tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18791924490611452042024-03-17T23:02:50.946-04:00Back Door Logic... because they need care and so do we!<p></p>Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.comBlogger760125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-26054562652930579912021-01-18T09:15:00.003-05:002021-01-18T09:15:46.638-05:00Invitation to Camp Sue <p> Hello! It seems like a lifetime ago that I was living the dream, caring for my mom with Lewy Bodies Dementia.</p><p>I’m updating anyone who has followed my blog here to let you know what’s going on since my mom passed.</p><p>I’ve made amends with my siblings. We don’t hang out but I can be in the same room and hold a conversation.</p><p>The experience, everything that I had written in my blog, led me to where I am right now. As difficult as that time was, the only thing I’d change is how I had reacted.</p><p>My mom often comes in my thoughts and I hear her in my head, “takes two to tango.”</p><p>Please subscribe to my new blog at http://CampSue4u.blogspot.com </p><p>If you want to check out my YouTube channel, I read cards, and do meditation demos. You can find Camp Sue on YouTube here:</p><p><a href="https://youtube.com/channel/UCA0EYZmLB2FmRud13Ky-8-A">https://youtube.com/channel/UCA0EYZmLB2FmRud13Ky-8-A</a></p><p>And if you’re on Instagram, you can see how I spend my days. @you_rocks </p><p>In the meantime, meet Norbert the dog. Almost 3, a rescue from Louisiana... he is a blast.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivLE6LJZS9gScOa372vGJKJBieeLaDNnWFuJgmbjtWgloiMqiKt-u4T7vBM7gUK8Hc4Q4JAgvmOy2L-Pk-IT5vSpbRnTkPejSN6x6567iE0qHiM_9Y3QS92CPmLoCnUEbvdX7UBjhWC7Lk/s2048/77262F6C-F91E-433E-9DF5-703815BE8EFA.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivLE6LJZS9gScOa372vGJKJBieeLaDNnWFuJgmbjtWgloiMqiKt-u4T7vBM7gUK8Hc4Q4JAgvmOy2L-Pk-IT5vSpbRnTkPejSN6x6567iE0qHiM_9Y3QS92CPmLoCnUEbvdX7UBjhWC7Lk/s320/77262F6C-F91E-433E-9DF5-703815BE8EFA.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-10468932121845020122014-02-28T10:51:00.004-05:002014-02-28T10:51:50.936-05:00Ma's Advice
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
"Susie, we must
take care of our health, it's most important you know."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom stated to me about 10 years ago at the
onset of her illness; a time I had no idea what this statement would end up
meaning to me.</div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkvbEGsFFyH1i6eA7-CNCJgo6nde6DY_t767ZADUWVzmCUcCUDQ_wf7m3uhRDqx60_fHFZ_JlDHKkIKFVS7scHFD8R9h4fmkoje3dCzQvQLqaQHDWhEs9WmnzoqDKL1MbrRS5mOJjyPTT/s1600/2011-08-24+12.04.46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkvbEGsFFyH1i6eA7-CNCJgo6nde6DY_t767ZADUWVzmCUcCUDQ_wf7m3uhRDqx60_fHFZ_JlDHKkIKFVS7scHFD8R9h4fmkoje3dCzQvQLqaQHDWhEs9WmnzoqDKL1MbrRS5mOJjyPTT/s1600/2011-08-24+12.04.46.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div>
Ma taking a trip to Whole Foods Market</div>
<div>
2012</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Food was important
in my family, everything revolved around food; all celebrations, all
gatherings, we always had lots of food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Unhealthy foods that were slowly causing us to demise into a life of
misery and pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lots of bread, pasta
and cheese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We drank milk by the
gallons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fried foods like sirloin steak
tips dipped in beaten egg and coated with Progresso Italian flavored bread
crumbs, before being friend in canola oil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I remember my now deceased brother saying to me one night while I
prepared dinner, "Sue, I'd eat shit covered in this coating."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Our taste buds were
skewed and assimilated to the processed food taste.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can remember fresh vegetables tasting
horrible, this was when I was eating processed foods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No wonder people who are addicted to
processed foods, don't eat whole foods, the processed foods change how we
taste.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Loaded with salt, sugar and
preservatives, our minds are tricked into believing we are eating delicious food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Food that will
eventually make us all sick and needing pharmaceutical drugs to counteract the
ill-effects of the fake foods we eat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
this sense, as long as we have fast foods, processed and lifeless foods, we
will also need synthetic drugs to keep us alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
My mom was in a
nursing home for the last year and a half of her life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She needed to be in a place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I visited her nearly every day and witnessed
firsthand what happens to us at the end of a lifetime of poor eating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw old folks, confined to wheelchairs,
unable to speak or do anything for themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Drugged and fed food that would not be served at my dinner table, the
cycle of illness was steadily working like a fine oiled machine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's the system.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The way it is supposed to be, it's what
everyone agrees is normal and OK in our society.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find this whole cycle of illness to be
perverted and against all that is good.</div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
For my mom, I
promised to do things different, especially when she asked me repeatedly to
help her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Please Susie, please
help me get off all these drugs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
make me feel worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't like feeling
like this!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Words that echo in my
heart and mind, words that gave me the strength to do everything that I could
for my mom to help her have more good days than bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Mom, she began
eating just so she could take the recommended dose of insulin each morning and
evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her blood sugar was dropping
very low and she would begin to shake uncontrollably.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'd give her a few crackers or a candy bar
and she'd stop shaking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
The more we changed
our diets, mom began to reduce her insulin on her own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She didn't need as much as soon as we removed
the inflammatory processed fake foods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
changed our diet to whole foods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made
everything fresh and from scratch, even our treats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cookies, our favorite guilty pleasure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oatmeal, Raisin Cookies with fenugreek, a
known blood sugar reducer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom was
feeling better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was inspired to keep
on going, regardless of my critics.</div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Mom loved food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She loved food shopping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She enjoyed cooking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She missed bread, pasta and processed foods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did my best to recreate all of her favorite
foods with healthy ingredients.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I vowed
to help her with food as her first medicine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I worked tirelessly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Researching
foods and her health ailments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Fenugreek was the
first medicinal food that I had come across.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I had learned that it is great for managing diabetes, cholesterol and
water retention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All health issues my
mom had been battling for decades.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
was a full blown insulin dependent diabetic on 62 injectable units every
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes more if her blood sugar
readings wouldn't respond to the initial dose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Insanity. </div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
I talked to my mom
about what I had read about Fenugreek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
explained to her that it seemed it could help her get her diabetes under
control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was all in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went to Whole Foods Market and we bought
our first bottle of Fenugreek extract.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mom was excited to get home and take her glucose reading so that we
could give her one drop of fenugreek in a small glass of water to see what
would happen after 15 minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To our
amazement, one drop of fenugreek lowered her blood sugar 15 points!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was this discovery that helped me to help
get my mother off the insulin needle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
was driven to keep on going, even when doctors started to look at me as though
I was injuring my mother because I wasn't making her take her drugs.</div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
It didn't take us
very long to fix my mom's pancreas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
began to make her own insulin again and toss all her needles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was as though we fixed her with food and
fenugreek.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom was starting to live
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was losing weight and had
lots of energy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every day we went out
somewhere so that she could walk and walk and shop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fun times that will remain dear to me until
my last day.</div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
I did continue to
research foods and began using food as her medicine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used fresh herbs and spices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Foods that were known anti-inflammatory
became our diets staple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chamomile tea
and mint tea included.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom was
physically becoming stronger but her mind was slowly deteriorating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lewy Bodies Dementia will do that to its
victims.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
One constant theme
that I did notice while caring for my mother, if she ate anything white like
bread, pasta, potatoes or anything in a box with preservatives, she would begin
to hallucinate and often become frightened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When I fed her dark greens, garlic, turmeric, coriander or fenugreek,
she relaxed and the scary visions would go away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I noticed a relationship between the fake
foods, blood sugar and blood pressure readings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
I observed my mother
and documented what I was witnessing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
am still amazed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believed in what I
was doing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one and nothing was going
to get in my way of following through with something that I witnessed
firsthand, over and over again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even
when my mom needed 24 x 7 nursing care, when caring became too overwhelming for
me to manage on my own,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still brought
my mom food every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was her
Healthcare Proxy, in essence, I was my mother as far as her health was
concerned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My persistence and creativity
allowed me to overcome all obstacles.</div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Talking to doctors
became an art form.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned how to do
it, thanks to the encouragement of my mom's Naturopath Doctor and her primary
care Doctor who is very progressive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both
of her doctors are my doctors today!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
used my imagination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made sure when I
talked to any of mom's healthcare professionals about her, I did my best to
keep emotion out of the conversation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
used my honed skill of persuasion, an art form that I had mastered during my
professional career as a Sales Engineer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Studying hypnosis sure did help me to help my mom; I always believed it
would just help me to sell more software!</div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
In the end, mom
passed in peace with minimal suffering in the days preceding her last day on
Earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother, she proved to me that
it's never too late to take care of our health.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Health is most important, without it, life is no fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Food choices that I make today are a lot
different than those I would have made in the past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am now 53, time to live my mom's advice and
live the healthiest lifestyle I possibly can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Thank God for Ma's
Advice!</div>
Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com73tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-49422080042730584702014-02-27T17:52:00.001-05:002014-02-27T17:52:32.524-05:00Mother Love
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4xh3fHOHDo4ChyphenhyphenqN6vYb1dr3i7g9p2fFAHqoN1-KbTaqjilloe1XZRJzdBBQDTvs57f9wnE4ywfsbmITppGyo9xUWxVkoFZHXmPUFuAfY1zRfuirAuxUbjc5e5ln9caLpmxJqDbXJ2HmG/s1600/miscellaneous-july2009+104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4xh3fHOHDo4ChyphenhyphenqN6vYb1dr3i7g9p2fFAHqoN1-KbTaqjilloe1XZRJzdBBQDTvs57f9wnE4ywfsbmITppGyo9xUWxVkoFZHXmPUFuAfY1zRfuirAuxUbjc5e5ln9caLpmxJqDbXJ2HmG/s1600/miscellaneous-july2009+104.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rachel with a Damsel Fly in her hair</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Everyone has a
mother, human, animal… all life has a mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Earth is a mother!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>I often wonder
why we can treat our mothers so poorly and blame them for all the wrongs in the
world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We often have high expectations
of our Mom's and when she doesn't bend to our every demand, she suddenly
becomes a villain in our lives; responsible for all of our missed opportunities
for joy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I speak from
experience here, I blamed my mother for becoming ill and suddenly believing
that I was her mother, the evil villain, the person responsible for her
decline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It felt like my life ended on
the day I began to need to wipe my mother's behind for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span> </div>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Rendered helpless by my beliefs and emotions,
I could not see the true blessings the Universe was showering over me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't understand that my mother became my
