Wishing you all a little ba-dee-ya

A friend texted me this morning and wished me a Happy September, complete with a little "ba-dee-ya." Those who know me well know that Earth, Wind, and Fire is my favorite group. And while I will make my annual posting of EW&F singing September, I will wait until the 21st, so you all have that to look forward to!

I, for one, am glad that August is history and we have begun a new month. Mom's death in August hit me hard. For the most part, I have holed up in what is now "my" house. I haven't wanted to interact with people any more than I have to. That included missing my 45th high school reunion.

While, as I have told some, August sucked, it is important to note that a number of my classmates brought a happy end to the month this weekend. Thanks to all of you who posted reunion photos on our class Facebook page. It was fun to see people I haven't seen in years, and even more fun to try to figure out who some people were. Kudos to the reunion committee who pulled together a fun couple of days of activities in such short order. It looked as though everyone had a great time.

Some of my classmates. Photo courtesy Sara
Thomas

September has, for the most part, been a happy month for me. It teases that fall is almost here, and given our current temperatures, it is doing its job well.

It signals the beginning of the football season, which as many of you know is my favorite sport.

September also brings a particularly pleasing light, as the Earth adjusts and the sun appears to move more toward the south. Days become cooler and crisper, while remaining bright and shiny with a light only autumn can provide. Yes, I am aware that we still can have some quite hot days in September, but until those come along, I intend to enjoy the 80s weather we're having.

As my friend did with me, I wish you all a Happy September! May each of you find a little ba-dee-ya in your life this month!

Small steps sometimes feel huge

I don't feel like I've done much of anything since we buried Mom on Saturday. In fact, more often than not, I have been in a fog the past six days, except for spontaneous bursts of tears that have soaked my clothes and caused me to clean my glasses.

I've tried multiple times to write thank you notes and have yet to complete them. All of the memorials, plants, flowers, and other instances of kindness deserve personal thank you notes. I will get them done, just not as soon as I would like.

I need to do some laundry, but the pile of dirty clothes remains.

I need to put away a few groceries that I bought several days ago, yet they remain in the bags they came in. (Don't worry. Nothing perishable. Though I did buy some fruit cups and fruit snacks, which for me is huge!)

Having lost both parents and my dog in the past 20 months, I have tried to give myself permission to just be for a little while, yet the nagging voice in the back of my head keeps telling me that there is much to be done and I need to get to work.

Perhaps that is why the few small things I have been able to accomplish, that under normal circumstances might seem trivial or insignificant, have seemed like huge accomplishments.

Yesterday, before our trash was picked up, I managed to trim some branches off of one of the trees out front. They were hanging low enough that the young man who mows for me had to duck to get past them. I got them cut off, cut up, and in the trash cart with an hour to spare before the trash truck came by. Not a big deal, but it felt hugely significant.

The day before, after getting yet another scam call for my Dad, I called AT&T and scheduled to have our landline canceled at the end of the period for which I had already paid. Not really a big deal, but Mom and Dad had that same number longer than I have been alive. It is the first telephone number I learned as a kid, back when we used letters in front of the numbers and rotary phones. 

I mainly use my cell phone now, so I just couldn't see paying as much as we were for a line that we used little more than for receiving scam calls. The only reason I kept it after Dad died was because it was the only phone Mom knew how to use. Initially, I transferred Dad's cell phone over to Mom, but learning and remembering it were just too much for her dementia addled brain to grasp.

Getting AT&T to shut down the line took all of five minutes, but it still felt like a huge endeavor.

Today I made an appointment with the family lawyer to start the legal process for Mom's estate.

That is basically all I have accomplished in six days, yet it feels as though I have done a lot.

My goal is to do a little here and there until I can get some major tasks completed. I know the spontaneous tears will continue, but I believe I have at least made a start in creating what will be my new normal.

I am not a rock

I shared a meme on Facebook this evening (I know...hard to believe) that seemed appropriate for my current situation.

You're allowed to be happy, hurting and healing all at once. You're a human not a rock.

I shared it because it applied to several of my friends, but it also applies to this 60-something orphan trying to navigate a new normal.

