1951

The first night in the hospital after my mom was rushed to the hospital was probably one of the worst nights ever. Not only was I up worrying about my mom but her IV alarm kept going off. Every time mom would bend her arm the air to the IV machine would cut off and sound an alarm. I hated that machine.

Early that morning mom also complained about the stuff on her back and asked me to get it off. I had no idea what she was talking about. There was no stuff. Finally the nurse helped figure it out, that it was the machines which were a reflection in the TV that she thought was on her back. So we turned on the TV to remove the reflection. This helped except the Lucille Ball Show was on which I thought would be good for her to watch, but she internalized the show and said everybody was laughing at her. New channel…which was the inspirational music channel with images of nature. Yes it was a very long, rough night and early morning.

What made matters worse is that every time a nurse or doctor came in they would ask mom if she knew her name, where she was, what day it was and her birthday. This was a challenge for her and she would get frustrated as she could not always answer. It was hard to watch this bright, articulate, talkative woman now struggle to put thoughts and words together. As hard as it was for me, I could only empathize how challenging it was for her. I imagined how hard it must be to not know answers to simple questions like your name and birthdate, or maybe even know the answers but unable to put the syllables together to speak them. I know the nurses and doctors would have to ask the questions, but I just wanted them to come in to take care of her; not remind her and I of  how bad off she was at that time.

Determined to remember and get the questions right she would sit there and repeat her name, the day and where she was. As family members arrived she would say their name and then say her name. She would try to read the board in the room that listed her name and date, so she could use that to cheat off when the words would not make sense in her head. She was like a little girl just learning how to speak and read for the first time. She would get frustrated because there was so much she wanted to say but she couldn’t spit it out and end with just saying, “never mind.” As much as she wanted to speak, I wanted to listen. I clung to her words just hoping there would be some breakthrough and she would be able to speak freely again so we could have those long conversations and laugh at this whole silly incident.

Yet the struggle continued. She did get better with her name, the day and where she was at, but that forsaken birthday would get her every time. She could usually say the month and the day, but could not put the year together. Sometimes she would say the correct year but then would say it wasn’t right. We explained to her it was right but she didn’t believe us. For whatever reason, the year was not clicking in her head even when it was correct.  She got mad at us because she thought we were either lying to her or just did not want to help her know her birthdate. Round and round we would go. Finally Grandma arrived. Mom anxious to get this date looked over to Grandma with desperation saying, “Mom when was I born? Tell them.” Grandma willing to help her troubled daughter got up and walked over to the bed and grabbed Mom’s hand as she lovingly said, “you were born in 1951.”With a long sigh as if the numbers finally clicked mom responded, “yes, 1951.” She continued as if needing to apologize, “I wanted to tell them but I couldn’t say it and they didn’t know.”

Although that whole morning we tried to confirm when she said 1951 to be the correct year, her brain would not make the linkage. However when her Mom (Grandma) said the date it was as if it were the one person she knew would know the answer and would not lie. From that moment on she did not forget the year and of course neither did any of us who spent that morning with her.  Amazing how just four numbers could cause so much frustration and how much joy it can bring to know a simple thing as the year you were born. For Carolyn Pollard that year was 1951. 

Lives Changed in a Moment

It was a year ago today that I received that unexpected, gut wrenching call. The call that changed everything. The call letting me know that my mom had been rushed to the hospital because they thought she was having a stroke.

It was Saturday, June 29, 2013, I was coming back to Wisconsin after just spending some time with my parents. I had went home that Friday to take my parents out for their anniversary.  Nothing special, just dinner and then home to sit out on the back patio to catch up. It was a short visit as my mom was going to go paint homes as part of a mission trip that Saturday. July fourth they already had plans to go visit my aunt and uncle in St. Louis. So this was the only time available to celebrate with them. It was always moments like those that I had wished I lived closer so we could just hang out more, but the eight hour round trip drive didn’t make it easy for quick visits.

However it was nice sitting around the table talking about my job and mom sharing about her new menu ideas for work. She was in charge of the high school cafeteria. She was always trying new recipes that were healthy and would still be liked by the kids. She also explained how the school got a new system and so she was entering everybody’s name and number into the system that would be used for lunches. This was a big undertaking, because my mom was this remarkable lady who would have to know everyone’s name, faculty and students alike, and their numbers to help process lunch faster.

