Substack sends weekly emails updating me on how many weeks in a row I’ve published, slots me into what percentage of Substack writers have posted for the same amount of time, as well as encouraging me to start my next post to keep my momentum.
When the email came last week, announcing I had published for 52 weeks in a row, I thought it would be a good time to look back at where I was and see if the present view one year later is any different.
While I’ve been publishing on Substack for 52 weeks, I’ve actually been writing about my process for almost three years. I started journalling when we made the decision to leave Australia to move to the States to help my folks. Those writings were more about grief and leaving a life and place I loved and didn’t want to leave. It shifted quickly once we walked into our lives here.
My writing became more than just the grief of leaving. There was grief at a lost way of life, yes; but also for a life with a mother I know longer knew or recognised. The woman we arrived to bore only a vague resemblance to the mother who raised me. My distress ran between grief and anger; sorrow and anger; loss and anger; frustration and anger; overwhelm and anger. There was a lot of anger simmering alongside all the other emotions.
A year on and my anger feels in check. Writing really is one of the best outlets for me. Connecting with others in the same boat has also been important. The care giving community in this forum (shout out and big gratitude to
) has been grounding. Who knew a community of non-judgemental people, doing similar work, would be so robust, supportive and helpful? To feel seen and heard in an online space is quite incredible. I extend heartfelt thanks to those following along on this journey with me and to all the readers and commenters and listeners. I feel like this is a space to be heard and held without people jumping in to ‘fix’ things. This stuff can’t be fixed. It’s part of life, a tricky and sticky sided thing which many of us have, are or will experience. It’s part of our humanness.My mother continues to confound me. Her broken brain is a source of fascination for me. This process of aging and becoming less of everything makes me reach for the gratitude of every day in a healthy body with a healthy mind. I feel so lucky and blessed to be reminded on a daily basis how precious and fragile our bodies and minds are. And we need to honor them and take care of them the best we can.
Saying all that, this week I took my mother off island for an eye exam and a routine visit to the cardiologist. When the optometrist asked my mother if she was interested in new glasses she said no, she just wanted to get her eyes checked to make sure they would last her until she was 90. I looked at the doctor and said this was the first I heard my mother had a plan to live another two years, a timeline of sorts. As I said, the brain of my mother fascinates me and I wonder at that comment by her. What is she thinking? What’s the process to arrive at that? Anyway. Her eyes are fine and they should last her for as long as she needs them.
Last year when the cardiologist said that all was good with my mother and he’d see her in 12 months I thought: I won’t have to worry about that as she will be gone by then (keeping in mind most people in her situation would live 18-24 months more after certain events like loss of spouse, stroke, dehydration and falls) so when it rolled around this year I made car reservations to get her there.
This is not an easy process. My mother will stop eating and drinking the day before going anywhere and will continue this until she gets home. All of which puts her at greater risk of dehydration and UTIs. The appointments were on a Thursday so my mother started prepping the Sunday before. She got up early each day, had breakfast and got herself dressed all to practice for being able to do it on the day we were going off. Full credit to her for doing this as there was minimal distress on her part and everything went really well. She did a great job. Although it was without incident, it was not without its toll. She has slept a lot since getting back but she’s okay with that.
A year ago she was able to get herself onto the boat and up the stairs. This year, that wasn’t an option. We couldn’t have done the trip if I wasn’t able to take the car off island, with her in it. Last year she used a cane whenever she was out and about but that was it for mobility aids. This year, she still uses the cane when out but she also uses a walker in the house. Last year she had had about 10 falls in the previous 12 months. This year, there were two or three. Last year, she hadn’t had a stay in hospital in the previous 12 months. This year, she’s had a three week off island adventure in hospital and rehab. Last year, her weight was 10lbs more than it is now. The comparisons go on and on but overall, it feels like the changes are incremental and natural. To me, there haven’t really been major dips or diminishments, although her speech is much less coherant these days and her dementia episodes are more frequent. These are aspects that probably I am the only one who would notice.
Overall, I think I am less surprised by things that are happening than I was 12 months ago. Part of that is I’m getting used to it and part is because I’m tired. I no longer feel the need to pick apart every little weird thing she does, wonder what it all means. It just is.
Heart to heart <3 Cheers to acceptance.
Today is Father's Day and I can't bring myself to pull together a cohesive post because my dad is and isn't here.
It just is. The best advice, Susan!