sirdle - 2019

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RIP Mom

Postby sirdle » Thu Oct 31, 2019 7:22 am

10 years ago this morning, my mom died. At the end of July she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and given 3 months to live. When asked if she wanted to explore chemo or radiation treatments, she replied: "I can do all I need to do in 3 months" and walked out of the hospital. She drove 100 miles back to a remote area of Colorado where she had built a house after she divorced my dad. A very strong woman.

For the next 6 weeks, one of my brothers (or I) would visit her each weekend. Weekend trips eventually became week-long trips so we could provide 24/7 care and help manage her pain. I remember arriving for my shift in the middle of October. The aspen were brilliant in orange and yellow; the air was crisp; elk were on the move. On my previous trip she had been walking around and making jokes. On this day, she was bedridden. I walked into her bedroom to see how she was doing and had to walk straight out again. Sitting next to her bed, on a little stand, was a bell. The kind of bell that you might find in a small shop to attract the attention of the proprietor. It was the same bell that she placed next to our beds when we were children staying home from school while sick. We rang it to call her when we were scared and wanted her to talk to us or read to us. Now it rested next to my mom's bed.

The next week was hellish. I learned to wash my mom's dentures... to swab out her mouth... to assist her to the bathroom... and to clean her up afterwards. I learned to give her shots in the abdomen... to administer anal suppositories... to fold her blanket/bolster just the way she liked it (in fifths!)... to manage her morphine... to light her cigarettes... and, later, to lift her out of bed and put her on the portable toilet. Eventually, I started sleeping next to her bed on the hardwood floor because it was easier than stripping and remaking the bed in the middle of the night. Such depths. I never knew. When not cooking, cleaning, and administering drugs, I read to her from Little House on the Prairie which was one of her favourites.

When the week ended, I told my brother that I would stay on because the time was near and it was far too much work for one person to manage. I made a pre-arranged call and three cousins arrived within 48 hours and stayed with us that final week: two of my mom's nieces and a grand-niece, none of whom my brother and I had ever met.

That week was the most wonderful/awful time of my life. Laughing, joking, and caring mixed with coming to terms with death. It's not something I want to do again, but I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

My mom died early in the morning on October 31: All Saints Day, or Day of the Dead, depending on your beliefs.

A week later I was driving back toward California, thinking, crying, drifting aimlessly, when I saw a sign for DeSmet, SD.

The next night I wrote the following:

==============================

I spent last night in DeSmet, South Dakota, where many of the Little House on the Prairie books are set.

I toured the surveyor's house and the house that Pa built for Ma after Laura married Alfonzo. Then I went out to the old homestead site.

I leaned back against the cold monument and watched 5 cottonwoods battle the wind... the same 5 cottonwoods that Pa had planted for Ma, Mary, Laura, Baby Carrie, and himself some 125 years ago. It was somewhat surreal to sit there and watch a storm bear down on me from the north. Behind me, was bright sunlight. In from of me, out across the prairie, total darkness. I leaned against that monument, mesmerized by the approaching storm, and felt the lives of those it represents: Pa and Laura twisting straw into bundles so it would burn; Ma and Mary, grinding wheat all day long to bake a single loaf of bread; Alfonzo taking a sleigh out across that prairie in the dead of winter, looking for a farm that might, or might not, have extra wheat for sale; children lost in a blizzard trying to get home from school; Laura and Alfonzo's first house burning to the ground; Mary's blindness. Tears froze on my cheeks as I contemplated their hardships.

The temperature dropped from 40 to 30 to 20. My fingers and toes became numb. And finally my core body started to cool. But I felt rooted to the spot, as if I were waiting for something. It seemed the boundary between the living and the dead was weakening. I could hear their stories. I could feel their lives. The Big Slough was off to the left; Silver Lake off to the right. The cattails of the slough were about 3 feet tall. It was easy to see how blowing snow could cover the top of the grass and make the slough look just like the rest of the prairie... especially at night. A trap waiting for someone to try to drive a sleigh over. A nasty trap.

