Bringing back the veil

We admitted my mom to a nursing home this Monday. It's a nice little family owned psychiatric-specialty nursing home about 50 miles away. It took almost 2 weeks to find a placement for her - out of 14 facilities, only 2 would accept her. And that was after we narrowed our list to facilities that offer secured or dementia units. The one place we didn't choose was some kind of cult-owned sanatorium and boarding school. I wish I was kidding - they have the boarding school students work in the nursing home.

It's too soon to tell how she'll do in the new place, but early indications are good. The staff are working hard to help her adjust and are communicating with us daily. The facility is located an hour and a half away, so we can't just pop over if we have a concern. Inconvenient, stressful, worrisome. But we're coping.....

So with great difficulty, I've returned (somewhat) to my normal routine: picking up kids, running errands, working a little. My darling husband had an inconveniently-timed stomach virus, which kept me from taking to the bed for a day or 2 as I had planned. I participated in basics of my life, but was virtually lifeless myself. I got stumped by questions like: what's your billing zip code? I declined to participate in all manner of social chit-chat and behaved badly to at least one sales clerk. I told my husband he had hit the expiration date on the number of sick days in bed for his illness. Fortunately, he really loves me. A lot.

What I really needed this week was a "pass" from social and behavioral expectations. Some way to let people know that even though I appear to be present, I'm just barely functioning. I'm thinking of some universally recognized, visible symbol to let others know that I'm in a mourning period.

So here's my idea: we bring back the black veil. Anyone in a mourning or grieving period can wear it as a symbol for others to "handle with care". We all know that in the matter of a death or other trauma, it takes more than the 2-3 days off work to cope with the new reality. The brain gets foggy; simple decisions become really hard. But life still goes on: groceries need bought, bills need paid, kids expect to be fed and driven to school.

My week would have been a lot easier if I could've worn the veil. Each morning when I put it on, it would be a reminder to myself to take it easy and not expect too much. Interactions at the store become easier. Cashiers either stick to the basics or begin with "I'm sorry". When someone asks "how are you?" it would be with full understanding that the answer may be brutal and ugly. The people I work with would know to speak slowly and in short sentences, and save the big problems for another day.

There's no time limit on it - you can wear it as long as needed. It's generally accepted, however, that you do save it for the big stuff, not just don it as a way of life. The only requirement would be that it is a true and honest reflection of your emotional well-being at that time.

Which got me to thinking...what would it be like to look around and see that several of us are wearing the veil on any one day? Would it change how I am in this world to see that others are struggling, too? Would I make a different choice in the morning and leave my veil at home?

Maybe. I do know that life goes on, whether I participate or not. I think making a conscious choice to opt out and not participate for a day or 2, would make it that much easier to opt back in and fully live. But not until I'm good and ready.

Thanks for reading,
Melissa

We make our own meaning

It's meant to be a comforting statement: "everything happens for a reason." Or it's counterpart, which is "it must be meant to be." Rather than comfort, these phrases bring me anxiety. Call me a freak, I don't know. I think it's the lack of control and passivity implicit in those words that I don't embrace. There are subtleties about "letting go" that I just haven't gotten yet. (I'm sure there's a reason that I haven't gotten it yet....but I digress.)

"Everything happens for a reason." Ok, but not knowing the reason makes me half crazy. Am I supposed to try to figure it out, or not? I'm confused. If there is a reason and I don't know it (at that moment in time) there may as well be no reason. I still sit in anxiety.

What does bring me peace is flipping the phrase. How about: "whatever happens, we can find meaning in." I can accept that things happen because things happen. And we can create our own reasons for how or why things happened that support and empower us. Alternately, we can create our own reasons for why things happened that hurt and dis-empower us.

Basically, nothing happened today. At least not with the issue at hand, which is my mother's discharge disposition from the geri-psych unit. The meaning I take from this is that when it's out of my control, nothing makes a difference - I might as well be at peace. I spent half the day frantically trying to make something happen, and the other half anxiously waiting for something to happen, and the end result was the same: nothing happened.

With all the uncertainty of what lies ahead, for both my mother and me, we'll find meaning in it. She'll find a way to be happy (in some weird way, she always does), and I'll find joy in her good days. If she can still find a way to be happy, surely I can slow down and enjoy the moments of my life as they unfold. Whether there is reason or not, I can be at peace.

Are you kidding me?

Mom's nuts. Talking to her stuffed animal kind of crazy. But most of the time pleasantly so, and in her defense, goofiness runs in our family.

Given the above, and the fact that mom has recently had 2 admissions to the geri-psych unit to get her meds adjusted, we're looking at a nursing home placement. Oh, and she has Alzheimer's.

With much kicking and screaming, I came around to the idea. I was the last to get there - I have very little faith in these nursing homes, and I think my mom can still be managed in a less restrictive environment, but I came around.

OK, so well-meaning, condescending Case Manager from Hell gave us three options: take her home (never gonna happen) or one of 2 specific nursing homes. According to said case manager, these are the only appropriate facilities, and they are both well prepared to handle combativeness and dementia. And by the way, she made her recommendation before my mother even stepped in the geri-psych unit or had a single med adjustment. Really?

So my brother and I tour them both. I hate #1 but can live with #2 as can my brother, so we say yes, she'll go to #2. Well, by the time we've made the decision, #2 decides they won't take her but #1 will.

We think, we ponder, I cry. A lot. We research other options, and finally get comfortable with #1. It's hard - the place smells like pee, has a shower room that looks like a dungeon, is dingy, dark and chaotic, and 1 hour away. But we can do it. Great. Decision made.

Oh wait, what was that? Nursing home #2 changed their mind! They won't take her. Are you kidding me?

What changed? Well, she's doing better. Her medication is managed and she's now 4 days with perfect behavior and in good spirits. So she's doing too good for the worst nursing home, but is too great a risk for everyone else.

Actually, I have no idea what happened. Because these kind of things only happen on a holiday weekend when you can't get anyone on the phone. But tomorrow, I'll be sucking up to Case Manager from Hell, fully prepared to hear how this was somehow my fault. Maybe if she doesn't have to struggle with the Unrealistic Daughter (that would be me), she could make a miracle happen.

So what's my point? Here it is: in this land of no options, I can still choose how to be and where to stand. I don't like any of the circumstances right now, but for tonight, I'm gonna stand in love, live with hope, and continue to be firmly grounded in reality.