We celebrated my Mom's life well lived on Saturday and buried her next to Dad at the Brookville Cemetery, where many of my Eikleberry family are buried. And during that end of one chapter, beginning of another in my life I was surrounded by loving and supporting family and friends who I have chosen as family, including longtime family friends, my two besties, and two of my former ESU student employees who are friends. I had no clue that Meg and Jamie were coming to Mom's funeral, but I was sure glad to see them. They did my soul good! It also was good to have my longtime friend, Jim, preside over the service. We have known each other for about 50 years.

Each and every one of those people were a comfort to me, and I am so grateful that they were there for me. Many others were with me in spirit from locations throughout the world. Thank you one and all!

I'm sure some of the old gossips who were in attendance were wagging their tongues because not everyone sitting in the reserved family section were my blood relatives. They were my chosen family. (I only wish all of my chosen family who were there had been able to sit in the family section.) 

It occurred to me on the way to the cemetery that some may have thought that my one bestie, who had been sitting next to me, was my lesbian lover. Nothing could be further from the truth. While I do have LGBTQ friends, neither my bestie nor I swings that way.

For those who have felt the need to gossip about me never marrying, the fact is that I have not done so because I am too damned picky when it comes to men. I've had too many friends who have been hurt by bad guys, and I just don't want to go through that. (I know that all men are not bad.) And no, I do not own cats.

So now we are several days removed from the funeral, and I am trying to establish a new normal.

I've seen several posts on Facebook over the past few days that made me smile, if not laugh out loud. Initially, I was concerned that I should not respond with a laughing emoji as I was in mourning. Then it hit me: just a few days ago, we celebrated my Mom, who loved to laugh and find the funny in life. Additionally, being concerned about the appearance of my laughing really goes against who I am. I am too old to care what other people think of me. If you like me, great! If not, your problem.

I know that I will never get over the loss of my Mom. As I mentioned in an earlier blog post, she was the one person who loved me the most throughout my life. What I will do is work through my loss, establish a new normal, and move forward. And I will do so with humor.

Thank you for your inspiration, Mom!

So long, Mom

And just like that, she was gone.

The person who loved me most for more than 63 years, my Mom, died today after suffering from a fall-induced brain bleed nearly a week earlier, and I have never felt more alone.

It's not a matter of now living by myself. I lived alone for a number of years when I was in Hays and Emporia. No, this alone feeling goes much deeper. It's an "I'm an orphan now" sort of alone. Sure, I have an aunt, uncle, and cousins, and well as a number of good friends who have been quite supportive through Mom's most recent health issue, and I know they will continue to be so. Nonetheless, my immediate, core family is gone.

I will quit feeling sorry for myself, however, as this post is about Mom, not me.

A good life

Despite hardships, Mom's was a life well lived. 

She was a product of north-central Kansas. She grew up on two different farms on the outskirts of Barnard, a small farming community in northeastern Lincoln County where during her senior year, she was elected homecoming queen. 

Even as a youngster, her infectious laugh and ability to find the funny in life was on full display, often getting Mom in trouble with her teachers. It did, however, garner her many friends throughout her life.

Friends and family

Mom's community of friends came from all walks of life. She made friends at a number of jobs, including working in several offices in the old Saline County Courthouse (now the senior center), where she met my Dad. Mom swore that Dad was the driving force in their courthouse romance, but Dad always insisted Mom chased him around the building. Mom also worked for First National Bank (now Sunflower Bank), Morrison Grain, and a debt-collection business.

When I was young, Mom was a stay-at-home mother and parttime child care provider, however, she went back to work after I was in school. We didn't have a lot of money when I was growing up, but I never realized that until I was an adult. Both my parents made sure my childhood was a happy one. 

One expenditure they agreed on was buying books and subscriptions to kids magazines for me. In fact, my love of reading can be traced to when I was still in the womb, as Mom used to read to me then from her own Winnie-the-Pooh books. She always said that once I was born and old enough to talk, I more often than not requested the Winnie-the-Pooh story, Heffalump and Things to Eat.

Like a number of women of her generation, Mom navigated the delicate balance of working both in and outside the home. She worked her butt off to make sure everyone else was happy. Mom was once accused by a distant relative of thinking she was better than everyone else. Nothing could be further from the truth. Mom always sacrificed for the betterment of others.