I shifted slightly and tightened the hood about my neck to blunt the cold. And as I did, a different set of visions filled my mind: Laura, snuggled in bed, listening to Pa play his fiddle; Alfonzo coming home with the wheat, saving many from starvation; Laura's almost primal way of experiencing the world through her senses -- the smell of the rain, the feel of the Earth between her toes or wind through her hair, the sound of music all around her, the sight of colors and textures, the taste of Christmas candy; Laura loving, with all her heart, her little corncob doll; ... and the way the Ingalls helped other families to enjoy each and every moment of their lives. It was as if their hardships were not important. No, that's not right. It was as if the hardships were necessary to fully appreciate how wonderful life is... as if they were lenses which magnified and focused the things in life which were truly worth seeing.

I remembered words I had read in the museum that morning:

When the fiddle had stopped singing Laura called out softly, "What are days of auld lang syne, Pa?"

"They are the days of a long time ago, Laura," Pa said. "Go to sleep, now."

But Laura lay awake a little while, listening to Pa’s fiddle softly playing and to the lonely sound of the wind in the Big Woods. She looked at Pa sitting on the bench by the hearth, the fire-light gleaming on his brown hair and beard and glistening on the honey-brown fiddle. She looked at Ma, gently rocking and knitting.

She thought to herself, "This is now."

She was glad that the cosy house, and Pa and Ma and the fire-light and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.


I heard a contented sigh behind me, but when I looked behind the monument, I saw nothing but the wind... heard nothing but the prairie.

Roused from my daydream, I rose and walked stiffly to each of the cottonwoods in turn. I lay my hand on the trunk... feeling the texture and noting the color. I stuck my nose between the bark and breathed deeply. I listened to the wind and those voices from long ago... from right now.

And I felt contented.

==============================

Oh, and that bell? It now rests on my desk, beside me.

Rest in peace, mom.
Last edited by sirdle on Wed Jan 25, 2023 8:26 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Before Enlightenment chop wood, carry water. After Enlightenment chop wood, carry water." -- Zen proverb
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Re: sirdle - 2019

Postby WeeSpeck » Thu Oct 31, 2019 8:31 am

:crybaby: :crybaby: :crybaby:

Oh my goodness! That was written so beautifully. What a lovely tribute to your mother.

Thank you for sharing such an intense and emotional time in your life.
--\--@ Nancy @--/--

I am but a wee speck in the big picture of the universe.
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Re: sirdle - 2019

Postby Lyndzie » Thu Oct 31, 2019 8:50 am

Thank you so much for sharing. I’m so sorry to hear of your loss. Your experience is inspirational.
Lindsey
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Re: sirdle - 2019

Postby Daydream » Thu Oct 31, 2019 1:41 pm

Ah sirdle, that was beautiful. Thank you for sharing your story about your mom. You are a wonderful son.
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Re: sirdle - 2019

Postby AnnetteW » Thu Oct 31, 2019 2:25 pm

Wow, that was extremely moving. I too am so very sorry for your loss.
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Re: sirdle - 2019

Postby sirdle » Thu Oct 31, 2019 9:07 pm

Thanks everybody!

10 years. It sure sneaks up on you.

I wish I knew in my 20s what I know now about nutrition. My mom was a life-long smoker. She hated the smell and wouldn't smoke in the house, the car, or around other people. She smoked because it was the only thing she ever found that would help lose and manage her weight.

I wish I could have told her about the power of potatoes. :oops:

Cheers, :-P
"Before Enlightenment chop wood, carry water. After Enlightenment chop wood, carry water." -- Zen proverb
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Re: sirdle - 2019

Postby sirdle » Thu Oct 31, 2019 9:16 pm

November 1st
6', 160 lbs, 55 y/o, BMI 21.7
Blood pressure: 103/72
Resting pulse: 50

Code: Select all
Month     BP      RHR     BMI      Waist      %BF      Weight
-----   ------    ----   ------    ------     -----    ------
2016    147/95     80     33.1     46.50"     27.6     243.5
-----   ------    ----   ------    ------     -----    ------
Sep     102/66     47     22.8     34.50"     18.6     167.9
Oct     103/64     55     22.4     34.25"     18.3     164.0
Nov     103/72     50     21.7     33.00"     17.6     160.6

