Transitioning

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- Dylan Thomas

My mom is in transition.  After ten and a half years in a nursing home, it seems she is now close to the end of her days on this earthly plain.  She is slipping away in inches while we sit and watch, unable to do anything to ease the way.  It has been a couple of weeks since I've seen her eyes open.  Yet, she is still eating, still drinking almost as if it is a reflex.  Parts of her body are now covered in sores as if the tissues and skin holding her frail bones together are now just too tired to do the job and are protesting.  She can no longer sit for more than two of every twenty four hours.

It is a sad time for me and my sisters and we are all dealing with it in our own ways.  In truth, I mourned the loss of my mother long ago in the days when she first stopped knowing who I am.  I mourned for the loss of my best friend, biggest supporter and most reliable sounding board.  I mourned for the loss of Jacob's chance to know his only surviving grandparent.  I mourned for the ability of Alzheimer's to rob my mother of her brilliant mind and her abiding dignity.  And though I thought I would not, I find myself mourning anew.

I do not spend my days wishing for my mom's life to be extended or spared.  I want her to go when she wants to go.  I want her to be free, to be with her sisters and her mom and dad and with my dad.  Clearly, she already has a foot on the other side.  There will come a day in the not too distant future when she pulls the other foot over.  She has not gone gentle into that good night but I'm praying that she goes into it peacefully.

Miriam

"You don't have to have anything in common with people you've known since you were five.  With old friends, you've got your whole life in common." - Lyle Lovett

I was thirteen when we met.  It was my first year of high school and we met in drama class.  Miriam and I were both actresses, though she was better at it than I.  She reminded me last night that in those days, we looked alike - olive skinned with long dark hair, neither of us very tall and both wafer thin.  We were pretty girls.  We both acted in every major drama production through our high school years.  She was Lady Macbeth.  I was a witch.  Double, double toil and trouble.  I still remember my lines.  One year we shared the stage in a two-person, one-act play called Please No Flowers.  Miriam won the best actress award that year.  I didn't even get an honourable mention.  

In spite of our aspirations to both be leading ladies, there was no competition between us.  We were very close friends.  She spent a lot of time at my house.  I was never at hers.  I did not know her family.  Outside of school, we had very different home lives.  When high school ended, we went in different directions - I went off to university; Miriam got married.  By the time I graduated from university, Miriam was a few months from giving birth to her first child.  I moved away. We lost touch as people often do.  She had a tree planted in Israel to honour my dad when he passed away.  I was very moved.  I sent her a thank you note and then twenty years went by.  It happens.

One day a few years ago, I opened my mailbox to find a letter.  The return address was from a house a few blocks from my childhood home.  The last name on the envelope wasn't one that I knew but I knew without opening it that it was her.  Since our last contact she had divorced and remarried.  I am easy to find.  I kept my own name after I married.  It was a beautiful letter.  She wanted me to know that she still thought of me after all the intervening years.  She didn't leave a telephone number and her phone number is unlisted.  It took me all of about three minutes to find it anyway.  I called her.  We arranged to get together for dinner when she was next in Toronto.  Her children live here now.  

I was a little nervous about seeing her after all these years but of course I needn't have been.  We are a lot older.  We don't look alike anymore.  Our lives are different.  Our hearts are still the same.  Since that dinner, we've kept in touch.  Last year, Merv and I met Miriam and her husband Sheldon for dinner one night.  They are so well suited.  It made me very happy to see her so well partnered.  Last night they came to our place for dinner.  I made a simple supper.  Miriam keeps kosher so I made fish.  It was perfect for me.  I had time for visiting without being tethered to the kitchen. During the twenty minutes of kitchen time the meal demanded, we left the guys and chatted alone.  While the fish baked, I adjusted the size of the bracelet I made for her last year for her sixtieth birthday.  We were sixteen again.

In a few short months, I will be sixty.  As I age, I am growing increasingly nostalgic.  I find myself trying to draw back to my life all those important people who have somehow slipped away.  I'm so thankful Miriam took the time to find me.  It is a blessing to have her in my life, though truth be told, she was always in my heart.

