Chapter 8: Winter Arrives

Winter Moves In

Once the trees dropped their rust-colored leaves, cooler weather quickly followed. A common saying in northern Wisconsin is, "There are only two seasons here... a short summer followed by a long winter." While that's a bit of an exaggeration, winter often occupies the better part of eight months.

I can still remember fishing with Bill and Jason early one September when a cold snow began falling steadily around us. Likewise, winter never leaves without a heavy snowstorm in April, as if to say, "Don't forget me, I'll be back soon." One warm, sunny Easter morning in April, I arrived at my church to participate in the the three services planned for that morning. When I left shortly before noon, there was six inches of heavy, wet snow to trod through with more coming down every hour.

With Dad and Mom now in two separate institutions, visits were doubly hard. I tried to make the forty-five minute trip to see my mother no less than twice a week, but with Dad so far away, my goal was to get down there once or twice a month. The weather cooperated fairly well through October but by November my travel plans often got disrupted. I was thankful Dad never knew when a visit was planned because if I had to cancel, then it was upsetting only for myself.

We were quickly approaching the one year mark of my parents residing in nursing homes. It had been a long, arduous period of time with so many disappointments and setbacks. The need to be "strong" for them was tremendously taxing for me at times. Neither my parents, nor I, would ever be content with the confines of the strictly regimented nursing home life. I longed to have them home with me where their life could be so much fuller.

Mom's foot would never get better, but at least surgery was not imminent. She never voiced any complaints about it, but I noticed the lower portion of her leg was always very swollen and cool to the touch.

With the days growing shorter and nightfall coming earlier, Mom was often in bed for the night by 8 p.m. She had always been one to stay up until midnight and it was difficult for her to be bedded down so early. While she always gave me a ready smile, her zest for life had waned considerably.

Down at the other facility, Dad was doing well but was often bored. I phoned frequently to check on him and attended periodic staff meetings where his needs were discussed. My father had always loved to read, so I suggested they provide him with short articles of interest to help occupy his time. On one of my visits shortly after, the staff shared their surprise at Dad's ability to comprehend. He had read a newspaper article and excitedly shared what he had learned with them. I couldn't help but chuckle as I thought, "Dad is still quite sharp in some respects."

On the home front, their house in Sheboygan had not yet sold and realistically, we didn't expect it to sell in the winter. I hated to see it vacant for so long, but thankfully the neighbors were quick to offer their help with keeping the snow removed and watching over the property.

Turkey Time

We had plans to spend Thanksgiving with Mom so we visited Dad the day before. The unit was nicely decorated to accent the theme of the season. As we always did, we took Dad off the ward to see the birds, shoot a few pool balls and look at the fish in the aquarium. This day, however, I made sure he got a treat from the ice cream machine. Dad loved both ice cream and chocolate and the sparkle in his eyes lit up when I said, "Would you like an ice cream bar?" It was as if the kid in him resurfaced, if only for a few minutes.

Just off Dad's unit was a small dining room where he and other residents who could walk, ate their meals. In the interest of spending a little more time with him that holiday, he and I found an interesting book to look through until his lunch arrived. It was basically a picture book, one with many photos from the 1940's, 1950's and 1960's.

As we slowly turned the pages, many memories of times past were rekindled: cars from when I was just a little girl; a "milkman" in a crisp white uniform delivering bottles of milk house to house; a shiny black telephone with a big, circular dial. It was fun for both of us as I'd see something familiar and say, "Remember when..."

As sweet as that particular visit was, the tables abruptly turned when his meal came and it was time for me to say good-bye. Suddenly the sorrow of knowing all those happy memories were totally in the past hit me like a brick. I tried in vain to keep my composure long enough to hug and kiss him, but I couldn't even see him through my tears. He wasn't aware of how upset I was, but as soon as I could get out the words, "Bye Daddy," I made a very hasty exit and cried nearly all the way home.

Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays and I have long patterned that day in the tradition of how Mom did things. Late that night after visiting my dad, I made the stuffing and got the turkey all cleaned out. At exactly midnight, I settled the plump bird into the roasting pan and tucked it into the oven before going to bed. Four hours later, when the bedside alarm went off, I woke to the wonderful aroma of turkey which filled the house. Taking the cover off to allow it to brown, I turned the heat down low and went back to bed for a few hours.

Since Mom could not spend the day with us, we went to her with our entire meal. I had reserved the back kitchenette for our use. Her eyes lit up at the sight of all we had brought...turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, stuffing, warm rolls, chilled cranberry sauce and, of course, pumpkin pie. We had a splendid time together and visited most of the afternoon.

Back at home, I felt good about the holiday. I was exhausted, yet I knew we had been able to enrich the lives of my parents by making it a special time. Their smiles were the fuel that kept me going like the "Energizer Rabbit."

How to Help Mom?

Shortly after our Thanksgiving dinner with Mom, she became increasingly agitated. Her roommate was disturbing her sleep and she wanted her moved to another room. Mom made this the main topic of every visit. We tried to get her mind on other things, but she would not be distracted. She complained to the staff as well, but there really wasn't anything they could do about it. This was a two-person room and I knew Mom wanted it all to herself but that would never be reality.

Every time I mentioned the possibility of moving my mother to another room, I was met with stiff opposition on her part. "I was here first." she'd respond. "She should go. This is my room."

