Category: My Tribe

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Open-Faced Sandwich

I’m back at the same hospital where my Dad had his surgery. Except this time, it’s to take my Mom to her previously scheduled routine outpatient procedure. As my Dad still cannot drive and my Mom’s procedure requires that she has a companion to take her to and from her appointment, I volunteered to take her.

And as I’m sitting in the waiting room (just picture my hair in piggy-tails, by the way … hah!), I’m looking around to see other folk waiting for their loved ones to come out. Most of those are men and women who look like they’re in their late-40’s or early 50’s, and I was expecting that they would be waiting for their spouses. So imagine my surprise when I’m seeing most of the patients being discharged are older … and most likely my fellow waiting room companions’ parents.

And then I realized … that with this appointment, I’ve been officially “inducted” into the sandwich generation.

Except my parents aren’t, what I consider, “elderly.” (Hey, other than my Dad’s lengthy hospitalization and now subsequent follow-up appointments, both of my parents are otherwise pretty active.) Plus, I’m not exactly in my late 40’s or even my early 50’s.

And I’m not exactly “sandwiched” either. Because technically, being “sandwiched” means being placed in the middle of something. And the term “Sandwich Generation” implies that a person who fits this category is caring for both their parents AND their children.

As I am currently childless, I guess this really means I’m part of the “Open-Faced Sandwich Generation.” And to be completely honest … being childless and growing old has always been a concern for me.

Hubby & I have this longstanding joke about Senior Apartments or Assisted Livings that started when I first graduated from college and was looking at moving out of my parents’ house. (I must add that we were just newly engaged at that time.) He pointed to this one set of apartments and suggested that we check them out … not knowing that they were actually Senior Apartments.

From then, any senior apartment and assisted living we’d drive by we would always say, “What about those ones?” And the response would always be, “Nah, it’s not close enough to a movie theater or a library.” That’s because we always say that when we retire, all we want to do is watch movies and read. But the truth is, moving into those type of places could certainly be in our future.

Not that I expect to remain childless (I will adopt, damnit!), but if Hubby & I chose to remain childless … who would be that person to take care of us if we were too frail to take care of one another? Who would drive us to our appointments if we weren’t able to do it ourselves? Who would be No. 1 on our speed dial? Who would be that “Emergency Contact” person on our medical records? I couldn’t very well expect our nephew (or any of our future nieces and nephews) to do that … they’d have their own set of parents to worry about.

I must add here that even if … or rather when … we have children, I would never expect them to take complete care and responsibility of us. We’re waaay too much of an independent-minded and problem-solving couple by nature. And hell … as a Nurse Case Manager, these are the things I’m trained and certified to help problem-solve with the population I serve.

Regardless, this is a concern. And a valid one at that. And it’s yet another thing (along with possibly not ever being a “Mother of the Bride/Groom“) that the other 80% of women not experiencing infertility wouldn’t necessarily have to think about. At least not yet.

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Un-Veiled

First of all, I just wanted to say “Thank You!!” for all the bloggy-love as I officially celebrated my first blogiversary yesterday. I am truly lucky to have such great blog friends!! Reading your blogs and especially your comments to my posts have definitely got me through this past year …. -)

Moving on …

To shake things up at work, our bosses decided to do something different. Today was “Hat Day,” where we could all wear a silly hat, a nice spring hat, or even a “Cat in the Hat” hat. What did I decide to wear? Well … check it out!

 

Yikes! Check out the luggage under my eyes!

Okay, so it wasn’t silly or spring-y … but I figured, “Hey! When am I ever going to have the occasion to wear my wedding veil again?” What I really wanted to do was wear a simple white dress and white patent leather shoes with white tights and be a “First Communion” gal. Wouldn’t that have been a hoot?

Over the weekend while at my parents’ house, I went into their cedar closet and dug my veil out of the plastic bag it was in. (Yes, the wedding dress is still hanging in there, too. You think after 11-plus years I might actually get it preserved …) So rather than post our wedding picture once again … and as an homage to my Dad, I figure I’d post this picture of our Father-Daughter dance. (Plus, I think it shows off the details of my dress and veil a little more than our wedding pic … okay, maybe not!)