Coffee Service

"Once you wake up and smell the coffee, it's hard to go back to sleep." - Fran Drescher

When I was a little girl, I found it difficult to get up for school in the morning.  My natural rhythm has always been for late mornings and late nights.  My dad used to bring coffee to me in bed each morning to entice me to get up.  That probably explains my coffee addiction. 

The only times I haven't fueled my morning with coffee were when I was pregnant and when I had chemo.  The smell of coffee sent me retching.  Jacob was only a few hours old when my craving returned and it was only a couple of weeks after chemo ended that my morning addiction kicked in once again. 

For my birthday last year, my sisters bought me a Nespresso Virtuoline machine and a milk steamer.  It is a wonderful luxury and the one single serve machine that I don't have to feel guilty about because the pods are aluminum, not plastic and are completely recycleable.  Until about a month ago, I started each morning with a delicious latte.  The excellence of the beverage also enticed Geraldine to drop over on many an afternoon.  So I was deeply upset when my machine stopped working about a month ago.  I went on-line to figure out what I needed to do to get my machine repaired.  It all seemed like such a pain.  Essentially, I could contact the Nespresso Cafe club which would arrange to pick up the machine and then return it sometime later when it was fixed.  As I have so often been housebound lately waiting for one repair service or another, I was reluctant to engage in this process.  I couldn't imagine being stuck in my house waiting for someone to pick up my machine.  Instead, I decided to take it to one of the few Nespresso Cafes in Toronto.  It is heavy and I haven't been up to carrying it with my sore back but not wanting to put it off any longer, today I hauled it to Yorkdale.  I waited in a long line only to be told they couldn't help me.  If I had the receipt, The Bay could take the machine back.  If not, I would have to call the Nespresso Cafe.  The machine was a gift.  I don't have the receipt.

Upon my return home, I braced myself for an argument.  I called the toll free number of the Nespresso Cafe to be greeted by an agent named Henry.  Henry suggested that we try to get my machine going again through a series of activities that he walked me through.  Unfortunately, no luck. "No worries", he said.  "We will have UPS deliver a loaner to you along with a carton that you can put your broken machine in and a prepaid shipping label.  When you are ready, send it to us.  Once we fix it, we will have it delivered to you by UPS.  Try your repaired or replaced machine out and when you are satisfied that all is right, send the loaner back to us.  Take your time.  No hurry." 

UPS will work with me to deliver the machine at a convenient time or I can pick it up from their depot. Start to finish, the whole repair process will take about two weeks.  I told Henry that I was a bit surprised that they had a loaner program. He explained that as I'm not the only client with a latte addiction, they feel obliged to provide loaners as they don't have a detox program.  I like this company.  Bell, Rogers and Enbridge could all take lessons.

Words With Strangers

 "If you're going to play at all, you're out to win.  Baseball, board games, playing Jeopardy.  I hate to lose." - Derek Jeter

I don't like to lose at the big things but it doesn't much matter to me if I lose at a game of cards or a board game.  And I don't play Words With Friends because I'm out to win.  I actually enjoy playing a lot more against someone who can give me some competition.  It isn't as much fun to play against a weak opponent.  For one thing, I don't learn much from those games.  When I'm playing against a strong opponent, I learn new words.  I like words so that is a big bonus for me.

Unfortunately, there is a big time shift with most of the friends I play with.  Four of my five friends live in England.  When I feel like playing a game late in the evening while I watch TV, they are asleep.  So when I get the late night yen for a game, I elect the Smart Match option and the game automatically finds me a stranger to play with.  Most of the time, it's fun.  I've played with people all over the U.S. and the odd time from the U.K.  There is a chat feature on our games and usually at some point when one or the other of us has made a good play or is struggling, we will start to chat.  The comments usually don't go much beyond congratuations for a nice play or a groan about having consistently bad letters.  Sometimes we will exchange first names and locations in the world.  At the holidays, we exchanged Christmas and New Year's greetings.  

