saarebare - Tumblr blog

saarebare · 6 years ago

Text

Losing you

Growing up, there’s not a lot of constants in life it seems. Different friends, growing out of relationships, changing grades, new clothes when the old ones become too small. When you’re young you take things for granted, especially people. When you’re young, it’s impossible to interpret how short life really is- the thought of losing those people in your life who ARE constants is not even relevant because you’re too busy playing with your newest gadget or engaged in fourquare outside on the blacktop with the neighbor kids. You don’t ever think “I should spend extra time with my mom or my grandma (in my case, great aunt) because they will not always be here.” As you grow, you notice the people around you aging, as well. You begin to realize the importance of quality time and conversation with your loved ones. You take the extra time to do things for people when they can longer do things for themselves.. this is all an introduction to the story of my great aunt, Madeline.

Aunt Madeline, whom my sister and I grew up calling “Mammaw” was the most selfless woman I’ve ever met. I mostly carry memories of her helping out when money was a bit tight- and by that I mean, making sure Kelly (my sister) and I had things like our first bikes and new school clothes each year. Kelly and I grew up knowing we couldn’t always ask for every little thing we wanted because we knew we weren’t “rich” by any means. We knew how to live without things other kids had & we were okay with that.

My mom, sister and I would go pick Mammaw up at her house and go out to eat at Double Dragon, her favorite Chinese restaurant (which has since closed) she would order wonton soup and we would usually split an entree or two. My mom and Mammaw would always joke about their abnormally large spoons. We would go to Easton and spend entire afternoons that turned to evenings. Kelly and I could simply be looking at a piece of clothing or accessory and Mammaw would sneak up behind us and say “do you want that? Give it here, I’ll get it for you.” Kelly and I would hesitate or lie and say “no that’s okay, I don’t need it.” .....well, you guessed it, Mammaw would buy it anyway. *Blast to the past* Kelly and I were looking at game cubes, Mammaw bought it for us. Kelly and I were admiring the brand new, super slim iPod nanos... Mammaw bought us each one. We would only accept these gifts because we knew how much it meant to her to be involved in our lives and make us feel special. Sometimes my mom would say “you’re going to spoil those girls rotten.”

Aunt Madeline was our constant. She was at the hospital when Kelly and I were each born. She was there for EVERY SINGLE adolescent birthday party, she wouldn’t miss these events for the world. She taught Kelly and I how to skip rocks at Ye Old Mill after we had our bellies full of ice cream. When I think of my childhood- I think of memories with her.

I remember one late night, Mammaw called my mom saying Uncle Carl (Madeline’s husband) was very sick and needed to go to the emergency room. My mom loaded Kelly and I into the car in the middle of the night and rushed over. Mammaw knew we had already been in bed and that we both had school the next day so she immediately took us upstairs into the guest bedroom, which was absolutely freezing because Uncle Carl didn’t like paying high electric/gas bills. Mammaw layered us with probably 14 blankets and still left a stack at the end of the bed in case we needed more. She was so caring, her mission was to make sure everyone else was taken care of before herself. Holidays would roll around and she would slave all day in the kitchen, making sure her homemade biscuits were perfect along with everything else, of course. She would make each and every person a plate before preparing herself one, make sure everyone had something to drink, refills, dessert, you name it. We would have to insist “Mammaw will you sit down and eat your dinner before everything gets cold?!” She would eventually take a seat and most times, everyone else was already finished with their dinner. Last thing on this subject, that little woman could EAT. She would always eat 2 or 3 plates of food long after everyone left the table and neve gain a pound. We always called her a little bottomless pit.

As Kelly and I grew older and became busy with our own lives, Mammaw was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. We got a call that she was driving by herself and hit a tree- shewas okay, but she was getting older and more confused, so they suspended her license. Visits with Mammaw became few and far between, as much as I hate to admit. Confusion continued setting in as Mammaw began finding her own items throughout the house and accusing Uncle Carl of cheating. Her mind began slipping fast. Eventually, Uncle Carl became too old and tired to take care of himself and a wife with declining cognitive status. Mammaw was admitted into a rest home “specializing” in Alzheimer’s disease. The facility did not offer physical/occupational/speech therapy which this diagnosis desperately calls for. My mom, Kelly and I had no say in the location due to legal reasons. The decision was made by her biological daughter, Linda. Once in this facility, Mammaw declined even more rapidly than I could ever imagine and visits were even more scarce. The staff had stolen all of her personal belongings including her glassses. She was stuck in there, confused, wondering where her family is, unable to see...it was absolutely heartbreaking. Looking back, that is the reason it was so hard to visit her in there, in that way.

