Obituary

Iris A. Platner Plattenberger Larsen, born April 18, 1925, to Harold and Maude (Hempy) Platner, entered into eternity on March 24, 2011.

A lifelong resident of the Lisbon area, Iris graduated from Lisbon High School and attended Coe College and Cedar Rapids Business College. On June 1, 1945, she married Glenn Plattenberger in Cedar Rapids. Together, they owned and operated Plattenberger Insurance Agency, Plattenberger Transportation and Iris' Gift Shop. They provided bus transportation for the Lisbon Schools until 1980. Glenn died in 1981. In 1987, she married Dale B. Larsen. They were later divorced.

Iris was a member of the Lisbon United Methodist Church, where she served many years as Sunday school superintendent and chairman of the board of trustees. She was a member of Eastern Star and served as Grand Marshal for the state of Iowa in 1968. Iris served on the Lisbon City Council in the 1980s and on the steering committee for the formation of the Southeast Linn Community Center. Her greatest achievement was helping to build Meyers Meadow Senior Apartment Complex, where she served as an officer, site manager and resident for a total of 30 years. In 1997, she was awarded the first Site Manager of the Year award for the state of Iowa and, in 2008, the main drive into Meyers Meadow was named Iris Boulevard.

Iris received numerous awards and honors over the years that can best be summed up as this: She left her community a better place.

She is survived by her daughter and family, with whom she made her home the last year of her life, Kay, Dan and Chelsey Schirm; three grandsons, Phillip (Linsey) Clouse, Patrick (Colleen) Clouse and Taylor (Beth) Clouse; Dan's sons, Matt (Jessica) Schirm and Andy (Mandy Campbell) Schirm; and two great-grandchildren, Lucy Clouse and Anderson Schirm. She is also survived by a stepdaughter-in-law, Darlene Plattenberger; former son-in-law, Steve Clouse; friend and caregiver, Ruby Mohr; and four-legged friends, Sam and Ginger.

Also preceding her in death were her stepson, Richard Plattenberger; and her brother, Ivan.

Visitation will be at Morgan Funeral Home in Mount Vernon from 4 to 8 p.m. today, with a time of sharing at 6:30 p.m. Funeral services will be 3 p.m. Sunday at the Lisbon United Methodist Church.

A memorial fund has been established. 

So ends Life with NanaMama's Mama

Episode 75 - Epilogue

Today is my mother's funeral. Tomorrow we will lay her to rest beside my Dad. Within a couple days, our kids will go home, I will return to work and "life will go on." Mom has reached her reward and my imagination sees her chasing down the heavenly grounds crew, to point out a portion of golden street that needs a bit of polish.  I wonder if she has reconnected with Lawrence Welk, Guy Lombardo, Vestal Goodman and the other musicians who have gone before, who brought her so much joy via recorded programming.  What was it like to see my Dad after 30 years. Does she look 85 or is her new heavenly body more a Fabulous Forty model? I am sure she is arthritis free (Praise God) and her mind has returned to complete clarity. I know she isn't an angel... and I'm fairly certain she isn't "looking down". She is fully occupied and happy ... not "missing" us, but going about the business of Glory. I understand "time" is not the same. It may be years here, but days there before we are reunited. Do you suppose there is a heavenly loudspeaker, summoning the saints when loved ones are near?  "Now arriving Gate C ... NanaMama..." and everyone goes running that direction. They strike up a band (maybe Mom will play in it...) and we are ushered into the heavenly realm?  I just wonder, you know?

This is the fourth day since Mom died. We had a wonderful time at the visitation last night. Aging faces I had not seen in years and familiar faces of friends who came to pay respect and say goodbye to their friend. Several came who didn't know Mom at all, (or only through the blog) but wanted to show us support.  It was an amazing time and I heard myself say repeatedly, "We have no regrets." 

My heart leaped as I saw our son, DIL and grandson from KY come through the doors. They had driven all day to be with us. (The last son will arrive today).  I enjoyed the laughter and running footsteps of Lil A and Belle as they played around us. We planned an hour of sharing during the visitation that was very informal. We sat in a circle and probably 25 or 30 of us reminisced and told stories about Mom. It was comforting. I enjoyed and appreciated hearing my sons talk about their Grandmother. They were 'tops' in her book - and she was clearly the same in theirs.  I imagined what stories might be told of me someday in a similar circle, by Belle, Lil A and all their siblings and cousins to come. 

