That Last Breath

Our entry into this world is a rather violent one. One moment, safe inside your mother's womb and the next moment (or hours) you emerge into a loud, bright, and scary place where your first breath must happen quickly as fluid in your lungs is exchanged for air.

That last breath though...that last breath in a natural death is quite a contrast. Our bodies, beautifully and wonderfully made, know how to operate. They know what to do at the beginning of life and at the end. It's quite beautiful really, I only wish I wasn't witnessing it through the lens of my mother's death.

There are things that we know happen at the end of life, we sleep more, we stop eating and drinking, our circulation and our breathing change. Those are the physical manifestations and I'm seeing these signs in my mom. I'm also observing spiritual changes. She is seeing someone or something that makes her happy and unafraid. She is now seeing beyond her earthly life and will soon be leaving for her eternal one.

That last breath will be a moment of pure joy for her and utter despair for me. Even if I'm in a room surrounded by family and friends for that instant I will feel total isolation as the person that brought me into this world leaves it. Try as I might, I can't prepare myself for it. I'm sorting through photos, making funeral plans, selecting songs, reading scriptures, and sitting by her bedside. Sitting there, holding her, and watching her breathe, because soon, that last breath is going to happen, and unlike the gasping first breath of an infant, this one will be quiet. Instead of emerging into a loud, bright, scary place she will go back home where it's safe, and she's well, and with my dad.

I've given her permission to do this. Mom and I have always been able to tell each other anything that needed to be said so we have no unfinished business. I've told her it's ok to leave and that we will all be fine. Last night as I was telling her this, with tears streaming down my face she had this confused look on her face, not dementia confused either. Her expression said, "Why are you crying, can't you see this? Don't you see where I'm going?"

I Love You, forever and for always.

Of course, she can never truly leave me because she lives on in me and in my daughters (cue Lion King music.) And that woman, the one that grew up in the depression, the one that outlived two husbands and a son, that woman will deliver a swift kick in my ass, all the way from heaven. That kick will be to remind me that I am my mother's daughter and I will pick myself up, and I will carry on, and I will make her proud, up until I take that last breath.

Fragile Flowers - Move on, nothing to see here.

My mom suffers, or I guess at this point WE suffer from my mom's Alzheimer's disease. I feel strongly that I am following that same path but will arrive at the destination significantly quicker than my mom arrived. Many mornings I've had the song, 'Play That Funky Music White Boy' in my head, and every morning I've wondered why I've got that damn song in my head. Today, it dawned on me. You've probably gotten there already...yes, it's my alarm. Bloody hell.

Fragile flowers...if you're still with me...try to remember my sense of humor and use yours if you have one. Today I was at Ross and the male cashier complimented me on my Tory Burch (had to actually look at the glasses to see how to spell that) eyeglasses. I had already been chatting with him and his voice was very high and he was on the effeminate side (is it still OK to say that?) I don't know if that makes him GQ, IQ, LG, BT....no freakin' idea, but he was sweet and I liked him. I told him that I had been wearing these new glasses for about a month or so and my husband hadn't noticed...he said, "Oh, he's a man, I'm a special kind of man so I noticed." I laughed, thought that was hysterical. I'm not sure if he's transitioning or what but I'm telling you if men knew what these damn hot flashes were like they would NEVER, EVER, EVER want to be a woman. Two or three times a day, sweat pours off of me. This woman thing is highly overrated. If I transitioned would I still have hot flashes?

Speaking of male/female stuff I was at Barnes and Noble today looking for a magazine. They have a section called Women's Interest, that's where you can find all the Hollywood rags, Elle, Cosmo, and all those other "women's" magazines. The Men's Interest section had GQ, Maxim, Playboy, and then business magazines like Forbes. If the sports magazines had been there I would have been forced to burn the place down.

Paul got home today from Houston. I bought Paul some shoes today. That's how we do things in our marriage. I shop. He hates to shop. I don't hate to shop. He does. I shop. He needed shoes. I bought shoes. Today, I bought shoes for Paul. We've always done it that way. I buy the shoes in this family. Our marriage is based on trust.  He's always trusted me to buy shoes. He bought shoes. Paul bought shoes. He got online and bought shoes, but I buy the shoes. I'm not sure what to do now.  He didn't even tell me he bought them. The shoes that HE bought are at the office which means he had them SHIPPED to the office. He secretly bought shoes. What else is he buying? I was completely bypassed. I'm being phased out because he bought shoes. Now I know what those Mom and Pop stores feel like when Walmart comes to town.

Listening to the radio today and a Sia song was playing. I think she has a unique and beautiful voice but she's like the female Elton John. I don't have one single clue what she's singing. I could google the lyrics of course but where's the fun in that? Rocket Man, burning every shoe I've ever owned....

I had to go to the dentist today and I confessed that for the last several months I've been chewing ice and couldn't seem to kick the habit - this suddenly appeared - this feeling that I needed to chew ice. I also admitted to chewing large amounts of Bubble Yum. They told me to have my iron checked because I might be suffering from PICA. It happens a lot with pregnant women, they crave stuff like dirt, drywall, you know, fun stuff. I'm not pregnant, obviously because I'm not Janet Jackson and I'm clearly going through menopause (have been going through it for about 15 years I think.) I'm sure that I'm not anemic. I just want to chew ice and bubble gum (not at the same time.) They told me not to do it anymore and if I started craving drywall to call my family doctor. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I'm guessing that they will tell me not to chew drywall. Last week my rheumatologist told me that I can't take Tylenol, Aleve, or Advil anymore. These people don't know me well. If you tell me I can't do something then I want to do it, well, except for the drywall thing. I don't want to chew drywall...yet.

Also on the radio today, I switched to one of my preset stations and 'I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas' came on. This made me angry. It's November 2nd and one of my presets has changed to Christmas music. I'm not amused. I dread the month of December.  Every year I tell myself that this December will be different. This December I will not be sad. This December will be filled with joy. Then, on November 2nd, on one of MY preset stations 'I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas' comes on and I feel that horrible pull...December is already trying to grab me.
Damn.

Tonight is a special night because it's game 7 of the World Series. Few sporting events are as cool as a game 7. I'm looking forward to it except for the announcers. Joe Buck...ugh. I wish that I could be a sports announcer, I would be great at it and would provide a different spin on events. Of course, there would have to be a significant time delay because sometimes words come out of my mouth that would not be appropriate on TV. Still...I would provide a lot of entertainment as an announcer. Maybe now that I'm not needed at home anymore I can be an announcer. BEEEEEP.....

Shoes. December. Hippopotamus. Funky Music. Drywall...