General Update and Dead Grandmother
Sep. 11th, 2008 10:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lydyWell, my Grandmother isn't dead yet. They put her in home hospice care a couple of months ago. She's got bad kidneys, bad heart, put-upon lungs, a liver that isn't feeling like doing its job any longer -- or stuff like that. Maybe the liver is just fine. Or the heart. Basically the systems are failing. The most urgent issues have been her diabetes, her kidneys, and fluid retention. Meemaw lives at home with my mother. I get periodic email updates from Mom. The one from yesterday said that they think that she had a mini-stroke while she was in the hospital and that she was unresponsive and twitching. They were treating the twitching.
The email I got today said that she had woken up in the night and had a coherent conversation with the nurse. Now we get to the creepy family stuff. My mother was disappointed that Meemaw didn't die today, because it's her wedding anniversary, and it would have been so nice if Meemaw could have celebrated it with her predeceased husband. I realize that this is the necessary conclusion if you are an evangelical Christian. (Well, without the whole date fetish thing which Poppy, the grandfather in question, would have denied because he believed that people who died stayed under the big stone, don't ask me which one because this isn't my tradition, until judgment day and until then they sleep the sleep of the dead.) Let me say that it's just creepy for your mom to be rooting for her mother to die. It's a happy event, going to see your Lord and all that. On the other hand, I don't particularly want special measures used. She's old, she's losing coherence, she's in a lot of pain, and probably can't live at home much longer. Which is kind of like the same thing, only based on different premises. Like I'm too polite to say anything. Which is obviously not true, because look at this post. Nothing about my family fails to confuse me.
My grandmother was a funny, tough old bird. She was the kind of church lady who knew where all the bodies were buried and decided what the altar flowers would be. She was deeply prejudiced, except for all the people she met, who "weren't like, you know, them." She took soup over to the gay couple where one of them was dying of AIDS. They weren't, you know, like "them". They were good people, so nice with the neighbor kids, so kind to each other. She had friendly acquaintances who were black -- they weren't like, you know, "them." She was an RN, and Poppy was a house painter. They never had a lot of money. I didn't know her well. When I was growing up, the family would make a trip to Boston once a year. While there we would go over to visit Meemaw and Poppy. Just one evening meal a year. That was pretty much it. The meals were memorable, though. Meemaw was the worst cook in the world and Poppy loved her cooking. Of my grandparents, she was my favorite.
I don't feel a lot of emotion. I can't tell if it's blocked up or if I just don't have a huge investment in this interesting old woman (97) who I didn't spend a lot of time with growing up. I did make a trip to see her earlier this year when they first said that she was dying. It was an interesting trip. She was talkative a bit, and told me all sorts of things, like going on honeymoon with no money to Nova Scotia, where they didn't know anyone specific. If I understand the implications of the story, and I may not, she lost her virginity on the side of a roadway camping out. Later, they came to a church and there was no one that Poppy knew, but they got offered a place to stay anyway. I should explain that Nickersons are pretty thick on the ground in Nova Scotia. Much later, my grandparents lived on Clark's Harbor Island in Nova Scotia, and my grandmother had to be identified as Mrs. Edie-Bernard because there were other Edith Nickersons on the island, and other Mrs. Bernard Nickersons, but none of the Ediths were married to any of the Bernards.
So I've been checking my email all day to see if Mom has a further update, but nothing has shown up. I should probably call. A sympathy call. But I'm terrible at them, I don't know what to say.
In other news:
I'm back in class. I'm taking Biomedical Terminology and Intro to Sleep and Rest. Biomedical Terminology is kicking my ass already. It's kind of like a foreign language class, with a lot of vocabulary, and breaking words down to be better understood. Parsing prefixes and suffixes. The book acts as if the definition of a suffix is as difficult a concept what the Greek and Latin suffixes are and their plurals and singular forms are. And it has spelling tests. I despise spelling because I'm very bad at it. So the class is basically rote memorization, which is not my strong suit.
