Rest in Peace...

My Aunt passed away last week and was laid to rest. She was 93 years old. For 75 of those years she was a nun. The year after she graduated from high school she entered the convent of the Sisters of the Resurrection and she spent the rest of her life as a dedicated teacher. She traveled but spent the majority of her years just outside of Chicago at the mother house in Niles, IL. For part of the time she was there she was the Mother Superior of the house. Twice, in fact. And both times the house underwent major updating and renovation.

My Aunt, whose birth name was Anne became Sister Mary Loyola at age 18. She wore a full habit for her entire life. Even after Vatican II when some nuns changed to more secular clothing she and her sisters opted to retain the habit. Oh, over time it became shorter - to below the knees - and they did away with the wimple that encompassed their faces - they kept their veils covering their mandatory short hair.

Twice a year my Aunt, who we always  called Sister, came to stay with us. She would come in summer and then again in winter, each time staying for a week. It was when school was out on break so she could get away and come for some rest and relaxation though staying with our big family could not have been much of either for her! I remember how she would often be awake in the night when she would hear sirens or traffic outside because her convent, though in the city, was far off the road and very well sheltered from such noise. Sleeping on her short vacations was, for her, a tad elusive. If the neighbors came home late and walked up the drive way she would be sure someone was breaking in to rob us. In this way, my Aunt had a certain kind of naiveté.

But she was also very smart and so funny! My mother and Aunt together would quip back and forth and giggle like little girls sometimes. They had a keen sense of humor that could be both biting but sharp and it would always take us off guard. In her later years, my Aunt taught herself to use the computer. She learned Windows and email and how to use the internet and she began communicating with family all over the world. She would use those skills long after she stopped teaching to continue to assist her Order with archiving their history and creating bulletins and programs for special occasions. She took on the daunting task of cataloging the Sisters massive library when she was well in her late 80s and she loved every minute of her busy life.

It was only later, in the last few years, she had to slow down. And then she passed away. I wasn't able to attend her funeral but I've been told that it was large! That many, many people - colleagues and former students - all came to pay their respects. And as sad as it is that she is gone I know that this is the moment my Aunt has prepared for her entire life. She believed in the resurrection and now she was living hers through her death. While I don't necessarily share her beliefs I celebrate her life and know that she is somewhere now with my mother and her other sister Sophie and her parents and others who have been waiting to greet her. That I do believe.

I know that in my life I have been absolutely blessed to have remarkable women as role models for all of my life. Sister Mary Loyola was one of them. I have such good memories of her. I'll cherish them - forever. Rest in Peace, Sister.

Love and prayers,
Mary Beth

Good night, Sweet Mother...

So far this year has not been great. While dealing with health issues of my own, my dear Mother passed away last week. She was 96 years old and had a good long life but that doesn't seem to really matter now. She's gone and I miss her.

I visited her on the day she passed. She was up and in the dining room of the nursing home. She was on oxygen and her breathing was raspy. She was working to get each breath. I knew then she would not make it through the night. When I got home, I messaged my nieces and nephews. I wasn't sure anyone was letting them know what was happening and, sure enough, they didn't know. About one hour after I let them know she was passing, my sister called me to let me know it happened. So I had to message them all again to let them know she was gone.

My Mom was an incredible woman. I'm sure everyone feels that way about their mother but she was. She worked two jobs for most of her life, making sure we had all that we needed. She lived on her own and drove to and from church and the grocery store until she was 93. Then she just decided it was time to stop driving and she happily handed over her keys and car. When she could no longer do the steps at her house, she  moved into my sister's house and had to allow someone else to take care of her for a while. She hated that! Then, on Christmas Eve, a couple of years ago, she had a stroke. My sister did her best to take care of her at home but Mom never really bounced back from the stroke and she become someone who require total care. Eventually, it became too much and the family knew it was time to find a home. St. Joseph's Home was the best place for her. My Mom was very religious and she enjoyed that the home was run by Nuns. She got to know all of the aides there and they were all so friendly and nice to us, the family. Overall, as happy as she could be in a nursing home, my Mom was happy there. They took good care of her.

But now she's gone. Her funeral will be this week. I know I will be a mess. But I have all the good memories to take with me. And now, that has to be enough.