Dad & I danced to "Unforgettable"

But seriously … at work when I brought out my veil, many of my co-workers thought I was nuts to do so. “What about keeping it nice and preserved?” or “Don’t you want to keep it safe for when your daughter gets married?” Even when I correct them and say, “I don’t have any children” or “There isn’t a daughter to pass it down to” they always say smugly all-knowingly, “You never know …”

“Duh,” methinks to myself, “You’re right. I’ll never know. And damnit, you don’t know either.”

Do people honestly think that it’s easy for me to think in those terms?! “You never know…” Is this supposed to give me some sort of hope that maybe in the future, I will be able to pass on my bridal veil and/or my bridal gown to my future daughter?

Do they know that this is one of the things that I fear I’ll never be able to experience? To be able to be a “mother of the bride” or to see my husband have his moment in walking his daughter down the aisle? To possibly even have grandchildren?


Yes, this is me ...

Sheesh, I’m still trying to get over my fear of not ever being able to dress a nursery, let alone buy baby clothes for a baby that may never come. Or seeing our child go through his or her First Communion. Trying to imagine anything past those moments just seems (and no pun intended) inconceivable.

Okay. Enough of my ranting. Really, I was actually just trying to post a funny post and it turned into this.

Hmmm … must be the damn Lupron that’s got me hot under the collar, literally and figuratively (damn hot flashes)!

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Everyday is Like Sunday …

I have this habit of singing this song whenever I’m up early on a Sunday morning. It’s probably a leftover habit from the mid-80’s. It reminds me of getting up on Sundays and having to go to mass with my parents. Hmm … what does that say about me?

So here I am, sitting in a relatively quiet household. The only sound I can hear is my stomach growling (it’s calling for pancakes or waffles) and my Hubby’s breathing as he sleeps. I figure he deserves to sleep in … he’s had a rough couple of weeks, not only with my Dad’s hospitalization but with some major projects he had going on at work at the same time.

And although I wanted to stay cuddled up next to Hubby and sleep in a bit, I had to make a trip over to my parents’ house to drop off a prescription for my Dad.

Yep … Dad made it home safe and sound. Up next … a visit from a home care nurse to help them go over all his new medications and to go over some important things he needs to do … like watching his diet and continuing to do aggressive deep breathing treatments to prevent any further pneumonia.

I specifically asked for a visiting nurse to come out to see my parents because, even though I could be that person to go over all these things, there are some things that get reinforced better by other professionals than by family members. No matter how many times my brother and I go over it ourselves with them.

Speaking of my brother … he’s back in Chi-town where he’s finishing up his last year of residency. He takes his boards on Monday and Tuesday and I’m wishing him the best of luck. He has totally been a trooper during these past weeks, having to drive back and forth (a total of FOUR times) to show his support for both Mom and Dad.

But really … what I wanted to do was to share pictures of his dog. Meet Wrigley. He’s a five-year ex-racing greyhound that my brother and SIL picked up from a rescue league outside of Chicago.

This dog is SO laid back … you can’t help but love Wrigley and his personality. The whole time I was there, he did not ONCE bark (unlike our “puppy” who sounds off at approximately 30 barks per minute). And once Wrigley decides he likes you, he literally wants to sit with you (or on you) and follow you wherever you go.

Wish I could see Wrigley more often. But alas … his Auntie Em only gets to see him whenever he’s brought into town with his Daddy. And can you just imagine this dog driving in a small Mazda for five hours from Chicago to Detroit? Geesh … where does he fit!

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When it Rains …

Last night after coming home from the hospital, Hubby & I climbed into bed and quickly fell asleep. I had strange dreams of kitty cats attacking me (they’ve been “banished” from the bedroom from Hubby for “bad behavior.” And they’ve been meowing incessantly to get into the comfy bed with me) and of waking up late and missing my Dad’s pacemaker procedure in the morning. (Can we say I’m just a little stressed?!)

At around 3 am, Hubby woke me up from a pretty deep slumber asking me for some assistance. “Huh?!,” I said groggily. What kind of help would he need at 3-frickin’ o’clock in the morning?!

“The heater’s not working,” Hubby informed me. “And I need some help looking at our furnace.” And sure enough, it was colder than Joe Louis Arena during a Red Wings game. 52 degrees, in fact (which, considering it was in the 20’s outside, is quite a bit chilly).