Intro to Sleep and Rest isn't kicking my butt yet, but it has that potential. The book we're using is surprisingly cheap (17.50), but it is not a text book. It is a popular non-fiction text, part memoir, part propaganda (get more sleep!), and partly sleep studies and research. Because it is not a textbook, it doesn't highlight or draw out the details the way a text book does. The quizzes are open book and untimed, so I've been able to find the answers in the book by looking. I've done the reading, too, but he asks questions about things that I would never think would be in the book. I'm worried about the exams. They're open book, too, (this is an internet course) but they have a 30 minute time limit on them. I've taken two quizzes so far. One of the questions did not appear to have an answer in the text. One of the questions appeared to have been taken from reading for next module (but I can use an index, so that was ok). I haven't taken the exam, yet.
I'm not working. There's very little temp work out there and even less that satisfies my school schedule -- which is one class on Mondays at 2:00. How hard can it be to find something? There's one possibility which is 20 hours a week, better than nothing, but it hasn't come through yet, either.
So that's the slice of life I'm living at the moment.
The email I got today said that she had woken up in the night and had a coherent conversation with the nurse. Now we get to the creepy family stuff. My mother was disappointed that Meemaw didn't die today, because it's her wedding anniversary, and it would have been so nice if Meemaw could have celebrated it with her predeceased husband. I realize that this is the necessary conclusion if you are an evangelical Christian. (Well, without the whole date fetish thing which Poppy, the grandfather in question, would have denied because he believed that people who died stayed under the big stone, don't ask me which one because this isn't my tradition, until judgment day and until then they sleep the sleep of the dead.) Let me say that it's just creepy for your mom to be rooting for her mother to die. It's a happy event, going to see your Lord and all that. On the other hand, I don't particularly want special measures used. She's old, she's losing coherence, she's in a lot of pain, and probably can't live at home much longer. Which is kind of like the same thing, only based on different premises. Like I'm too polite to say anything. Which is obviously not true, because look at this post. Nothing about my family fails to confuse me.
My grandmother was a funny, tough old bird. She was the kind of church lady who knew where all the bodies were buried and decided what the altar flowers would be. She was deeply prejudiced, except for all the people she met, who "weren't like, you know, them." She took soup over to the gay couple where one of them was dying of AIDS. They weren't, you know, like "them". They were good people, so nice with the neighbor kids, so kind to each other. She had friendly acquaintances who were black -- they weren't like, you know, "them." She was an RN, and Poppy was a house painter. They never had a lot of money. I didn't know her well. When I was growing up, the family would make a trip to Boston once a year. While there we would go over to visit Meemaw and Poppy. Just one evening meal a year. That was pretty much it. The meals were memorable, though. Meemaw was the worst cook in the world and Poppy loved her cooking. Of my grandparents, she was my favorite.
I don't feel a lot of emotion. I can't tell if it's blocked up or if I just don't have a huge investment in this interesting old woman (97) who I didn't spend a lot of time with growing up. I did make a trip to see her earlier this year when they first said that she was dying. It was an interesting trip. She was talkative a bit, and told me all sorts of things, like going on honeymoon with no money to Nova Scotia, where they didn't know anyone specific. If I understand the implications of the story, and I may not, she lost her virginity on the side of a roadway camping out. Later, they came to a church and there was no one that Poppy knew, but they got offered a place to stay anyway. I should explain that Nickersons are pretty thick on the ground in Nova Scotia. Much later, my grandparents lived on Clark's Harbor Island in Nova Scotia, and my grandmother had to be identified as Mrs. Edie-Bernard because there were other Edith Nickersons on the island, and other Mrs. Bernard Nickersons, but none of the Ediths were married to any of the Bernards.
So I've been checking my email all day to see if Mom has a further update, but nothing has shown up. I should probably call. A sympathy call. But I'm terrible at them, I don't know what to say.