As I've mentioned before, Life with NanaMama's Mama is in its final episodes. It has been for me: therapeutic, a creative outlet and a record of family history. It has given strangers a glimpse into a family matter of dealing with an aging parent... and empathy to those who live with one of their own. 

In time, I will hopefully blog again http://nanamamasjoy.blogspot.com/  but for now I just thank all of you for the encouragement and support you have given me!

So ends Episode 75

Episode 74 - Precious Lord, take my hand

I had never been with anyone when they passed from this life. The grandparent I had been closest to, died in her sleep in a nursing home, which is how I had feared Grandma would die... alone. My Dad died in the night (not alone) at home. He had specifically told my Mom to tell me not to come by after work the day before. He knew his time was near, though the rest of us thought it was still weeks away. He was one of 'those', who waited... my Mom had taken a break that night at 3:00 a.m. leaving him alone with the neighbors who were helping her care for him.  He was awake and then he was gone. He didn't want to say good-bye.

Dementia or Alzheimer's has been called "the Long Goodbye". You begin to lose the person long before the body gives out. In most cases, the individuals forget most everything - sometimes even their closest family members. I had not yet prepared myself for that - Grandma still lit up like a Christmas tree when she saw any of us. She knew our names... her mind, though ransacked, had not been robbed.  For her heart to give out (which by the way, had always been strong) was in my opinion, a blessing. I thought we were in for a long good-bye. I was wrong.

Having the three sons together (that I'd given birth to) this week, allowed me to see my Dad in each.  None of them knew him (Belle's Daddy was 23 months old when he died) yet I can see his attributes in each.  My son from Chicago has Dad's analytical side. When we decided the morphine needed to be administered more regularly, he checked the exact time on his cell phone.  He was going to assure they kept on schedule. "Fourteen more minutes." I was guessing he'd give them two minutes of grace before summoning them by call button. A dose was administered  and the time was reset.  Another son has Dad's impulsive nature and the third, his "I'll find a way to make this happen."  They all share other characteristics of his. Dad was a big man - it should be no surprise it took three boys to fill his shoes... and in them, my Dad was there with me and with Mom.

The first night in the hospital, I slept curled up on the foot of Mom's bed. The second night, I slept part of the night on a cot with DH, then rejoined Mom for the last half of the night. I recalled as a child, creeping to her bedside in the night. "Mommy, I had a bad dream..." She would pull back the covers and into her bed I would crawl. Safe and secure from the bad dream. Here we were again... side by side.  Her breathing was predictable. Three shallow breaths, each a bit longer than the previous.... four, five, six and seven much stronger... eight, nine and ten waning back down. The eleventh breath was held for about 30 seconds. Apnea it's called. We grew accustom to the pattern. Now, I lay by my Mother in her final hours, in the same hospital she had held me in during my first days of life.

The third evening, the older sons and their families stayed until bedtime. They would rejoin us in the morning. We'd gotten two cots reserved for the night. DH and T. maneuvered them into the room and Bea made them up, one on each side of Grandma's bed.  The nurses had just repositioned her to her side and started a morphine drip. It would replace the injections they'd been making every 30 minutes into the IV she still had in her arm from the ambulance. It was a little after midnight.  At 12:15, I closed my laptop and placed it on the floor beside the cot. I could still hear the cadence of Mom's breathing. I rolled over to my side, knowing sleep would be pretty much instantaneous. 

T's voice woke me out of that brief slumber, "Mom! Quick... she's going!" I jumped up, wide awake and ran to her side. T.continued, "I heard something and looked up... her eyes were open." Bea positioned pillows under our knees and we knelt close to our Mom and Grandma. I again told her I loved her, thanked her and then, looking into her still open eyes, I sang my Mom one more song.

Precious Lord, take my hand

Lead me on, let me stand

I am tired, I am weak, I am worn

Through the storm, through the night

Lead me on to the light

Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

DH and Bea were standing behind us. Bea started singing Amazing Grace... we all joined in.

