Help for Healing

Bitter & Sweet, living daily with grief


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He WAS there!

It’s funny how sometimes the “facts” of your life can change as your perspective and experience grows. Maybe a little growing up too. I remember when I was initially immersed in therapy in my 20’s and I was doing the whole evaluating my family of origin thing. Mom and I were in a lot of conflict at the time. I had this “aha” moment when I realized that I disagreed with her a lot, but it was because she was “there.” Dad just wasn’t. At least that is how it felt at the time.

I’ve mentioned before that Dad was a good, stoic German. He was not very demonstrative with his emotions or affection. It made him uncomfortable. That’s why there are lots of pictures of me sitting on his lap or my sister and I kissing him when we were older because we just kind of forced it on him (lovingly). You see his smile though, he liked it!

Progressive-Lisa, Dad, Darcy

But I was laying in bed the other night and one memory after another popped into my mind. I am rewriting my story. Dad WAS there.

The first time that comes to mind, I’m not really sure how old I was. Maybe five or six? Dad played softball at the fire hall. I think he was the pitcher. I was sitting on a blanket on the sidelines. Don’t know what family I was with but it wasn’t my family. All of a sudden I got hit hard in the head with a baseball. I was dazed. My vision was blurry but I looked and saw Dad running to me. He was there. I remember being home that night with ice on my face and Mom saying, “Poor baby.” But Dad came running, literally, when I needed him.

Next, fast forward to fourth grade. My grandma died. She and I shared a bedroom so I was very close to her. We had this ugly, brown, upholstered rocking chair, but we had it for years and years. I remember being curled up in Daddy’s lap in that chair and just crying. He didn’t say anything, just held me. He was there.

Right after I graduated high school I went on a mission trip to Europe for six weeks. I was in the driveway saying goodbye to mom and dad and we were hugging. I remember looking up and being shocked to see Dad crying. I mean tears, streaming down his face. He didn’t say a word but he didn’t have to.

In 1990, we had a huge tragedy in our family. My niece was killed in a car accident at only 10 years old. Dad was directing traffic as a firefighter and had no idea who was in the car. That tore him up. I remember him talking about it. And I remember our family going to the private viewing at the funeral home before everyone else arrived from the public. I am pretty sure it was him that stood next to me with his arm around me as we all sobbed.

In 2010, Tim was diagnosed with cancer. Our cat was too. Oreo was put on steroids and had another month where he functioned normally. Then the day came when he couldn’t walk and we knew what had to happen. Of course, the irony of knowing what lay ahead for Tim didn’t escape any of us. We were all in the bathroom as that was where we found Oreo unable to walk. It was Tim, David, Dad and me. All four of us cried. Dad was right there with us. No words were necessary.

I will never forget October 14, 2010 as long as I live. After his five month battle with cancer, Tim died at the Hospice facility. The room was full of loved ones, but it was Dad that stood next to me as the nurse examined him and looked up at us to tell us he was gone. Crazy thing about a terminal illness. You know the end is coming. You wait for it. You plan for it. But when it happens, you are shocked anyway. My knees literally buckled underneath me. Dad caught me. He literally held me up because my body wasn’t capable of it.

My story is rewritten. I had two amazing parents. As we all kept vigil as Dad was living out his last two weeks, my boyfriend Tim carved out some time alone with Dad. He told him that I wouldn’t be alone anymore. He promised to take care of me. He promised to take care of David. Even though he wouldn’t articulate it to me, I know that helped Dad to let go more peacefully.

As I had foot surgery this week and have had to sit still (which is almost impossible for me), Tim has kept his word. He has held me up, literally and figuratively. I remember him telling me that he knew he would never replace Dad, but he would do his best to be there for me.

Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Tim. And thank you God for all of them.

Graduation June 22, 1985 (3).jpg


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Janet

My sister Janet is eight years older than me. I have some memories of her as a kid, but mostly there was a big enough age difference that we didn’t steal each other’s clothes or boyfriends so there wasn’t a lot of conflict.

