Iamthewords's Open Salon Blog

What if Grandma WANTS the Plug Pulled?

Mon, 14 Sep 2009 11:09:57 -0400

Like many baby boomers, I have been dealing with the heart breaking issue of aging and ailing parents. I have been watching my Mother's once brilliant mind float away on a gentle breeze as age, illness and brain drain, ravage her frail little body.

I will always think of her and remember her as the iron will that ruled our home with humor, class and a fiery wit. But more important than that, her words are carved in stone and forged with fire on my life lists of do's and don'ts. The number one DON'T is: Keep me alive when I am no longer the person you have known all of your life and am ready to go. Don't make me beg!

My Mother (and the rest of my family) watched my Grandmother painfully turn into someone else. We watched as my incredibly brilliant, caustic, razor edged lawyer of an Aunt turned into a sweet 3 year old before our eyes. But thankfully, she never suffered and went quietly in her sleep.

We watched Cancer strike and ravage my other Grand Mother in what was a very long and very cruel march to death. She wanted to go on her own terms. She was ready and her burden of life had become unbearable. She begged for death. In those days, it made no difference.

My Mother always wanted a very different end. She made her list and checked it twice. She did this years ago when she was what I will always remember. She has begun the early stages of Hospice (These are the true angels of pure mercy) and thankfully, is in no pain. She is sweet,childlike and loving and every once in a while, that Mommy of old visits and oh, what joy those visits bring. We debate politics, extract cherished recipes and memories and then in an instant, she is gone. She isn't suffering at all and her world is of memories and the daily re-discovered joy of having a newly born Great Grand Daughter (who is now going on two). Her path floats down a soft path and we, her 3 daughters and my 92 year old Father, hold her hand and walk along side. She is sweet.

Should my Mother's burden of life ever become so painful and hard for her that she begs for death as did my Grand Mother, the biggest gift I could give her would be holding her hand and letting her go. I would and could not hesitate as she, herself wrote it in stone and forged the directive in fire.

At the moment, I am Scarlett O'Hara and will think about that tomorrow as I now prepare to cross the country for what will probably be my last immediate family reunion to celebrate the High Holy Days. We will eat apples dipped in honey and remember the sweetness of the year - and witness with great love - the sweetness of my Mother.

I love you Mommy!

From Psychedelic Queen to Prune Princess

Thu, 25 Jun 2009 10:06:33 -0400

I'm moody, I'm bitchy, I'm not aging gracefully so get out of range and pass the frickin prunes! In my previous post I pulled out my notebook of 'things to complain about' and decided on a random number and went with my menopausal husband. Well, no more cherry pickin my friends. Let's start from the top.

It happens in the dead of night. It happens between the blink of an eye. It sneaks up and finds the ONLY blind spot known universally to humans. it is the most dreaded event you will ever experience. It is the most profane three letter word in the dictionary. Yes my friends, it is - AGE!!!!!!

I have a pretty damn good frame of reference here. I smugly hid an evil grin while I watched the grim wrecker pick off my friends one by one while I lived akin to Dorian Grey. I somehow thought myself ....what's the word I want here....immuned to such things. After all, I come from an extraordinary gene pool, and have lived an incredibly charmed life. I was a Hippy goddess, a tiny dancer, a gifted singer-songwriter who mingled with beautiful minds. Psychedelic colors and products were, for the most part anyway, becoming on me. I married a rock star...I bore him a tone deaf but gorgeous son....we were the envy of....SLAP ME NOW!

I am now buying prunes......my 'cosmo' boobs add inches to my hips, my size 3 feet come with size 12 cankles and I am turning into Mrs. Haversham. I swear I am....I took out my size 2 wedding dress and decided it wouldn't fit the wing span of ONE arm now.

Bette Davis uttered the most insiteful sentence in history. She said, "Aging ain't for sissies." I have scheduled an appointment to have those words tattooed on my butt....it is now so wide I think I can fit it all on. On the subject of tattoos I had a magnificent tat of the Medusa inked on my hip when I was young and very hip. Now I have snakes crawling all over the hills and valleys of that region.

OK, that image made me queasy. I have to go now and buy more prunes.

Pax in D Minor!

Oh Crap! Menopause - again...my Husband's

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 12:06:43 -0400

It was bad enough the first time...the hormonal roller coaster, the mood swings, the insomnia, the sweats, the very weird dreams. Now I have to go thru it again??? My scary smart, compser/singer/shrink professor not-so-better-half husband, is there now and it is Sooooo not a pretty sight.

OK, I was not an earth goddess to live with when I went through 'the change' (what an apt name) but men, and from what I gather, LOTS of men - turn into spousezillas. This is probably the ONLY thing my Mother never warned me about. Mr. smarty, NEVER partied hearty, main dude in residence for the past 34 years has been abducted by male menopause aliens. I don't really need 'The Replacement" model.

Pass the Valium, Vicodan or whatever it takes to not care - oh that's right - the frickin state has stripped us of that once dependable option. I need help. I need advice from survivors (and I know that this has killed off a lot more than have survived).

I think I just validated my own point that marriage is a useless institution until you are past all this crap!

Pax in D Minor!