It would have been Mom's 85th..

It would have been Mom's 85th birthday today.

As I write this, a friend and colleague is in shock and grief as his mother has just passed away. He is considerably younger, his mother was probably my age. From the beginning, he continued to post her condition online and I have shared his sorrow as she went in and out of the hospital and into hospice care. Every post was a reminder of how great a chasm is opened by the loss, a window into pain of grief. Every post was followed by words of consolation from his many friends.

A few days ago Dad broached the subject of Mom's impending birthday. In years past, this would have meant lobster, but in a conversation with Helen, Dad said we should commemorate, not celebrate, so we're heading to Matt's for Chile Rellenos.

All of these threads came to focus last night at choir rehearsal. As winter ends, the season turns to the Superbowl, Mardi Gras and Lent and our music shifts into quiet and reflective minor keys. And as we sang the following anthem, tears just welled up and flowed and I had to stop singing. Please listen:

Like as the Hart Desireth the Waterbrooks

Herbert Howells was an organist and composer of Anglican music written to be sung in the great English cathedrals. Last night we were rehearsing of his setting  of the psalm "Like as the Hart." which was composed in the darkest days of World War II. The music is quiet and personal and expresses the magnitude of the chasm of grief and despair. It begins with peaceful melancholy "so longeth my soul after thee." But that's just the emotional trigger as emotions turn to grief. "My tears have been my meat, both day and night." I have learned to treasure these moments of raw grief. It is then that Mother is most present and the moment is most desolate. "Where, where is thou, my god." The music is at its loudest and most discordant then returns to the peaceful melancholy before concluding with the profound encounter with life, death, grief and God in the powerful ending chord. "When shall I come before the presence, the presence of God?"

Mid January Recap

Well, Santa Fe was a great success. Not without hiccups, but a great success nonetheless.

Everyone could feel that we were in new territory, but Boston went straight to Dad the moment he got out on to the icy ten degree Santa Fe street. After a visit at Michael and Laura's, we headed to Maria's where we had a big table in our own room. The Casita was terrific, very Santa Fe, but buttoned up and warm inside. The sofa-bed was comfortable and we were able to curtain it off so Dad had his own space.

We hit all the highlights, including several non-chile meals which Dad appreciated more and more as the trip went on. Needless to say we were all exhausted when we made pulled into Dallas late the next Sunday.

Susan had no grace, she went to work at 7 the next morning. I crashed. Dad resumed his normal schedule until he hit a cold or something. I know he ran fever and I remember being told that Dr. Wiggins said it wasn't the flu, but I was sick at the same time and I'm pretty sure I had a mild influenza encounter. Mine lasted several days. I didn't talk to him that week. He didn't answer the phone and his machine was not turned on. He heard at church that I was sick and called Sunday and talked to Susan.

My first day back at work this year was Tuesday, Jan 15. I talked to Dad that day. He called to tell me that we had Symphony tickets for the following Thursday and we made plans to go. He was feeling fine at that point.

Thursday he called to remind me of the tickets, but he was feeling terribly nauseated and went to vomit while I was on the phone. He said that he thought it was the chili he had eaten the day before. (Chili he had made before New Year and which had NOT been frozen.) After the cathartic regurgitation he said he felt much better AND he sounded way better, so I didn't react immediately. Later that afternoon I called to check up. He said he had another bout with the nausea soon after the first, but had been find since. He spent the day watching TV and had not eaten anything. I immediately went to Central Market for containers of Chicken Noodle Soup and a Chicken Pot Pie for when he was feeling better which was the next day.

He met Helen and Will for dinner as usual Friday night. He worked the Cooking Class at the Farmer's Market Saturday morning and cooked a chicken breast for himself Saturday night.. I saw him at church Sunday morning and he looked weak and pale. He said his appetite has been good, he's been eating full meals, but the last few nights have been riddled with bouts of diarrhea and he's lost 8 pounds since returning from Santa Fe.

Other than that he's fine.

He has an appointment with Dr. Wiggins tomorrow.

Christmas Eve

It's been a busy day.

Outside the cooling sky is dusty grey streaked with pink. Inside the store, smoky Christmas songs are starting to be heard over the noise of the customers as we hit the first major lulls in the busy pace.

I image people at home, starting to relax, or finishing preparations for celebrations to come on Christmas Eve or Christmas night.

I think of Dad.

Some Progress...

But still some questions.

After forgetting to call Dad yesterday, I spent this morning at the transplant clinic and had major truckloads to check in at the store so it was around noon today that I called. Of course he was just getting back from his neurologist appointment. Oh well! At least it was fresh on his mind. Here's what he had to say:

He likes Dr. Tseng. She is in the same group as Dr. Chen and took over a number of her patients. She also knows Dr. Marder, who worked in the same group. Dr. Tseng is frank, open and easy to understand and listens to what he has to say. He opened the conversation by mentioning the number of obituaries he reads where the death is listed as due to the complications of Parkinson's and he wanted to know what he had to look forward to as the disease develops. She said the deaths are in very advanced cases where breathing and swallowing become impossible and hat he is a long ways away from that stage of the disease.