She is the middle child, but for years we also called her the Perfect Child. As adults, I found out that she always hated that so I stopped saying it. I also call her Dad’s favorite daughter and I haven’t stopped saying that. I joke around about it, but it doesn’t seriously bother me because she is truly one of the kindest women I’ve ever known in my life.

I was just talking with a client yesterday who has a family member with cancer news. I remembered when we starting testing Tim and suspected it might be cancer. Janet lived near Rochester so she was an hour-and-twenty-minute drive away. I was on the phone with her when she said, “No matter what happens Darcy, you won’t be alone. We will be there every step of the way.” And she was.

Twice during Tim’s five months of illness, she took an unpaid leave of absence to come and help. I never forgot that because there were other relatives/friends that lived closer and were more close to Tim than she was, but she was the one that didn’t bat an eye. She just took the financial hit and came.

One memory that particularly stands out was when the decision was made for Tim to go to Hospice to try to get his sleep regulated. I called her to tell her and she made all that distance and got here before the transport car came. She and I took Tim around the property in a wheelchair to give him a chance to look at everything, reminisce, and ultimately say goodbye.

She has been here again, this time for Dad. She arrived the day before New Year’s Eve from Tennessee. And she is still here. She leaves Saturday which means she was here a full three weeks. Dad required 24 hour supervision until this week so she literally spent the whole time with him in his assisted living apartment.  I can’t even begin to express what a massive relief that was to me.  I know Dad is going to miss her terribly, as will I.

I enjoy her company immensely, but I was in a catch-22. She was here to take care of Dad, which was my chance to get a break. I wanted to visit with her, but I needed some distance from the situation at the same time. Thank goodness she completely understood that.

Even though she lives in Tennessee now, she still had a job where she had to take an unpaid leave of absence to be here. To take a three-week cut in pay when you live paycheck to paycheck is an incredible sacrifice. She makes it without blinking an eye, without a question. If I asked her to stay even longer she would.

Her husband supports her being here, even though I’m sure he misses her. Her daughter supports her being here, even though Janet misses her little grandson so much I’m sure her heart aches. So thank you to all of her family who let us borrow her capable hands and her ever-giving heart.

And how do I thank Janet? I couldn’t possibly. But deep down, I know she knows. She loves me too, and came to support to me. Mostly though, she did it for the deep love she has for our dad. He’s not an expressive man, but I know he appreciates her as much as I do.

IMG_20180109_101722452_HDRThank you dear Janet. You truly are perfect!


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Millard Suburban

Part of my new career is talking about death/dying and grief/loss, and part of the goal is to help improve the medical system. I admit, I am hard to please when it comes to hospitals and doctors. It’s not because I’m cynical and picky, but I do honestly believe that our system is very, very broken.

When I went to Punta Cana for four days, so many people told me I needed to go for a whole week. Boy, would I love that. You barely get time to drop your guards down and it’s time to return. But I’m a single mom, a therapist, and I help take care of my dad. I just feel like I can’t be gone longer than that. And sure enough, there was one client emergency and my dad ended up in the hospital. Sigh.

Anyhow, I have to say, I love Millard Suburban Hospital. Dad has been there three times since April. Of course no person or entity is perfect, but I really like these guys. When I got the text about Dad, I started in right away. First I had to handle a situation for Frankie because obviously Dad wouldn’t be staying with him if he was in the hospital. Next was sorting out what was actually going on. Dad does his best to understand the medical stuff, but sometimes things get mixed-up. Everyone who was local was visiting him and trying to talk to doctors, but there was some confusion.

I called the hospital and explained my dilemma of being Dad’s medical advocate (as well as legal and financial) but that I was out of the country. I got a call back from the nurse practitioner. She remembered me and Dad from October’s stay. I immediately felt better. She did her best to explain what was going on. She also said he was stable and I didn’t need to get on a plane and come home. She also said she would call every day and let me know if there was any change.