The journey was complete - the battle was over - with God's help, and in His time, we had walked this marvelous woman, all the way Home.

So ends Episode 74

 

Episode 73 - Grace will lead us Home.

As I sit and think back over the near seventy hours we spent with Grandma at the hospital, I can't remember things in chronological order... and sometimes 'order' is over-rated (never say that to Grandma).  I remember saying at one point, "this room is such a mess. If Grandma could see it, she'd have a heart attack."  Interesting the words we use so nonchalantly, isn't it?  Bea would regularly restore order, folding, storing, stacking, pitching. When we needed something, she could tell us where it was.

We had feasts of fast food from Wendys, Taco Bell, Arby's and Casey's Pizza.  No orders placed, just 'runs' with sackfuls of greasy comfort food.  Occasional trips to the cafeteria gave breaks to those who needed it. Hospice had given us some gift cards to be used there.

Nurses rock. I imagine doctors do too - but when it comes to dying, I'll take a nurse. The doctor assigned to Grandma came by once.  He was there a few minutes and said it wouldn't be long (a relative term).  Perhaps he didn't come back because he thought she wouldn't be there anymore.  It bothered the boys. It didn't phase me. What was there for him to do? Nurses, on the other hand, were invaluable. They came bearing drugs of pain relief. They asked frequently what they could do for us, for Grandma. They offered information about how we might know the end was nearing... and admitted they'd been surprised by more than one patient who would die before signs appeared or lasted long after.  The nurses always called Grandma by name when they came to help her. She was still worthy of their respect. I love nurses.

Hospice... what a wonderful word.  I have friends who have worked for them... our DIL in Kentucky is a Hospice Chaplain... DH's Dad was in their care in the last months of his life. It was such a blessing to our family during the time we were standing watch with Grandma. Food carts, meal tickets, puzzle books and playing cards... friendly, helpful volunteers who sat down and visited.  Social workers who listened and wiped a tear when I read her my blog about my Dad.  We had several offers for a chaplain. I respectfully declined each. Pastor Tom was visiting, we had prayer support, we had no doubt where Grandma would be when her spirit left this hospital bed.  Belle's Daddy remarked to me: Mom, they'll think we're atheists.  The idea was laughable. I'm quite sure the sounds of Gospel music emanating from Room 569 pretty much non-stop was evidence of the faith and everlasting hope that was inside its walls.

Ministry of Presence:  The first evening, while still reeling from the day's events - there came a knock at our door. It was my friends Sharon and Sal. Angels of Mercy who came to sit, sing, pray, laugh... distract.  Both had been in my place - letting a parent go into God's Hands. They returned a couple days later with plates of cookies, sacks of pop and Starbucks. They left pledging meals when we got home. So often people stay away from hospitals or the dying thinking a family needs privacy and time alone. I'll go down in print saying we had ample time with one another and with Grandma. We enjoyed the time spent with our friend Randy as he came by - and sat, shared, listened... ministered.  For my friend Gloria, visiting was a challenge.  Grandma's last name escaped her.  I missed her call asking for the room number while she was downstairs but she perseviered.  When I texted her the room number, she returned to the hospital - to see  Grandma and my family...  to take me away to the lounge for a heart to heart.  The Ministry of Presence extended into the technological realm as I got texts from co-workers, emails and Facebook messages. I knew we were in their thoughts and best of all, their prayers.

Music: If you have read more than a couple of these episodes, you know that music is a balm to Grandma heart. She could be having the worst day ever (when living with us) and I'd turn on a recorded Gaither program and within an hour, all would be "well with her soul".  From the ER throughout the hospital stay, Grandma's soul was serenaded... "heaven came down" until the time she was ready to go there. You tend to forget that the last verse of many hymns deal with death. Those verses were sometimes hard to get out without voices cracking - but they were the most important now. We'd get through them and finish strong on the final chorus. I think the singing at first was hard for my kids. They'd been raised around music - though not always hymns. Bea and DH would bring up lyrics on their smartphones... I relied on my memory.  The sound of occasional crying or the sight of my sons wiping away tears didn't bother me.  Grief is real.  We were going to give Grandma the last days and hours that she deserved.  I turned around from my spot close to Grandma, after one song,  to see my DIL from Chicago (who sings like an angel) having a very hard time.  I pointed my (still straight, not arthritic) finger at her and said, "You buck up girl... cuz when I go... you are in charge of the songs."  She smiled through her tears and said, "I will be... I will be."

