Falls goeth before a move

It’s Monday, June 30, and we are licking our wounds again, dad almost literally although he’s wearing a pretty thick gauze bandage.  Yesterday was supposed to be a day of rest, the traditional late breakfast at Tim’s, a big chair for dad to sit in after, a bit of shopping for me and mom, a drive by the ocean, a Presbyterian beer, dinner and down for the night.  Breakfast went well; we got the only good, soft, big chairs in the food court at Hillside Mall.  Mom and I left dad in one of them while we went shopping for a bra for her and bed covers for their new twin beds, the second of which I ordered on the phone yesterday to be delivered to Shannon Oaks the day we move.  (Their decision not to take to the new place the double bed they bought when I was in grade 6 and that mom has been sleeping in by herself for the last 10 years at least was a great relief to me.  The idea of their going back to sleeping together in a double bed after years in different beds and different rooms made my heart flutter, but my frequent suggestions about buying another single bed to match dad’s new one had not been entertained by mom and dad is too weak to contradict her.  He just wants it all to end and to rest in peace ‘wherever’ until it does.) As we returned to him after taking much longer to find our stuff than mom had thought we would, she was tired but moving as quickly as she could, feeling guilty for having left him alone for so long.  There he was, sitting straight in the chair where we had left him, his hands flat on the wooden arms.  Then we saw it.  The paper-thin skin on the back of his left hand was ripped in an almost perfect ‘V’.  I use a capital because if one had lifted up the flap of skin, the whole back of his hand would have been exposed.  He had fallen while trying to sit back down after having gone successfully all the way to the washroom and back; that was some distance.  Fortunately, two men had helped him up and into the chair, got him some serviettes for the blood and left him fairly comfortable.  He was pale and there was some blood but not much, so we decided to take him to Emergency.  I have to admit that for the first time I gave mom full credit for being a caregiver.  Up to that point I had thought that she was exaggerating when she complained about how long she had been doing that.  I hadn’t thought dad needed much care.  But now I can appreciate that worrying about his falling and then dealing with the inevitable falls over the last few years must have been exhausting.  And she does have post herpetic neuralgia and a mild case of lymphoma that seems to have been put into remission by oral chemotherapy.  He fell once when I was here in April and now twice this time and I can see how traumatic it is, especially if you don’t have anyone to drive you around.  Mom’s been doing all the driving.  I was impressed by how calmly she helped him up and walked with him to the door while I went to get the car.  The triage aspect of the emergency ward went quickly, but then you are treated according to the severity of your case.  Dad was manifestly not the most seriously troubled person in the place.  Two people with serious heart problems came in after us.  I waited an hour and then decided to leave mom and dad, go and do more packing and pick them up when they phoned.  About two hours later I got the call.  They came home and instantly went to rest.  I continued packing.  We had asparagus on toast followed by raspberries and ice cream for dinner and then I went back to Barbara and Terry’s to sit like a zombie in front of the t.v. and watch ‘Endeavour’ and ‘Vicious’ before falling into bed and asleep.

I’ve had a good chat with Jay, breakfast, coffee with Barbara and Terry and a walk with them.  Now I’m ready to return to the Whitehall and see what awaits.  Happy Canada Day tomorrow.  The move is on Tuesday.   

Thursday, June 26, 2014

It’s 10:15 on Thursday, June 26, 2014.  I got up at 7:00am and looked forward to a free day, a shower, breakfast and a trip to downtown Victoria.  My only mission was to buy round red stickers for mom to use to mark the furniture that she wants to take with them to Shannon Oaks.  I went on line and found the address of a Staples store on Fort St, drove there, pulled into an open parking spot on the street right in front, saw that the metre had over an hour still on it and felt positively light hearted as I strode into the store, only to be struck by the fact that its shelves looked awfully empty.  I asked a cashier about red dots and he replied by stating the obvious.  “We’re closing down the store.”  Screech!  That was a hitch in my ‘git along’.  But he told me where I could buy them nearby, which I did, and all has gone well since then.  Mom would have been very disappointed if I had shown up for dinner without the red dots because she’s been dying to slap them on the things she wants to take with them ever since I told her about them a few days ago.  I wanted to wait until the financial and medical sides of the equation were finished before doing anything about packing.