Day 58, Thu

Food
==============================
B: oatmeal, blueberries, flaxseed
L: baked beans + salad
S: mixed fruit
D: veggie burgers w/ fixings
S: blueberries

fruit: 10 servings

Exercise
==============================
Activity - none
Cardio - none
Strength - none
Balance - none
Flexibility - static stretching (40 min)

Rest
==============================
Sleep - 8 hr, moderately restful
Meditation - none
Stress - low
Reading - none

Notes
==============================
Dancing - I'm off for a weekend of contra dancing. If I dance every dance, it will be 21 hours over 3 days. :shock: I'll probably dance somewhere between 1/2 to 3/4. The food will mostly be off plan. I'll try to minimize the oil, but I'll be eating the most calorie dense food I can find.

Won't post again until Tuesday. Have a great weekend, everybody!

----------
Edit - updated chart
Last edited by sirdle on Fri Nov 01, 2019 8:30 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: sirdle - 2019

Postby AnnetteW » Fri Nov 01, 2019 6:52 am

Enjoy the dance weekend. You deserve to have a fun and enjoyable time.

I like your chart, what tremendous changes these past few months.
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Re: sirdle - 2019

Postby sirdle » Fri Nov 01, 2019 9:01 am

Amy wrote:Sirdle - Thank you for linking your tribute to your mom, I possibly wouldn’t have gotten to read it if you hadn’t. I read it on my phone over lunch today; the awkwardness of such usually has me wait until I have access to a bigger screen to read this website. But I couldn’t stop reading it, such vivid personal narrative and visceral descriptions. I am sorry for the pain and loss that you went through. I am grateful for your reflections and internalizations of your emotions at the time. I am grateful because this is not an experience that I have had and I may now have more insight when my life brings similar challenges. Sometimes feelings just need to jump out and onto a page in order to sort them out. I am not sure if clarity, catharsis or sharing with friends was a part of your intent, but I appreciate being a part of the audience. I hope this day is not too hard a one on you and you spend some time remembering your mom’s vibrance as well. XO.

Thanks Amy!

I came to terms with the pain and loss many years ago, but I wanted to share the experience because... well, because...

It was my mom who taught me to write. I remember coming home from school in 7th grade very happy to get an "A" on an essay and sharing it with my mom. She was appalled that such horrible writing could have gotten an "A", and she made me re-write the paper. For the next 6 years we would lie together on her bed together and review all my classwork. If she didn't approve, I had to redo the assignment.

I learned syntax, vocabulary, spelling, logic, and paragraph structure from her. What I didn't learn was how to express emotion. My mom was afraid that emotion would make us weak and dependent on her. And she wanted us to be independent. By the time she was 25, she had 4 small boys and was discovering what an awful person my dad was. But my dad told her if she got a divorce she would never see her boys again. She believed him (with good reason, this being the early 1960s and her having sought psychiatric treatment -- for depression -- in the past). So my mom worked hard to prepare us for a time when she would not be around. But beyond my mom's cold, calculating exterior, was a core of molten love.

I like to write... but it is very, very, hard. Each phrase needs to be pulled, screaming, from my reluctant, little brain. So, I don't very often. But on occasion, I find inspiration and the words just flow out of me. I believe that my previous post (and that bit from 10 years ago) were breathed into me by the spirit of my mother.

After all, isn't that what the word "inspiration" originally meant?

So, I wanted to share this post because I think the writing is beautiful and it can still move me after all these years. I might also share a short story that I wrote for my mom, when I return next week.

If I could write this way all the time, I'd quit my day job and try to make a go of it. ;-)

Cheers, :-P
"Before Enlightenment chop wood, carry water. After Enlightenment chop wood, carry water." -- Zen proverb
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Re: sirdle - 2019

Postby moonlight » Sun Nov 03, 2019 9:52 am

Hi Sirdle,

Thank you for posting such a moving tribute to your mother. It seems you had a very special relationship with her even as a child. What a wonderful gift! I thought about your post a lot this weekend. I was listening to writers discussion their books and what inspires them to write. I was at a Cormac McCarthy literary festival.

