Musings of Lanna Lee Maheux

This is my brother Bill. I took this picture of him, and it very well captures his smart assery. We call each other Brat. It’s a term of endearment. I don’t talk about him much here because I think he would hate it. Well, I’ll find out now. Cause I’m gonna talk about him.

My immediate family is very close. Me, Dad, Mom and Bill. We might not talk every day, or see each other a lot, but every once in a while we’ll get together to get a dose of family.

Things have changed a bit since Edmund and I moved back to Maine, now I have a long-standing weekly dinner-date with my parents. And more change since Dad got sick, we’ve either seen or talked to each other every day.

So while I look all fancy because I talk about it on my blag, just how much time I’m spending with my parents, blah blah blah. I want to be clear that Bill is just as awesome, if not more so. When Dad was in the hospital, Bill took a week off from work and helped Mom out at the house so she’d feel comfortable staying overnight with Dad. [Keeping the wood fire burning, watching the dogs.] This week, Bill took more time off at work so he could come down here and help my Mom get the new place ready for the move (which we are doing on Saturday), furthermore, he’s coordinating the move. Getting a tractor trailer, a driver for it, making sure that we have smooth sailing on move day. He’s arriving tomorrow.

If there was one thing our parents taught us, by their actions, is that part of life is just showing up. And Bill has done that in spades. He lives 2 hours away and the first week Dad was sick, he drove down and back twice. He has been down every weekend, and if he’s not down here, he calls Mom and/or me every day.

I see so much of my father in him. Fixing things. Making sure my Mom has everything she needs. Making sure I have a working blinker on my car. Taking care of Dad (better than me) with such love. Trying to maintain a sense of humor about this whole thing. And being there.

Last Saturday I told Bill, “Well, it could be worse.”

He looks at me, half smiles, cocks his eyebrow and says, “How?”

I didn’t have an answer.

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And ladies, yes, he is single. So if you have a hankering for a shy, smart-assed blue collar dude, he might be your guy. If you’re good enough for him, that is.

My Mom is the best one. The super best Mom ever. Don’t get me wrong, she’s no push-over, & she is intimately familiar with how to administer tough love. But when you’re sick, her mom-mommy-ness goes in full force. She’ll bring you things. Pat your head. She makes you feel better. She is so good at the nursing part of mothering that, when sick, I didn’t stop calling for my mother until I was in my 30s.

Now Dad is sick. And she is right there, getting him to do things and helping him feel better. There may come a time where his care might become too much for her, and we have a plan in place for that contingency, but right now Dad is at home where we all want him to be, getting the best care he can get.

My parents have always had a close marriage. They are best friends, lovers, and partners in crime, and if you were to look for a relationship to emulate, you couldn’t do much better. They complement each other, and back each other up. They communicate well. Very well. When I was a kid, my parents would sit in the kitchen after dinner and talk. Sometimes for hours. In their later years, they talked in the morning. Up until Dad went in the hospital.

Mom and Dad have been married 45 years, and they were looking forward to going many more. So, while Dad’s illness has been a big blow, it has been devastating for my Mom. But she has been putting her “big girl panties” on, and fighting the good fight. Packing her house up to move, tending to Dad, keeping lines of communication open with our extended family. Right now her focus is Dad and his care.

I give Mom props. For her loving and understanding care of my Dad. For stepping outside of her comfort zone and taking care of things that Dad used to do. And, most of all, for keeping a sense of humor throughout all of this.

What a difference a week makes. A few days, even. It seems like my Dad is checking out. And that kills me.

The week has gone from where we could feel comfortable leaving him alone, to now, where we can’t. He’s more confused. His motor skills are failing. He doesn’t talk to us.

Just another glorious day in suck city.

He’s still eating, tho. Tonight we fed him some Poutine; he scarfed that right up. Then Bill put a bowl of ice cream in front of him. While eating it, Dad dropped a bit of ice cream on the floor. Bill and I watched him put down the ice cream bowl, use the spoon to scoop that ice cream up and put right in his mouth. ["Don't get no better," my Dad would've said.] Later, Bill put some mini eclairs and cream puffs in front of Dad; they were eaten in seconds.

We also watched as he almost dropped his glass of water, that he was holding by the handle, spilling water all over himself and his bed. We got the bed changed, but he refused to let us (or Bill) help him change his pajamas. Mom was in bed, we forced her to get a good night sleep. I figured wet pajamas wouldn’t kill him.

One of the things Mom has been saying is that she didn’t want to “lose him before I lose him.” And here it’s happening. He’s going away without us. And it’s breaking our hearts.

It is what it is. I hope that we can keep our senses of humor throughout. Find funny things to laugh at. You can’t beat some good gallows humor. So far so good. And if we burst into tears at times, well, that’s part of the journey.

It seems like every thing on Dad’s bucket list is food.

Last Saturday my brother Bill and I conspired to make one item from Dad’s bucket list – French Dip. We made enough for an army (in fact, there was plenty left over for leftovers the next day.) Today Dad told Mom he wanted some Chinese food (Sesame chicken and Pork Fried Rice.) On Friday Bill and I will be coordinating the acquisition of Poutine [From The Frog and Turtle, natch].

Dad has a basket attached to his walker so he can put food in it. He has a passion for ice cream, he’ll pile up a small bowl, put it in the basket and walk it right back to his hospital bed. When I visited tonight, Dad had a sleeve of Oreo cookies and a glass of milk. Mom was getting ready to go to the store for yogurt and he put in a request for vanilla and chocolate pudding. Mom says he’s eating a lot. And that’s a good thing.