daughter so that I could experience motherhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through my time as my mom's caregiver, I
experienced a mother's love for a child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The love I have for my mother-daughter, has shown me that LOVE is the
true mother of the universe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's out of
this love that each of us are here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our
mother's loved us enough to give us a chance at life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am grateful to be
on the other side of the chaos that seems to come with being a caregiver to a
parent, especially one with dementia. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My MIL and I didn't
always get along as we do today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just a
few short months ago, we seemed to loath the sight of each other and the sound
of our voices were akin to nails running across a chalk board from days gone
by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our expectations of each other,
ideals that were shielded in the silence of our existence, overshadowed our
relationship.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our troubles heated up when I picked a fight with my MIL.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
attacked her only perceived sense of independence, her ability to come and go
as she pleased.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rachel is an old lady
who defined her independence through driving her car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was thrilled in the fall of 2012 when she
had made a decision to give up driving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She told us that she didn't know when she felt well enough to operate
her car.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I suppose having a
head on collision with another motorist who was stopped at a stop sign made my
MIL think twice about her ability to drive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Rachel didn't see the car as she cut a corner way too sharp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The driver at the stop sign saw Rachel coming
and attempted to back up his car to avoid the collision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was able to reduce the damage to his car,
but his car still needed a tow truck.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The accident shook
Rachel up a bit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wasn't wearing her
seat belt and sustained a head injury.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Rachel refused to go to the hospital and insisted that my husband bring
her home, bloodied head and all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
sight of her coming through the door with blood dripping down her forehead was
horrifying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The following few months
would prove to be challenging for our Mother in law and Daughter in law
relationship.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In order to solve his mom's transportation
issue, my husband took time off from work to help Rachel figure out how she
could get around without a car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
senior center in town, a beautiful place for folks with lots of activities
every day and people to spend time, appeared to interest her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rachel led us to believe she would take
advantage of the senior services.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
didn't.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Those people are too
old." She answered me one day when I asked why she didn't want to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ok… and 90 isn't old?!</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The winter months
passed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My MIL had made peace with the
fact that she shouldn't drive her car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Until, last April (2013) Rachel began to feel better and decided she was
going to go out to drive her car again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was sitting at the table eating a late lunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I heard Rachel's car keys jingling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I'm going out!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She exclaimed like a defiant teenager.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"What?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In your car?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You are driving your car?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's
3:30 in the afternoon!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lost all
feeling in my body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I began to think of
her getting into trouble with her car, causing property damage or worse,
killing someone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I worried about my
husband and me being liable for his mom's actions because she lives with
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feared losing everything because
Rachel<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>felt the need to operate a motor
vehicle, even though she couldn't see very well.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was prepared for
this day, I knew she would drive again because I wasn't able to always jump and
take her out at a moment's notice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
MIL didn't like the idea of having to plan when she could go to the store; her
reasoning was "she didn't know if she would feel well enough."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her logic made no sense to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to do something to protect us from any
potential lawsuit brought on by Rachel's recklessness.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Immediately after
she left, I printed out a complaint form from the States Department of Motor
Vehicles website.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I filled the form out,
writing all the reasons why her privilege to drive should be revoked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I talked about how she refused medical
treatment after her head on car accident and that she refused to see her
primary care doctor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was scared for
the public and didn't know how to get everyone else off the road when Rachel
was in her car driving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only
solution I thought of was asking the DMV to reconsider their decision to allow
my MIL to operate her car legally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
barely passed her vision test when she needed to have her license renewed a few
years ago (I took her to get her license renewed!)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I hopped in my truck
with the sealed and stamped envelope, drove to the post office and handed the
clerk the filled out form to be sent to the states complaint department.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a risk, my MIL could find out who turned
her in by writing them a letter and asking who did it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our relationship already was horrible and I
didn't see any hope for us mending it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
needed to protect our assets and any innocent person who could possibly be
injured in an accident.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My husband was
nervous when I told him what I had done; our relationship became a little
rocky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something had to be done with
Rachel who was behaving like a spoiled child with the upper hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fearful of the war that was about to erupt
in our home between Rachel and me, tensions grew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was sick of Rachel and her bullshit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My emotions were still raw with the loss of
my mother.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">About a week passed
and the letter from the Department of Motor Vehicles arrived for Rachel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I handed her the letter when it came in the
mail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had stopped talking to each other
before the letter had arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had
attempted to explain to her how irresponsible it was for her to drive when she
couldn't see very well and admittedly told us she couldn't determine when she
felt well enough<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>drive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told her that if she thinks she can drive,
she can do everything for herself, get her own food, do her own laundry…
"you are on your own."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
stopped cooking for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stopped
talking to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I began to imagine she
was invisible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ignored her and she
ignored me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life sucked around here.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My husband took
Rachel to the doctor to get a physical and a note stating she was capable of
driving her car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She mailed the form to
the State Department of Motor Vehicles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She was okay to drive according to the doctor and the state continued to
extend her the privilege to drive in this state</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Life became
rougher.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was angry that I had to live
with my MIL who did not give me any respect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Never has she wished me a happy birthday, not even my 50th birthday a
few years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She didn’t go to my
mother's service, boy did this hurt my feelings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My expectations of her were not being
met.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hated her more for not being
something she wasn't able to become, a loving mother in law.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The more loathing I did over my MIL the
worse I felt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything was turning to
crap around me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something needed to
change and I knew from past experiences that I needed to be the change.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I went to a Institute for Brain Potential seminar that told me how to deal with highly volatile
people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned about personalities
and the disorders that many people have, even myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the first time in my life I started to
understand narcissism; humans, all of us, have narcissistic tendencies, some of
us take it to the extreme.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The course
didn't answer all of my questions, it left me asking myself, "how do I get
bigger?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do I fix this?"</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Questions remained
and my relationship with my family was not improving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cried a lot and knew that I needed
help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found a psychologist to talk to
me, someone to help me make sense of the epiphanies I was having about myself
and my relationships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My shrink, she
helped me figure things out and peace returned to my heart and mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My heart grew eyes.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I changed
myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I changed how I viewed my
Mother-in-law and every person that is a part of my family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realized that our expectations of people
when they are not met, is what causes all the troubles in our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly, things became clearer for me, I
couldn't fix everyone's problems, everyone has free will and love, real love,
comes without strings attached.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cut
the strings I had attached to my expectations of others and began to focus on
myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had learned years ago that the
best way to change any situation in life is to change my perceptions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only I could change me, only I can control my
thoughts and actions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I changed.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I filled my heart
with love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I worked every day on
myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I began to live consciously and
became more aware of others feelings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
practiced communicating my thoughts, minus the emotion that seemed to fuel
flames of discontent in the past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I began to cook for
my MIL and feed her nutritious foods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She had been eating junk and prepared packaged foods that she would pick
up for herself at the local supermarket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Her health was declining.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
looked horrible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She continued to drive
her car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still worried about the
innocent lives she could snuff out with her car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Enough!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If I can't beat her at her game, I will join her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I could help her feel better, to have
better days, she would possibly be a more alert driver.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm not sure what
changed my MIL's view of me, maybe it was the day I brought her to get her
driver's license renewed a couple months back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don't even know when the change in her occurred<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wish I paid more attention, but I changed
too and our world was renewed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I released my fears
and expectations and something amazing happened to me, all my unhappiness was
replaced with a sense of freedom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
chose to be happy and have a full heart, even for my MIL, my husband's mother. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today, I see her as
the woman who did her best to give my husband a chance at life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was unwed and pregnant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She could have aborted him, but she didn't.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her love for him, even though it may have
gone unnoticed, remained strong and caused her to look at me with
suspicion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She loves him, he is her
greatest accomplishment in this lifetime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My husband is her only child, her only son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was the "other woman" in his life
and she subtlety let me know I would never replace her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I didn't want to
replace my MIL.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to include her
in our new family, make her part of our lives, give her more good days until
her last day…. Just like I did for my mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mothers have lots of love for their children, even if we can't see it,
mother's love stay with us long after they have left this Earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Personally, I am