I'm not sure how she did it, but Mom also found time to participate in a number of clubs and organizations. Some were professional women's organizations, while others were religious in nature, including Bible studies. Mom even led a Bible study. She also participated in the Piece Makers, a sewing group that makes quilts and meets in the senior center.

Mom was attracted to like-minded people who shared her love of laughter. There was one neighbor friend from the neighborhood I grew up in who, when she and Mom got together, watch out! They could laugh uproariously for hours. Even in her later years, Mom would recall some of those laughfests and burst out in laughter once again. The neighbor's daughter, and my dear friend, and I do the same sort of thing whenever we get the chance!

Mom also developed long-lasting friendships with neighbors who over the years have become family. I spoke with some of them recently and they all mentioned Mom's contagious laugh. A couple of them talked of trying to get Mom laughing. Once they did, everyone was laughing the rest of the night. There were trips with neighbor/family members, and many nights of playing cards and celebrating family milestones. Those were good times!

It was family that meant the most to Mom. She was definitely a daddy's girl and thought the world of my Granddad. Once Granddad passed in the mid-1970s, Mom held onto her memories of him, sharing them often, especially with me. Although I resemble my Dad's side of the family, Mom saw a lot of her Dad in me...a mantle I shall continue to wear proudly. Mom dearly loved her younger brother and his family. In later years, when one of the girls (my cousins) or my uncle shared family photos on Facebook or via text, I made a point of showing them to Mom. They quickly brought a warm, loving smile to her face.

Health concerns

While Mom had some health issues throughout her life, for the most part, she was healthy and happy. About 13 years ago, however, she was misdiagnosed by her then doctor's PA, and developed a particularly nasty case of shingles, which required her to be hospitalized for a week. She never really ever recovered.

It seemed that her health went downhill from there. A few years after the shingles incident, Mom was diagnosed with Parkinson's, a "progressive disorder that affects the nervous system and the parts of the body controlled by the nerves." (Mayo Clinic, April 5, 2024) It's the same disease that actor Michael J. Fox has. Parkinson's also comes with dementia. I started going with her to her neurology appointments.

We were fortunate that she didn't develop the hallucination component of Parkinson's. Medicine helped control most of Mom's shaking from Parkinson's. It was the dementia, however, that proved to be more of an issue. Mom's short-term memory had all but disappeared by the time she died today. She also had some not-so-short-term memory issues. About six weeks ago or so, Mom looked me straight in the eye and asked, "Where's Leslie?" It took all I had to not burst into tears. 

In a strange twist, Mom's food preferences also changed. Suddenly, my salad/veggie loving mother requested tacos, pizza, cheeseburgers, chicken nuggets, and Cozies.

After Dad died last year, I became Mom's primary caregiver. She didn't want home health help. The thought of anyone else in her house agitated her greatly. 

We each had our own chair in the living room, where we spent many of our waking hours. Mom liked to watch the news and she enjoyed Wheel of Fortunate, both of which we watched nearly daily. Despite her cognitive disabilities, Mom was fairly good at solving the Wheel of Fortune puzzles and we had an unofficial solving competition. She also loved to watch the Royals and all sorts of football, especially the Chiefs. We also spent time, when the weather was nice, sitting out front; Mom on the glider and me on the edge of the porch.

She was able to get around OK, especially if she used her walker, which she sometimes forgot to do. I doubt her walker would have done her much good Monday night. When she fell, she hit her head twice. Once on the wall and then on the floor. When I got to her, her eyes were mere slits and she was unresponsive. She also was tightly clutching a package of toilet paper that I was unable to wrestle from her. 

I called an ambulance, something I have had to do multiple times over the years for my folks. The EMTs were so nice and caring. Once they got here, she began responding a bit, but I asked them to take Mom to the emergency room anyway. I am glad I did.

I don't know which station they were from, but thank you Salina Fire for sending such wonderful young men!

Once at the hospital, Mom was responsive and chatting, though a bit slow. Her poor hearing accounted for some of it, I think. I explained to each new medical person which was the better of her two ears.

Mom had a scan while in the ER that revealed a small, but manageable brain bleed. The attending neurosurgeon told me that he thought they would be able to manage the amount of blood on her brain without surgery. He said that they wanted to keep her for a couple of days for observation.

