Being Present for My Son by Robin Gorman Newman

I am feeling quite out of sorts these days and trying my best despite it to be present for my son.

My father, 93, suffered a series of strokes, and after two weeks in the hospital is now at an acute rehab facility/hospital getting therapy, etc.

It's really hard and sad to see him so compromised and to have to work so hard toward some semblance of recovery.

I find myself some days waking up in a funk and going to bed with a feeling of unease.  I know my father wouldn't want that....but I'm questioning the future.  Stroke is just so cruel.  Where is he going with all this? I miss what he was...my strong, gregarious dad.

I also know what he would want is for me to be the best possible mother to Seth.  I have always considered myself a somewhat playful mom....but of late....my spirits aren't the highest.  This week, after I gave a rousing greeting to our cockatiel Smokey, Seth commented how I don't use that tone of voice with him.

I felt badly, but was also grateful that he was able to express how he felt.  I explained that I have used that voice with him but these days I'm sad over grandpa, and working to recover myself from a bad knee injury, so my emotional and physical plate feels overflowing.  He understood, but what kids do so well is to live in the moment. And while he grasped what I said, his goal was to have his chipper mom back, and I' struggling to find that voice.

A wise friend of mine pointed out that these are Seth's childhood years, and yet he's spent a decent chunk of time in hospitals seeing my dad through various health scenarios.  It's a lot for a child, though Seth is a trooper and always manages to find medical equipment that peaks his curiosity.  No doubt he'd much rather be at a laser tag place, for example, but he has learned that there are things we do in life that aren't always easy and pleasant, especially for people we love...and he does love my father.  But, I have to make it clear to Seth that he is a priority too, since my father's matters often become more urgent.  That's the nature of living the sandwich generation life and one of the big challenges of later motherhood.

I just need to find some pleasure and downtime in the every day, despite my fear, concern, uncertainty, overwhelm, etc...but how to do that?  It's not easy for me.  I know that this too shall pass, as my beloved mom always said, and I know that no one lives forever.  But, I didn't see this coming for my dad.  I'm not saying this is the end for him, but life as he knew it, and we all did, changed in the blink of an eye.  He's tired.  We're all tired.

I guess all I can do at the end of the day is the best that I can do...whatever that is.  Be present for him.  My son.  My husband.  My friends. My sibling.  And myself.  And, if I need a good cry, let it out.

Seth...My Son the Supporter by Robin Gorman Newman

Seth has proven to be such a source of support to me, at the tender age of 8.

My father, age 93, has had a gazillion health challenges since Seth was born, and more than once, we’ve made emergency visits to various local hospitals.

Last week, my beloved dad suffered a series of strokes, and has been at St. Francis Hospital.

When I became a later in life mother, I was somewhat conscious of the fact that I was living the “sandwich generation”….caring for a young child and senior dad.  But, that has taken on  heightened meaning as my father’s health challenges have become more acute in recent times.

I’m finding it essential to do my best to practice good self care, though the stress gets to me more than I’d like.  I’ve had bouts with tears, headaches and sleepless nights, but I want to be strong.  I don’t see anything wrong with crying, but I don’t know what Seth might be thinking or feeling deep down, and I’m trying to stay as upbeat as possible for him.  It’s not that I’m not thinking positive, I’m just drained with all the uncertainty, questions, decisions, etc.  I’ve come to understand….if not accept….that essentially this is what life is.  None of us has a crystal ball.  But, I do prefer it when I feel as if I’m coasting along and in a “safe” place, whatever that means for me. 

I am so proud of Seth when I witness his behavior in the hospital.  He is very patient, plays with his 3D DS and even involves himself in ways to be helpful that interest him.  For example, keeping an eye on the equipment that monitors my dad’s heart rate…..figuring out how to operate the lights, television, phone, etc. in his room…..fetching the nurse when we have a question, etc.  He’s become my little helper, and his spirit and energy help lift me up when I need it.  He’s like a little ray of sunshine, and I’m so very grateful for his presence in my life…and not just at this difficult time.