Her main point to him are that she has two kinds of Parkinson's patients. Most are like Dad, with tremors that are manageable and that the disease can maintain that stage for a long time. The others are the advanced patients who require significant care. At Dad's level, there is very little to do other than medicate to control tremors. The best therapy is exercise and his 'dance' classes are the best thing he could be doing. The suggestion is that he has a good age/Parkinson's ratio. I suggested that it sounded like PKD. You know you have the disease. The doctors treat the symptoms. Other than that there is little to do but watch and monitor. Dad agreed. He seemed to like Dr Tseng and trusts what she tells him.

I don't know whether he asked if his recent neck stiffness is related to Parkinson's. My guess is probably not if it didn't bother him last night or this morning. (He didn't mention it Sunday.)

That sums up what I learned today. Mary can probably use this and pry more information out of him. His next appointment with Dr. Tseng is in six months, which right now seems a forever away.

Parkinson's related?

It occurred to me that the rigid neck might be connected to Parkinson's. Could be; here's what I found online:

 Rigidity is stiffness and resistance to limb movement caused by increased muscle tone, an excessive and continuous contraction of muscles.^[1] In parkinsonism the rigidity can be uniform (lead-pipe rigidity) or ratchety (cogwheel rigidity).^{[1][2][11][12]} The combination of tremor and increased tone is considered to be at the origin of cogwheel rigidity.^[13] Rigidity may be associated with joint pain; such pain being a frequent initial manifestation of the disease.^[1] In early stages of Parkinson's disease, rigidity is often asymmetrical and it tends to affect the neck and shoulder muscles prior to the muscles of the face and extremities.^[14] With the progression of the disease, rigidity typically affects the whole body and reduces the ability to move.

This is Wiki, of course, but tracks with other stuff I read. I'm just wondering if Dad's docs are all coordinated. Does Wiggins have all the info about Parkinson's from his neuro doctor, etc? Anyone know? 

Stoicism

When I was in Dallas, Daddy was having a real problem with pain in his neck (yes, insert joke here.) He said he'd "slept on it wrong" and it was so painful he was having trouble driving because he couldn't turn his head. It had subsided somewhat by the time I left, but when I talked to him this morning he said it was excruciating yesterday, to the point that he canceled his PrimeTimers outing and went to see Dr. Wiggins. The doc says there's nothing apparently wrong it except the neck muscles were clenched tight, almost like a fixed spasm. He took some Xrays and gave Dad some hydrocodone (which Dad had already tried to no avail) and some muscle relaxers. Daddy said it was better today. He should get the Xray back this afternoon, but the doctor seems to think it's just all that tension-causing stress (and grief.)  We'll see. He said he'd call back when he heard the results.
I guess that straight-backed posture takes its toll.

A Philosophical Problem

Mary was in town over the weekend. D Magazine flew her down to write an article on Mexican Food in Dallas. So she and Nancy went on an epic Tex-Mex binge, stuffing themselves, Dad and eventually the whole family with unreasonable numbers of tacos and cheese enchiladas.

Finally, late Saturday evening we gathered at Dad's apartment to start to go through Mom's clothing and jewelry. Being the only guy, I walked in blind. Mary and Helen have been going through Mom's stuff since they were old enough to walk. Lucky for me Mom did not have happy memories both of going through her Mother's effects and going through Dad's Mother's effects acting as Dad's agent. She told us of how unhappy these experiences were for her and her main wish was for us to go through this process amicably. She also insisted that Susan be given voice at the table.

We were lucky enough to have had a practice run at his. When they moved to New York thirty years ago, we had to split up things from their house in Dallas as they certainly wouldn't fit into their New York apartment. Still, I was not looking forward to the day of reckoning.

I turned on the light in the dining area and walked around the table to take a seat when I glanced at the sideboard and there it was. A largish blue fabric bag containing a black box. It was the box containing Mother's ashes.

It was not surprising to see it there. I knew that Helen had picked it up and had heard something that made me think that it was at Dad's apartment. We hadn't talked about the ashes much. Mother had donated her body to UT Southwest Medical School and we had been led to believe it would be sometime before we would be receiving it. The call that it was ready had caught us by surprise.

But there it was.

Only I didn't see a box, I saw Mother.

When computers can't make sense of the data, they crash and that's just what I did. I totally lost it.

Everyone put their arms around me as I sobbed. Someone put the box on the table in front of me. I untied it and looked at the box. I tried to open it, but it was sealed well. "You don't want to open it," said Susan. I knew she was thinking about Walter throwing Donnie's ashes into the wind, and put the box back in the bag, and started to calm down.

Then we all sat down and went to work divvying up the jewelry under the watchful eye of  Mother, watching over us from her box on the sideboard.