While we were still in ER waiting for a room to open upstairs, Mom, who had been complaining of her head hurting, laid her head back and closed her eyes. I thought she was just resting as she had been through a lot, but suddenly, her arms and one leg began moving in strange ways and then she settled down again. A room opened up in ICU and they took Mom up. Two of the ER personnel escorted me up on a different elevator and told me to wait in the family waiting area outside of ICU.

A short while later, two ICU nurses came out and said that Mom had been sent back downstairs for another scan as she was unresponsive. I could tell by the way they phrased what they were telling me that Mom's situation had become much more serious. Once Mom was in her ICU room, I was allowed in. A short while later, the neurosurgeon came in and told me that in that short amount of time between scans, the amount of blood on Mom's brain had tripled. While the next course of action normally would have been surgery, he believed that because of her health and age, her chances of surviving were about five percent. He also said that if she did survive, she most likely would be in a vegetative state. Mom, he said, was in a coma.

As I had power of attorney for her, I had to decide whether to pursue surgery and a 95-percent chance of death or make her comfortable until she passed. Some choice, huh? Choose surgery that might kill Mom or choose to keep her comfortable until she died. Either way, she was not coming home. It was the toughest decision I have had to make in my life.

I chose to keep her comfortable, which was what the wonderful Salina Regional Health Center staff did for almost a week.

I can't begin to express my gratitude to the folks at Salina Regional who took care of my Mom, especially the nurses and specialty technicians. Salina Regional sometimes catches flack from the bitchers and moaners, but the folks who took care of my Mom were wonderful, especially the nurses and specialty techs in ICU and on Fourth Medical. 

The doctors, both the neurosurgeon and the hospitalist, checked on Mom daily and made sure I was updated as needed. They also checked on my wellbeing. 

I am thankful for what the doctors, nurses, and specialty techs did for both my Mom and me. The nurses and specialty techs in ICU and on Fourth Medical were especially wonderful in helping me navigate through Mom's final journey. They checked on me multiple times and, when time allowed, stayed and gave me the opportunity to talk and ask questions. They truly cared.

When the neurosurgeon told me Friday that Mom only had about 24 hours to live, I made the decision to stay in her room with her. The nurses and specialty techs got me a pillow and blanket and gave me three options for a place to sleep. (I chose the reclining chair beside Mom's bed, but I didn't sleep much.) They also ordered comfort trays with tea, water, coffee, and snacks for me during my two-night stay with Mom. (Ever the stubborn woman, Mom decided to prove the doctor wrong and lived nearly 48 more hours. She was more tough than she ever knew.)

The nurses and specialty techs also comforted me when Mom passed.

Thank you, Salina Regional medical staff and caregivers! You are the best!

As I write this, out of the corner of my eye, I can see Mom's chair and for a brief instant, it seems like she is still sitting there. I know she has gone on to a better place, but I already miss her terribly.

Gully washers, eerily quiet darkness, and Queen

Continuing with the storm theme (see most recent previous post: "Camping, a tornado, and a fierce creature"), I am writing this by screen light, as our power has been out for just under an hour.

We lost electricity when the second of two gully washers blew through town this evening. With the first, there was a lot of wind and some heavy rain. Some people in other parts of the city lost power then. The second round of storms, however, were quite intense and knocked out power to more than 18,000 people in town, including a good chunk of the southeast part of the city, according to Evergy's power outage map. It even knocked out our cable/internet provider, as I received a text from them as well. 

Even with Mother Nature throwing a hissy fit outside, the darkness inside the house was eerily quiet. No TV. No internet. Fortunately, my laptop switched over to battery power so I briefly amused myself with a game on my computer and then began writing. I also had the company of Queen singing "Bohemian Rhapsody" in my head. As of me writing this, they are still singing.

I even sang along (all the parts, of course) for a bit, but whenever I, or they, forgot the words, the song reverted back to "thunderbolt and lightning, very, very frightening me," where they had started singing in the first place. 

It reminded me of grade school days when my friends and I used to sing popular music of the 1960s while on my swing set. At least we thought we were. The Beatles were one of our favorite groups to "cover." While we thought we were singing a Beatles song, in reality, we were singing a mash-up of every Beatles lyric we could remember. There were at least four different Beatles songs represented. I'm sure we drove most of the old folks in the neighborhood crazy as we sang at the top of our lungs, but the nice old fella across the alley from us found our swing set shows amusing.