On the flip side…Seth is very high energy, and after a day at the hospital, I need to chill, and can’t do that with a young child.  There is dinner to be made, homework, bath time, toy clean up, after school programs, etc.  We have an agenda, and do our best to continue the daily routine as we know it, despite extenuating circumstances.   I’m so grateful to my husband who is totally there for us and helpful in every way he can be and more. 

There is the saying “It takes a village….” (to raise a child), and when difficult times arise in life, this feels especially true. 

Missing My Dad by Robin Gorman Newman

I miss my dad, but he's still here.

He's 93, G-d bless him, and I'm grateful for every day he's in our lives.  But, I miss what he was.

Every phone conversation we have or get together is peppered with discussion of how he feels, which is never good.  It's always something.

Back in April he had yet another abdominal surgery which landed him yet again in rehab.  I had hoped that would bring his health matters to a halt at least for some time.  I was wrong.  Shortly thereafter, he complained about his vision and learned that he has the start of cataracts which he is now itching to take care of. 

Earlier this week, he had a Ct scan to check up on the abdominial surgery had had because he still feels some discomfort.

It's very difficult.

He has a good friend, Bob, who used to get getting together with us.  The three of us would have lunch, and he'd tell stories and make us both laugh.  He's not laughing much these days.  He's having difficulty walking and is spending more 'n more time at his son's place.  Really, he shouldn't be living alone anymore.

Thankfully my dad has a live-in aide, which gives both him and me peace of mind.

But, it's sad.

I miss what my dad used to be.  And, there are days when I wish for a second he would "fake" it.  I'd just once love to hear from him that "things are fine....he feels ok."  But, I don't anticipate that will ever happen.  It's also partly in my father's nature to focus on himself...often to the point of obsession.  He likes to share and talk about his "stuff," for better or worse, whereas someone else might want to spare their child the daily details of their chronic ailments.

As an older mom, this all gets me thinking.

When I have a day that I might feel less than patient with my father, I turn my mind toward wondering how I will be as an old woman.  It's a bit hard for me, I must admit, to fathom that, G-d willing, I will be a senior one day.  I certainly hope I'll reach that point and beyond...so I can see my son mature as the years go by.  But, I also hope that I won't grow into a cranky post menopausal woman who my son will cringe to call because he hangs up depressed, as I sometimes do, after speaking to my father.

It's not his intent to leave me in that state, but I often find I have to "rebound," so to speak, to pull myself out of the funk that results from our conversation.

Sometimes I wonder if he might feel better if he tried to take an upbeat tact.  Isn't there something to be said for mind over matter and the power of positive thinking?!  

As later in life moms, some of us have a high conscious of mortality.  I don't so much view it that way.  I more strive to be as happy and fulfilled a person as possible, and hope that I may carry a positive outlook into old age.  I'd hate for my son to miss me even while I'm still alive.  I might not have the energey I did as a 40-something mom, but I'll never lose the twinkle in my eye I have for Seth, and hope that he'll, long after I'm gone, remember the days when I referred to him as "my little buddy" and he called me his "mommy girl." 

Past Lives by Robin Gorman Newman

Since my Las Vegas Adventures blog post re: our super fun spring break trip, life has taken a super challenging turn.

My senior dad had mjaor surgery just two days after our vacation.  I went from high to low in the flash of an eye, and on a daily basis since, have felt somewhat consumed with his health, mortality and staying on top of the hospital ...now rehab....situation.  I try not to dwell, but it's my nature to seek out some level of control.

My dad is a trooper and came through the surgery (hernia...not laproscopic) with flying colors, but the recovery will be painstaking, as I anticipated.  He's 92, and you don't bounce back overnight (no one does from surgery).

I observed his physical therapy session yesterday, and while the exercises weren't overly difficult, lifting a 3lb weight was hard for him.  He kept complaining  he was tired and weak, even when sitting in a chair.  Of course he is, given his age, surgery, and lack of a really good night sleep since the operation.  You never sleep all that well in a hospital or rehab facility.   There's activity 24/7.