Circle of Life:  The Bible refers to a human life spanning a period of three score and ten years.  Seventy trips around the Sun.  Eighty if  you are lucky.  Grandma is almost 86. She's been living in the bonus period for quite some time. My Dad died at 69 which probably sounded older to me at the time than it does now.  I know that death is the natural end to physical life.  And the death of our parents (after our grandparents) is the natural order. Grandma's age began to take its toll the past few years both mentally and physically. We knew she would never return to the brilliant, take charge woman she had once been. It is difficult when watching this process, not to imagine your own demise.  How? When? Where will I spend my last years or days?  DH and I have been married five years. We would personally like to leave this world when Jesus raptures the Church. I mean - how cool would that be?  Our (my) second choice would be to die in a plane crash, on the way back from an all-inclusive island vacation ,where we celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary. Fortunately (probably) we don't know those details. But after this experience - I just hope that my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren will be near.  That the floors will be covered with wheeled toys and baby dolls. That cousins will reunite and employers will be understanding and allow time away from their jobs. Mostly I hope that I "go" before any of those born after me. It's the way it should be, but so sadly - not how it always is. My heart breaks for those who must bury their children, grandchildren, or any life cut short.

Family: These past few days have been such a blessing. The first evening we were reconciled to the fact that Grandma would probably not last until T. arrived from AZ.  We were just hoping she'd make it until the son/DIL from Chicago arrived.  Tuesday morning the doctor said it "wouldn't be long" - T.'s plane was scheduled to arrive in Cedar Rapids at 6:50 p.m.  We told Grandma he would be there in a few hours.  I also told her that if she couldn't stay, that she would definitely see him again (in 50 earthly years or so).  We enlisted prayer warriors on Facebook to pray he might arrive in time.  His plane was a half hour early!  When he walked in the room, the family announced his arrival ... T. greeted a semi-sleeping Grandma with his usual "Hi Grandma!" and her mouth and eyes flew open wide. It was likely the last major expression we would see. We sang, we prayed... we told her it was OK to go when she was ready. We would be with her until Jesus came.  (A couple nurses had told us that sometimes the patient waits until they are alone 'to pass').  Uh oh I thought - that won't be happening.  Belle was at the hospital a good amount of time. It's hard with little ones to keep vigil at a hospital. I remembered when my Dad was dying, Belle's Daddy was almost 2. It was hard.  I also recall losing two grandparents within a few weeks when I was 14. CeCe (16) has been wonderfully supportive, both to me and to Grandma. She chose to spend the night on the floor and the entire day following at the hospital, She wanted to be with us when it was Grandma's time. CeCe never left without kissing Grandma goodbye. Our other kids (blended as we are) were in contact with us throughout the vigil. You can't over estimate the powerful impact of family when it is time to let go of a member of it.

My kids are likely tired of hearing me say this one thing over and over this week.  We have been given a GIFT. Not every family has the opportunity to spend the final days and hours with a loved one. Grandma got to see and be touched by each of us. We all got to tell her thank you... that we loved her. We were able to spend time with one another and that happens all too rarely.  T. commented that after I told Grandma it was OK to 'go', he could imagine her saying, "But its so nice to have everyone here together..."  Yes it is. Sometimes our chatter and laughter would get a little loud... sometimes our singing could be heard by those outside our doors... sometimes the quiet (except for the Gaithers) was somber - reflective and sacred.  She wasn't suffering. Her pain was under control. She was preparing for the Presence and we waited with her. We were living Grace.  We were living a Gift.

