Dad's turn in ER

With trying to finish the background story, I've gotten a bit behind on the latest happenings. Last Monday we had a nice trip to Enumclaw to see Mark and have a birthday lunch with him. Mom had a tough time the last 1/2 hour of the drive because she had to go to the bathroom (although she didn't tell me that, she just said she was uncomfortable.) Dad, however, said he enjoyed every minute of the trip. We had a nice lunch in Auburn and a quiet, peaceful drive home.

On Wednesday we had another adventure in the ER. This time it was because Dad had blood in his urine and was in pain. When we got there he told the admitting nurse that he'd noticed it in the morning but didn't tell me until 6pm. I don't know how to convince him that telling me things sooner rather than later is better for ALL of us. He's now on his 5th day of antibiotics for his bladder infection. I told them this wouldn't look good on my resume and that I was going to become a water nazi. I've been at them to drink more water every hour or so and it seems to be helping.

We invited Heidi and Gisela to join us on a trip to a craft bazaar at Hallack's new church (on Friday) and I thought they were enjoying it. Besides looking at all the beautiful displays, they got to sit together and eat cookies while drinking hot apple cider. The next day, however, Mom was really agitated and upset and didn't know what she didn't know. She was feeling very sorry for herself and talked about having a hard time following what Heidi and Gisela were saying. Since Heidi and I were the ones doing most of the talking, what she was really saying is that she couldn't follow our conversation but I don't think she's comfortable criticizing me. Or she just didn't remember who had been talking! I acknowledged how hard it must be to not keep up like she used to. In essence she was just feeling sorry for herself. Saturday was mostly spent sleeping and in fact, she never even got dressed for the day. At 6:30 she toddled off to bed and Dad joined her not too much later. They seemed to have a good night's sleep but she woke up really out of it. I wasn't sure we'd make it to church but at 9am was able to get both parents up and while Dad showered I made them breakfast. I left them sipping smoothies while I picked up Ben from a sleepover. When we got back, Mom was really upset because Dad had knocked over his smoothie. He told me how sorry he was and I was able to tell both of them that it didn't matter one little bit. And it didn't. But Mom couldn't let go of her anger so I said to her, "I'm the one who's going to clean it up so why do you care? I've learned to not cry over things that can't cry over me." She was still agitated so I told her the story of that little piece of wisdom: when our good friends the Campbells came back from a vacation and found their whole house had flooded from broken pipes - that is what Sharon said. I've never forgotten how that crisis was handled without blaming, without self-pity, without anger but with a deep peace that this too was in God's Hands and something they could accept.

After getting Mom showered and dressed for church, she had an "accident" and I was able to treat it in the same way that I treated the smoothie incident. After getting her cleaned up and headed out to the car (we were already going to be late) she had another "accident." Dad and Ben were already in the van so I told them to come back in the house since we weren't going to make it. I was disappointed to not get to go to church and was honest with Mom about that but reiterated that this was not her fault and not something to cry over.

I know this is hard for our parents to do because I remember how these kinds of situations were treated in our family. I fought hard against not treating my kids like they'd committed a crime when an "accident" happened. I wish I could say that I succeeded every time but I confess that sometimes I reacted like my parents did. When I did I usually apologized to the kids and told them that it wasn't their "fault." I can't even begin to say how healing it is to treat my parents differently than they treated me. It somehow feels like coming full circle - first attempting to parent in a healthy way and then to parent my parents in a new healthy way. Another gift from this time of caring for them. As I think about this, I wonder if that is how we are blessed as we "honor our father and mother?"

Lest you think that I'm always gracious, always completely loving, always giving...well it's simply not true. I have times when it all threatens to overwhelm me and Mom's attitude appalls me. I get frustrated with Dad when he tells Mom that she cannot leave him - that he has to die first. I'm sometimes grossed out by the personal care and tempted to go down the path of "and it could get so much worse..." I have days when little things can set me off (yesterday I dropped Mom's pill container and pills went all over the floor and I sheepishly admit that the "s" word that rhymes with admit came flying out...and then I found the humor.) Sometimes I hope that this time will not last forever and the end will come sooner rather than later (and then I worry that I'll have guilt when they do die because I've actually wanted them to.) Yet the gift of this time, is time. Time to reflect, time to see the grace in little moments, time to love unselfishly when I don't feel like it, and time to trust that God is in control and I only have this day to live in His grace. And time to give myself grace when I have a crappy and self-centered attitude. So many gifts, so much unknown and so much peace when I give it all over to the Author of Time.

And now it's time to end this post, get dressed for the day and finish painting their bathroom door!