After that talk we decided to go inside. When I would go home mom and I were like two school girls. We would end the evening laying in the bed and continue talking until we were just too tired to talk and then would go to sleep. That evening was no different. I rolled over gave my mom a kiss and went to my bed to get some rest.

We both got up early to go have breakfast with Grandma. It was a nice breakfast. Just as amazing as my mom, so is my Grandma. There was nothing special about the breakfast, but just spending time with my family is always a joy for me. Once done, mom and I ran some errands before she had to take off for the mission trip. We got back home and had about a half hour before mom had to take off. So dad joined us on the back patio. Dad wanted to take me to go buy a new vehicle and mom helped me graciously tell my dad no unless he was buying. We even had a conversation about if my dad died before my mom, how my mom already planned on selling the house and moving out to the apartments where my grandma lived. I am not sure how we got onto that subject but in hindsight I wish we would have talked more about what to do if my mom passed first.

We had a few more laughs and then my mom’s ride showed up. I kissed her goodbye as she said she would call me when she got home to let me know how her day went. As she drove off, I kissed my dad, loaded up the car with my stuff and the dogs and headed back to Wisconsin. Half hour on the road I found myself in a terrible rain storm. The dogs were freaking out and for over an hour it was knuckle driving and eyes focused. Finally we got into Wisconsin and the rain was done. I stopped for a break and took the dogs for a short walk.

When I got back into the car I noticed there were 16 missed calls. Wondering what the heck that was all about I then saw the text as well to call right away. As I listened to the messages my heart just stopped. Worried about my mom, but mad at myself that I didn’t have the ringer on loud enough to hear the calls, I jumped in the car and started to drive back to Illinois. I called and that is when I had heard the news. My mom had made it to the house for the mission trip but as she got there something was not right. She was not able to really talk and then not able to really walk or stand. Fortunately among the group were nurses who helped my mom sit and called 9-1-1. She was rushed to Ottawa hospital where they were then going to fly her to Peoria, but because of the storm was driven. My dad followed the ambulance while other family members would wait for me. I drove back through the rain storm and got to my parent’s house. I grabbed my mom’s medicine, dropped of the dogs and jumped in my family’s car. It was my grandma, Uncle Garry and Aunt Rita. Peoria is about another hour and a half away and in these circumstances seemed millions of miles away. The biggest discussion is how grandma and I had just had breakfast with my mom and she seemed fine.

Fortunately we did not get there much later than the ambulance. They were just prepping to take my mom for x-rays and I was able to go with her. My mom couldn’t say much of anything but a bunch of numbers. As I went with the nurse and my mom through a series of tunnels to get to the x-ray machine, my thoughts were racing. I couldn’t make sense of all of this. The nurse was polite and comforted me along the way. We got to the room and I was asked to wait as they took my mom into the x-ray room. I sat there and prayed. I asked that God would give the doctor’s wisdom, my mom healing and me the strength to handle whatever came our way. I knew whatever was wrong was not good, but I was grateful she was alive and was grateful that I was there.

Once the x-rays were done and back in the room, my mom did start to speak a little beyond words, with the main words, “did I do good” and “I am sorry.” Just like my mom who was always worried about making people happy and not imposing on anyone. (mmm, I wonder where I get that from?). The test results would not be back until Sunday, so everyone decided to go home as I said I would stay the night with my mom. That was my first night of many nights sleeping on those horrible hospital chairs. It was also the first night of many nights of little sleep. As my mom tried to sleep I just kept looking at this woman who couldn’t hardly speak or comprehend anything. She barely knew her name or even mine. I wondered what was in store and if she would recover. I was hopeful and my mom had always been a fighter but as I saw this lost woman I wondered. I tried not to have her hear me as I cried. I said many prayers that night, cried many tears and then determined myself to be there for her and stay true to my faith. It was a night that nobody hopes for, nobody plans for, but so many face. It was the night that my mom’s life would never be the same. It was the night that my life changed as well as my dad and many others.