LETS HIT THE ROAD AND GET AWAY!

Maybe you know how caring for a cancer patient can be a downer. It also can be complicated with intermittent hope. There are many low dark days sprinkled around. I always have the thought lying dormant way in the back of my mind under the cobwebs, all the dusty memories and brain clutter that this will be over and my husband will be healthy in the future. Somewhere down this dark road with its stop signs, road blocks and speed bumps, we will both come out on the freeway in the fast lane, foot on the gas doing 85 maybe 90 driving a Porsche Boxter convertible. We will be celebrating that this long drive is about over…. No more blood tests, nor Scans, nor video doctor visits, nor immunotherapy, nor meds changing, adjusting and adding and removing. We will be smiling and waving to other people as we pass their cars behind. We will be free. Cured. Alive. Maybe this new life is a possibility. Who can tell? I can’t hear the sound of life’s problems because the wind is whistling in my ears as we drive, and my eyes are staring ahead at the pavement as my mouth is open tasting fresh air as well as fresh bugs. The Porsche keeps transporting me away into a dreamy heavenly ride to a nonexistent destination.

YOU KNEW IT WOULD BE RED- RIGHT?

Then I shake off all that dusting of hope, my old mind kinda clears and I look at reality, at the old car in the driveway, no Porsche, and at the calendar on the fridge with its many appointments to come. Sitting in our old car, there is no end to it all looking out the rear view mirror, no other cars and definitely nothing out the pitted, dirty front windshield. I cannot clean it. I’m afraid the cancer is still on the medical records and onto the future and two years of infusion treatments are looming. We have to stick it out. We must drive on. We have to grab the few moments of happiness and not let go. Good memories are back there somewhere. We will always try to call forth those times. However, we have this issue, this problem and we will deal with it.

I have a short trip planned to visit our oldest son this weekend in southern California, and our second son will stay at home with his Dad. I am going to take this vacation to breathe, have fun with my son and go places. I might even pretend I am free for a pinpoint in time. I’ll take my foot off the gas and cruise through a museum, go out for a leisurely coffee and lunch and an extra long dinner out with my son and maybe even have a glass of wine. It will be a break in the routine. Caregivers need to take those breaks. Plus we need to let family help out.

COFFEE BREAKS HELP EASE THE STRESS.

NAPS ALSO HELP ! AND PACIFIERS.

I was watching an old series called BAND OF BROTHERS . Marines lived through horrendous battles and withstood grueling conditions in WWII and one scene showed an officer making a young Marine go back to the medical facility in a safe zone for some R and R, saying even a 24 hour break away from the front lines can help a weary soldier. The results could help prop up a young man’s morale. I’m not saying I have experienced anything like those brave young fighters did, but I’m sure a little respite will help me ten fold. I have an attitude of gratitude for any break I can grab. You should grab one when the opportunity comes, just like the young Marines did pushing themselves to the brink in wartime then getting an officer command them to go to the rear for a brief rest. Caregivers need someone advising them to take a timeout. Go to the rear and recover so you’re ready for the next battlefield because the end is not near.

WHO KNOWS WHERE THE ROAD WILL TAKE YOU? HOPEFULLY IT LEADS YOU TO SOME PEACEFUL REFRESHING PLACE AND TIME – AT LEAST FOR A WHILE.

Kip and I really lead an exciting life. If you don’t believe me, read on.

There were 2 bird feeders in the backyard when we moved into this house. We continued adding birdseed to them and enjoyed seeing all the birds, including a pair of cardinals, come by to partake. And then, we encountered a problem.

We watched the birds through the glass patio door. Our dog Nellie became interested when the squirrels started to enter the backyard enticed by the bird seed.

Nellie hates squirrels and she did not like them in her back yard. She started to bark and cry and jump on the door, so Kip and I set out to remedy the situation.

Our first attempt was to buy what were called squirrel repellent balls. We hung them in bags on the fence and bird feeders. They sort of worked until it rained, and they lost their scent.

Next, we found a fake owl that had a squirrel setting designed to make a sound that would deter squirrels. It was solar powered. We thought it was going to work, but we were kidding ourselves. It was wishful thinking, probably because we had invested $35.00 in it.

Nellie continued to be terrorized by the same two squirrels. By this time, they were getting very bold.

The next thing to come from Amazon was a squirrel trap. It was designed to lure the squirrel inside, and then the door would come down and trap him. We used bird seed for bate.