Well, after approximately an hour of darkness, the power is back on and all seems well so far. I think I will wait until the morning to see what sort of tree and other outdoor damage we have. Goodnight!

Camping, a tornado, and a fierce creature

For whatever reason, various posts about camping have occupied a good portion of my Facebook feed this season.

They range from those posted by true camping folk who excitedly await the end of winter and early spring so they can head to the lake, to those posted by folks who are adamant they would not camp, but begrudgingly admit that they might succumb to the uber luxury of glamping.

When I was a kid, my Dad had a boat that we took to the lake often in the summer, mainly to fish, sometimes to ski, but we never ventured into the camping scene.

When I was four, my Dad bought a tent big enough to sleep four people. He also got all of the accessories needed (camp stove, new cooler, etc.) 

That next weekend, Dad, Mom, and I loaded up all of our gear and supplies, and went over to Milford Lake for our first camping excursion. The trip started off well and we were having a good time.....until the storms came. 

Not only were we camping in a stormy area, but our part of the lake was immediately put into a tornado warning. Dad literally stuffed us and all of our gear/provisions into our old Pontiac Bonneville and we headed for home. 

The quick departure from the lake seemed somewhat exciting to four-year-old me, but I quickly caught on to the seriousness of the situation because of the looks of concern on my parents' faces. Dad told me much later, when recounting the adventure, that the tornado had lifted when the storm went directly over us, but later dropped down again.

We made it home safely in the middle of the night.

Later that summer, we used the tent for my fifth birthday party sleepover. I and several friends spent the night "camping" in the backyard. We had snacks and a cooler full of drinks. 

My poor parents took shifts watching over us from the back porch. Dad rigged up a portable work light to shine on the front of the tent. And while those were simpler and safer times, we kids in the tent did have a bit of a scare in the middle of the night. 

All of a sudden, we saw the shadow of a fierce animal stealthily creeping up to the tent, and, of course, we all screamed. Turned out it was only a kitten who was more scared of us! Nonetheless, the kitten joined us for a bit.

All in all, it was a fun sleepover with little sleep! It also was the last time the tent was used, as the first-camping-trip-tornado jinx put a damper on our desire to experience the great outdoors.

The Bloody Bat House

I don't like waking up tired. Usually I do so because of tossing and turning much of the night, but last night was different. I had strange dream and it was a doozie!

In the dream, I was doing PR for a small university in a small midwestern city. (What a shock, huh? Considering a good part of my adult life was spent doing PR for universities.) 

Oftentimes, my dreams are set in cities and at universities with which I am familiar. This one was not. The buildings were not familiar. The neighborhoods were unlike any I have seen before. Most of the people in the dream were not familiar. Those who were I have not been particularly close to in real life.

In the dream last night, a media friend of mine and his family had purchased an old, three-story Victorian home near the campus at which I worked. Their intent was to rent out rooms to college students as a side gig.

One day after work, I decided to drive by the house, as I wasn't familiar with it. I was shocked at what I saw.

The house was covered with black goth symbols and bloody Ozzy Osbourne bats.

Surely my friend had scheduled painters to give the house a new look, but no. He and his family had purposely painted the house that way. As it turns out, his wife was a closet goth and had convinced him that the paint job would attract lots of renters.

Neighbors were none too pleased with the paint job and demanded city officials do something about it. The city officials tried to blame the university, as my friend's wife claimed the house would bring lots of new students to the university, boosting city coffers.

The city became divided as to whether the "Bloody Bat House" needed to be repainted. Some were pleased that the family had decided to do something to help boost the number of students, as the university was the biggest employer in the city. Others, however, were determined that a cult had moved into the Bloody Bat House and wanted it gone. 

Needless to say, I spent many long hours dealing with media and concerned citizens. I even had a vendor trying to get me to have Bloody Bat House t-shirts made.

I'm not sure how the Bloody Bat House issue got resolved, but I believe it was somehow settled as I was thanking people for their help.

Then I woke up.

I'd love to know what triggered that dream. In some ways, it was entertaining. I am, however, so very tired because of it. Hoping for less entertainment and more quality sleep tonight!