The Old Crone Returns

I wanted to start a new blog after all this time. However blogspot would not let me use the title I wanted to use. It was Time Will Tell which seemed to express The stage of life that I am in right now.

The simplest thing seemed to use one of the old blogs that I kept up several years ago. But since I am not at Castle Yonder  any longer--I have purchased a new house in Abingdon Virginia--that blog didn't seem appropriate any longer either.

A secondary blog that I used to write in is this one and even though I have lost my favorite Old Coot, I am still around and More and more each day I look like an old crone. So here is where you'll find me and I plan to jot some notes that come to mind, some stories from the past, and some comments on present day health and current events.

A Move to Castle Yonder

Because of Rocky's illness and hospitalization, I have decided I can only keep up one blog. So if you have been following this one, please become a follower of http://mimirock-castleyonder.blogspot.com/


The Old Crone

More About Snuggies

     On one of the first days Rocky was in the hospital, Geoff or I asked whether we could bring in the Snuggie to cover Rocky since even in an 85 degree heated room he complained of being cold.


     "Of course," we were told by a female nurse, "you can bring in anything you want from home."


     I duly carried the Snuggie in to Rocky the next day, but didn't put it on him because Geoff, who was already there, said, "They won't let him have the Snuggie!"


     What? But yesterday, they said he could!?! "I don't understand why," Geoff said, "but they said he couldn't have it."


     Shortly after, a male nurse named Al came in. "Hey," I said, "how come we can't let Rocky have his Snuggie?"


      "Oh, no," Al said, "We don't allow Snuggies. They are too tight around the waist, and cause all kind of problems. We don't use any kind of diapers here."


     "Our Snuggie isn't a diaper," I said just as Al happened to notice our Snuggie still in the bag on the floor. "Oh," he gasped! "A Snuggie! I thought you were talking about those Snuggie diapers. Those aren't Snuggies, are they?" he realized, "those are Huggies!"


      Al gave permission for Rocky to be covered up by his Snuggie. And I gave Al permission to tell the story to the other nurses all day long.




The Old Crone

A Snuggie For Rocky

     Little did I know when I wrote about Snuggies last month that I soon would be using the Snuggie we received from Rocky's son, Geoff, for Christmas. I debated whether to send it to the Snuggies For Seniors campaign, and decided to keep it and send them $15.


     On March 17, Rocky went to the ER with a slight fever and exacerbation of his COPD. Two days there and he fell and cracked three ribs. It was all downhill from there.


     The meds they gave him made him delusional and a little hard to handle. Finally he reached discharge stage and because we didn't think I could do what he needed here at home, he was transferred to a skilled nursing facility. The first night there, he had such abdominal pain that they sent him to the ER and he was re-admitted to the hospital again, this time with an infected gall bladder. 


     More pain, more meds, more delusions, lots of talk about dying. We prepared for him to die, and reviewed his desires about internment and memorial service. I read the 23rd Psalm to him and he asked me to read more Psalms. I read Tabori's poetry from The Shores Of Eternity, a collection of positive poems about the wonder of dying.


      The Hospice folks came in and evaluated him and he qualifies. He stopped talking about dying and said he wants to live as long as he can as long as he can be comfortable. Finally, on April 5 his son, Geoff, and I decided an appropriate discharge was to move Rocky to the Select Specialty hospital, which is independent from Bristol Regional Hospital but leases space from them on the 5th floor. 


     On April 6, Rocky was transferred. He is no longer getting morphine. His gall bladder has been drained since he is not a candidate for surgery because of his COPD. He has received
lots of antibiotics and will receive even more since he now has developed two more infections and is in isolation. As of today, Geoff and I have to wear a gown and rubber gloves when we're in his room. Hope that doesn't last too long.


     The goal for him that we've all agreed on is for him to gain strength and the ability to take care of his bathroom needs and walk short distances in the house. Then he will be discharged to our home with Hospice following.