grateful to have experienced my mother's love, she may be physically gone but
her essence lives on inside my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mom, she's part of me and I am part of her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My wish for everyone is that no matter how
much you blame your mother for all your troubles in life, your mother loves you
and you are forever connected by love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Free your expectations and experience your mother's love.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-72890183010327505222014-02-25T15:52:00.002-05:002014-02-25T15:52:47.978-05:00The Tunnel of Love<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiclAgg8JnSpIFUo6yttvFy5SfzfyXRPww32eLYc7HIn9wPJP9G52V4h1HjQuLee1KqEI1OPVnh4HLLE8dxa2-fWCWa9gJ12rI-zMI8ZNYZnX1LtHOS6vyRCpNfVSrOuaahJuPgJhRallvE/s1600/DSC08881.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiclAgg8JnSpIFUo6yttvFy5SfzfyXRPww32eLYc7HIn9wPJP9G52V4h1HjQuLee1KqEI1OPVnh4HLLE8dxa2-fWCWa9gJ12rI-zMI8ZNYZnX1LtHOS6vyRCpNfVSrOuaahJuPgJhRallvE/s1600/DSC08881.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div>
Mom and Rachel</div>
<div>
January 2009</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"I have a hair appointment tomorrow morning at 11, can you take me?" My mother-in-law quietly asked me yesterday afternoon.<br />
<br />
"Of course, I replied." Continuing on with my food preparation, I didn't give the request another thought.<br />
<br />
Today, 10:50 AM on the nose, not a second earlier and not a second later Rachel and I needed to leave the house to make her hair appointment. Old folks are funny, set in their ways and hell bent on keeping their independence by controlling every little detail of their lives. God help anyone who does not fall in line with their commands!<br />
<br />
My MIL, now 90, is no different than any other senior that I've befriended in my life. Old people, when they reach a certain age, start to remind me of children. The way they shrink and look so small, their frailty and need for help, triggers something in my soul, even Rachel, my MIL, the woman I had not enjoyed living with for the majority of the last 6 years! <br />
<br />
Pulling up to the hair salon, Rachel looks around at all the cars and says, "Shit! There's a wait!" <br />
<br />
"Why don't you just go in, see how long, I will wait for you in case you don't want to wait." I offered politely.<br />
<br />
"Ok." My MIL replied as she climbed out of the truck.<br />
<br />
I see her through the window. I see her hairdresser come over and put her arm around Rachel. Uh Oh. The hairdresser looks up at me and waves. My MIL comes out the door with the hairdresser, puzzled expression on both of their faces.<br />
<br />
"Next week. Your hair still looks good... but come next week, boy will you need a set!" Her hairdresser cheerfully exclaimed as she walked my MIL back to the truck.<br />
<br />
Ah, I was right, she was a week early. She forgot she had gone last week. I didn't want to make a big deal out of her memory slip-up.<br />
<br />
"Do you want to come out and run my errands with me?" I offer.<br />
<br />
"Sure! That will be nice. It's a nice day." My MIL answered, sitting back with a grin on her face. It was a freezing cold day, but sunny. If she considers it nice, I am not going to argue with her.<br />
<br />
I drove off to our first stop but not before Rachel decides to talk about dying and what she expects when the Grim Reaper comes knocking on her door. <br />
<br />
"You know, when I die, your mom is going to be there waiting for me." My MIL blurted out, breaking the silence. <br />
<br />
Like a shot, the moment Rachel said this sentence, I felt my mom's presence and nearly broke out in tears. I had goose bumps on my skin. Suddenly, I missed my mom and felt her love. Mom's presence was so strongly that I had to look in the back seat of my truck to see if I could see her apparition!<br />
<br />
"I believe you are right. I believe when we die there's a big party, a celebration of our life with all the people who had passed before us. I believe you, my mom will be the first one you see." I said to my MIL, holding back the emotion that was welling up in my heart.<br />
<br />
"Your mom, she was the sweetest person I had ever met. I know she will be there for me. I know it!" My MIL insisted.<br />
<br />
Rachel continued. "I believe when we die, we enter a tunnel of love. I remember reading the Bible when I was a kid and the only thing I got out of it is that God is Love. Love is all there is. I look forward to being engulfed in God's love and being part of all the love." Rachel shared, talking to me like I was her best friend.<br />
<br />
Today's conversation with my MIL was interesting, I can't help but compare her innocence with that of a child. Children will ASK YOU "where do we go when we die?" Seniors, like Rachel will TELL YOU where we go when we die. I suppose living a long life does one thing, prepares us for death.Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-83833202738090777852014-02-23T10:28:00.000-05:002014-02-23T10:35:20.423-05:00What Do You Do?<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl92zdrUA_9YeuodcME0XWLJw6hZtQIGGAJlr2VtVur3L-eep_8DDZywsxJ1pZmouSXZwFxLqPFO1PVyrlGe5tgvQBWNgm4qGoHn4xr-HndU8PzJTeyHK0SHmwkL73hnn2xmanDNR-hUvU/s1600/Brian-SueFortuneMag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl92zdrUA_9YeuodcME0XWLJw6hZtQIGGAJlr2VtVur3L-eep_8DDZywsxJ1pZmouSXZwFxLqPFO1PVyrlGe5tgvQBWNgm4qGoHn4xr-HndU8PzJTeyHK0SHmwkL73hnn2xmanDNR-hUvU/s1600/Brian-SueFortuneMag.jpg" height="320" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
The anniversary of
my mom's passing, Valentine's Day, I received a call out of the blue from a
Headhunter asking me if I would be interested in pursuing a job opportunity in
my former professional career as a Sales Engineer for software companies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was over joyed to receive the call.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I even asked, "How did you find
me?"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stopped looking for work and
didn't post my resume anywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He told
me that he has a database and my name was in it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not wanting to kick a gift horse in the
mouth, I listened to him describe the job he had to fill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was exciting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In an instant, I was ready to get back to my
former life.</div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
I was caught off
guard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My resume is out of date.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took a work hiatus in order to care for my
demented mother full-time; that was 6 years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My plan to reintroduce myself to the working
world is to write the story of how I cared for my mom so that when I do reach
out to my professional network, Ill have something to show for my time out of
the rat race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel that I need to
account for my time, what better way than to write a book?</div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Thrilled about the
possibility to work again in a field that I enjoyed, I threw caution to the
wind and turned my focus to my resume.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The idea of a job where I would work a set amount of hours every week,
not have to literally clean up human feces and get a paycheck at the end of
each pay period, caused my knees to knock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Could it be?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will I find a job as
a Sales Engineer again?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is the job
market opening up to people like me, the long-term unemployed, the ones who are
labeled lazy and waiting for handouts by some in the Republican Party?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
For a couple of days
over Valentine's Day weekend, I began to see myself working again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was hopeful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It felt good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I saw myself solving business problems with software solutions and
communicating with people in business meetings, people who are not hallucinating about
wild animals and small children. Imagining a time when I received lots of calls
from headhunters vying for my attention to pursue new opportunities, I felt
like my life had value once more.</div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Based on my
experiences, too much weight is put on people's careers and work, "what do
you do" is usually the first question a new acquaintance will ask upon
meeting for the first time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Saying the
words, "I'm unemployed" typically brings a change in the mood, facial
expressions change and everything that is said by the non-job holder after
admitting unemployment falls on deaf ears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Unemployment seems to cause people to be classified into a group of
outcasts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The media doesn't help the
plight of the unemployed, the news seems to feed on the meme's of those who
would be happy if we all vanished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
It's
disheartening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People like me work our
entire lives, making money for the overlords and paying taxes; doing what we
can to make more money for ourselves, we feed the hungry giants with our hides.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of us are disposable when we reach a
certain age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reaching the age of
inequality and unfairness, I wonder if everything is an illusion, a pipe dream
that we are all lead to believe will help us achieve our goals when in reality,
we are pawns to a more sinister plot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The playing field is not level; it never has been and unless common
people come together, we will forever be doomed to a life of corporate
slavery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Lots of people are
living one paycheck away from poverty, slaving away day in and day out just to
survive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why can't the ideals of the
60's and 70's be made true and real?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
grew up in these decades, I was a young impressionable little girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believed everything, especially believed
that I could achieve anything I set my self out to do because I believed that I
could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father, he believed in America
back then, he believed that democracy would help us all get ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did too.</div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Now, it's been
almost 6 years since I was laid off from my job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Experience has taught me that society judges
us by what we do for work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If one finds
themselves unemployed, immediately we are judged because we don't have an
answer to the dreaded question, "so, what do you do?"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Collecting<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>unemployment benefits and looking for work are never good answers in
today's America.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Citizens turn against
each other and feel angry, selfishly thinking only of themselves as they sing,
"what about me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why should you get
a hand out?"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Well, what about
you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You could lose your employment
tomorrow, your financial stream could be cut and you too could need
unemployment insurance benefits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You do
realize that we pay for this insurance when we are working?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's not a handout, it's Unemployment
Insurance Benefits!</div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Long-term
Unemployment is like living with the plague.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Few employers want to talk to us, a group of people who are highly
educated with decades of experience that could improve the economy and state of
our country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I told the headhunter
that I was out of work for 6 years because I was my mother's full time care
giver, he first asked me how old she was (illegal) and then yelled at me when I
told him that I hadn't worked in a long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He told me that my skills are outdated and that technology changes every
8 months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I attempted to interject,
"But I have very good sales skills, it's not learned, sales is an innate
skill."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was ignored.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sweet sounding Headhunter was pleasant
when he thought I was gainfully employed, as soon as he heard I was unemployed,
he immediately discredited my entire work history.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was insulted.</div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
He would not take my
resume, instead he told me that there are people with beautiful resumes who are
over looked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked, 'Well, you haven't
seen my resume, how can you judge me and my successes?"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
His reply, "You
have been out of work too long, no companies will look at you because you
cannot prove that you can hold a job."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
I was floored.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had worked my entire life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a good career that afforded me my
perceived "American Dream" where I owned my own home and could care
for my mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly, I was
classified as a loser, lazy and unable to contribute to a company's bottom
line!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
A bit miffed with
the Headhunter, I asked. "Do you read the news?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did you know that President Obama met with
executives of large corporations a few days ago and many of them signed a
pledge not to discriminate against the long term unemployed?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Businesses promised to give everyone a fair
shot with open job opportunities and stop tossing the resumes of unemployed
folks."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
I got no reply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
The call left my
mind spinning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I began to feel badly for
all the people who weren't as fortunate as I am to have a husband who can
support me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What about others like me
with no husband, who made the tough decision to be a caregiver for an aging
parent?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why are caregivers clumped into
a group of people who are considered lazy just because we don't bring home a
paycheck?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obviously, our critics must
not have had the pleasure of caring for an adult baby; a parent who requires
assistance with all daily living needs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Why is caring for an
aging parent considered noble, yet we are considered outcasts when our caring
job has ended?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
Not willing to allow
a stranger to define who I am, I have chosen to remain focused, write and
publish how I did it, how I helped my mother to have a peaceful end of life
even with a diagnosis of Lewy Bodies Dementia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our story is worth telling, so… when someone asks me what I do, my