Yesterday, we had the financial meeting at Shannon Oaks at 10:00am and all went well.  We took a drive and then back to mom and dad’s place for lunch.  I left for my daily walk by the water while they had a nap and we met again at about 4:30pm for the usual Presbyterian beer while watching the news before dinner.  Dinner was good.  We filled out the final paper for Shannon Oaks, which required getting their medical gold cards and writing in the numbers.  Dad then went to his room for a rest, as usual, after dinner, and mom and I were talking in the living room.  I was about to leave, feeling really relaxed for the first time in a few days.  We seemed to have slipped them under the wire and into a very good place.  Then I heard dad’s voice, plaintively calling mom’s name.  Mom hadn’t heard a thing.  I ran to his room to find him on the floor.  He had taken both hands off his walker as he tried to put his health card back into his wallet.  As his legs are completely useless, he fell.  It took every bit of strength that mom and I possess to get him onto his bed.  He was shaking uncontrollably and his eyes were wide with fear.  As he has no feeling below the knees, he felt he was falling until we hoisted him high enough on his bed for him to feel the pillow under his head.  He finally calmed down a bit but was gasping for air.  I got a cold cloth to wipe his brow and a sip of water.  Mom rubbed his hands and told him over and over that she loved him and to calm down.  When I finally left to return to Barbara and Terry’s, I was not feeling as confident and relaxed as I had hoped I would, but I had at least got a laugh from dad.  He told me to drive carefully and I replied that I would keep both hands on the wheel if he would do the same with his walker from now on.  I have heard nothing from them so far today, so I hope they are having a complete rest. I look forward to going for a good walk and lunch with Barbara and Terry. 

It’s a beautiful day in Victoria.

The view ahead as we walked down the stairs to the path along the harbour in Esquimalt

A heritage home close to where we had lunch

About the home which was built in 1859 by a Finnish sea captain 

Two bottles of Ensure left standing with two shot glasses.  Only in Victoria you say, pity.  This was a niche in a wall at the top of some stairs we climbed.

The scene of the harbour from the top of the hill.

Monday, June 23, 2014

Another Monday, and I am grateful for the fact that I can talk with Jay and my friends about the maelstrom that is my involvement with mom and dad.  This time the friends are Barbara and Terry.  After a mind-clearing and nerve-calming Skype with Jay, I went up for the daily coffee and conversation with Barbara and Terry.  Barbara gave me some ‘Rescue Pastilles’.  I sucked on one, and we all went for a walk by the water along the Westsong Way on Songhees Point.  It’s very calming to stroll along a path with flowering Dogwood and St. John’s Wort on one side of you and the ocean extending to bright white-capped mountains on the other.  Looking at the boats of all sizes coming and going and watching small planes land and take off was enough excitement for me.  Every day since I arrived in Victoria last Tuesday has been punctuated at least once by a crisis.  I could do with less punctuation in this story.  I used to think that the point of punctuation was clarity, but even then I knew that the exclamation mark was often unnecessary.  This story has entirely too many punctuation marks.  And unfortunately it’s not a story.  It’s life at one of its most fear-filled moments.  When I’m able to be objective and understanding, I feel genuine sympathy for mom and dad.  They are old, failing and afraid of making this move, to say nothing of death.  But at other times I rage at the fact that they made no preparation for this inevitable moment and that mom even now tries to avoid thinking about it rationally and taking action to resolve the dilemma.  She prefers to do what she has always done, discuss stories that might be marginally connected to the issue, if that, or else say or do something pleasant to relieve the tension when in fact nothing will until the problem is faced and solved.  Dad was feeling very low and shaking yesterday.  Mom was trying to distract him but to no avail.  Finally it became clear that he could not get the whole question of finances off his mind.  He has never discussed that with me but finally did and it’s a good thing too.  He was only prepared to present a limited view of their financial situation to the manager of the place they hope to move to and it was obvious to me that that was not a sufficient amount of money to cover the costs.  Finally, he put everything on the table, literally, and it was clear that all was well.  We talked about what he would present at our meeting with the manager on Tuesday and exactly what he would say and how they would arrange to have the money pulled monthly from his bank account.  He was very relieved by the end.  I was too because now I know that he will be clear and in control at the meeting.  Had we not prepared, I think he would have been very flustered.  By the time all this was over it was after 7:00pm.  Our stomachs were growling and the dinner I had prepared had been sitting in the oven at 250c for over an hour longer than it should have.  We all enjoyed the meal.  After doing the dishes I left to return to the calm and quiet of Barbara and Terry’s.  Mom and dad have people in today to clean the house and help them bathe, so we will all have a break.  When we get together for dinner tonight, I hope we will be refreshed and ready to take the next step.    