I hope you will pursue the writing. You seem to really have a gift. One thing I heard a writer say was that what he chooses to write just comes out. He doesn't know how a story will end when he starts it. I thought that was interesting.

Take care.
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Re: RIP Mom

Postby deweyswakms » Mon Nov 04, 2019 9:10 am

sirdle wrote:10 years ago this morning, my mom died.

Rest in peace, mom.


Oh my gosh, this touched me to my core. Thank you for sharing your most heartfelt and precious experience. I had something similar in caring first for my dad, then his sister, finally my precious mom. So glad you found her spirit in the cottonwoods. Blessings. Marsha
start weight 210 on 7/25/14; MWL recommit 7/2019 weight 197. 6/11/2022 weight 165.0. Height 5'8".
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Re: sirdle - 2019

Postby amandamechele » Mon Nov 11, 2019 7:55 pm

sirdle wrote:
I came to terms with the pain and loss many years ago, but I wanted to share the experience because... well, because...

It was my mom who taught me to write. I remember coming home from school in 7th grade very happy to get an "A" on an essay and sharing it with my mom. She was appalled that such horrible writing could have gotten an "A", and she made me re-write the paper. For the next 6 years we would lie together on her bed together and review all my classwork. If she didn't approve, I had to redo the assignment.

I learned syntax, vocabulary, spelling, logic, and paragraph structure from her. What I didn't learn was how to express emotion. My mom was afraid that emotion would make us weak and dependent on her. And she wanted us to be independent. By the time she was 25, she had 4 small boys and was discovering what an awful person my dad was. But my dad told her if she got a divorce she would never see her boys again. She believed him (with good reason, this being the early 1960s and her having sought psychiatric treatment -- for depression -- in the past). So my mom worked hard to prepare us for a time when she would not be around. But beyond my mom's cold, calculating exterior, was a core of molten love.

I like to write... but it is very, very, hard. Each phrase needs to be pulled, screaming, from my reluctant, little brain. So, I don't very often. But on occasion, I find inspiration and the words just flow out of me. I believe that my previous post (and that bit from 10 years ago) were breathed into me by the spirit of my mother.

After all, isn't that what the word "inspiration" originally meant?

So, I wanted to share this post because I think the writing is beautiful and it can still move me after all these years. I might also share a short story that I wrote for my mom, when I return next week.

If I could write this way all the time, I'd quit my day job and try to make a go of it. ;-)

Cheers, :-P


Well because is a great reason for sharing; I also like the reason that author Flannery O’Conner is oft quoted as saying I write to discover what I know.
Your writing is quite enjoyable to read; it’s beautiful. I’m glad you are still moved to write and would love to see the short story that you’ve written for your mom. Moms hold a special place in the hearts of most of us. :)
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Re: sirdle - 2019

Postby moonlight » Sat Nov 16, 2019 7:17 pm

Hi Sirdle,
I hope you and your family are well. I miss hearing from you!
Take care.
XO
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Re: sirdle - 2019

Postby sirdle » Sat Nov 30, 2019 10:13 am

Thanks for your kind words, Moonlight, Marsha, and Amy. They mean a lot.

I've been feeling unsettled and disheartened with the lack of progress with my pericarditis. I've had two minor relapses and overall progress has been slow. I originally started this thread to track my exercise... but I haven't been exercising much because I'm still 'healing'.

The cardiologist says there is no more effusion and I'm clear to do whatever... but something else is still going on. I finally managed an appointment with my primary care doctor. He said he would call me with some recommend labs... but he never did. It's been two weeks. I guess I'll have to call his office on Monday to see what's up. :-? Whatever is going on, though, it seems like the pericarditis is just a symptom of something more fundamental. Possibly even chronic.

I'd like to get this figured out, so I can get back into the gym.

Cheers, :-P
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