In other news:
I'm back in class. I'm taking Biomedical Terminology and Intro to Sleep and Rest. Biomedical Terminology is kicking my ass already. It's kind of like a foreign language class, with a lot of vocabulary, and breaking words down to be better understood. Parsing prefixes and suffixes. The book acts as if the definition of a suffix is as difficult a concept what the Greek and Latin suffixes are and their plurals and singular forms are. And it has spelling tests. I despise spelling because I'm very bad at it. So the class is basically rote memorization, which is not my strong suit.
Intro to Sleep and Rest isn't kicking my butt yet, but it has that potential. The book we're using is surprisingly cheap (17.50), but it is not a text book. It is a popular non-fiction text, part memoir, part propaganda (get more sleep!), and partly sleep studies and research. Because it is not a textbook, it doesn't highlight or draw out the details the way a text book does. The quizzes are open book and untimed, so I've been able to find the answers in the book by looking. I've done the reading, too, but he asks questions about things that I would never think would be in the book. I'm worried about the exams. They're open book, too, (this is an internet course) but they have a 30 minute time limit on them. I've taken two quizzes so far. One of the questions did not appear to have an answer in the text. One of the questions appeared to have been taken from reading for next module (but I can use an index, so that was ok). I haven't taken the exam, yet.
I'm not working. There's very little temp work out there and even less that satisfies my school schedule -- which is one class on Mondays at 2:00. How hard can it be to find something? There's one possibility which is 20 hours a week, better than nothing, but it hasn't come through yet, either.
So that's the slice of life I'm living at the moment.
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no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 04:10 am (UTC)Sympathy calls aren't hard once you let go of the notion that you're supposed to express your feelings. People feel numb when someone dies (and some folk struggle with numbness anyway), so all of the forms are designed to let you you can express sympathy effectively without actually feeling anything at all. You just start off with the basic stuff: "I'm so sorry...how are you holding up?" Then the other person will talk. Then you respond with questions that are either about logistics ("what time is the service? What are you going to wear?") or about tertiary people ("how is Aunt Alice holding up?). You can go on this way for an age, and the other person gets to talk about their feelings, which is what they need to do, and you can just say "yeah, uh huh" indefinitely.
Advanced users can trot out a pleasant memory or anecdote about the person who has died, but that's not strictly necessary.
Anyway, the trick is to not try to act natural, and just approach it as a formal script.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 11:20 am (UTC)When we lived in the upstaris apartment in Somerville, we would go downstairs each night for a snakc before bed. We could get a small medicine cup of dip and a few crackers or chips. When she would babysit us, she would always tuck us in and sing us songs and do the goofiest dances.
I wish I could have made it out there again for another visit ....but kids, husband ( who is not like them...LOL) and work....
no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 11:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 12:01 pm (UTC)It seemed just a liiiiitle bit creepy.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 12:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 12:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 06:21 pm (UTC)Oh, lord, her sewing! Kitsch, thy name is Meemaw. I remember one year she made us (my family us, maybe your family us, too) all slippers that had been crocheted out of rug yarn. They were dreadful, and the yarn was so hard and plastic that they hurt to walk in. As for cooking, didn't she once add tapioca to the instant potato mix to stretch it? But she always seemed so cheerful about it. And her bread was the best ever.
I wish I'd gotten a chance to spend more time with her, but Daddy didn't like her, so we got to spend very little time there. Standard abuse pattern, keep your victim away from friends and family and other forms of emotional support.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 08:50 pm (UTC)Of course, I look like a horse with two heads to her. She doesn't understand how anyone can look at the world and not see God, present in all things. She genuinely doesn't understand what things look like from my perspective. We've learned not to give each other grief about it, over the years, but it's always there.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 12:10 am (UTC)Here among the Left Behind (for now), ISTM the important target for good wishes is yourself. I wish you well in dealing with the funny farm you're unaccountably related to.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 02:21 am (UTC)Which is just a way of saying I sympathize with you. It's not easy, and you don't know how to feel or anything. I'm sorry. How I wish I could help.