Sometimes I play two or three games against the same player.  Unfortunately, we're rarely evenly matched.  I'm a pretty good player and I think it discourages some people to continue after two or three consecutive losses.  If I lose, I usually invite my opponent to play again.  About a week ago, I found myself playing in a Smart Match against an opponent in Florida named Bonnie.  We played a couple of games and engaged in some innocuous chat.  I learned that Bonnie was originally from Ohio and had retired to Florida to escape the harsh winter.  Bonnie isn't a terrific player but she could play a decent game.  I enjoyed playing with her.  I was a little taken back when she asked me if I was cheating.  She was having a bad game - it happens to all of us.  After all, much of success in the game is about being lucky in drawing good tiles.  She wasn't experiencing luck in the draw.  I was.  If there is a way to cheat at Words With Friends, I don't know what it is.  I assured Bonnie that I was not cheating.  The next time I played a high scoring word, she resigned the game.  

Last night Smart Match paired me with a chatty opponent.  With the first move he asked my gender.  With the second, my age.  I assured him I am old enough to be his mother.  Then he asked for my picture.  From a bit of sleuthing on his screen name, I soon realized he was playing from an Oklahoma prison.  I think he was looking for a fantasy.  I was just looking for a good game.  He didn't play any words longer than three letters.  I was uncomfortable and so I resigned the game.  My next opponent started complaining about half way through the game that he (or she) just wasn't getting decent letters and would probably delete the game from his play history.  I didn't even know you could do that or why you would want to.  I was playing well.  He was playing adequately but was significantly behind. By the time the letters bag was almost empty, he commented that as a birthday gift to him, I should resign the game.  By the rules of Words With Friends, if you resign a game during play, you automatically lose.  I played my next word and commented that I'm sure he would have better luck next time.  He replied by calling me a word that sent me to the Urban Dictionary for a translation.  It was disgusting.  He stopped playing but still hasn't resigned.  I guess he's trying to wait me out.  He'll be waiting forever.  I don't care about taking the loss but I do care about standing up to a bully - even one whose identity I will never know.  I looked for a mechanism in the game to report him to Words With Friends but I didn't find one.

Today I'm playing against a new opponent.  I don't know if it is a man or a woman or where in the world he or she is located.  I do know that we are pretty evenly matched.  He or she led for most of the game.  We are close to the end now and I've taken the lead.  In the end, it doesn't much matter to me.  I've learned some new words.  It's been fun. 

And Then...

David dropped my Blackberry off mid-morning.  As the battery was low, I plugged it in to recharge.  It froze.  I took out the battery.  Nothing.  I turned it on and off.  Nothing.  An hour later, my friend Maurice stopped by.  I used his phone to call Bell about our land line.  They won't get a technician here until late tomorrow. Maurice is a techie but despite his best efforts, he couldn't get my Blackberry unstuck.  After several attempts, he called Rogers.  The news wasn't good.  My device had been corrupted.  Maurice had to reinstall all the software.  I lost everything on my device - all my pictures, call history, contact list, BBMs and texts.  I had some of it, though not as much as I should have, backed up.  Jacob will have a lot of work to do to try to get me back in working order.  Good thing I paid those five years of tuition for him to get a degree in computer engineering. 

Repairs

"If you spend your whole life waiting for the storm, you'll never enjoy the sunshine." - Morris West 

Seems like every time I turn around these days, something breaks.  Last week, it was the furnace.  We were without heat for about thirty hours during a bitter cold snap.  Even with a couple of space heaters running, two sweaters, heavy socks and a scarf wound around my neck, I was freezing.  The house got so cold that my warm breath continually fogged up my glasses.  

The furnace repairman came early in the morning following an early evening call the day before.  I was happy because I had assumed fixing the furnace would be a short job and I would still be able to make it to the lunch meeting I had scheduled.  It turned out that the repair was simple but the part had to be ordered and once delivered, a new appointment to have it installed needed to be scheduled.  I didn't make it to my meeting.  The furnace was finally repaired after 5 P.M.  I waited all day, unable to leave until everyone had done their part.  Of course, no one would give me a time.  I didn't know if the part would even arrive that day or the next.

