Catching Up With Myself

I didn't see any journal entries or other information about my mother for this week in 2013 or 2014 until this morning when I delved deeper into items I saved in various folders. I found a couple notes that I want to post here so I don't forget them when it comes time to edit this whole shebang.

On January 4th, 2014, I had a sneezing cold, so I couldln't visit mom in the hospital. I think I caught the cold when we were admitting her, so staying away probably was more for my benefit than hers. I did mention that I had masks, which was an unusual thing to have before 2020.

Also on that date I was more specific as to my mother's definition of pain. I wrote, "It appears "pain" is long-term constant hurting. "Hurting" is temporary until it becomes "pain." So when my mother's doctors asked her if she was in pain, she always responded in the negative. No one bothered to ask her if she was hurting.

I said it before, and I'll say it again. My mother could be difficult. When I learned the difference between the two words for her, it made it easier for the doctors to understand. When they would ask my mother if she was in pain and she would say no, I'd look at the doctor and say, "Now, ask her if she's hurting." My interjection would anger my mother, but it helped her in the long run.

Another thing that didn't help mom was the lack of communication among her specialists. At that time, we didn't have "MyChart" or any other way to deal with multiple specialists viewing what other specialists had discovered. I was my mother's advocate, and I would inform each specialist about my mother's health history between her visits to the oncologist, the cardiologist, and the nephrologist.

Being my mother's advocate was a lesson in many things, but the main thing I learned was to love myself first. If I didn't feel loved, then I couldn't deal with my mother. She disliked having to depend upon me, too, but she did. 

Third Day in the Hospital

Today in 2014, I visited my mother in the hospital. This hospital stay, which was supposed to be a "day or two" according to the cardiologist, was now into its third day. I wrote, "She smiled. 😊 She's in good shape this morning, except for those durn legs..."

I still have that visual in my head, of me standing at the foot of her bed and asking her if she wanted me to massage her ankles and feet with lotion. That was one of the procedures I learned to handle her edema when taking care of her. I can still see her legs and ankles, all swollen and slightly purple from the fluid retention. Again, when I asked, she said she wasn't in any pain. And, no, she didn't want me to massage her legs. 

She changed her mind later, after the doctor arrived and told her that I should be massaging her ankles and feet at the very least. That's how she rolled, my mother. Not doing anything for herself unless someone in authority told her she should do it.

The edema causes were multiple in my mother. Known a century before as dropsy ("she was a long-sufferer of dropsy"), this medical condition causes the patient to exhibit tight skin, a feeling of heaviness in the area affected, joint stiffness, skin discoloration, and difficulty moving. In my mother's case the edema came from her cancer, of course, but it also came from specific failures wrought by that cancer. Those included heart failure, kidney issues (she only had one kidney, and the previous chemo treatments affected the strength of that organ), liver problems, and some medications. The liver problems stemmed from the advancement of the tumors from her bile duct into her liver. This issue also was the root source of her ever-present jaundice.

Our efforts to stem her jaundice were daily rituals that included cleaning the catheter that was inserted into her bile duct to drain the bile, and to replace the bag that collected that bile. I'll write more about those routines as I come upon those journal entries.

While in the hospital, she was hooked up to various fluids. I don't remember all of them now, but I'm certain one of them was Lasix. She was still receiving small doses of that medication to try to ease the fluid retention. We were never fully successful, as "she was a long-sufferer of dropsy" until her demise.

Photo is from Canva.com.

The Weather

On this day in 2014, I taunted my friends on Facebook with this message: "Hey La Grange -- ya'll stay warm, now, hear? 😆" I obviously was in Virginia and not at home. And, it seems the weather was about to get real in Kentucky.

But, that weather went back and forth over the years as I took care of mom and then dad. I was lucky not to get caught up in really bad weather, although sometimes it rained so hard I had to pull over. I'm talking rain that my windshield wipers couldn't handle.

The only time I encoutered bad roads was on this day in 2016 on my way home from visiting with dad. The photo shows a picture I took from inside my car. No other cars or trucks around me at all. I was on I-64 west close to Dawson when the snow came "raining" down. I was able to stop in the middle of the road to take the photo, because I guess everyone else got a warning that I didn't hear. I made it home safely.

Today in 2025, Kentucky is about to get whacked with yet another ice storm. This one should be short-lived, though. Here's to no power loss! Hope everyone else stays safe, too.

Many Miles Between Here and There

I didn't note any progress or regression in my mother's cancer or her treatments today over the span of ten years. Sometimes I just had to walk away to gain some perspective. But I did note an interesting pattern to my posts. On this day for several years in a row between 2014 and 2019, I returned home to Kentucky after spending time with Dad over the holidays in Virginia.

Taking care of my father between those years is another story, so I'll save most of those details for later. The distance I traveled between 2015 (after my spouse died) and 2020 (when my father died) added up over the years, though, and that is a point of interest for now.

I'm fortunate that my little black 2014 Chevy Cruze LT, which I purchased after my husband died, made all those trips without major issues. We'll not count the time a buck charged at my car outside Beckley, West Virginia, in 2015 with my daughter and infant grandson in the car. It was rutting season, after all. We all were fine, and the Chevy braved it.

The one-way mileage between where I live and where my parents lived equals about 750 miles, or about eight hours. That's 1,500 miles per visit, which is why most visits were extended ones. Of course, I became very bored with traveling the interstate time and again, so I took back roads sometimes. I will never do that again when driving alone, because I saw so much beauty in the Appalachian mountains, and I couldn't stop, because--you know--a single woman traveling alone...

Back roads also added to the mileage. So, I often kept to the interstate along with a book on disc. I kept measure of my time on the road by the towns I passed on my way, the roadside oddities, such as iron bridges spanning the interstate and log cabins off in mowed fields, and by pit stops. I tried to make only two restroom stops, one at the halfway mark, and one when I left the interstate to travel the mountain road into Lynchburg. One never knows how long that leg of the trip might take. It would depend upon any slow drivers or 16-wheelers in front of me.

Plus, I would always stop in Clifton Forge to visit with my father's brother. He passed this last year, so I won't need to make that trip unless I wanted to visit the cemetery. I guess that's a mandatory thing, so I'll see that gas station above at least one more time, I guess. The photo is one I took in 2019 in a pit stop outside Clifton Forge. It was the one time I didn't stop to see my uncle. I had bad feelings on that trip, and they came to a head at this stop, which is why I took the photo. I didn't know what was going on with me then, but I have a good idea now. Sometimes we do have premonitions.

At times I long to take that trip again. I would have a reason, as I still have an aunt and cousin in Virginia. I learned this past year that I have many more cousins, thanks to DNA testing, and they all want to meet up the next time I return. I wonder if I can take someone with me.