reply?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I write."</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-49198760339763386942014-02-17T08:24:00.000-05:002014-02-17T08:27:25.914-05:00Nothing Lasts Forever<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgvrQG3F8JUIl2CpwRAmMBpZYRi1SByzUZ1gaG1n5qaRr9gWL_xyoEkJEOb7oSvcWT4ZiEIqeyR71J9TsF7mCmy4dE7QrFlHRTsikd5beAiW0VjQO0S14xGWe8e2atzorq1SaJ40UXXUmp/s1600/2013-05-30+11.01.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgvrQG3F8JUIl2CpwRAmMBpZYRi1SByzUZ1gaG1n5qaRr9gWL_xyoEkJEOb7oSvcWT4ZiEIqeyR71J9TsF7mCmy4dE7QrFlHRTsikd5beAiW0VjQO0S14xGWe8e2atzorq1SaJ40UXXUmp/s1600/2013-05-30+11.01.22.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"A Walk On The Beach"<br />
By Sue Higgins<br />
Acrylic on canvas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Family dynamics played a huge role in the anxiety I experienced as my mom's Caregiver. I found myself angry with my siblings for their lack of help with caring for our mom. Little help came, their reaction to my cries, "Just put her in a home and get on with your life... no mother would want their child to care for them like you care for Ma ... you don't know, you will never know because you never had children; you are not a mother!" <br />
<br />
Words that cut me down to my core in a way that only siblings could do. I was being discredited. Their dissatisfaction with how I was helping mom, was like rocket fuel for my will; I didn't quit. Ma was feeling better. She was having lots of good days too! I chose to get bigger than the problem and found the strength to keep up the good fight.<br />
<br />
I was onto something big with the results I was seeing with Ma and no one seemed to care or want to hear me. Just like when I was 5, I was being ignored. My siblings often looked down on me throughout my life; I was considered weak because I cried easily. My entire life up until now was spent trying to prove myself to my older siblings. For reasons I still can't explain, I had felt I needed the approval of my sisters and brother. It was quite a Eureka moment for me when I realized we are now all adults and just because someone is older doesn't make them wiser than me.<br />
<br />
Caring for my demented mother was difficult but I refused to give up on Mom, I couldn't, she was depending on me. Kneeling next to my father's casket in 1979, I made a promise to Ma, vowing to care for her when she was an old lady. Mom was 50 and I was a wild 19 year old. <br />
<br />
After dad died, I lived my life and when the time came that I could afford to buy a house, I did and moved Ma in with me. In the beginning it was great, my brother Ed was still alive and my family seemed tight. Holiday's still meant something to my family, until Ed died suddenly in 2001. Ed's death rocked my families world. Little did I know how important he was to my family and how much he would be missed by me and my mom.<br />
<br />
The stress I experienced caring for Ma was compounded by my expectations of my siblings. I expected support. I expected them to help me, after all, Mom was their mother too. I believed my dad's words, I took them literally, "your family will always be your true friends, stick together." I often wondered why my sisters and brother abandoned me when I needed them the most. Thank God for the Hospice counselor I spoke to, he later helped answer this question.<br />
<br />
Caring for my mom would have been easier if I knew then what I know now. The one thing I would have done differently? Visited a psychologist to listen to me and offer advice on how to cope with the perceived loss of my family and impending death of my mother.<br />
<br />
I didn't get help. I didn't even know where to begin to get the help I needed. I didn't use support groups, how on Earth was I going to go to one when I was caregiving 24 x 7, 365 day a year without a break? I was stuck on a hamster wheel, running 100 mph, exhausted and never getting anywhere. <br />
<br />
Siblings, not willing to step into mom's demented world, left me alone. I felt as though they were trying to "break me" so that I would "just give it up" and put Mom in a home. The work I was doing with Ma became too important. It had become my new life work, food as medicine. Ma, she became a partner, excited to try new foods that I would prepare for better health. She wanted me to write about the alternative methods we were using instead of drugs. She saw how food and fenugreek cured her diabetes; she was excited. Ma wanted to help others so they didn't have to suffer like she had before we discovered the healing power of whole foods. On her good days, mom loved to cook with me. <br />
<br />
I never did allow my spirit to be broken, my research with my mother was too important. Not just for my own health but my family too; we share the same genetics. My husband helped me cope. He was my voice of reason, telling me to "get bigger than the problem." With Brian's words of support and encouragement, I was able to tuck my emotions away and focus on the goal, giving my mom more good days than not so good days. I made this my job and I did it very well. Mom died peacefully and she had Lewy Bodies Dementia!<br />
<br />
The perceived loss of my family was difficult, harder than losing my mother. I had years to prepare for my mother's demise, I had no warning about my family belief system imploding. It crashed and it crashed hard. When I realized my dad's words were his ideal, his wish for his family; to have us all stick together and help each other through the tough times, I was able to forgive everyone for abandoning me. It was a revelation for me when I realized what I was asking my siblings to do was beyond their abilities, their family role came with limitations. <br />
<br />
Unfortunately, I took Dad's ideal family to be a fact and real. I embarked on the journey with my mom with the belief that I had a caring family who would stand by my mom and me, hey, it was what Dad wanted! <br />
<br />
I found myself devastated. Lack of family support made it hard to cope with the day to day duties as Ma's caregiver. But, I got through it; like my dad used to tell me when I was a little girl and upset about something, "Susie, wait a minute. things will change, nothing lasts forever." These words of wisdom from my dad helped me to stay the course.<br />
<br />
Hospice helped me put reality back into my expectations of my siblings. The bereavement councilor told me that in families, everyone has a role that makes a family what it is. During the time when a parent is sick and or dying, adult children will begin to revert back to how they behaved with one another when they were children. Family members who pass prematurely, leave a gap which shakes the foundation of ones family. Everyone in a family is important because together we make our immediate families whole.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2mCWAphlXfwfEyl_3twvOnMsdhM63-xj4Kqu8-fGE_m_mHWE8FSj7uWgUx9H57ce6erk7BmB7IEJG79j6tUgEizTzX6ZtIyu6bDeHs3mLXRCZq7rphIWL3Y661phqPT-NpQQnN0UqL4k6/s1600/2013-07-13+01.55.50.mp4" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2mCWAphlXfwfEyl_3twvOnMsdhM63-xj4Kqu8-fGE_m_mHWE8FSj7uWgUx9H57ce6erk7BmB7IEJG79j6tUgEizTzX6ZtIyu6bDeHs3mLXRCZq7rphIWL3Y661phqPT-NpQQnN0UqL4k6/s1600/2013-07-13+01.55.50.mp4" height="240" width="320" /></a>Now, there's nothing I can do to bring back the folks in my family that have died in order to resurrect the family I was born into, but what I can do is take on a new role in the new family that is emerging in the wake of the death of the old family.<br />
<br />
Today, I am Auntie Sue to the babies that have been born into my family. I play with the kids and teach them all the things I taught their parents when they were their ages. My heart is full again with love for my family. I accept all of them for who they are, limitations and all. I know that I can't fix their problems and they can't fix mine. All I can do is love my siblings and be grateful to have made it through caregiving for my mom alive. I can't imagine life without my family, especially my husband and the kids.Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-69130091007921698282014-02-14T14:09:00.003-05:002014-02-14T14:16:02.288-05:00A Valentine To Remember<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtHexkJ6K6rx-TBtQVRE9g8TJk1ocmnPQeMiGyKjqN-UZBLMaQyTZvaprc-3tWZecO4o-slw8NMB9XpwdZpEO50UNJuaGp2gWUT05jcMKWkgroWFmXDyg5IZhLIPMzN64G9PzfKG4PXVFw/s1600/IMG_0559.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtHexkJ6K6rx-TBtQVRE9g8TJk1ocmnPQeMiGyKjqN-UZBLMaQyTZvaprc-3tWZecO4o-slw8NMB9XpwdZpEO50UNJuaGp2gWUT05jcMKWkgroWFmXDyg5IZhLIPMzN64G9PzfKG4PXVFw/s1600/IMG_0559.JPG" height="320" title="Oil Portrait of Mom by Susan Higgins " width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em>Oil Portrait of Mom</em><br />
<em>by Sue Higgins</em><br />
<em>November 2013</em><br />
<em>I used her favorite picture as a guide</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It's hard to believe that a year has gone by since my mother passed. Valentine's Day 2013, a day I will always remember, the day I got the call I had been waiting so long to receive. The call that would end my job as Mom's Caregiver.<br />
<br />
"Sue, your mom is not with us any longer." Martine her nurse had said to me at 12:30 AM. Words that still echo in my mind today, the year anniversary of mom's passing from Lewy Bodies Dementia.<br />
<br />
My job was over. No longer did I have to think about my mom. Was she sleeping ok? Did she have enough bananas or gluten free bread? "What will I make Ma for a sandwich today?" A question I would never have to ask again. My work was done.<br />
<br />
Now what do I do?<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXmzNIPWVQPLGrgY68spR3sshCof1ASRNAUcVF78qfo0OyJswSCpQypHzCvPZ4qi-Tj1G1sUCA3atp_iUwqHvJP_6eIA_WoO6E56RI67WPSjsehtjY_Vg4rU49lgLCvnOuM3KcrkjT4Kx/s1600/2013-07-13+03.54.51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXmzNIPWVQPLGrgY68spR3sshCof1ASRNAUcVF78qfo0OyJswSCpQypHzCvPZ4qi-Tj1G1sUCA3atp_iUwqHvJP_6eIA_WoO6E56RI67WPSjsehtjY_Vg4rU49lgLCvnOuM3KcrkjT4Kx/s1600/2013-07-13+03.54.51.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amelia hugging Sam at the beach</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This past year I haven't posted much on my blog, I spent time doing things that I could only dream of when caring for my mom. I sewed curtains, made quilts, started knitting my first sweater. Best of all, I got to know the babies in my family. I went to the beach for the first time in over a decade. I swam in the icy Atlantic Ocean up in Maine on a hot summer day with the kids. I felt alive and renewed.<br />
<br />
I made attempts to write my story of how I cared for my mom, but had lots of false starts. I thought I would publish my blog into a book form. Editing my blog was like picking a scab and bleeding profusely all over again. My blog resurrected the painful experiences of caring for my mom. I forced myself to read my words, I needed to rise above the pain and grow. I did it. I read it. I grew.<br />
<br />
I saw a Psychologist to help me make sense out of all the questions that still lingered in my mind once my mom died and I found myself lost without work. It only took a few sessions. I was done when I didn't have anything else to say to the shrink. I had my answers... I found my peace.<br />
<br />
I began to write again. I have been writing everyday, the story of how I did it, how I cared for my mom with Lewy Bodies Dementia. My book is fresh writing, not just my blog repurposed. I need to tell people how I did it ALL. Talking with doctors and nurses, using food as medicine and Naturopathic Medicine before allotropic medicines. How I helped give my mom more good days, right up to her last day. <br />
<br />
So, life does go on after the people we love pass, but one thing that I have learned this last year is my mom never really died. She still lives in my heart and mind. <br />
<br />
This morning, I woke up feeling my mom's presence. I thought she was still living and I needed to jump up and make her coffee. The dream I had of her was so real it woke me up. I was disappointed when I realized it was a dream and mom wasn't waiting to have coffee with me.<br />
<br />
Mom came to me in my dream, dressed in her favorite blue dress, the dress she wore in the portrait that I had painted of her just a few months ago. She was not old, she was not young, but she looked alive. She was radiant and her smile filled my heart with so much love. I was speechless, not able to ask her where she's been or if she's happy. My water filled eyes began to blur my vision of her.<br />
<br />
My mom spoke to me. "Susie, I am so happy now. I am with Daddy and Eddie. My brother Auggie and Al, my sister Flo and my parents. I want to thank you for helping me as much as you did. I love you so much. Thank you for your kind heart. I will always be here watching over you and all my family. I love you. Everything will be OK."<br />
<br />
Mom hugged me. It was reminisce of our last hug, the last time I saw her alive before I tucked her into bed for a short nap on February 8, 2013. What a gift mom gave me that day, she looked at me with eyes that were so pleased, finally I felt her approval. I didn't want her to go, but it was time. I asked her to come to me once she was gone and let me know she was OK... <br />
<br />
Last night, she came to me. <br />
<br />
Happy Valentines Day Ma! You were a gift of love to this world. I miss you every day. Stay with God.Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-34588735681508046182013-10-02T15:23:00.002-04:002013-10-02T15:35:14.484-04:00I Need Your Help<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 12.0pt;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn-SD9Dmz4ZZq2JOKPKQBlIAqeGjZ9UPjope7-f3EeLlnohsJi6axQ-zERLJTsdhG4fouOH2e1hTr4wXsou12j074nFpqmHxRxBWGWcBq0cth9ffkJbilxkBoX4j-kmYaD3e6Gj6ir9E6r/s1600/IMG_0517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn-SD9Dmz4ZZq2JOKPKQBlIAqeGjZ9UPjope7-f3EeLlnohsJi6axQ-zERLJTsdhG4fouOH2e1hTr4wXsou12j074nFpqmHxRxBWGWcBq0cth9ffkJbilxkBoX4j-kmYaD3e6Gj6ir9E6r/s320/IMG_0517.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Irene with Sam and Amelia<br />
August 2013</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">On September 4, 2013,
everything changed in an instant when George woke up and found his wife
paralyzed and laying on the floor. Irene, once an active grandmother and
a small business owner with her husband George, is now laying in a Stroke Rehabilitation
Hospital, unable to speak or move her right side. Her diagnosis is at
least 12 months of disability. It is a nightmare we all fear, especially
if we are uninsured.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">We never know when
tragedy will strike our families. Often we go about our business, never
thinking twice about the people we care about and love. Then, in a second
lives change. No warning. Nothing. Just a sudden shock, a
jolt like no other one experiences in life. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Unfortunately, tragedy
has struck this family. My family. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Irene, grandmother
"Mimi" to my great nephew Sam and great niece Amelia, has been a
victim to a major stroke. Life has changed drastically for everyone
she loves, especially Irene’s grandchildren. Too young to really
understand what is going on, 5 year old Sam is asking how long before Mimi is
better. We all wish we had a better answer for Sam than “I’m
not sure.”</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Carrying no health
insurance because the premiums were too high, she opted to defer healthcare
coverage. Without health insurance, and making a few hundred dollars too
much for subsidized care programs in Maine, George and Irene run the risk of
losing everything they have worked so hard to build. EVERYTHING!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">And they built a lot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Escaping communist
Hungary in 1980 with their only child, 3 year old Melinda, George and Irene
made it to America. The Promised Land. The land of
opportunity. The couple became American citizens, and with much hard work
became icons in their community Bowdoinham, running a successful auto repair
business for over 17 years, G&G Auto Repair. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Like most small business
owners, the tough economy has affected their bottom line. Barely making
ends meet, Irene has taken ill at the worst possible time. Medical bills
have begun to attack a bank account already struggling to stay out of the
red. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Irene and George need
our financial help. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Please help.