She did exactly that. She even remembered to say “Happy Birthday” in her message on the day of my actual birthday. (She is turning 50 this year too!) She also had the surgeon call me directly. He explained things to me even further. He was able to clarify some of the more confusing aspects of what was happening, which turned out really just to be a clarification of terms. I told him that I was returning home Tuesday night but not until midnight. I asked if there was any way to keep Dad there until Wednesday so he was not released to his apartment where he lives alone. No problem.

He did exactly that.

I really appreciate this hospital. I figure I do enough complaining about all the bad stuff that happens, I wanted to acknowledge the good stuff that happens. I think I would like to go there if I ever have the need to be in a hospital. Thank you to all the staff who took such good care of a man who all of his family love very much. And thank you for bothering to care about a 50-year-old who was on a much-needed break. You put my mind at ease, which all the beautiful paradise-like sun in the world couldn’t have done if I was worried about my father. Kudos!

(P.S. For those of you that follow me on Facebook, yes! This is the same surgeon that I met in person when I got home and could barely concentrate because he was so handsome… Just another perk of the hospital!)


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Frustrations

I had lunch with a friend today who said sometimes she doesn’t want to read my blogs because they make her sad. It’s a Catch-22 because she knows I speak the truth about my life and wants to know what is going on, so what to do? I really do try to develop positive mindsets, but I guess the blog-worthy stuff tends to be the more difficult things…

I don’t have a great topic today. I have spent the last 24 hours dealing with cell phones. Mine hasn’t worked properly since January. When I say that, I mean it totally stops making phone calls or sending texts. It’s as useful as a paperweight. My dad was eligible this week for an upgrade.

I know I have mentioned before that the age of consumers is close to dead. I’m an intelligent woman with four businesses and a Master’s Degree. Yet I think you need to be a rocket scientist to figure out what the hell is even going on nowadays.

First, let me say that seeing a Verizon logo on a store does not mean that the store is a corporate store. That is the first thing you need to know. How do you tell the difference? The only way I can tell is to call the Verizon number and ask. An authorized Verizon retail store is still not the same as corporate. They don’t have the same information and services, but they certainly want you to think they are all alike.

For example, yesterday I took Dad in. He wants a simple phone. No touch screen. No internet. Eligible for an upgrade. I ended up paying $108 for the phone, and will pay a $40 upgrade fee on my bill as well. They make it sound great because you get a $50 rebate eventually. I still thought it seemed like a lot considering it is only a basic phone and he was entitled to an upgrade.

This morning I called Verizon because I was having problems with his texting. In that call, the wonderful woman on the other end said she noticed I’ve been a Verizon customer for over 15 years. What do I think of them? I told her I was trapped. Verizon has the best actual phone service out there. But their customer service has sucked the last few years. After we talked for a few minutes, I was already in my car driving back to the store before I got off the phone with her.

Turns out my dad’s phone should have only cost 99 cents. Yes, you read that correctly. If I wanted to buy the phone outright, it costs $89. That joker told me yesterday if I bought the phone it would cost $349.

I could go on and on and on with all the explanations and excuses and reasons I’ve been given today. In the end, I don’t care. I understand businesses have to make a profit, but PLEASE. This was ludicrous.

Literally four hours later, Dad and I both have new phones and paid reasonable amounts after going to a CORPORATE store. But now I’m back in idiot mode. I couldn’t even figure out how to answer the damn thing. I have a long list of questions that I have to figure out. I’m sure I will spend many more hours on the phone and computer trying to set up the phone and use it properly.

On a good note, while I was blogging, the woman I spoke with on the phone actually called me back to see how things worked out. She gave me her email address to contact her, and has set up follow-up appointments to check in with me. I told her she gets a special paragraph in the blog 🙂  So customer service isn’t dead, but it is barely breathing. It is now 5:15 and I’m well aware that I have lost another almost entire business day just trying to get things to work that are supposed to work.

Yikes. Sigh. Eye roll.

Tomorrow is another day.