For my birthday last year, Cath and Nan bought me a Nespresso coffeemaker.  Each morning I enjoy a delicious latte.  It is a small pleasure that starts my day off on the right foot.  Monday it stopped working.  It is an expensive machine, a luxury I would never have indulged in for myself.  I will figure out whatever machinations I must go through to have it repaired.  But I'm disappointed.  The machine has been treated gently.  How could it possibly be broken already?

Yesterday I travelled to Owen Sound with my friend David for a client meeting.  It was a long day and a long drive.  Our meetings were good and I was glad we made the trip.  Coming home, we ran into heavy snow.  The drive was slow and my back was aching when we got home around 8 P.M.  A couple of hours later, I realized that I had left my phone in David's car.  I picked up the land line phone to call him only to learn we had no service in the house.  I have no idea why.  I used Jacob's phone to call Bell only to hear an automated message telling me that I could set up a service appointment in a window between 8 A.M. and noon this morning, but only if I could provide them with a phone number where the Bell repairman could reach me before he comes.  There is something crazy about the logic there.  My phone isn't working and I can't have it repaired unless the phone company can call me. 

David and I communicated through e-mail late last night.  He will drop my phone off this morning.  I'm still waiting so I can call Bell and start the waiting game again.

Looking Back

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair…" - Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

For the first time in many years, I will meet the end of the year with a measure of relief.  2014 was a year of joy and a year of loss, a year of celebration and a year of pain, a year in which I experienced the highest highs in the same week I experienced the lowest lows. 

My business was the slowest it has been in ten years.  Projects were pulled or postponed at the eleventh hour.  Clients were slow to pay their bills or didn’t pay at all.  A lot of people asked for help and advice.  Most of them didn’t want to pay for it. 

We started the year with great joy.  Our dear friend Howard got his new lungs in December 2013.  He was released from the hospital in January.  We had a party before sending him and his wife home to Timmins the week before Easter.  A couple of months later he caught a virus and came back.  On a quiet Sunday in June, his 58^th birthday, he died.  We lost our miracle man.  His wife Lise who had become such a cherished member of our family, went back to Timmins.  We did our best to support her but it was not long before she began to withdraw from us.  Sometime in September she unfriended our whole extended family from Facebook.  She stopped responding to messages.  She stopped picking up the phone when we called. It was a loss I didn’t see coming and one that still has me reeling.  

In April, Merv’s brother, Eric and his partner, Val arrived for a visit.  The day after their arrival, I hosted Courtney’s 21^st birthday with a Disney princess themed dinner party.  I decorated the house with banners, tiaras and fairy lights.  The following day, I replaced the décor with British bunting and Union Jacks as we celebrated Merv’s 60^th birthday.  Their one week with us also included Easter celebrations, a trip to Niagara, visits to all the local tourist spots, cooking, cooking, cooking and endless cleaning. It was fun but by the end of their visit I was ready to fall down with fatigue.

I attended far too many funerals this year.  I lost mentors and friends. In the week of Howard’s death, I lost two old friends.  It was the same week that we celebrated Jacob’s graduation at the top of his university class.  We travelled to Guelph to watch him receive a prestigious engineering award and went back to Guelph two days later for his convocation.  We sent Jacob and Courtney to Italy as a graduation gift.  Courtney moved into our house for the summer.  At the beginning of August I herniated three lumbar discs.  It is the end of the year and I haven’t yet managed a full recovery.  I was in bed for my twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.  I missed a scheduled trip to England for a family wedding.  Merv went alone.  I was grateful Courtney was here to take care of me.  There are some things I can’t ask my boy child to do.  She was wonderful.  In September, Courtney moved back downtown at the start of school.  In November, Jacob and Courtney called it quits.  I am sad.  I miss her.  I’ve maintained my relationships with Jacob’s other exes but I don’t know if I’m going to be able to do it this time. She has pulled away from me. I can only hope she will still find a space for me in her life.

Yesterday marked ten years since we put my mom in the nursing home.  I never expected we would see this anniversary.  She is mentally vacant but her heart is strong.  It is just one more of life's mysteries.

Today I will take down the Christmas decorations and pack the holidays away for another year.  In a couple of days 2014 will slip away quietly.  I will meet the new year with renewed hope for better health and better days for us all.