Remembering Marjorie

 

A year has passed since my mother, Marjorie “went home to be with Jesus”.  This was a phrase we used to talk about her passing.  She made this statement with a sense of seriousness and a sense of humor.  She decided the phrase would bring a smile to just about anyone, and she was right.  She was more than ready to go home during the last year of her life, but she still held on to some earthly pleasures.  Nature and her home continued to bring her comfort.

 Mom made the decision to go to Assisted Living in April before she passed away in August.  She hesitated to have items from home brought to Assisted Living.  She kept her home and visited it when she was able.  I realize now she wanted to keep her home intact because of the memories associated with her possessions.  A sixty five year history sat within the walls.  That history followed her through six houses she had built over her lifetime.  The seventh and last home was built several years before she bought it.  It was not her favorite house, but it was the container for her memories.  She delighted in the landscaping and wrought iron enclosed patio she added to the house.  She enjoyed bouquets of flowers from her beds until four days before she passed. 

My mom was a remarkable woman for reasons too numerous to list.  A stroke changed her personality and reasoning.  A hip fracture changed her mobility and she became wheelchair bound.  She had a compassionate heart that was strong and determined.   Her love for God, family, friends and nature never wavered.

I wrapped my arms around her and held her for many minutes after she passed.  I could clearly see a young Marjorie, RUNNING through a field of beautiful flowers.  She was closely followed by Trinka, Gigi, Cher, Tilly and Becky, the dogs she loved, lost and found again.  That would be my mother’s little slice of Heaven.  I thank the Lord for the gift of my mother, Marjorie. 

   

  

A Flower Gift

I lost my mother last August, she was 89.  She slowly slipped away over a five year period.   I did get a glimpse of her previous self whenever we looked at or talked about plants and flowers.  She was a master gardener until the age of 84 when she had a stroke.  At the age of 72 she started a 3/4 acre flower garden at a new house she had built.  She completed it at age 80. 

As she neared the end of her life, we talked about her sending me a sign she was OK after she passed on.  She brought up the subject again on one of the last days she was still able to communicate.  I asked her how I would recognize the sign.  She smiled and answered, look at your flowers in the spring.  I expressed I wasn't sure what she meant and she told me I would just know.  That is how we left it; I knew in the spring, I would look very closely at my landscaping.

Spring arrived and the message was discovered written in living color.  A tree peony I planted as a mature specimen 4 years ago has never bloomed until this year.  It is covered with large pale purple-pink ruffled blossoms that have a heavenly fragrance.  I had a dogwood tree planted 8 years ago.  I watered, fertilized and loved it, but it never bloomed after the first year until now.  It had a delicate spray of creamy yellowish-white blooms.   The last gift I found was on a lilac bush I have been slowly pruning into a tree.  There I found a combination of pale and dark purple blooms for the first time.

Draw your own conclusion, but I know in my heart Mom sent a gift during the season that was her favorite.  Priceless! 

Ten Weeks Retired--Two Volunteer Jobs

Volunteering is so good for the person giving the time.  Lending a helping hand warms the heart and feeds the spirit.  The senior citizens group in my hometown is an amazing group of people.  The age range is 65 to 98.  Each person has a story and health issues to contend with.  The lunch meal is served and everyone is around the large table and those issues seem to disappear.   They enjoy each other's company and make the most of each moment shared.  It's fantastic to see that humor, caring, and the practice of social graces does not diminish with age. 

The free health clinic has been a blessing for me.  It is exactly what I need to continue to practice nursing on a limited basis.  Delivering care in partnership with other health care professional through a program that is totally client focused is fantastic.   Please keep the Living Well Clinic in your thoughts and prayers.

Seven Weeks Retired

Where have the weeks gone?  I can't believe how fast the days pass.  I have been busy reorganizing  and I'm ready to tackle a major spruce-up of the home place.  When I worked full time and took care of my elderly mom, there was not much time for things at home.   I feel so blessed to live somewhere so peaceful and quiet.  This morning I watched seven squirrels play tag in the woods.  My husband maintains three bird feeders, the birds are so happy not to have to search for food in the nine degree temperature. 

Next week I will embark on a new adventure.  A church affiliated free clinic has opened in the town were I worked and I begin volunteering once a week as part of the medical staff.  I'm really looking forward to this opportunity to deliver quality medical care that is  client centered.  Who knows where this new journey may lead.

The best part of retirement  is the ability to choose what you will do instead of  being driven by a schedule that is work centered.    One might call this freedom.  It is similar to the feeling I had as a kid during the first weeks of summer break.

Three Weeks Retired

It's hard to believe three weeks have passed since the big retirement day.  I have enjoyed every minute.  Participating in the work related holiday celebrations seemed a little strange.  It was fun to be with my former work-mates, but how different to be on the outside looking in.  The experience did reinforce how wonderful my "work family" was. 

With that in mind, it is fun to think about special people I have worked with during 39 years of nursing practice.  My first job was in an emergency department/trauma unit, in a county hospital in a southern city.  The need for a social worker was apparent and the addition was made to the staff on my shift.  What a surprise when I met the new staff member, she was a Catholic Nun.  Her presence was calming for patients and staff.  She was the most non-judgemental person I had ever met.  She lived her faith by action and reaction.  It was the first time I realized you could profess by example and never have to speak a word about religion.  What a revelation for a shy young woman raised in a religion that centered on verbally professing.

The Second Missed Clinic Day

My favorite day of the work week was Wednesday.  That was clinic day.  I had the privilege of overseeing the care for prenatal patients for over 22 years.  Most of the women were at risk for preterm labor and /or poor pregnancy outcome.  The challenge was to support, care for, and educated them, hoping for a full term, normal weight baby.  The challenge was met by a team of nurses, a social worker, a registered dietician, a medical assistant, a public health aide, and three OB-GYN physicians.  The staff was  dedicated and committed to preparing these young women mentally, physically and emotionally for the life change that was coming.  There were successes and there were failures.  Through it all a remarkable staff worked  together to make a difference in the lives of young women.  I will always think of them on Wednesday

The End of The First Retirement Week

I have survived the first full week of being unemployed.  I've done pretty well, but I'm must admit, I think of certain patients and some administrative functions of the programs I managed.  I don't think this is unusual at all, I'm sure all nurses carry certain past patients with them.

 I became a nurse's aide at age 17 and was assigned to a pediatric unit.  I can still see a tiny 6 year old girl that was burned over the majority of her body.  I remember in detail the first auto-accident victim as a student in nursing school.  My first surgical rotation patient was a 51 year old man with a cholecsytectomy.  The nasogastric tube, urinary catheter, oxygen canula, two different intravenous drips and cardiac monitor seemed overwhelming.  We learned together over ten days how to cope with a post operative period.  When he was discharged he said "you did good kid".  The first birth I observed was one of the times I felt the presence of God.  During my psychiatric rotation at a state hospital I realized some patients were just quirky, not mentally ill.  They had no where else to go.  A pediatric rotation in a large city at the children's hospital taught me some people should never be parents.  I cared for an 18 month old boy with an immune disorder.  He had not experienced life outside the hospital and his parents never came to see him.  I was amazed how loving he was.  The nurses were his parents.

Past experiences mold who we are.   Past patients I carry in my heart helped me gain skill, insight and compassion for the next patient I cared for.  I wish they knew what an important part they played in my delivery of care.  They "paid it forward" without knowing what they did.