My brief brush with my own mortality...

Last Wednesday I had a mammogram.

I have been a slacker when it comes to getting a regular mammogram and I know it. It had been a few years since my last one and being a woman of a certain age (and one who's sister is undergoing treatment for breast cancer right  now) I should know better! So I scolded myself and off I went.

Getting a mammo is not the most pleasant experience in the world. I mean, I know, as far as other tests women have to go through (the PAP smear comes to mind), a mammo is far less invasive yet still invasive enough to be uncomfortable. The Breast Imaging Center, here in Kenosha, WI, does a very good job at trying to make it as comfortable as possible. They have a separate waiting room from the rest of the radiology department so you don't have to sit there with a lot of people. They warm the robes they make you wear in a nice warming container. And the robes are ROBES and not skimpy hospital gowns. The waiting room is comfortable with over sized arm chairs and soft music. The lights are kept low. It's almost foreplay for what's to come!

When my name is called I follow the nice lady into another room where, lights still low, she quietly and pleasantly tells me how this will proceed. Then I step up to the machine and drop one shoulder out of the robe. This is the invasive part. This nice but complete stranger then maneuvers my boob onto a metal slab as I stand in front of the machine. She then says, "This might pinch!" as she lowers a clear plastic plate over my breast. Then she cranks that sucker until it has squished my booby to within an inch of it's life. She does a side view like this too and then we move on to the left boob. FUN!

After that she tells me they will call me if there is any problem but "there probably won't be so if you don't get a call, everything is fine!" And I leave.

ON Thursday I was working at my desk and the phone rang. It was the Breast Imaging Center. The radiologist who looked at my mammo thinks he saw something but can't be sure so could I please come in as soon as possible to have a "diagnostic mammo" and possibly an ultrasound.

WHAT??? My mind started spinning. Surely, if there was nothing to worry about I would not be getting something called a "diagnostic" or an ultrasound, for that matter. This could not be good. I spent a very sleepless night.

The next day I went in and had the diagnostic done. This time, it was the same machine but the clear plastic plate was much smaller and they only did one small section of my left boob. The tech was pleasant and did her best to assure me that it might be nothing at all. Just a precaution. But she showed me my last mammo pics and the area of concern. She said, "Doctor, sees this cluster of unusual cells here so he wants to be sure." Unusual cells, I think. I have "unusual" cells in my breast. That can't be good either. She then takes the latest mammo pics off to the doc. I'll get instant results, she tells me, so I won't worry all weekend. How kind.

I'm left in this room with the low lights and the big mammo machine for the longest time. Too long. It was so long that I was sure something horrible was about to come my way. This should not be taking this long, I thought. Again, cannot be good!! Finally, she returned. "Well," she says, "he's fairly sure it's nothing but would like you to have the ultrasound to confirm it. "

At this point, I stopped believing her. "Fairly sure it's nothing..." Seriously? You're either sure or you're not sure so which is it.

I'm rerobed and sent back to the waiting area. After a few minutes another tech comes to get me and we go to another room. This time there is a bed next to which is an ultrasound machine. I've had an ultrasound before on two occasions. One on my knee when I was having horrible pain in the back of my knee. They used this type of machine with a little egg shaped deelybobber that took pictures. The other time was a pelvic ultrasound where they used the same machine but instead of an egg they used what looked like a small baseball bat which they lathered with gel and asked me to "insert" inside myself....NOT fun! Anyway, this was the egg thing.

I laid on the bed and she unrobed the offending booby. She lathered the gel on and proceeded to rub it all over the boob while stopping to take pictures of different areas of interest. Even though it didn't hurt, none of the tests did, the idea of someone manipulating, moving, touching my boob and squishing it flat is just not pleasant. And it did pinch. Ah, but the ultrasound did not hurt though it was awkward.

So, then she leaves and says "Doctor, will see these right away!" and I'm left to sit there, in the dim light, all alone. Again, for what seemed like FOREVER! At this point I am convinced the doctor is gearing up to have "the talk" with me. The one where I hear that I have breast cancer and that I have options for treatment and here is a list of oncologists to try. I was readying myself for this when the door opened and the doc walked in.