As far as bucket lists go, fantasizing about delicious food-stuffs is not a bad way to amuse oneself. It shows my Dad has few regrets.

Stick a fork in me, I’m done. But, damn, that was a pretty good day.

Got up this morning whilst cursing daylight savings time; went to my parent’s house. My Dad was at the kitchen table directing the cooking of donuts. {Don’t get no better.} Mom, Bill, cousin Jim and I went to check out a trailer Mom wants to buy. She put an offer on it.

Got back to my parent’s house, Carl and his wife Jen (one of Bill’s best friends) were chilling with Dad and Tracy and Maygen (Jim’s wife and daughter). More donuts were being made. Dad’s friend Dave and his wife Cheryl came over next. Then Edmund came over. [This was after a full day of visitors yesterday, been a great weekend for visits!]

To cover all the bases, Mom, Tracy and I went to look at a small rental house in Westbrook. Nah.

We made up the rest of the French Dip sandwiches Bill and I conspired to make for Saturday There was not enough meat for everyone, so me, Tracy and Maygen opted to go out to eat. But first I got a call, and as a result we (Me, Mom, Billy, Jimmy, Tracy & Maygen) went to look at a different trailer. Mom liked that one too.

While we were gone, Edmund met Dave and Cheryl over at the ARL to pick up Gus! [Yay!] They live on a farm in the Dexter area, now Gus will have plenty of space to play, lots of doggy friends and he’ll have a good time. Dad opted not to see Gus before he went up north, but Dad was very glad to hear that Gus was finally settled. So were we.

When we got back from looking at the second trailer, Tracy, Maygen and I were so hungry. But first Billy and Jimmy had to take out my tail light and Bill’s headlight so we could go to the auto parts store to buy new ones. On the way to the store, we stopped at Dairy Queen in Westbrook and got food and ice cream. MMMMMMM. Lunch and dinner at the same time!

We got the lights. While waiting for Billy and Jimmy to replace them, we hung out with Dad in the living room. He went out to the bathroom. On his way back he stopped off in the kitchen to get some (more) ice cream. Mom put a basket on his walker just so he could bring ice cream back into the living room (where his hospital bed is set up.)

It don’t get no better, he says.

Looking pretty much like Mom is going to buy a trailer. If we can get that done in the next week or so, she’ll be all set. All she will have to do now is pack and move.

I would’ve call this post feeling my feelings (after the vlog posted below) but I might want to write an actual post about feeling my feelings, so I called this something different. Note: this is not a blag post about feeling my feelings, this is me talking about what is going on and feeling my feelings.

I think it came out okay. Well enough. It’s not my typical vlog in that it’s not as happy go lucky as usual. If you’ve been reading along, you’ll know why. (There are blessings with the sadness.)

Wherein I talk about my Dad & Feeling my Feelings:

My heart is breaking. I can’t really write about it. But I will.

Yesterday Dad came home from the hospital (he’s doing great, overall. Scheming for more food.)

Before he came home, Dad asked Edmund to take his dog, Gus, to the Animal Refuge League in Westbrook (ARL).

Gus was Dad’s pal, his buddy, and Gus went everywhere with Dad. Dad loves Gus. Hell, we ALL love Gus. He’s a fantastic dog. He’s a good boy.

The thing is, as a Dalmatian mix, Gus needs lots of attention and needs to be exercised every day. My Dad’s life revolved around it. Every day, sometimes more than once they’d go up to the mill and let Gus run around for a bit. In fact, Gus went with Dad everywhere. Whenever my Dad ran errands he’d say, “Well, me and Gus” went here and “me and Gus” went there.

Gus was a rescue dog that Dad adopted in 2006, after Mom & Dad’s dog Grace passed away. When he was adopted, Gus was a handful. Very rambunctious. He was still a puppy, one year old, and he didn’t have a great starter family. Through a lot of patience, care and love, my parents stuck it out with Gus until they got a system that worked for all three of them.

Now, almost in a flash, Dad can’t drive any more, and Mom has enough to handle with taking care of Dad. So Dad decided that the best thing for everyone would be to have Gus go to the ARL.

Edmund and I really wanted to take Gus. We just couldn’t. We live in an apartment and have crazy-ass schedules and although we might have found a way to make it work, we don’t really have a life-style suited toward dog stewardship. Cats yes, but dogs no. And that’s without going through the hurdle of asking our landlord if it was okay if we added a eighty pound dog to our mix [along with the two cats. And need I mention that we live above our landlord?] We want to have a dog, some day. Just not now.

My brother Bill has one high-maintenance dog already, he doesn’t need another one.

I know now why Dad asked Edmund to take Gus to the Animal Refuge League: no one else could have. Bill told me that if Dad asked him to do it, Bill would be the proud owner of two dogs. I am not sure Mom could’ve brought herself to do it without breaking down.

I think that Dad wanted it done before he came home because he couldn’t bear to say good bye. And that breaks my heart the most.

I am heartened. When Edmund brought Gus to the ARL he was assured, based on Gus’ temperament that he would sure to be adopted out. He’s a great dog who deserves a loving and active family. And overall, this will be the best thing for Gus. Because he’s a good boy. A very good boy.

When I see his notice on the ARL page I will share it with my social networks.