So ends Episode 73

Episode 72 - Walking her home

Our experience in the Emergency Room was surreal.  Belle's Daddy arrived quickly.  We held Grandma's hands and talked to her. She was still in some pain but semi-conscious.  I was called from the room several times to talk to various professionals.   One told me there was damage to her heart that would eventually cause it to fail.  Another, from Hospice, explained how Grandma could be admitted to the hospital, to be made and kept comfortable. Pastor Tom phoned to say he had gotten the message from the hospital and would be with us as soon as possible.  DH arrived as did Belle and her Mommy.  Thus began a roller coaster ride of fear, tears and trust.  I was afraid of what was lying ahead... I was sad because I knew ultimately the "what" would be the end of my mother's life ... and I had no choice but to trust... the doctors and nurses who would accompany us on this journey and of course, God - Who would watch over it all and bring it to an end, in His time.

It was about three hours before we were moved to a room on the 5th floor.  While we were in the ER, I sang to Mom....  her favorite hymns and a few other songs that came to my mind.  She appeared asleep but would often join in singing or "direct" with her hand in the air.  As we sat there, I recalled car rides from my childhood when I was seated between my parents.  Mom and I would always sing our entire repertoire and my Dad would occasionally join in with his loud booming voice.  There was never a car ride that we didn't sing the little ditty from the college Grandma had attended.  "I want to go back to Coe again"  .... "where we'd sling-a da ink and push-a da pen along".  There's a little chorus/chant at the end of the song: "sling-a da ink, sling-a da ink, push-a da pen, push-a da pen"  (probably my Dad's favorite part).  As I sang it now to Mom - she joined in just as brusquely as he would have, at the chant.  "Sling-a da ink, sling-a da ink, push-a da pen, push-a da pen"   When we finished, she raised her arm in the air and said, "Yea Grandma!"  We laughed. 

At one point, with Belle's Daddy on one side of her bed and me on the other, she asked, "Will Dad be glad about this?"  We smiled through our tears.

BD:  Oh, he's gonna be very glad

Me:  Yes Mom... very glad.

A while later, Belle was sitting on my lap when a nurse practitioner entered the room, wearing a dreaded white jacket.  Belle has had more than a few encounters with doctors in white jackets (and hospitals in general) during her short little life.  She turned and clung to me.  Her Mommy offered her one of her soft satin blankets, which she clutched but she wanted "a baby" too.  Mommy extended a small plastic toy (since no baby was to be had) but it wasn't the comfort Belle wanted.  The white jacket was still there.  Belle threw up.  If you ever need a little levity in a small hospital room with  close to ten people in it.  Have a two year old vomit all over her Nana, the floor and worst of all, her soft, satin blanket.  Mommy retreated with Belle, to be cleaned. Nana resumed singing and a nurse brought in a pair of scrubs for me to change into.  Pastor Tom arrived.  He prayed over Mom and joined Bea, DH and me in our singing.  He quietly shared with us that he had lost his own mother a few days earlier.

We were told Mom would likely die within a day - though it may be sooner.  As they moved us upstairs I texted with the son in Chicago. 

Son: Any update?

Me: Hospice said it may be tomorrow or maybe even tonight. She is still having the heart attack

Me: She is awake and talking a little

Son: So she'll be OK?

Me: No... she is medicated and they are making her comfortable

Son: Should we come to Iowa?

Me: Yes

Son: Tonight?

We discussed their waiting until morning... we spoke on the phone... he said they'd make arrangements.  They wanted to come tonight.

DH texted his sons to let them know what was happening.  CeCe had a track meet.  He texted and told her we were at the hospital with Grandma and couldn't be there.  Since this was our third trip to the hospital in three weeks, she was not overly alarmed.  He kept in text contact with her over the next few hours.  We would tell her the rest of the news later.

Son T. was in Arizona, where he had moved two weeks prior for a new job.  He was frantically trying to find the most affordable and fastest way to get home.

T:  I can't get there tonight Mom

Me:  I know that honey... it's OK

I knew how much he wanted to be here... with Grandma and with us.  I didn't hold much hope that he'd get to the hospital before the end - but it was outside of my control.  Though it didn't look like he'd be here before Wednesday, he was able to get a flight with the assistance of his mother-in-law's employer (a mortuary).  He'd be in the next evening about 7:00.