I told her I would try to get the problem resolved, but stalled for time by insisting we wait until after Christmas, which was only a few weeks away. She agreed to that but I know her agitation was never far below the surface. When I came for a visit shortly before Christmas, I had to face the problem head on with her.

Explaining there was no way she could be the sole occupant of a two-person room, I tried to direct her thoughts to how nice having a single room, all to herself, would be. I could come visit and we would watch a movie, eating popcorn just like we did in her little TV room at home. The mental picture I painted for her was quite appealing and she hesitantly agreed to make a move right after Christmas.

The following day I spoke with the social worker to set up a time when I could view several of their single rooms, and make plans to have Mom moved. Several days later, I arrived early for the visit with my mother and spent some time looking at the rooms they had available. There were only two, both with a window looking out into the back courtyard. After having her in a double room, these single rooms looked more like large walk-in closets. While clean, they were not as spacious as any of the rooms on the new wing where Mom currently was.

I was disappointed at the options, but after several days of weighing the pros and cons, decided I would have her moved just after Christmas. I would decorate her room nicely and bring one of her wing-back chairs that she loved so much. I was sure we could make it quite cozy and comfortable for her.

Christmas Madness

Christmas is always a busy time and the 1998 holidays were certainly no exception. Once again, we wanted to make this a special time for my parents, especially since they were now separated. There really was no good way to go about seeing them both on Christmas Day. In the end, we decided we would have our family Christmas the night before and spend Christmas Day visiting first Mom and then Dad. It all sounded much easier than it was, however. Christmas Eve was a fun time as Bill, Jason and I opened our gifts and enjoyed the pleasure of just being together. We had to cut the evening short though so we could get enough sleep for the busy day ahead of us.

By 8 a.m. Christmas morning, we were on the road for our visit with Mom. Arriving just an hour later, we greeted her with a number of colorfully wrapped presents. She was pleasantly surprised, in part by the festive atmosphere and in part because she had not expected to see us so early in the day. I explained we would also be visiting Dad and needed to get on the road before noon.

She always asked how he was doing and was happy we would be seeing him. As Mom was all settled in her wheelchair, we piled the presents on her bed and pulled the dividing curtain between the two beds so we could have a measure of privacy. As I began handing her the gifts one by one, Mom's hands were shaking so badly it quickly became apparent she would need help getting the wrapping off. She didn't seem to mind the help, though, as she was excited to see what was inside the boxes.

Several boxes held pretty shirts and sweaters. I wasn't surprised when she wanted to wear one of them right then and there. As she was no longer able to wear shoes, one of her gifts was a pair of oversized, wooly slippers that would easily fit on her bandaged foot and keep the other one toasty warm.

Another gift she especially liked was a little "touch lamp" that fit nicely on the table by her bed. The first touch on the base of the lamp would provide just enough light to keep her room from being totally dark at night. When touched a second or third time, the light became bright enough to read by. With no knobs to turn or buttons to push, this was something she could turn on and off quite easily all by herself.

It was about half past eleven, just before lunch was being served, when we finished our Christmas visit with Mom. With afternoon approaching, we needed to start the long drive to visit my father.

Just before 2 p.m., we saw the big water tower, the first visual sign that we were nearing the Clark County facility. I was thankful the weather was cooperating and we didn't have snow to contend with. Parking just across from the front door, we loaded our arms with Dad's presents and made our way to his unit.

Dad had eaten a big Christmas dinner and I found him in his room taking a nap. We quietly placed his gifts on his dresser and sat down to give ourselves a short rest as well. At home, my father always had a favorite "easy chair" in which he could read his paper, watch television and, as he often did, fall asleep. Wanting him to have that same comfort in the nursing home, I visited a furniture store nearby shortly before Christmas and bought him an oversized rocker-recliner. It fit perfectly between his bed and the windows and was an ideal place for him to relax. While waiting for him to wake up, I nearly fell asleep in his chair.

Whithin thirty minutes of our arrival, Dad stretched out his arms, yawned loudly and opened his eyes. He seemed startled to see us all there beside him, but he quickly woke up and warmly welcomed us. I helped settle him into his chair and as I reached for one of his presents, I announced, "Santa arrived while you were asleep." Dad chuckled.

As with Mom, many of the boxes contained warm things to wear. A frequent complaint of the elderly is that they are cold and Dad was no exception, so we got him a number of fleece-lined shirts and pants. For his sweet tooth, a box of his favorite candy was a big hit, and since he still enjoyed reading, I made sure he got an ample supply of magazines and newspapers to look through.

After everything had been opened, I laid all the items on Dad's bed and reviewed what he had received for Christmas. He slowly eyed each item, making a mental note. "That's a lot of stuff." he quipped. We all laughed.

By 4:30 p.m. the day was readily coming to an end and this concluded our Christmas visit with Dad as well. We stopped for a light supper on the way home and pulled into our driveway shortly before 8 p.m. It wasn't until we got into the house and sat down that we realized how exhausting the day had been. With Mom 45 miles in one direction and Dad 140 miles in another direction, we had been on the go the entire day.

Just as parents so often stretch themselves too thin trying to "be there" for their children, the tables turn when adult children strive to "be there" for their aging parents. As I relaxed at home later that night, I thought back over the past year, amazed at the heavy trials and burdens we had all endured. Yet once again, I was at peace because I knew my parents were confident of my love. That, in itself, game me strength and fueled my desire to meet the new challenges that would arise in 1999.