Mom and dad with the flowers Jay and I gave them for their 72nd wedding anniversary on Friday, June 20th

And again

The Call

Well, I finally got ‘the call’.  At 9:50 this Saturday night the phone rang.  When I saw the name, J Boyce, on the receiver and heard my dad’s frail voice on the other end of the line, I knew what was coming.  He had the phone on speaker mode, so that I could hear my mom’s voice in the background.  As the conversation went on, I sensed that she was not in complete agreement with everything my dad was saying, but she was uncharacteristically subdued.  She realized what I sensed.  Dad had reached the end of his physical and mental capacities and was calling to ask me to come to Victoria to find them a place.  It was clear that mom still imagines that they will move to a two bedroom assisted living facility, but my dad is more realistic.  I believe he knows that at any minute he could lose the mental capacity to deal with anything and that even now he can’t do much without my help.  Before this happens, he wants to find a place where he knows mom will be cared for.  He aware of the fact that he needs more care than she wants to accept and will soon require even more.  In the last 2 days I have prepared the house to leave it, cleaned up the garden (the part I really enjoyed) and done some research.  I have learned that what they probably need is frequently referred to as a ‘tiered care’ residence.  Talking with Jay, Mo, Barbara and Bert and Peg has really helped me to put things in perspective.  A good son, and friends are a blessing. 

I spent this Saturday at the Anglican Church across the street from my house attending a lecture and lunch that I had read about in ‘The Morning Star’.  I call it the local rag, and it is full of junk and stuffed with advertisements, but it has led me to most of the good things that I have discovered in Vernon.  The speaker this Sat. was William H. Harrison.  His subject was “Defining Religion”.  He was a very good speaker and the topic covered many world religions from a philosophical (lightly so), historical and contemporary perspective.  I really learned a lot and left the session feeling energized by the ideas he had presented.  Little did I know that every ounce of that vitality would be required to handle the phone call that would face me that night.

I will leave for Victoria early tomorrow morning, and by Wednesday at 9:00am, I will be drinking Hazelnut Coffee with Barbara and Terry in my suite in their house.  Things could be much worse. 

A view from the trailhead of last Sunday's hike up Mara Mountain near Kamloops

A close up of the hoodoos at the of the trail

A view of Kamloops and the Thompson River from Mara Mountain

June 9, 2014

This continues to be a time of relative turmoil in my little life.  Jay and his gang are moving in many positive directions, and I am feeling buoyed as usual after our Skype this morning.  They are keeping me in touch with youth and hope at a time when other family connections are old and declining.  Dad is home from the hospital, which is good news, but he sounds very tired.  His voice is thick on the phone and his memory seems to be slipping.  I still hope that he will rally now that he’s reached his goal, to be back in the apartment with mom, but I don’t know how much more he can take.  Mom also sounds a bit frayed at the edges, but I still wouldn’t dream of offering any suggestions about anything to do with their futures.  They’ll work this out together as they have every other aspect of their lives; although, I think that this time they are just going to hold on grimly where they are until some force greater than their combined wills, and that will be a formidable force, imposes itself on them. 

 I continue to be kept active by: my contact with friends, both here and away,; the Vernon Outdoors Club hikes and bikes; my Korean students; the library book-sorting group and my house and garden.  The latter is glorious at the moment.  I have iris of every color both inside and out.  They are on such long stems this year that they fall under their own weight.  I bring them in and put them in every vase I own and some I’ve devised.  We had a hailstorm last week that I missed because it was on Tuesday when I was in Kelowna for the last day of Jules’ funeral ceremony.  It did serious damage to some gardens and orchards, but only a few irises and the leaves of one plum tree seem to have been hit in my yard.