The trap worked. We trapped both squirrels and let them loose in a big park a couple of miles away. Finally, Nellie was no longer aggravated and irritated by those 2 peskie squirrels.

2 days later, another squirrel showed up…darn!

Our final and lasting solution? We got rid of the bird feeders. Now, we’re without squirrels and birds, and Nellie is bored. So are we.

Shortly after we moved to Texas in 1987, we got a visit from my mother. She told us she had gotten a letter from her brother, my Uncle Jeff. He said their mother’s sister, Grace, lived in Texas. None of the family had ever met her.

My Grandma Sanderson grew up in Iowa. She was from a fairly well to do family, which included 13 children. Grandpa spotted Grandma when she was singing in the church choir. They married and moved to South Dakota when she was the ripe old age of 28. Aunt Grace was 13 years younger than Grandma, and they would have only seen each other the few times that Grandma and Grandpa paid visits to Iowa.

Anyway, Mom insisted we pay her Aunt Grace a visit. We ended up spending a lovely afternoon with her. She commented that she didn’t remember her sister well. She sounded just like Grandma and was somewhat of a spitfire like Grandma was. She was small in stature and we thought it was cute that she kept her little flats on with rubber bands.

She had taped several family pictures on the wall and proudly went through each person’s story. She had lived through the deaths of her husband and both of her kids. The only family she had left was a grandson who treated her very well.

Kip and I visited Aunt Grace several times over the next year. She loved to go to Luby’s Cafeteria for Sunday lunch. One Sunday, we were going to try someplace different, and she seemed so disappointed we turned around and went to Luby’s. On Easter Sunday, they had a lady playing the piano, and Aunt Grace thoroughly enjoyed that.

A couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, I started to try to reach Aunt Grace by phone to see if we could come and get her and bring her to our house for Thanksgiving dinner. She never answered. One evening, we drove over to her apartment and knocked on the door. A neighbor heard us and came out to tell us Aunt Grace had passed away. She gave us the number for her grandson. We called him, and he told us she had passed away peacefully in her sleep. He had thought about calling us, but didn’t have our number. He thanked us for taking her to Luby’s on so many occasions and said she talked about it all the time. She especially talked about the piano player. We, in turn, had heard really good things about him.

Yes, she was a little spitfire. She used to ride the bus to get her groceries and she was so little, one day the wind got ahold of her as she grabbed onto the door and she said it blew her straight out. She said she was flying and she feared she would lose her shoes. She said she went back home and waited for the wind to die down.

We Sanderson kids were really close our grandparents. It was so much fun getting to know Grandma’s little sister here in Texas. What fond memories. Family is everything.

Mom (Loretta with Aunt Grace)

I joined a few friends for lunch the other day, and as is normal for ladies who are 70ish, the conversation quickly centered around medical issues. My thoughts went to a phone conversation I had years before with my mother. She went down the line of several medications she had tried out in hopes of relieving her constipation. Since I was only in my early 40s, I quickly became bored with the topic and tried to change the subject. Mom said I sounded like I was bound up, and I should try 3 tablespoons of Metamucil in a cup of water.

It was quite an experience to have a phone conversation with my mother. She was not well versed in telephone etiquette. When she was done talking, she just simply hung up. There were no goodbyes. She never said, “I’ll talk to you later,” or, “Have a nice day.”

I’ve been thinking about my mother a lot lately. Her birthday is on May 6th, and it was always just a few days before Mother’s Day. I got her a lot of gifts that were combined Mother’s Day and Birthday gifts feeling it was only fair since my birthday is a week after Christmas and I received a lot of joint presents.

Mom was actually quite fun to grow up with. She was funny and spontaneous. There was never a dull moment around our house. She had no filter, so we never had to wonder what she was thinking. I once had a date with a basketball player and when he came to pick me up, she said she didn’t recognize him with all his clothes on, meaning she was used to seeing him in a basketball uniform. I was so used to her that I didn’t even get embarrassed, but I think he did.

I could go on forever recalling Loretta funnies that always make me smile. She was a good Mom in a different kind of way. She taught me a lot of very useful things that I have relied upon in my adult life. When I had cancer, I asked myself, “What would Mom do?” The answer was she would have tried to brush it off like a pesky fly. Although, we all know it’s usually not that easy.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the valiant moms out there. It’s not an easy job, but no job in this world is more important.