     Please pray for us.              The Old Crone

Snuggies For Seniors

     Did you receive a Snuggie for Christmas that you aren't sure you will ever use? We did! Here's an opportunity for you to donate it, as long as it is still like new, to a woman who is collecting Snuggies to donate to Seniors living in nursing homes.


     Click on the Snuggies For Seniors gadget posting on the left side bar of this Blog. It will take you to the website where you can get all the details. Despite all the jokes that have been made about them, seems like
Snuggies are ideal for folks who are confined to wheelchairs or who must sit for long periods of time and heat is turned down or air conditioning is turned up.


     I'm not sure what we'll do with ours. The Old Curmudgeon (I'm changing his name from The Old Coot) does use a wheelchair and he often complains of feeling cold. (He doesn't have the padding that helps keep me warm.) So we might make a donation of $15 which the website will help us do, too. Check it out!


The Old Crone


     


     

Don't Miss the Boat!

Here's why the dinosaurs became extinct!

Memorials & Funerals

     In my last post, I discussed buying a graveplot in the Indiana cemetery where all my family is buried. 


     In this post I want to emphasize how important it is to make pre-arrangements for your own funeral or memorial. I have been discussing this with a storytelling friend of mine who is a "civil celebrant" in another state. He says, "It's astonishing to me how little attention we pay to the arrangements for our own funerals. It should be a part of estate planning and someone who understands ritual and story--whether a minister or civil celebrant--should say the words and as the ancients did, celebrate the songs that have been sung." 

I believe that the "songs that have been sung" is a metaphor for the life events the deceased participated in. 


My friend said he had recently attended the wake for a jazz organist, and the jazz community who was present took turns playing the organ. Then two more musicians joined, one of them playing the alto sax and the other playing the trombone, and the wake turned into a final blues melody of "I'll be seeing you."


     My friend went on to comment, "Now that's the way I want to be sent off. Make me a pillow of music and sing me to my final sleep."


     I'll certainly will be thinking about this advice and my own progress in finding the right words to express "me" and making my pre-finals.


Mimi

One Old Foot In the Grave

     The time eventually comes when we think about dying. I've been thinking about it since I turned 50, because my mother died at the age of 54 and I thought I might, too, because I have hypertension just like she did.


     Thankfully, I didn't die.

     Then my older sister, Vi, died at age 61 of cancer. So I had anxious years leading up to 61. I didn't die then, either. Thankfully.


     Then my brother died at age 69 of cancer, and my oldest sister, Velm, died at 83 of heart failure. 


     I made it past 69 and really am not obsessed with this anymore since my uncle is now 101.


     But I do know it is going to happen someday; no one gets out of it. Then our financial advisor suggested we think about making advance "arrangements" for a funeral and disposal of the body. So it has been a topic of discussion that Rocky is now willing to participate in due to his own ill health.


     He has decided he wants his body to go to a medical school. We know East TN State University does this because two of our storytelling friends decided to go this route. It is our understanding that once the body is used, then it is cremated and the ashes are returned to the next of kin.


     I don't want to do that. For a long time, I thought I wanted to be cremated, but the longer I sat with that decision the more uncomfortable I am feeling about it. Another alternative was to buried in the cemetery nearby where our group does its storytelling. That felt ghostly to me and once the amusement wore off, I didn't feel comfortable there either.


     Then it struck me. What I really wanted was to go "home." I've already joked that now when I go home, I immediately go to the cemetery because, since I'm the youngest in my biological family, that's where my parents and siblings are.


     So I telephoned the cemetery in Indiana where my family has a large plot Unfortunately, it's all used up. There was one plot open on the edge which I did not want. However, one of my sisters and husband, are buried in another newer area, so I am buying a plot near them. 


     I've sat with this decision now for over a week and it feels very comfortable. I don't like the idea of being "stuffed" in pretty clothes and warehoused underground, but being "at home" feels pretty o.k.


The Old Crone