DH went to get CeCe after her track meet and brought her to the hospital. He also brought back a DVD player and the 6 hour Gaither recording he had made. Although we continued to sing when Grandma had periods of wakefulness (as in, her eyes were open) the Gaithers now provided the 24/7 background we had become so accustomed to in the past year. The son and DIL from Chicago arrived about midnight.  We all took turns holding Grandma's hands, stroking her hair, patting her.   We prepared to settle in for the night.  The hospital room became a campground with resting bodies all over the floor.  Belle's Daddy who is over 6'3" took rest on a love seat in the family room next door.... I curled up on the foot of the hospital bed.  Grandma was given morphine whenever we deemed it necessary.  There were no machines, no IV bags... the oxygen she'd had when she was in the ER was removed, mostly at her insistence. She kept removing the tube from her nose. 

We were all prepared for what we thought would happen before morning.  We had told her we loved her and she had managed to tell us the same.  At one point in the evening I had said to her:

Me: You know you'll be going to heaven soon Mom. You're going to see Jesus... and Dad.

Grandma: That's what I wanted to hear!

Me: I want you to tell Dad about the boys Mom. How they grew up so well... and about DH ... let him know for me, please?

No one got a lot of sleep.  The room could feel amazingly warm one moment and cold the next.  We had many blankets from home and probably half the bedding from the 5th floor.  We were wall to wall family as we started the journey of walking Grandma home.

So ends Episode 72

Episode 71 - March Madness


I'm sitting in the hospital room, again partaking in blog therapy.  As I face these final episodes, I am sad they will end, but grateful for the record I've kept of this last chapter of a wonderful life.  (Also that the blog has helped others, garnered me so much emotional support and possibly kept me from qualifying for a 12-step program.)


As I look back over the past three weeks, the term March Maddness fits so well.  March 1 - Grandma was taken to the hospital after falling out of bed at the care center.  In the early morning hours of March 3, she fell in her bathroom and again was taken to the hospital. She was admitted for five days.  She was doing well back at the care center, but when we saw her this past Saturday... she said she wasn't feeling 'that great' but that wasn't uncommon either. 


Monday, at work, I got several calls from the care center beginning about 10:15.  I was told they could hear no bowel sounds and were in touch with the doctor for a course of action.  If they didn't get the desired results, she'd be taken to the hospital for x-rays to check for an obstruction or something.  I checked back at noon (they thought they'd know at 11:00, but no word).  They said they were trying one more thing and would let me know by 1:00.  I missed their call at 1:08. When I called back at 1:15, the ambulance was there.  I quickly shut down my computer and gathered my things.  I'm not sure I put anything away.  I fully expected to return - if not today, at least tomorrow.


Our DIL from Columbia, MO (Bea) was spending her Spring Break from her senior year of college with us. Her husband (son, T.) has recently moved to Arizona to start a new job.  I called her as I headed out of town to let her know:


Bea: Do you want me to go with you?
Me: Do you want to?
Bea: I'm not dressed.
Me: You have two minutes.


Two minutes later, we were on our way west out of town. I was confident the ambulance was ahead of us.  Several miles later, as we ascended an incline on the roadway, I saw flashing lights.  Getting closer, we could see it was two ambulances. I slowed as we approached and saw the first one was from McVille.  I pulled over in front of it.  I got out and ran back to it (yeah, I didn't pull over "right" in front of it.)  The driver motioned me to the passenger side and rolled down its window.  I told him, "You have my mother." and he told me to open the door and come in.


There were four attendants with her, one I recognized.  His grandparents had been good friends from church and the community (both gone now).  He explained that Mom had experienced chest pain enroute and their crew had been called out to assist.  They were running a test and starting an IV to help her pain. She was conscious and obviously in pain.  She knew I was there and after maybe 10 minutes, they were ready to transport her. I told her I'd see her at the hospital.


As I stepped out of the ambulance the sky opened up with an imprompteu hail storm.  I ran the 50 yards or so back to my car, while being pelted with ice.  I hoped this wasn't an omen of a pending plague.  Bea had been making calls in my absence to T and also to enlist prayer troops.  We proceded on to the hospital while I wondered "What the Sam Hail was going on?"