I remember getting her out of the facility for holidays at our house, Thanksgiving and Christmas (which was also her birthday, 12-25-1924) She would just light up with pure gratitude and happiness. Unfortunately, this privilege was taken from us by her biological daughter for reasons I will never, ever understand. Legally, we were not able to take her out of the facility anymore. It seemed, her daughter could not handle the closeness of my mom, sister and I with Madeline. We were heartbroken to say the least. All we ever wanted to do was make her feel at home with loved ones again after living in a facility with strangers as her disease took over her mind; if only for a little while during the holidays.

Years slipped away as life become busier for everyone. I moved away to live at college, making it even more difficult to make the trip for a visit with her.

An extremely vivid and realistic dream one night about her made me drop everything and drive to the place she was staying. I had not seen her in a few years, therefore I did not know what to expect with her condition. I made a stop at double dragon to pick up her favorite wonton soup. I walked in, looking for her room and ran into a man whose wife also lives there, who he visits every single day. He pointed me in the right direction and asked “do you come in often? Are you familiar with feeding her?” I responded, with shame “no, I have not seen her in a while. I am a full time college student” He took me to her and when I found her with no glasses, no hearing aids, sitting in a large, reclinable wheelchair (which I later discovered she slept in every night and was never transferred in/out of a real bed) I cried. I sobbed. I didn’t know how to process this. I also discovered she was no longer able to feed herself. I was a nervous, guilty 19 year old who was in school to be a physical therapist assistant, but had 0 experience thus far as I was completing my general courses at this time.

I sat next to her at a dining table and spoke slowly and loudly so she could understand me. I knew she recognized my face, voice, and loving gestures, but could not remember my name. I explained to her that I am Robin’s daughter and showed her some pictures on my phone. I fed her wonton soup and wiped her face. I could tell she was so grateful to eat her one of her favorite foods. I told her stories and reminded her the names of family members. I asked if she remember her beautiful home that she and Uncle Carl built. After hours of spending time with her, I had to go. I was saying my goodbyes to her and she grabbed my hands and said “do you have to leave.” I ended up staying late into the evening although I had class the next morning. I assured her I would come back and visit soon and kissed her cheek and told her how much I love her.

Uncle Carl passed away of natural causes in the time that had gone by.

The family decided it would be best not to tell her with her worsening mind state.

I returned another time with my sister, Kelly and printed pictures to jog her memory. Her face absolutely lit up when showing her pictures of her house, Uncle Carl, my mom, her sisters, Kelly and I when we were little and herself, in her younger years. I rubbed her shoulders and we cherished every moment. We had to keep reminding her our names, and telling stories about how she was involved in our childhood. I wish I could have somehow taken her smile with me. Kelly and I both cried on the way home, realizing her time left her is limited and her memory is next to nothing. What can you do? It’s like watching a train wreck, you want to help so badly but you just can’t. Her mental and physical state was not good at all at this point.

Mom and I went to visit two more times. We helped feed her dinner, which she was attempting to eat puréed food with her hands - no help from the nursing staff. It was heartbreaking. Now, an established PTA, I quickly realized her legs muscles had developed bilateral contracture (inability to extend knee joints due to prolonged inactivity and loss of range of motion/extensibility) basically, her legs were stuck in a bent position from sleeping in her wheelchair and never having the opportunity to participate in physical therapy which she so desperately needed. My anger grew more than anything that she was in this place where her belongings were stolen, aides were too lazy to transfer patients in/out of bed and/or did not have the proper training to do so. I wanted so badly to intervene because I know all too well that sitting in a chair constantly without being moved or transferred leads to further medical complications and issues like pneumonia. There was nothing I could do, legally, other than gently stretch the muscles in her legs.

The last time my mom and I visited her, deep down we knew it was the last time. She was sick, she was in pain, lonely, nearly blind... she was tired of fighting. She had a deep, intense cough from her lungs. We took her outside in the warmth to let the sunshine hit her face. We put a flower in her hair and told her how beautiful she looked. And she did, she would cover her mouth with her hand when she laughed because she was embarrassed she didn’t have her dentures in, but I still thought she was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

November 2nd, 2018 my mom called me, distraught and asked if I could come over. In the pit of my stomach, I had a feeling I knew what she was going to say next. “Mammaw Madeline passed away”

My Mammaw Madeline, my constant in life, my feisty little thing that would feed me until my belly hurt. I didn’t know how to deal with the loss of that little woman, and I still don’t.

May God rest her beautiful soul. May all of her pain be gone, and her memories of the wonderful life she led, be restored. May she know how much she was loved. May she know what an impact she had on my life and the lives of others.

- Sarah

3 notes · View notes