Every penny counts, it all adds up, and will help move us one step closer to
having Irene back home where she belongs.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">Irene and George built
their American Dream after escaping an oppressive government.
Please help them avoid living the American nightmare of financial ruin due to
healthcare costs. Any amount of money that you can donate will be greatly
appreciated, and will be used to help Irene get back to playing with little Sam
and Amelia again. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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We have set up a donor page on the GiveForward.com website. Please visit the Irene Stroke Recovery Fund page and give what you can. Every penny is greatly appreciated.</div>
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Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-86316433247798356122013-04-03T21:33:00.000-04:002013-04-03T21:33:29.251-04:00Young For Life<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1609615425/ref=as_li_tf_il?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=1609615425&linkCode=as2&tag=jarmulowicz-20" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ws.assoc-amazon.com/widgets/q?_encoding=UTF8&ASIN=1609615425&Format=_SL110_&ID=AsinImage&MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&WS=1&tag=jarmulowicz-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=jarmulowicz-20&l=as2&o=1&a=1609615425" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
"Sue, if you don't change your lifestyle, you will end up just like your mother!" My friend Marilyn Diamond warned about 13 years ago when she met my mom. <br />
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Like my mother, I was obese. I didn't even know how much I weighed because I stayed away from the scale. Marilyn's words rang all sorts of bells and whistles in my mind, but I didn't change my lifestyle. I thought about it.<br />
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Not sure why, I suppose I had false starts and stops. I always had some excuse that I made to myself as to why I couldn't stick with it. I needed something to motivate me; more than my dear friends encouraging words. I had a problem getting a handle on my health. I knew the steps to take to gain control, but I didn't do it.<br />
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I traveled for my work. Rarely was I home to eat a nutritious meal that I prepared; grabbing something quick on the run was my way of life. I cooked and ate the wrong foods when I was home. Foods that my mother loved. I ate too much. I drank too much wine. I loved Crown Royal. I never exercised. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje4hsZl44W3U4cP5RvwSnQtNDYOolj3X81ME1R2NqwJ_ULBMWDTREaMJRj-IEi7cw75WqfTkugLkqb_UFpen3XvKivPgmcdHs6qvdHt6bh0s1VjP8Jlx44ltDm8YhYRK6jLP_5tKf8Auuq/s1600/Picture+110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje4hsZl44W3U4cP5RvwSnQtNDYOolj3X81ME1R2NqwJ_ULBMWDTREaMJRj-IEi7cw75WqfTkugLkqb_UFpen3XvKivPgmcdHs6qvdHt6bh0s1VjP8Jlx44ltDm8YhYRK6jLP_5tKf8Auuq/s200/Picture+110.jpg" width="126" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicAyJ4GUeyXPXyKKl4ssTZOfwbUzVupdTHzZqBomIUzJXeep8KyuZoX2UpphdBamFgw9RLq8Qr-5JW1BIXcxSGG1M_8G65lZTTMSS8IYf8Apf2nq2DtSUWxNdCLe-tnski0OOPVFsdw-xr/s1600/Picture+096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicAyJ4GUeyXPXyKKl4ssTZOfwbUzVupdTHzZqBomIUzJXeep8KyuZoX2UpphdBamFgw9RLq8Qr-5JW1BIXcxSGG1M_8G65lZTTMSS8IYf8Apf2nq2DtSUWxNdCLe-tnski0OOPVFsdw-xr/s200/Picture+096.jpg" width="133" /></a><br />
I became huge... I was turning into my mother!<br />
<br />
My health wasn't the greatest. I had some health issues. Blood pressure that was uncontrolled, blood clots in my leg, fibroid cysts and endometriosis. <br />
<br />
I felt horrible and I was only 40.<br />
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The catalyst for changing my lifestyle was when I saw my mother suddenly lose her mind 5 years ago. Dementia set in fast and my entire world was turned upside down. I was given a glimpse into one of my potential futures; it was up to me to change. <br />
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I remembered everything that I had learned from Marilyn and began practicing her helpful tips and advice for good health. It seemed miraculous at times, when my mother's health improved with a diet change. She was still demented but we were managing her symptoms with food, hypnosis, acupuncture, Reiki and homeopathic medicines. I documented all of this in my blog here. <br />
<br />
I believe that I had cured Mom's diabetes with food and fenugreek. Helping my mom with food, she lost 125 pounds and for the first time in 50 years she was at her ideal body weight. Mom was happy. I was happy. I lost weight too. We had quality time together before she passed. I feel so fortunate to have had the extra time.<br />
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It was a roller coaster ride, care giving and maintaining my health. The more my mom declined the harder it became to keep a healthy lifestyle. I gained a lot of weight when my mom went into the nursing home. I slipped back in to my old eating habits. I had lots of what I call, WOOOHOOOO time with food and drink. So much so that I ended up having a gall bladder attack and landed in the hospital. I wonder if it was all that bacon I ate? <br />
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Fortunately, I knew what to do to heal myself, thanks to my friends Marilyn and Donald. Their book Young For Life reminded me of the simple steps I can take to make big changes in my life. I discovered healing properties of food and ate whole food, just as Marilyn would instruct me years ago. <br />
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It's been over a year since my hospital stay. While I laid in my hospital bed, I thought about my mom in the nursing home and all of her health treatments. I thought of my friend Marilyn's words. I asked myself why I didn't take her advice. I vowed to myself that if I got out of the hospital alive, I would make PERMANENT lifestyle changes. <br />
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I got out alive. <br />
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I made serious lifestyle changes. <br />
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I feel great. The added bonus with all of this is my mom had way more good days before she went to sleep and never woke up. I documented our entire journey on how we helped my mom to have the perfect end to a long life.<br />
<br />
I could not cure my mom, but with what I had learned from Marilyn and Donald, I was able to help my mom have more good days than not so good ones. I got to enjoy my mom even while she was demented because I applied my knowledge to help myself and my family.<br />
<br />
Today, I feel better than I did when I was 30. I am lighter than I was back then and can move more easily. I am fortunate to have met Marilyn and Donald. Their book, "Young for Life" is out today, it is a must read for anyone who wants to get serious about getting control of their life.<br />
<br />
You can purchase your copy here!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1609615425/ref=as_li_tf_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=1609615425&linkCode=as2&tag=jarmulowicz-20">Young For Life: The Easy No-Diet, No-Sweat Plan to Look and Feel 10 Years Younger</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=jarmulowicz-20&l=as2&o=1&a=1609615425" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />
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<br />Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-20079105389913627922013-03-30T08:41:00.002-04:002013-03-30T08:41:21.904-04:00Time Makes Everything Better<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKn9JBLys3w5sV4prrTx1Jry2igf25IMqq26X2aXxpUlacrLfseG3LpOVj5T7e4Xad0zKQBMJ3CvOw-NVKYjytaDzOiqqfDP8lkl1FZ7qHnFovoWx1BEA5y2PEgp7fXcWO1l2k5DsSMOQp/s1600/May2011-randompictures+032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKn9JBLys3w5sV4prrTx1Jry2igf25IMqq26X2aXxpUlacrLfseG3LpOVj5T7e4Xad0zKQBMJ3CvOw-NVKYjytaDzOiqqfDP8lkl1FZ7qHnFovoWx1BEA5y2PEgp7fXcWO1l2k5DsSMOQp/s320/May2011-randompictures+032.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jay, Easter 2011</td></tr>
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<br />Jay's been settling in at Rehab, getting stronger every day. She is walking a lot with her walker and doing her best to eat more nutritious foods. I bring her beet juice when I visit; it seems to help increase her appetite, just like it did for my mom.<br />
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My aunt, she has her mind and could potentially move to assisted living very soon, not a nursing home. I am grateful that I had done so much research on facilities when I was shopping for a place for my mom. It has made it super easy to find a place for Jay.<br />
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Change is scary for Jay. It is difficult to tell her about the changes, especially that she isn't going back to my brother's house to live. Yesterday, Marty told her that her cat Molly died. Lots of changes. "I am not getting anymore cats." She responded when she heard the news about her sick cat.<br />
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One day at a time is all we can do. Visiting and calling her on the phone to show her that we love her is helping. We found her a beautiful place to live. Luxurious and top notch, nothing but the best for our aunt who gave so much to all of her nieces and nephews. <br />
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Again, I find myself looking to the sky pleading with my deceased parents, "Ma, Dad? Can you help persuade Jay that living in an assisted living facility is a good idea?"<br />
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Time makes everything better.<br />
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Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-85798214411734077922013-03-27T11:49:00.001-04:002013-03-27T11:49:10.714-04:00Change Is Rarely Easy"Polish people don't do this to family." My Aunt Jay said to me yesterday as she grasped the hospital bed covers up to her chin. Jay took care of her mother at home and expected the same when she became too old to care for herself. My heart sank in a painful sadness. It felt like my dear sweet little aunt put a dagger in my chest and twisted. <div>
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Still raw from my experiences of caring for my mom, my mind immediately flashed to the day I literally dragged my mother into her nursing home nearly 2 years ago. It was tough. I needed to support Marty and help him check our aunt into "Rehab", code for a nursing home.</div>
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Like most folks, change is difficult for my aunt. She wants everything to stay the way it is; she does not want to live in a nursing home. She has told me this repeatedly over the last several days. Hospitalized on Saturday with pneumonia, she is very weak and unable to ambulate on her own.</div>
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"All I need to do is eat good food and exercise!" She exclaims, holding her fists like she is about to start doing calisthenics. "I do not want to live in a nursing home." She added. </div>
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I greeted her at the back entrance of the nursing home when she arrived from the hospital by ambulance. I could see her frail little body dwarfed even more by the stretcher she was strapped into. I smiled and waved. She frowned back at me with a look that screamed, "You just wait until I get you alone!" I asked my mother and father to give us strength to help Jay.</div>
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I opened the door for the EMT's and helped them bring Jay in to "Rehab." Smiling and doing my best to make her believe me when I tell her that she will never be left alone, Jay began to give me reasons why she couldn't stay.</div>
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"Oh gee... this place is too expensive! Look at it. It's fancy." Jay commented as she was being wheeled to her new room.</div>
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"I don't like this... look, someone is in this room with me... I want my own room!" She glared at me in disgust when the EMT's left and it was only her and me in the room.</div>
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One excuse after another she shot; excuses that fell on deaf ears. I smiled. I felt like my father for a brief moment, standing silent and letting Jay talk, talk, talk. I even felt my face forming my dad's grin. A smirk that I had seen make my aunt angry decades ago when dad was alive and kicking. </div>
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"Let me go see if I can find Marty." I interrupted. Every word I said to Jay seemed to make her more angry with me. I needed to get away from her before my ego made me start to cry. I took a few deep breaths as I walked down the hall. I turned the corner and found my brother. </div>