So after clanking around in the basement for a bit, we ended up looking up our local heating & cooling company and calling them to make a service call first thing in the morning.

Except they didn’t come until close to 10:30 am. And by then, my poor kitties and”puppy” were chilled. And Hubby & I were downright frozen to the bone … despite the fact we were bundled in as much clothing as possible.

Geesh. When it rains … it certainly pours.

On a happier note, my nephew Tyler turned twelve today. This, of course, also means that I will have been married 12 years ago this coming August. Which means it will be oh … approximately 11.5 years since we’ve been TTC. Sigh …

Regardless, I wish Tyler a HAPPY 12th BIRTHDAY!

Your Uncle & Auntie Em love you “To Infinity and Beyond …. “
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In and Out Again

Yesterday I was expecting my Dad to come home from the hospital. Actually, we were expecting him to go home on Saturday morning, but amongst other things, he ended up staying over the weekend. We had plans for a visiting nurse to come out the day after his discharge and were just waiting for his “walking papers.”

Yesterday morning, I went into work thinking I’d work only until I got the call from my Dad saying that his discharge orders had been written. My mom called me in the morning to tell me she was heading to Mass and then to the hospital afterwards. She had told me that she would call me once the orders were written so that I could drive over to the hospital and go over all the discharge instructions together.

About 10:15 am, I got a call on my cell phone. I looked down at the caller ID and saw that it was my Mom. But when I picked up the phone, it was a different voice on the other end. One of the nurses on the floor he was on was calling me to tell me that my Dad was having some difficulties right now and that it was best that I come join my Mom at the hospital right now.

I was up on the floor sitting next to my Mom outside of my Dad’s room within ten minutes of getting that phone call. Inside his room, I saw him surrounded by quite a few people who were either putting meds through his IV’s or performing chest compressions while “bagging” him (medical term for “breathing” for him). Basically, they were performing CPR on him.

I turned to my Mom, who was in tears. She told me that she had come up to the floor and ran into the RN Discharge Planner who just came out of the room. That nurse told her that it looked like my Dad was having difficulty breathing, so she was just headed out to get the RN that was assigned to him that morning. While walking towards the room, my Mom ran into his RN and both of them walked into his room together. It’s at that time that my Mom said she saw my Dad having some difficulty breathing and that he looked ashened and grey. Both the RN and my Mom got him into bed when he suddenly lost consciousness and his lips started to turn blue. The RN was smart enough to call for the CPR team and, according to my mom, more than 15 people suddenly appeared in his room.

Having worked in this same hospital in the beginning of my Nursing career, I know exactly how quick things happen once the CPR team is called. So it was no surprise that, once my Dad was stabilized (Thank God!), he was going to be transferred back down to the ICU once again. And yes, THE TUBE was once again back in.

After what seems like a few hours of being told to wait in the ICU waiting room, we were told we could finally go in to see him. He was sedated, but my Mom said he looked much much more better than he did when she walked in this morning. The afternoon was then filled with the ICU nurses coming in and out as well as all his doctors. Both the cardiologist and the pulmonologist thought that this was a “fluke” incident; that my Dad was trying to cough up some gunk in his lungs and then ended up “gagging” on it. From that, his heart then dropped to 10-12 beats per minute (normal is 60-100 bpm) which then caused him to lose consciousness.

The surgeon who did his bypass surgery thought different. He felt that given his incident of respiratory distress three days after his original surgery and now this recent episode, he didn’t want to take any chances that something would happen again. So he recommended placing a pacemaker so that it might “shock” his heart if it should ever get so slow again.

Today, THE TUBE came out. The most recent chest x-ray showed improvement in his lungs. And tomorrow, he has the procedure to place the pacemaker. And in these next days we need to make sure he gets aggressive treatment to get all that thick gooey gunk (resulting from years of smoking, by the way) up and out of his lungs.

And although we were so close to getting home, I’m glad that Dad was in the hospital when this incident happened. I know that my Mom, who was already quite anxious about his discharge, would have totally freaked out if this happened at home. And given that I hit every single green traffic light and managed to find a prime parking spot in the parking deck while trying to get to the hospital yesterday, I truly believe that someone up there was watching out for us.

Whew … next step …. HOME. (At least I hope so …)