He said...

"Well, I've got good news! You are perfectly normal! All we're seeing is normal breast tissue!"

Relief...and the knowledge that I knew this all along and my mind was just playing tricks on me.
I know I'm not the first woman to do through this nor with I be the last. I have since heard of other women who get called back again and again. Still, it's not easy to just "not know" for sure what's going on and even though they all were very kind and reassuring it is not a pleasant test to go through. But it is an important test to go through. So, I will. Every year - like clock work.

My doctor also wants me to get a colonoscopy. Yeah...I'm still thinking about that one!

What to feel...

It's hard to know what to feel these days. I mean, as you know, my mother is dying. I go to work everyday and deal with other people's problems. I can't say as I am upset all day. I'm really not. I get through it and even manage to have some laughs. I come home to my loving hubby and we have a good time relaxing or reading or going out for a Mocha Frappe...just normal stuff. And I really enjoy it. I got over to my sister's to see my mom. I talk to her for a minute or two and then she waves me away so she can sleep again.

In my heart, I know I will fall apart when she finally closes her eyes that last time. In my head, I wish she would take that last breath and go peacefully into the next adventure. And I don't know how to feel when I see her in pain and unhappy and deep down I am wishing she would just go already. She is suffering and even though I know my thoughts are coming from a good place, I just don't know how to feel about secretly wishing my mother would pass away. It seems wrong but I know it is right.

I get sad sometimes. And Alex pointed out that I seem quiet at times. I guess I do. I don't mean to. It just comes and goes.
Other times I am very happy. I celebrate this strong woman's life and think of all the great lessons she taught me and all the wonderful times we've had. I love her. For everything she is, everything she gave me, everything she taught me. She deserves a celebration.

Still...how do you tell someone you love that it's time to let go and it's okay to surrender? How do you tell someone to go ahead and die? And even though, deep down, you know it's the right thing, how the hell are you supposed to feel about wishing every night that this night will be her last?

A life...

Yesterday, I found out rather late that someone I used to work with passed away. She was a case manager whom I supervised for almost 7 years. She was 73 years old. She was a character, lemme tell ya. She could be the most frustrating person on the face of the planet. She often thought people were out to get her in some way. She could be cantankerous and suspicious and angry when she wanted to be. But she could also be endearing and funny and was one of the hardest working people I have ever known.

She worked until she was 72 and then had a heart attack while she was on the job. She never really fully recovered from that. Her health failed and it failed quickly. She often talked about moving to Vegas to be near her son or taking a trip to Arizona with her husband. She talked about spending time with her daughters and grand kids. She talked about having time to shop for her beloved Southwest themed collectibles. She talked about it but never had the change to do it.

I heard she passed about a half hour before her funeral service was to take place so I was unable to attend. That's something I will always regret because, though she might not have believed it, she was one of my favorite people on the planet. That's why today I am filled with thoughts of what exactly constitutes a life well spent. Surely in her lifetime, she touched thousands of people - those she case managed and those who loved them. But she never took a moment to take care of herself so those closest to her, her family and friends, have missed out on her golden years and what might have been a grand retirement.

I'm all for devoting oneself to a job well done but I think it's extremely important to have some balance. Work is work and it will almost always be there. It will always be there in my line of work. Unfortunately, in social work there will always be the poor, the needy, the mentally ill and the disabled. Regardless, taking time to breathe and live outside of a job is just as important as the job itself.

So, here's to Ruth. She was a great lady! I just wish her life could have been filled with a little more time to stop and smell the roses.

Rest in Peace Sweet Baby Brigitte

I had to have my little Brigitte put to sleep today. She had a stroke last weekend. She seemed to recover somewhat and came back home in just one day. Then she had another stroke. I got the call from the vet today that she was much worse and there was nothing else to be done. I chose to go and be with her in her last moments and I'm glad I did. I could see and hear just how much she was suffering. She quieted down when she saw I was there but she was unable to lift her head or move in any way. I petted her and spoke to her as the vet gave her the injection. She just quieted down, closed her little eyes and slept. And she was gone.

Though I only had her with me a short time, I loved her immensely and will miss her forever.

Sleep well, my little furry angel.