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Marty signed Jay in to the facility. Jay looked at me with confusion and distrust; she was blaming me for her being put in this place. After all, I was the one who pulled her out of her house a couple years ago when I saw the black mold growing and her cats poop everywhere! My mom was living with me at the time and having my aunt live here made my mother go more insane. Jay couldn't go back home. She couldn't stay here. Thank God for Marty and Patricia taking her in. </div>
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Now, life is changing rapidly for Jay. Her favorite cat, Morris died. My mom, her best buddy, died. Now, her little cat Molly is not doing well and about to die. </div>
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I pray for Jay to acclimate quickly and grow to love the nursing home as much as she loved the day program. Change is rarely easy when we are comfortable in life.</div>
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Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-2512287531482731502013-03-21T12:58:00.000-04:002013-03-21T12:58:19.167-04:00Mom's Last Breath<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKeJywZjD8ByvK8flfynvS5xb6aDOt_XUL9jk9uFU7CBtqfmSHxb0YkLbdh8aLUCqtnFpxfMNPCYxw3Zb7SdjBVNkel-wMCLso2O2_93UXVimPuJFO_X19JERr_f0Gdfk5vF3FU18pygkp/s1600/variousseptember2011+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKeJywZjD8ByvK8flfynvS5xb6aDOt_XUL9jk9uFU7CBtqfmSHxb0YkLbdh8aLUCqtnFpxfMNPCYxw3Zb7SdjBVNkel-wMCLso2O2_93UXVimPuJFO_X19JERr_f0Gdfk5vF3FU18pygkp/s1600/variousseptember2011+012.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Mom<br />Whole Foods - Woburn<br />October 2011</td></tr>
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"I've never seen anything like it." My mom's nurse, Martine said. "In all the years that I have been a nurse, I have never seen anyone pass and then have all the wrinkles in their face vanish. Your mom, she looked like a young girl after she passed, she was so beautiful. She was peaceful. I usually see suffering and your mom did not suffer. It was beautiful." <br />
<br />
I was delighted to talk to Martine, one of the nurses who was with my mom when she took her last breath in the middle of the night. <br />
<br />
Why did my mom's wrinkles vanish after she stopped breathing? Does anyone know why this phenomenon happens sometimes? Martine told me that the following week another resident who lived with my mom had passed and like my mom, she turned into a young girl. Did my mom and Barbara become instant angels?<br />
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Could it be all the whole foods and natural supplements had contributed to my mom's peaceful ending? I don't know for sure. I had a belief that if I fed my mom healthy and nutritious foods she would have a better end. My strong belief in how to care for my mom kept me persistent, never did I give up. I fought the good fight for my mom because I had observed other seniors who lived with my mom, they all seemed to do worse when fed more pharmaceuticals and food that was not alive with nutrients. <br />
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For my mom, she had fresh fruit and beet juice every day. Food that was alive with micro nutrients I believe my approach to helping my mom is what gave her more good days right up to the very end.<br />
<br />
Today, I close my eyes and I can still hear the last words my mom said to me the week before she died; "Oh, your hair looks nice." I always loved it when she complimented my hair or my cloths. God bless her for being cognizant enough to notice and leaving me with so much peace.<br />
<br />
My mom's face, her cute little face smiling up at me, with twinkling eyes that made me feel like "we did it!" I tucked my mom in bed for the last time as I said to her, "I love you, Ma. Sleep with God."Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-75134863584780915792013-03-12T12:16:00.003-04:002013-03-12T12:39:42.344-04:00Hives!<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Ouch!" I suddenly jumped up and ran to the bathroom mirror to see what was on my face. It felt like I had been stung by a million bees. The pain, itching and burning was almost unbearable. I thought for a moment that I should go to the hospital. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I realized it was an attack of hives <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 16px;">(Urticaria). It was a first for me. My face turned bright red and it quickly moved to my neck, chest, back, arms and hands. The weirdest feeling I have ever experienced, like the sun had fried my skin in an instant.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 16px;">What caused this attack? There were 4 things I had learned could have triggered the outbreak of Urticaria. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 16px;">My gall bladder. Gall stones in the duct can trigger an outbreak. I already know that I have 2 gall stones at the base of the bile duct. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; line-height: 16px;">I bought a new B Complex vitamin and took it today. Only to discover that the amount of B1 was pretty high, which can cause hives in some people. Great!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">Other things that can cause hives is prolonged stress. I was stressed out for years while caring for my mother and now that my mom has passed, my MIL is stressing me out. It feels like I am back to the time when I took my mom's car keys away. Taking my mom's driving </span></span><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">privilege</span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 16px;"> away was a horrible experience, it is when my mother screamed in my face that she hated me.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 16px;">Food allergies can bring on hives too. Corn, gluten, nuts, eggs; all can trigger histamines which flood the system and cause a hives outbreak. The new supplement had corn in it. Maybe it was the corn?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">So, who knows. Maybe it was a combination of everything? The hives are gone. I took some Rhus Toxicondron, a homeopathic remedy that I had and tried in an effort to stop the rash symptoms. It worked. Thank God I have a box full of different homeopathic remedies. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">Looks like it is time for me to run on the treadmill. After all, running does reduce stress and it always makes me feel much better. Like my dad used to say to me, "Susie, wait a minute, nothing ever stays the same."</span></span></span>Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-11285837329403359622013-03-09T12:24:00.003-05:002013-03-09T12:24:36.544-05:00Now What?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkW3I8j5MjgvxFzkwEV2zBZy2gLB2dlAVd-zshJhx6vtrPTuVf6rhR-jipKwE1dZ5Xk-C4CMA8DBwfrHTq3vmDxTMVcl8aK6h9xtan7PqiOe5VMGFCJ4ksN8ekfDzFVrNW_BBQlTs0GwC1/s1600/brianandsue2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkW3I8j5MjgvxFzkwEV2zBZy2gLB2dlAVd-zshJhx6vtrPTuVf6rhR-jipKwE1dZ5Xk-C4CMA8DBwfrHTq3vmDxTMVcl8aK6h9xtan7PqiOe5VMGFCJ4ksN8ekfDzFVrNW_BBQlTs0GwC1/s320/brianandsue2013.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Brian<br />January 2013</td></tr>
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<br />
"Now what?" A text from my nephew flashed on my cell phone after hearing the news about Gram. Good question I thought to myself; "I don't know yet." I said out loud into the air.<br />
<br />
"Energy can not be destroyed, Susie." I hear my dad's words echo in my mind when I think about my mom and wonder where she went, where everyone goes when we die.<br />
<br />
So, where do we go when we die?<br />
<br />
I don't know. <br />
<br />
<br />
Mom is gone but she will never be forgotten. As I write our story about our adventures in a world full of insanity and illusions; scary times, full of emotion that were drowned in tears of sorrow, I wonder what lies ahead for me.<br />
<br />
What next?<br />
<br />
Do I jump back into my old life and work in the world of computer software sales? I loved this work before my mom got sick and showed me that there's so much more to life than work and making money. <br />
<br />
My world is different now that caring is over. I am left wondering about my own mortality and life. What can I do today to have a better tomorrow?<br />
<br />
How can I make a difference in the world? Is a question that has been dancing in my mind the last few months. My job is over. I helped guide my ward to the other side of this world to wherever it is we go. <br />
<br />
I have grown emotionally and spiritually. I am a new person with so much to offer. Life is full and it is up to me to make the best of it. I am ready for my new life and all the endless possibilities that lay ahead of me. <br />
<br />
Now... I write.<br />
<br />
<br />Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-81968262648195195702013-03-03T09:24:00.002-05:002013-03-21T17:23:20.828-04:00Somewhere Over The Rainbow, Jo Flies<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5xlqsRt1HzHRmg8S-hsmo_Wi9of8v2Mx3iKiCR2cEUbVJcErCTGnExBXUZvJ9-9z8ibCxCrWsLqHh4E5bUGly-2O1WKn_A2XAx3rnL0Zt6tnrcGjLdjq7pY_Wb8t9HzQb5O8lF75KA3-u/s1600/Madying-memorial2013+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5xlqsRt1HzHRmg8S-hsmo_Wi9of8v2Mx3iKiCR2cEUbVJcErCTGnExBXUZvJ9-9z8ibCxCrWsLqHh4E5bUGly-2O1WKn_A2XAx3rnL0Zt6tnrcGjLdjq7pY_Wb8t9HzQb5O8lF75KA3-u/s320/Madying-memorial2013+008.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Mom's Memorial<br />
March 2, 2013</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Yesterday we celebrated my mom's life with her community of Care Givers; we had her first funeral service at the nursing home in the area she spent most of the last year and a half.<br />
<br />
Visiting the nursing home as frequently as I did, I got to know many of the residents. People who quickly became part of my circle of friends. The worst feeling in the world is when a friend passes and the family leaves, never to be seen or heard from again. <br />
<br />
Death is hard for everyone that had been touched by the resident, not just family. Staff, other residents and visitors who are part of the residents community are always excluded from mourning and celebrating the individual's life. It stinks.<br />
<br />
My mom, she was loved by the people who cared for her; she loved them back. Many of mom's nurses and aides, became part of my family. We learned how to work together as a team, communicate and respect each other. My mom's care team were my workmates. I am truly grateful for the people that helped me give Jo more good days before her end. <br />
<br />
During the meeting with hospice when I was told my mom was actively dying, the chaplain mentioned we could have a memorial service for my mom at the nursing home. I jumped on the idea. The perfect opportunity to include my mom's community and giving everyone closure. <br />
<br />
Mom died and I got the flu. I couldn't visit the nursing home for 2 weeks. I was suddenly gone, just like every other family who has a loved one pass. I owed my mom's community closure and began to plan my mom's Celebration of Life.<br />
<br />
I made a list. I called a priest. I hired a group of singers to sing. I ordered food and flowers. I looked on Pinterest and found an awesome idea, a Memory Tree. I bought twigs and butterfly cards with little ribbons. The idea was for everyone to write a memory about Jo and place the butterfly on the branches. It gave everyone a chance to remember Jo. (forgot to take a picture of it.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQudCnNDUei5aDn8Lq8sobBPblsG8dvE1cbZ6iwHxAj4Cb9pUWZG10gsmSa6yBbNSsRw-eUOeQuHwDPUjVf8yJSmdL8ec9ApHgkgViSeROpgC8auwFVjKsfEqTgWLDQhZB_L82UU8koyf4/s1600/Madying-memorial2013+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQudCnNDUei5aDn8Lq8sobBPblsG8dvE1cbZ6iwHxAj4Cb9pUWZG10gsmSa6yBbNSsRw-eUOeQuHwDPUjVf8yJSmdL8ec9ApHgkgViSeROpgC8auwFVjKsfEqTgWLDQhZB_L82UU8koyf4/s320/Madying-memorial2013+010.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joe, Steve, Brian and Amy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The priest did an awesome job with the service. Short and sweet. The singers sounded amazing. They sang 3 songs, Amazing Grace, Fly Away and Somewhere Over the Rainbow, my mom's all time favorite song. It was a beautiful service. My mom's community came together to honor her life. <br />
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<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/pAUi6rAjmMo?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i>Sounds of Grace singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow"</i></div>