I shared afterwards how I understand that exercise isn't easy (it's not supposed to be), but if he keeps complaining, the physical therapists (concerned about liability), will give him less and less, and he'll be helped less and less. To regain muscle strength, he needs to work them.

He recounts to everyone (whether they want to listen or not) how he played baseball and tennis, as if he's still in the shape he used to be. I said to him that we'd all like to turn back the clock and stay youthful forever, but just because he was fit doesn't mean he is now.  If he could think like the athlete he once was, he might forge ahead with a more competitive drive toward healing. He could even sample what it feels like to respond to someone "I'm coming along," when they ask how he's doing, as opposed to being negative.

Does it serve you to complain?  I asked. It doesn't make you feel better.  If you were to say to someone "I'm doing good...." even though you wish you were still better, you might actually feel a bit better.  Attitude goes hand 'n hand with healing.  You hear all the time stories about how people aren't expected to live and their sheer will keeps them going. We have the power to control our mindsets.

All this made me very aware of the downside of focusing on what once was.

As midlife mothers caught up in parenting and multi-tasking (a topic I address often), it's easy to think about how our lives used to be.

The jobs we used to have (if you're a stay at home mom).
The fun we used to have with friends (without arranging babysitting).
The spontaneous sex we used to have (not worrying about kids within earshot).
The self care we practiced regularly (without having to juggle scheduling for our kids)

etc....etc.

We chose to become mothers and handle all that comes with it (even if it wasn't fully anticipated). Most of us, I imagine, myself included, would not want to turn the clock back pre-motherhood.  Maybe for a day or two here and there.  But, we love our kids, and, they love us (even if they don't always show it).

So, if you think about it, living in the present is the best place to be, even if it means being age 40 or 50+.

When I take my son to visit my father in rehab, and he holds his hand to walk with him, it reminds me of when I used to hold my son's hand all the time when he was little, and how I imagine my dad held mine when he and my mom rasied me.  The tables have turned, and we are now the caretakers for my dad.  And, as hard as it is, I'm grateful to see the compassion my son exudes when we go to visit grandpa.  He loves to hear the stories of my dad as a star athlete, and for a short while, my father has a gleam in his eye and grin on his face, reminding me of the joy he had in his youth when he earned the nickname Flash Gorman (on the ballfield).

Money! by Robin

The oddest thing happened this past weekend.

My senior dad was staying with us since his live-in aide went home.

It began with Friday night.

Seth had a baseball game, and Marc took him.  My dad and I went to the diner for dinner.  Nearly done with the meal, he suddenly realized he couldn't find his car keys, and it turned into a frantic search. We turned the booth upside down.  looked on the floor. In the bathroom.  You name it.  They were not to be found.

We then turned my car inside out, and still no trace.

Back home, we searched my garage, driveway, etc.  No keys.

I drove back to the diner while my dad once again searched inside and alerted the entire staff (and probably some diners) to his dilimena.  I was left circling the parking lot as I waited, since there was no place to park.  The valet guys probably thought I was crazy.

Upset and frustrated, we returned home.  Suddenly, it occurred to me to ask my dad if he had a hole in his pocket.  I suggested he shake his pant leg to see if we heard any jangling.  Sure enough, that's exactly what had happened.   They keys had fallen through to his lining, and they were floating around by his ankle.

Mystery solved. 

It showed me that my dad is capable of misplacing something. I realize we all are, but I always found him to be very buttoned-up and detail-minded.  But, perhaps with age, this is a newfound development.  Although certainly it could happen to anyone.

Fast forward to Saturday night.  Seth comes to Marc and I to share that he found a 100 dollar bill under his bed. 

My initial response was disbelief.  Can I see it? I asked.  He didn't want to show it to me, but then he did.  I couldn't imagine where this came from.  Marc and I thought perhaps our cleaning woman had dropped it, though I knew she never cleaned with her waller or pocketbook nearby.  So, that didn't make sense.

Fast forward to Monday.  My dad went into his wallet to pay me for some groceries I had purchased for him. He said he couldn't find a 100 bill he had in his wallet.

