July 4, 2012, my brother and I lost our mother. In a lot of ways, it was her "Independence Day," and she was no longer suffering. And I miss her every day. But she and I also had a contentious relationship in many ways. Up until the end, she tried to rule everything I did. 2009 we lost my dad (and I took care of him up until his death as well).
I actually had very little time in a four year period of taking care of them, to do any writing. Though 2009 I made the goal for NaNoWriMo (as I dedicated it to my father, and it was the first year I made it)! But it was a struggle during that time, settling his estate, taking care of my Mom (though it was before she got really bad), and the pets etc took a lot of time. I wanted to get back to work, but Mom insisted on me being there, so I had to let go of that.
But then March 2010 happened, and she fell in the kitchen and broke her leg at an ugly angle. I knew it was broke. So surgery, titanium rod, and many screws later, she was released to a facility for rehab. My mother was a stubborn woman but did not want to do the therapy. She did the minimum, but they were often frustrated with her. So they had to release her. I was lucky in that we were able to hire someone to come do the bathing at least (she hated how I did her baths anyway).
This was our life for the next 2 years, and she developed diabetic ulcers, her podiatrist became her wound care doctor, who didn't do anything but make it worse, we fought them for over a year under him, not realizing what a crackpot he really was. It took the home health nurse to notice and suggest a trip to OSU (The Ohio State University), that we really found out how bad it really was. They did a bone biopsy and found out that they were infected. They did IV antibiotics for a few weeks, and the wounds healed within a month! She went from almost losing her legs, to being completely healed.
She was not to last much longer, as she developed them on her arms, and the surgeon who debrided them a week before she died, said that she would need a feeding tube. They were going to do it, as I told mom it was either that, or they wouldn't be able to do anything else, that she agreed. The last words were, Me: "Love you Mom," and her, "Love you too." She ended up not being able to have the surgery (high temp), so the decision was made that we let her go.
Folks don't understand that taking care of a loved one is the hardest thing you'll ever have to do. It's also very rewarding. And you have to put your desires, and life on hold. Keeping them home and comfortable is the best you can do, but be sure to have someone to help. I had to fight tooth and nail to get that help, as mom was extremely picky about who took care of her.
I knew she didn't like my writing either. She couldn't understand the need for it as a manner of escape, to get my mind off of everything for a while. It was also a way to relax and transport to a different world. My characters were, and are, family.
One of her aides also wrote, I found out that she also did NaNoWriMo, so we would talk writing on break. When she was not there, my Mom would bitch about "Writing those damned words." And I knew that she was intending that barb to me. It made me mad and sad at the same time, she just didn't get the importance.
I found out a few years before she died, that my Grandmother had written essays and a travel diary, and my great-grandfather (her father), had been a poet. I have one (and I think he only wrote one), a book on poetry. He was a real character I guess, and researching my Genealogy has led to some really cool discovery. I guess the writing gene skipped a generation.
My point in writing all of this? It's to encourage you to keep going, even if those closest to you try to dissuade and discourage you. Use that lack of support, to fuel your passion for writing. After all, it's good to escape every once in a while.
Peace everyone.
I actually had very little time in a four year period of taking care of them, to do any writing. Though 2009 I made the goal for NaNoWriMo (as I dedicated it to my father, and it was the first year I made it)! But it was a struggle during that time, settling his estate, taking care of my Mom (though it was before she got really bad), and the pets etc took a lot of time. I wanted to get back to work, but Mom insisted on me being there, so I had to let go of that.
But then March 2010 happened, and she fell in the kitchen and broke her leg at an ugly angle. I knew it was broke. So surgery, titanium rod, and many screws later, she was released to a facility for rehab. My mother was a stubborn woman but did not want to do the therapy. She did the minimum, but they were often frustrated with her. So they had to release her. I was lucky in that we were able to hire someone to come do the bathing at least (she hated how I did her baths anyway).
This was our life for the next 2 years, and she developed diabetic ulcers, her podiatrist became her wound care doctor, who didn't do anything but make it worse, we fought them for over a year under him, not realizing what a crackpot he really was. It took the home health nurse to notice and suggest a trip to OSU (The Ohio State University), that we really found out how bad it really was. They did a bone biopsy and found out that they were infected. They did IV antibiotics for a few weeks, and the wounds healed within a month! She went from almost losing her legs, to being completely healed.
She was not to last much longer, as she developed them on her arms, and the surgeon who debrided them a week before she died, said that she would need a feeding tube. They were going to do it, as I told mom it was either that, or they wouldn't be able to do anything else, that she agreed. The last words were, Me: "Love you Mom," and her, "Love you too." She ended up not being able to have the surgery (high temp), so the decision was made that we let her go.
Folks don't understand that taking care of a loved one is the hardest thing you'll ever have to do. It's also very rewarding. And you have to put your desires, and life on hold. Keeping them home and comfortable is the best you can do, but be sure to have someone to help. I had to fight tooth and nail to get that help, as mom was extremely picky about who took care of her.
I knew she didn't like my writing either. She couldn't understand the need for it as a manner of escape, to get my mind off of everything for a while. It was also a way to relax and transport to a different world. My characters were, and are, family.
One of her aides also wrote, I found out that she also did NaNoWriMo, so we would talk writing on break. When she was not there, my Mom would bitch about "Writing those damned words." And I knew that she was intending that barb to me. It made me mad and sad at the same time, she just didn't get the importance.
I found out a few years before she died, that my Grandmother had written essays and a travel diary, and my great-grandfather (her father), had been a poet. I have one (and I think he only wrote one), a book on poetry. He was a real character I guess, and researching my Genealogy has led to some really cool discovery. I guess the writing gene skipped a generation.
My point in writing all of this? It's to encourage you to keep going, even if those closest to you try to dissuade and discourage you. Use that lack of support, to fuel your passion for writing. After all, it's good to escape every once in a while.
Peace everyone.