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The flowers, the balloons, the decorations, the food, the people ... everything came together for a wonderful celebration of Jo's life.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL46Bak7I2FCWRUM6yggB015G-o5X_DHK0nRNjI5F_xFMomY7ItXxdc27MzDkp4lV9pdSCl1hYiOK5JsBdXKHcciLhEreBiBfuBWwOJDay8YWoZXQ9NGl9jKV0OR-vUzhwiqs0WRXtoN88/s1600/Madying-memorial2013+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL46Bak7I2FCWRUM6yggB015G-o5X_DHK0nRNjI5F_xFMomY7ItXxdc27MzDkp4lV9pdSCl1hYiOK5JsBdXKHcciLhEreBiBfuBWwOJDay8YWoZXQ9NGl9jKV0OR-vUzhwiqs0WRXtoN88/s320/Madying-memorial2013+017.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Melinda holding balloons for Jo's Great-grandchildren</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilxICraGRwdsN0cR3FBKktzV_j-2rrViZUB4QDB0kDGX9-7msd05RlsgQEUE9OnSGVQtFcQVB-PjCMyrku-SqJp7cIukXSkKhjdL6jw5q_OybOsrnce4hzPZeJt9svuCrk7qasGSlrQgC9/s1600/Madying-memorial2013+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilxICraGRwdsN0cR3FBKktzV_j-2rrViZUB4QDB0kDGX9-7msd05RlsgQEUE9OnSGVQtFcQVB-PjCMyrku-SqJp7cIukXSkKhjdL6jw5q_OybOsrnce4hzPZeJt9svuCrk7qasGSlrQgC9/s320/Madying-memorial2013+015.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">... and we all lived happily ever after while "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", Jo flies.</td></tr>
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Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-23785733105290978472013-02-26T07:32:00.003-05:002013-02-26T07:39:20.098-05:00Grieving Is Weird<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimtTCqvuTYvwxOFk5EEsSW8PbQGqo3-pnAq0GzzVXL6LfUzWSIaMELfEK2a4-q_7Zo4K9PfsPG1J2LGa9vVQHAhX-oHPr_NX3oR5srIukv7qMvm3xJUmCk0fgEOs3Wc_Lbr8gFpCFPhKkO/s1600/joemelindaameliavisitgram+033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimtTCqvuTYvwxOFk5EEsSW8PbQGqo3-pnAq0GzzVXL6LfUzWSIaMELfEK2a4-q_7Zo4K9PfsPG1J2LGa9vVQHAhX-oHPr_NX3oR5srIukv7qMvm3xJUmCk0fgEOs3Wc_Lbr8gFpCFPhKkO/s320/joemelindaameliavisitgram+033.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Amelia, January 2013<br />
Creating new memories for a new generation</td></tr>
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<br />
Am I a freak? It has been almost 2 weeks since my mom has passed and I still haven't cried. Why? I loved my mother, heck I wouldn't have done all that I had done for her if I didn't love her. So, why now that she is dead can I not cry?<br />
<br />
The day after my mom died I came down with the flu. I can not believe how sick I became once my responsibility of caring for my mom had abruptly ended with her end of life. A sickness that caused my mind to wander into weird places that seemed to be in between the world of reality and dreams.<br />
<br />
I thought about my mom while I was sick. I replayed the phone call that I had received from the nursing home notifying me that she was gone. A call that I had anticipated receiving since she entered the nursing home almost 2 years ago. "Oh, Thank you." Is all I could say to the nurse who called. No tears. No sobs. I laid in bed wondering if I should wake my family up and tell them or let them sleep. I called everyone. I woke up and had a cup of tea. No crying, just a huge feeling of relief engulfed my being.<br />
<br />
Anticipating mom's death was brutal. Everyday I thought about my mom's death day. I wondered how long does she have? Will it be fast? Will she suffer? Will she starve to death? Have I done all that I could? Is there something else we could do to help her slide out of this life and into her next? Will my family come to her funeral? Should I have a funeral? Does anyone care? No one seemed to care when she was alive why would they care now that she was dead? I worried about my family and how they would handle mom's passing. I worried that they wouldn't listen to me about the importance of changing our diet to avoid the crazy gene.<br />
<br />
I never had answers, just lots and lots of questions bathed in tears. I cried almost every day for 5 years, anticipating my mom's passing. Alone, I mourned the loss of my mom when she was still alive. Mom watched me mourn for her. No wonder she was so distraught when I would sob uncontrollably. Tears that should have come after she died were flooding our lives, filling it with sadness that at times was overwhelming. I wrote a lot during those dark times of my heart, words that helped me to cope and make it through another day.<br />
<br />
Now, the day has come and gone; my mom has died. The anticipation is over. Now what? Tears have been replaced with joy and peace. No longer is my mind filled with questions surrounding my mom's end. I still don't have answers to all of my questions, but I do believe that my family does care. My mom passing reunited my family. Together once more, my family and I can pick up the pieces in order to create new memories. Memories that will last our lifetimes and help those we leave behind when our time comes to be remembered when we are gone from this world.<br />
<br />
Grieving is weird. Everyone grieves differently.<br />
<br />
Will I ever cry for my mom again? I don't know. The hospice bereavement councilor told me that I had anticipatory grief. I grieved about my mom's end, waiting for it, wondering when it would happen, how it would happen; I cried. I worked through my sadness before my mom got on the bus to heaven. <br />
<br />
If you are like me and currently crying a lot, know that this feeling that is weighing heavy on your heart won't last forever. When the end comes for your loved one, the feeling of relief is incredible and all tears seem to dry up suddenly. You are not a freak, you are not weird, you already did all of your grieving... you are free!Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-88811318815402767772013-02-21T07:48:00.001-05:002013-02-21T07:48:28.410-05:00How I Helped My Mom With Food<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpYe1rZJ_f1E3rCKE2-T9ADDbgGH6dZ42Ok80IQ8kiWbYXahKKIfDpolWiES4koWAj7GSB9Ha8Chgfjz0AxoN7dBAJjcDF_sSJgtxnAS9vl0Z_ApAwpz7ygIcmTcIm-Au6a1gqo0qkKih/s1600/variouspictures2012+055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpYe1rZJ_f1E3rCKE2-T9ADDbgGH6dZ42Ok80IQ8kiWbYXahKKIfDpolWiES4koWAj7GSB9Ha8Chgfjz0AxoN7dBAJjcDF_sSJgtxnAS9vl0Z_ApAwpz7ygIcmTcIm-Au6a1gqo0qkKih/s320/variouspictures2012+055.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mom<br />December 2012</td></tr>
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<div>
The time I had spent caring for my mom had taught me a lot about my own health. Over the last 5 years, I observed everything that my mom ate or drank. I noticed behaviors that would manifest after she ate anything white; bread, pasta, potatoes, corn products and boxed foods with preservatives always seemed to push my mom over the edge. All bets were off and I found myself bracing myself for the storm.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Mom would become agitated and or hallucinate scary hallucinations if she ate any food that was not whole and natural. Mom's behavior patterns could clearly be expected to change once she ingested foods that had high starch content or ones that were processed and filled with ingredients that were hard to pronounce. <div>
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<div>
Through my mom, I learned how to lose weight without any effort; weight that seemed to resist any diet of my past, suddenly melted away. Changing my approach to food and rethinking the foods my mom had fed us all her life, opened up a new world of flavors for my family and me. Spices, herbs, vegetables, lean meats and fish, legumes, fruits and nuts, masterfully blended to create gourmet meals. My taste buds sang and my waistline shrank. My fussy mom, she loved my kitchen creations and she was happy.</div>
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<div>
The best way to make a life long change is to substitute unhealthy choices with healthier options. Here is a short list to get you started.</div>
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<div>
<b>Gluten Products Replacements</b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Bread: </b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
Udi Brand Gluten Free is excellent. The bread holds up in a sandwich very well. My mom loved sandwiches made from Udi Bread. </div>
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<div>
Ezekehial 4:9 Sesame bread is also very good. It is made from sprouted wheat using the recipe from the bible. It is referred to as Jesus bread. Very good bread that my mom could tolerate. It is found in the freezer section of most supermarkets.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
The Udi pizza shells are also fabulous. I often make my own gluten free pizza with the Udi frozen pizza shells. They are found in most supermarket freezer sections. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Pasta</b></div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.tinkyada.com/">Tinkyada </a> brand rice pasta is the best. It has a good consistency and holds up when it is cooked according to the package directions. My Italian mom LOVED this pasta, she always felt like she was "cheating."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Flour</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Bob's Red Mill brand of gluten free flour is excellent. I use Bob's gluten free all purpose flour in place of regular flour in cookie recipes. My mom could never tell the difference in the cookies; she loved <a href="http://backdoorlogic.blogspot.com/2012/02/coconut-oatmeal-cookies-gluten-free.html">oatmeal cookies</a> the most.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I use Coconut flour (or gluten free bread crumbs) to make <a href="http://backdoorlogic.blogspot.com/2010/02/chipotle-oven-fried-chicken-tenders.html">Oven Fried Chicken</a>. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Instead of using gluten flour to <b>thicken sauces and gravies</b>, I use chia seeds. I grind them up and use a 1/2 teaspoon of the seed powder. It has less calories and creates a thick gravy that is delicious. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Dairy Replacement</b></div>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
Almond milk, So Delicious Coconut Milk and hemp milk are all great alternatives to dairy. Dairy tends to cause inflammation in the body like gluten. The inflammation is what brings on illness and health issues that are difficult to treat. Cutting out dairy has improved my arthritis pain. Dairy free frozen treats by So Delicious are amazing.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Eat more vegetables and fruits.</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
Vitamix Blender. Yes, Vitamix is expensive but it is a health investment. I can not live without my Vitamix now that I own one. I use it ever day, sometimes 2 or more times depending on what I am making. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Smoothies are a great way to make vegetables a regular part of your day. Blending vegetables and fruit together in the morning with a serving of good quality protein powder is a fine way to fuel ones body and drop unhealthy pounds of fat. Smoothies are delicious and will leave you wanting more.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Juicing fresh vegetables, especially vegetables that you normally do not eat, provides lots of nutrition from whole foods. Beets, carrots, celery, dandelion greens, grapes and apples juiced together makes a delicious cocktail that boosts energy faster than a cup of coffee. I think more clearly after drinking fresh raw vegetable juice. When my mom drank the fresh juice, she would "wake up" and be able to communicate a little better. Beet juice helped give my mom more good days; our goal for her when she was alive.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
An inexpensive juicer that works very well is The Big Mouth Pro by Hamilton Beach. It is about $70 on Amazon. I think I have seen them in Walmart too. Make sure it is the PRO.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Eating for health is how I eat these days. I feel better. I have more energy and am able to do more good in the world because of my improved health. I believe I will have a better chance of avoiding the "crazy gene" because of the changes I have made in my diet.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I believe my mom's end of life was more peaceful because of the whole foods I brought for her to eat every day. Smoothies, fresh vegetable juice made with different greens, fruit, soups and Susie Sandwiches sustained my mom to the very end. </div>
<div>
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<div>
The day my mom stopped eating and drinking was the last day she was awake. Smoothies helped her to get nutrition. The consistency of the smoothies was perfect and easy for her to swallow when she wasn't able to swallow chewed food any longer. My mom, she did not suffer. She did not starve. She went to sleep and never woke up. The perfect ending to a very long life. </div>
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And this is how I helped my mom with food.</div>