At the hospital, Bea and I were directed to the ER waiting area.  I wasn't alarmed in the wait.  When three women came out and said Grandma's name, we rose and followed them.  One was Grandma's nurse... another a social worker, the last along for the ride I guess.  She went off in one direction as we went off in another.  They led us to a "Consult Room" which looked earily familiar to me.  I believe it was this room I was escorted to when I had brought a friend from work, who'd been called to the hospital because her husband had had a heart attack.  It was this room in which I prayed with friends when their son had been in a serious car accident.  I didn't like this room.


They explain: The tests they have run show Mom is having a heart attack and has in fact been having it for at least a day.  I was shaken.  There is damage to her heart.  Do I want any extraordinary measures should it stop?  I was unshaken.  No.  I started to cry.  Why was it so much easier to tell medical personel this when my loved one was not in distress?  Bea asked me if I wanted her to call DH.  Yes.


I called Belle's Daddy who works very near the hospital.  "Grandma has had a heart attack. I need you to come to the hospital."


BD:  She'll be ok though won't she?
Me:  I don't think so ... just come now.


I called my son in Chicago as Bea and I headed back to where Grandma was.  I told him what was happening and that I'd be in touch when I knew more.  I asked the social worker to call Pastor Tom.  As we opened the door and I saw my mother lying there - I knew two things: I was about to experience something I never had before... and that God is in control.

So ends Episode 71

Episode 70 - Make mine a double


I was going to write an episode all weekend.  But the weekend got away. I wanted to write about the wonderful visit we had with Mom last Thursday. Sitting in the hospital now, I'm going to take the time to do so.  There won't be many more episodes to be written -  and I'm not ready for the final chapter.  So I'm taking another dose of therapy.

We arrived at the care center at our usual time (shortly before supper) and found Mom and Harriet sitting in the dining room.  Mom was singing... not any particular song - she was  just making it up as she went along (and doing quite well).  She made us smile and even laugh as she was (as some might say) "on a roll."  In her usual fashion, she abandoned us temporarily as she maneuvered her wheel chair down a hallway and back.  Since returning from the hospital a couple weeks ago, she's been using a wheelchair, which allows her mobility and minimizes the possibility of falls.  There's still an alarm attached, should she try to get out - but a Velcro seat belt is secured to discourage that venture.


I asked the nurse how long she'd been singing.  "She started yesterday afternoon..."  Harriet held up her hand and made an open and close motion (like the chicken dance) signaling Mom had been quite chatty.  Not that she isn't always (and that the nut falls close to the tree) but she was quite delightful.  She wasn't bossy, she had no complaints.... We asked her questions and she sang us her answers.  A gentleman walked by us, cast her a look - and she gave him a look of her own and said, "Why don't you SMILE?!"  Harriet repeated the chicken dance hand sign.


I might mention that she was not only singing, but directing (in perfect time to her music).  Mom studied music in college and directed a couple different community bands "back in the day."  She waved her crooked finger in the air, laughed, sang, marched (in place) and then off she went down the hall - evidently to spread the joy.  This was a stark contrast to the times we'd witnessed her chasing down staff to keep them on task or lament her lack of ability to "get them organized."


While Mom was on her parade route... I met another resident, Leota.  She asked me how we (Mom and I) were related and I said I was her daughter.   We chatted.  She commented Mom talks a lot.  I wanted to say, "She sings too"  Leota told me about her life before coming into the care center.  As I listened I thought to myself... "I think I have found my fourth Golden Girl" (Grandma, Harriet, Ethel and now Leota).  We continued to visit and then she told me about knowing Grandma's daughter. Huh?  "Yes, I've known her since she was a child."


Me:  You have?
Leota:  Yes.
Me:  That's me ... I'm her...  I'm her daughter.


Leota is silent as she possibly rethinks her last statement.  DH says to me later, "When are you going to learn? You fall for them every time?"  It's true.


The Golden Girls reassembled as suppertime drew near.  Grandma was still singing.  The nurse came around with medications. DH smiled, pointed at Grandma and said, "I'll take what she's having..."


I added, "Make mine a double."


So ends Episode 70