, prepares to die.
And now we’ve spent months, waiting.
Watching as she shrivels into herself
Crumbles away one ability at a time.
It’s as though she’s shutting down all exterior functions
One by one
As she hangs on tightly to the small thread of self
That ties her to life.
----------
No one listens to the daughter.
Get a second opinion, I insist.
Take her up to OHSU.
I call, I talk to people, I get the information.
I get nowhere.
After her first two falls I say, you need to go to the physical
Therapist, Mom. The osteopath massage therapist acupuncturist pain pills antidepressants.
You should be going to the gym. Let’s at least find another doctor.
Oh no, it’s too expensive. I can’t do that. I don’t want to do that.
Mom, you don’t have to live in pain. We can do something.
Oh no, it’s all right. I don’t want to spend the money.
Dad, you have to make her go. You have to take her somewhere
Talk to someone else
Find out what’s really wrong with her.
But it was all they could do
To do what they did.
I finally realized, you can’t make people do any more than they are able to do.
This was it for them, all they could do.
And in the end, would it have made any difference, at all?
-----------------
Poetic therapy
Words chase around in my head
Now that I am finally writing
They have been turned loose
Sorting, resorting
Tumbling, making new patterns
Describing my life
Making sense of my days
My thoughts
And occasionally I write them down
Setting them free in the world
Now that I am finally writing
They have been turned loose
Sorting, resorting
Tumbling, making new patterns
Describing my life
Making sense of my days
My thoughts
And occasionally I write them down
Setting them free in the world
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