Oh my G-d, I thought.  Is that the 100 dollars Seth had found?  How exactly did he get it?

I told my dad that Seth had a 100 bill, and we couldn't understand where he had gotten it from. I took it from Seth's wallet and gave it to him.

My dad swore he didn't drop it from his wallet.  That he hadn't gone into his wallet except to take out a credit card, which is in another section.

Did this mean then that Seth invaded my dad's wallet and took out the 100 dollars?  And, why would he do that?

I was beside myself.

I was out for most of Monday when this surfaced, so Marc broached it with Seth Monday night.  It was a hard, yet delicate discussion.  Marc wasn't quite sure how to handle it at first.  He asked his mom for her opinion.  And even consulted his brother who has three sons.  Ultimately, he used the opportunity to share a very important lesson with Seth.  How you should return something that isn't yours, if you're able.  And, that certainly, you should never take money, without permission, from another person.

Seth said he didn't take it from my father's wallet.  And, we didn't want to accuse him of it with no proof.

So, for now, we believe him, though underneath it all, I have to admit, I'm not quite sure what to think.

I believe my dad when he says he didn't drop it.

And, I've never before seen Seth take money.  Of course there's always a first.   But, he'd have to know  that's not something you should do.  Wouldn't he?  We try hard to instill in him a sense of responsibility. But, he is 7.  Maybe he's testing his limits?

I'm sad either way.  I don't want to think of my dad as becoming careless in his old age.  And, I don't want to think of Seth as untrustworthy.

I hope at least that Seth took away an important life lesson from it.

Fun -- by Robin

Why does it sometimes feel as if fun is so short-lived?

Seth and I had a terrific time away in Asheville, and since we've gotten home, life has felt full of challenges. It's amazing how things can seemingly turn on a dime.

Earlier this week I was out to lunch at the diner with my senior dad and his live-in aide...the same day he had two doctor appointments....follow-ups from his recent hospital stay. All was ok, he told me the doctors said. Then, just the next day, my father called me to say he was calling a car service to take him to the hospital because he was severely constipated.

I thought we were done for now with the hospital and my father, and I was grateful.

Why didn't he say anything to either doctor or me that he was struggling that day in the bathroom department? Why did he wait until it became a dire matter? It's like having another child....one who is 91.....and can't take care of himself.

Just yesterday I had a physical myself because it's time, and I haven't been feeling up to par since our trip. I await the results of the blood work and am trying not to be overly anxious about it. The raging hormones of perimenopause can cause many symptoms, I'm aware. Not to mention stress.

Then, we had a meeting at my son's school, and he's having some challenges which we need to address.

I also found out that a good friend of mine....a nurse.....slipped and fell at work on a wet floor and fractured a bone in her knee, and she's now out on workman's compensation, yet she was scheduled to retire early next month and go to Ireland, which she may not now be able to do.

And, let's add to the pot that my mother-in-law tore something in her arm....and is awaiting MRI results.

I was speaking on the phone with a friend today who said that maybe I should consider taking something like Lexapro. That she took it when she went through a particularly rough period, and it helped take some of the edge off. And, she's not a pill popper, nor am I. We both tend to be more holistically minded. So, I don't know.........

When did life get so complicated? So unpredictable. I used to welcome the unpredictable because it felt full of promise.

Now I ask.....

Where's the fun?

Where's the peace?

I don't have enough of either at the moment.

Can I jump on a plane back to Asheville and leave all this behind?

I should at least jump on the meditation bandwagon.

A friend said I need to consider revamping my life. Maybe do less? But, I don't think that's the issue for me. I like being busy. It's better than bored. But, anxiety-ridden is something else.

I'm at the point where it's about somehow accepting that this is what midlife is ...especially when you're living the sandwich generation (which I've blogged about before.) But, I need to find the joy and not just the responsibility and uncertainty of it all. It's so beyond my control. All I can control is my reaction to it. I don't want to walk around feeling like I'm carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. I know things could be worse. But, I could personally use a dose of nurturing right now....and some genuine belly laughs.