Just some random thoughts

Today Gary and I took his mom to IU Health Clarian Arnett Hospital (or whatever it is called) to the Outpatient Invasive Surgery area for a procedure to insert a stent between the right kidney and the bladder.

Mom S. has bladder cancer.  She has opted not to have surgery to remove the bladder and the tumors.  She has opted not to have any type of chemotherapy or radiation. She has chosen to monitor the tumors and have procedures to 'scoop out' tissue to assist prevention of spreading of the cancer cells into the rest of the organs.  We know that this process will not prolong her life for many many years.  We know that as the cancer progresses, she will be in pain.  Even though we know these things, watching the progression of the disease and its effects on her body and her emotions is extremely difficult.

Mom S. has accepted me from the first time I met her as her children's 4-H leader, probably 43 years ago.  Jim Henderson and I  were the leaders of the Cass White Post Club. One of the traditional events each summer was the "livestock tour" where all of the kids piled into the back of a big grain truck and were transported from farm to farm to check out the livestock going to the fair in a few weeks.  This always culminated in a cookout at the final stop.  This particular year Jim arranged for him and me to ride along in a car with the older brother of two of the members while the rest of the group rode in the back of the truck.  I have been riding in cars with this guy for the last 41 years now....another story for another time.

That evening at the cookout Agnes invited me to sit in the kitchen, chatted with me, and asked me to come back any time.  I did, a few weeks later, when Gary asked me to attend a Lions dinner with him and his folks.  Next came riding in the combine with him, Sunday dinners, evening visits, and eventually the Thanksgiving dinner to meet the aunts and uncles in the family.  By this time I felt like I was part of the family (which as good since I would be marrying into it the next summer), and Agnes was becoming more of a mother to me than a mother-in-law.

So many memories have been rushing into my mind today as I sat in the room with her, waiting for her to be taken to the operating room for the procedure.  Here I was, sitting with the woman whose first home was the farm where she and Leo raised their family.  Her first born son is the father of my children, my husband.  She has raised him to be loving, kind, compassionate, and a good guy to have around the house!  (except for dusting he will do about anything to help with house cleaning and cooking)  She has been a loving mother to all four of her children, and has been more of a mother than a mother-in-law to me, Kent, Angie, and Clay.  She is proud of all of us equally.  I have heard her tell the nurses several times in these most recent hospital stays about my teaching accomplishments and my retirement.

When I returned to teaching after Megan and Hilary were born, she watched the girls during the school days when Gary was in the field.  Never did she let us buy diapers or wipes.  Never did she let us buy baby food for their lunches.  When she went to work at the office, Hilary went with her.  When Megan went to kindergarten, she made sure that she was picked up in town by her grandfather.  When I needed to work late or return to school for events, the girls always had a place to stay.  Never did I hear her complain about taking care of her granddaughters.  They were just that - her granddaughters and there was no question that she would watch them.  We could never pay her---she wouldn't accept it. Even though she spoiled them, there is a bond between the girls and their grandmother that is so special that it could never be broken.  I cherish that, and I am sure they do as well.  Singing 'come out, come out, come out my pretty kitty.'  Riding around the kitchen table on the Smurfmobile.  Getting on and off the bus when Deb pulled into the drive.  Working at the office and having their own nooks in the back room.  So many memories. 

And now I sit in the hospital room and look at the woman who is struggling, trying to hang onto life.  She hurts.  The cancer is eating away at her body.  She can hide under sweatshirts and pajama pants at home, but a hospital gown cannot mask the skin that is sagging over weak bones.  Her weight is decreasing - only 103 pounds today.  Her appetite is nearly non-existent.  Today she hurt.  She hurt so much that she was crying as I drove her home from Francesville, following Gary in the grain truck that we had just picked up.

A friend asked me if she had any hobbies that could keep her busy now that Leo was gone.  Was there anything to keep her busy, her mind occupied, her hands active?  My response was that her hobby for most of her life has been her family.  She worked with her husband on the farm.  She attended all of the school events for her children and her granddaughters.  She traveled around the district and state for Lions activities with the District Governor and Council Chairman.  She worked in her garden and canned many vegetables and sauces for winter use.  Her family was her focus, her love, her life.

In recent months her life has changed.  Her husband of 66 years is gone.  She is alone.  As much as we try to visit her, call her, and involve her in the family activities, she is still alone.  She is tired.  She hurts.  The pain is sometimes extremely intense.  I wish I could help alleviate it.  I wish I could make it disappear. 

While I can't stop the pain, I can visit with her.  I can sit and let her talk.  I can watch tv with her and smile while she yells at the screen and calls President Obama a 'dumb ass' and Hillary Clinton 'such a liar.'  She has no filters when it comes to the presidential candidates and our current President, that's for sure.  I am smile and agree with her when she talks about how smart and cute and adorable her great-grandchildren are.  I can beam with pride when she tells me how wonderful her granddaughters are and how lucky they are to have married wonderful men who are good fathers to their children.

My mother-in-law. In many ways more like a mother than my own ever was.  I love her more than she knows.  It hurts me to see her in so much pain.  I pray for her every day.