I recently read the novel Stoner by John Williams.  It was written in 1965, so I continue to be behind the times in my reading.  To give me the benefit of the doubt, it appears to have been largely ignored when it was first published but even it’s re-release to wild acclaim a few years ago seems to have eluded me.  At least I didn’t miss it entirely.  Mo got it out of the library and gave it to me to read and return when she left on her trip east.  I don’t think I’ve ever read a novel that was such a perfect union of style and content.  I became completely lost in it and felt drained when I had finished reading.  It was a subject, the life of a man from a rural environment who becomes a university English professor, that I readily associated with.  The perceptive details of the life and the austere language used to present it were perfectly melded to create an overwhelming impression.

On a lighter note, I would recommend the film, “Tim’s Vermeer”, especially to Don and Linda.  I saw it at the film club here two weeks ago.  It’s slow, but so is its subject matter.  Anyone who appreciates the time and detail required to create something will be fascinated by it. 

Going down into the area of columnar basalt on the Mount Baldy and Rimrocks hike.

Proudly Canadian.  The view from Rawlings Bluff

Starting the hike up Mara Mountain, west of Kamloops (some Hoodoos in the left background).

Part way up Mara Mountain (Hoodoos on the left)

The view of the Thompson River and Kamloops from the top of Mara Mountain

Jules' funeral

Jules’ ashes were buried with Florence in a very brief ceremony yesterday.  It was the finale of a three-day funeral service that began on Sunday evening with prayers at Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Church in West Kelowna.  The fact that Jules was a devout Catholic who had contributed a great deal to the parish was well recognized in his funeral on Monday morning.  The priest, whose prayers and readings at both the Sunday and Tuesday ceremonies were awkwardly delivered in a monotone that seemed almost perfunctory, gave a thoughtful sermon.  The readings that Jules had chosen were very well read, especially that by his oldest granddaughter, Lisa.  The music he had selected elevated my spirit; I was moved too close to tears to be able to join some of the congregation who sang with the three women whose wonderful voices combined with the guitarist to lead the singing.  Bert delivered a eulogy at the end that eloquently expressed the stages of his father’s life and the essence of his spirit.  Jules’ fellow Knights of Columbus were present in full and colorful regalia.  One of them spoke of Jules’ contribution to his parish, and eight of them accompanied the body as it left the church.  There was even an element of humor at the ceremony.  Before the service began, Rob’s wife, Johanna, who was wearing a black ‘fascinator’ mentioned to me that she had been a bit worried about appearing to be too flamboyant as the only one with something on her head until the Knights arrived in their multi-colored, feathered cocked hats and flowing satin robes.  Her outfit was suitably subdued by comparison.

The extended family that arrived for the funeral gathered, talked, celebrated, ate, drank and were generally sustained at Bert and Peggy’s house.  Fortunately, it’s big and the weather was mostly clement, so we had a fine gathering.  As always happens at these times, funerals, weddings, etc., the connection among family members is reinforced.  Jay was missed; although, everyone understood that it would have been too difficult for him to make the journey.  Mark and David were perhaps a bit overwhelmed by the delighted and powerful hugs I greeted them with, but I associate them so much with Jay that I couldn’t resist.   Bert and Peg’s ‘kids’ really did a lot of work to make all the meals delicious and to help entertain and transport family members.  They were happy to have all four of them together for the first time in a while.  I had a good visit with Danny and Rita, who stayed with me.  Jules’ death marks the end of most of his generation of Van de Vyveres.  Though we were often talking, laughing and drinking Bert’s wine, it was sobering at times to sit among the members of my generation, now on the front line, at one end of Bert’s long deck and look over to the other end where the next generation was gathered doing much the same things as we were but with more smart phones in evidence.

Dad is scheduled to get out of hospital this Thursday.  I hope he does and that all goes well because mom is nearing the end of her ability to handle life alone in the apartment. As Maggie Muggins used to say as she skipped off at the end of her show, “I don’t know what will happen tomorrow”.

Dad in hospital with Marilyn and another friend from his church