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Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-41582207172660009052013-02-20T07:27:00.003-05:002013-02-20T07:27:28.718-05:00To Catch a Thief"My Wallet!" I gasped after I returned from the nursing home laundry room with an arm full of towels. <br />
<br />
For the last year and three-quarters I had always left my purse hanging on the back of my mom's wheelchair with my jacket hanging over it. I would leave my purse, not worrying that anyone would ever touch it. I trusted every person on the unit where my mom had now called home. <br />
<br />
I will never forget the day my wallet was stolen. It was the day I had lost trust in one individual that I had befriended at my mom's nursing home. A real live wolf in sheep clothing! A sly fox with a heart of stone. <br />
<br />
How low can any human go in this life than to steal from someone who they trust? That's the question I am about to answer with my story of the stolen wallet.<br />
<br />
Mom was having difficulty eating for a couple months before she had passed. I made a point to visit her ever day at lunchtime so that I could feed her lunch and have my final days with her alive. I didn't want to miss a minute of my mom; her days were numbered. <br />
<br />
February 6, 2013 is a day I will never forget. I remember having a conversation with a staff worker before lunch was served to the residents. She said to me, "I am so broke. I need money." I replied, "Don't we all?" <br />
<br />
I liked this girl. I helped her. I brought her smoothies and "Susie Sandwiches." I thought we were friends. I believe she robbed me.<br />
<br />
I had just finished helping my mom with her lunch. She was very sleepy so I tucked her in her bed for her afternoon nap. My purse was hanging on the back of her wheelchair with my heavy winter coat hanging over the handles and covering my purse. I purposefully backed my mom's wheelchair in backward and faced the chair handles up against the wall. <br />
<br />
We were in my mom's room, an employee of the facility that I had befriended, my favorite resident, my sleeping mom and me. The staff worker saw me cover my purse. I said to her, "I am running down to the laundry to get some face cloths to wash my mom's face. I will be right back." <br />
<br />
I ran down to the basement and back up within 5 minutes. I had a handful of towels and face cloths. Walking into my mom's room, I noticed my coat was hanging off the back of the chair and my wallet was missing. I looked and said to myself, "Did I forget my wallet at home or was my wallet stolen?"<br />
<br />
My mom was having a rough day so I didn't want to leave her. I instant messaged my husband and told him that I thought my wallet was stolen or I could have left it at home. I wasn't sure. I didn't want to panic. I sat with my mom; she needed me.<br />
<br />
It was now about 2:00 in the afternoon, a half hour after I noticed my wallet was missing. I told one of the staff who had her wallet stolen a few months back that I thought my wallet was stolen. I told her the story and who I thought was the facility thief. <br />
<br />
The woman I told the story proceeded to give me more information which seemed to back up my belief. I lost all feeling in my body. I felt violated. Could I be right with my hunch? I didn't want to believe my wallet was stolen. Maybe I didn't put my wallet in my purse? I thought and convinced myself It was possible. I didn't want to panic.<br />
<br />
It was now 3pm and the suspected thief was scheduled to work on my mom's unit. I waited for her to arrive so that I could look at her face, look her in the eyes and see if she could look me back squarely. She didn't arrive!<br />
<br />
Another employee came to cover her shift, the thief suddenly had to go home because she had a sick baby. What?! I immediately felt like I was going to throw up. I rushed out of the facility and ran home to see if my wallet was home. <br />
<br />
It wasn't.<br />
<br />
I called and cancelled my bank card and credit card. I called and reported my wallet stolen to the nursing home. The next day I was to meet with the head of the facility. He was going to call the police. I met with him but he never called the police. We were about ready to have a huge snow storm the following day; the last day I would ever see my mom awake.<br />
<br />
I walked around the parking lot before I left on Thursday. I couldn't see my wallet anywhere. On my drive home the nursing home called and told me that my wallet was recovered in the same parking lot where I walked. The only thing missing was my money. It was either 20 or 40 dollars, not much money. All of my gift cards were left behind, everything was in my wallet except my money.<br />
<br />
On Friday before the snow storm, I visited my mom. I tucked her in. I saw her smile at me with her sparkling eyes. I told her to sleep with God and I left to report my wallet stolen at the police station at the beginning of the raging blizzard.<br />
<br />
I had asked the Executive Director of the home not to have the thief working up on the unit where my mom lived. I was ignored. The little thief worked on the unit the entire time my mom laid in her bed dying. It sucked. I felt like grabbing her by the throat. I didn't. I glared at her with my eyes. She couldn't look at me.<br />
<br />
The thief even sent me two emails claiming her innocence. The email notes proved to me that she was the thief. Anyone who starts a sentence, let alone an email with the word, "Honestly..." is definitely lying.<br />
<br />
I am pursuing this with the nursing home Ombudsman. Yesterday I asked the nursing home what is being done and if I need to contact the Ombudsman. I was ignored once more. Why are they protecting this girl?<br />
<br />
Time to write my complaint letter to the Ombudsman and the Department of Health and Human Services. It is disgusting to allow someone to steal from people in their own home! Don't nursing homes have a responsibility to keep residents and their property safe? <br />
<br />
My wish is for the thief to be caught and prosecuted. I don't care if it was only 20 or 40 bucks, I was robbed during one of the most difficult times of my life. The thief needs to be punished and pay for their crime. Larceny is a crime! <br />
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<br />Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-59484877200649643732013-02-14T11:36:00.002-05:002013-02-15T08:11:07.625-05:00...And They Were Happy Ever After<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjySYHXtx7vCRaSJ7WvToeE8_EL3spBsXWMeaxv76q2ZHxMRtSQC7Rx1_v4ncD4U0yCjTW4kwXaKE0Bzww75Esk_0H9fztyDHy_2cio8tvvAegHmvh04ms49eRWVMzFNiDcMdQyNQmY3pZ7/s1600/ma-scan+039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjySYHXtx7vCRaSJ7WvToeE8_EL3spBsXWMeaxv76q2ZHxMRtSQC7Rx1_v4ncD4U0yCjTW4kwXaKE0Bzww75Esk_0H9fztyDHy_2cio8tvvAegHmvh04ms49eRWVMzFNiDcMdQyNQmY3pZ7/s1600/ma-scan+039.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Josephine Jarmulowicz<br />July 17, 1929 - February 14, 2013</td></tr>
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<br />
"Hello Sue? Your mom is in peace." Martine quietly spoke into the phone. <br />
<br />
I couldn't cry. I felt relief. A huge weight lifted off my heart. Ma was now at peace. Her long life now over; a worth while life that created so much beauty. I breathed deeply.<br />
<br />
Stephen and Martine were with Ma when she took her last breath. No suffering, just complete peace; the exact outcome that I had hoped to achieve for my mom. <br />
<br />
My mom, she got on Heaven's Bus on Valentine's Day, 12:20 AM. Reunited with my dad, finally after 35 years, my mom is free from this life and back in my dad's arms. I can only imagine the celebration; I hope it is as grand as I had promised her.<br />
<br />
"Ma, your hair looks awesome. Your favorite blue dress fits you perfectly. Dad is going to be so happy to see you. It is OK to get on the bus. You are an amazing lady and were a wonderful mother. What a great job you did with all of your children. Thank you for all that you had done for me to help me become the person that I am today." I suggested to her, words that I hoped would get her excited for what was to come.<br />
<br />
Rest in peace, Ma. It sure was an adventure these last few years! See you again one day when it is my time. In the meantime, enjoy your freedom.<br />
<br />
Love you always,<br />
<br />
Your Susie.<br />
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<br />Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-58602290247336932252013-02-12T07:12:00.004-05:002013-02-12T07:18:08.630-05:00Is Today the Day?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
"Actively Dying..." I heard the Hospice Doctor say to my mom's hospice nurse. I knew Ma was dying days before. I heard the death rattle; a sound I have heard come from a dying person in the past.<br />
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My role as Ma's caregiver is coming to an end. Is today the day she will get on the bus to heaven? <br />
<br />
Her end came fast, exactly as I had hoped would be the outcome to all of my efforts these last five years. My mom was walking on Thursday. A short walk that tired her quickly, but she walked with me and the hospice Chaplain. She even was able to say her birth date; she remembered. The last thing my mom said to me was, "Oh, your hair looks nice." It did. I was having a good hair day.<br />
<br />
The pain from the UTI was causing mom lots of discomfort. Dr. Barton's natural herb antibiotic mixture wasn't working anymore. Pyridium wasn't helping. My mom had no other options to ease her discomfort. I saw my mom jumping off the toilet and crying, buckled over in pain. I ran and found the doctor and told her about my mom's discomfort. We determined it was time for her to have a low dose of morphine.<br />
<br />
I was nervous. In my heart I knew that once we started morphine my mom would relax and her life would end. We stopped all natural medicines. Morphine took the edge off and made her comfortable.<br />
<br />
Friday my mom was sound asleep when I arrived early, hoping to see her before the snow storm came and crippled the city. Mom did see me briefly when I helped her out of her wheelchair and tucked her in her bed with her baby. The last time I would ever see my mom smile at me and look at me with her eyes. I didn't want to leave, but I did.<br />
<br />
Friday afternoon my mom woke up from her nap during the raging blizzard and was wide awake and alert. She was wheeling herself around in her chair, smiling and greeting the staff. I missed her last surge before she began to actively die.<br />
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Saturday we had a driving ban in the state because of the snow storm. I couldn't get to see my mom. She never got out of bed and was not very responsive to her environment.<br />
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Sunday I visited with my sister and my niece. We heard the death rattle in her throat. It scared me a little. I had asked the nurse if the gurgling meant her end was near like I had read on the internet. Mom's nurse teared up and shook her head yes. Her decline happened fast.<br />
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Monday (yesterday) I sat with my mom. She is unresponsive now with labored breathing. I cried a lot. I thought I was prepared for my mom passing. I am not. I suppose we are never ready to see someone that we love die. Her breathing is labored. Her time on Earth is coming to an end. </div>
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Is today the day?</div>
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I believe that all of my efforts, caring for my mom were all worthwhile. I believe that my mom suffered a lot less because she didn't take traditional pharmaceuticals to treat her dementia. I had lots of good days with her, memories that will last my lifetime. It was hard caring for my mom. I did it. I would do it again. I will miss you Ma... time to get on the bus and be free from all this suffering.</div>
<br />Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-16686185159808062022013-01-23T10:09:00.000-05:002013-01-23T10:23:55.508-05:00My Family, Together Again<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5TDEsxqNoZ406TJOVOkYK0Zg6COmu_Uv_nheUf1YQXifnJJ-_ZzyKMkVCDYrfjEaTl1uyXQzZCtApHufKcZqOsz-DowimJk55nRVjXgvRyJse3H4LxSMWC5rUI4ed9e8-q9civ92BhnsH/s1600/variouspictures2012+018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5TDEsxqNoZ406TJOVOkYK0Zg6COmu_Uv_nheUf1YQXifnJJ-_ZzyKMkVCDYrfjEaTl1uyXQzZCtApHufKcZqOsz-DowimJk55nRVjXgvRyJse3H4LxSMWC5rUI4ed9e8-q9civ92BhnsH/s320/variouspictures2012+018.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ma holds my hand</td></tr>
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"Where is everyone?!" My mom cried one day while I visited a couple weeks ago. She was laying in bed, eyes closed, calling for her children and grandchildren; tears rolled down her cheeks. My mom's sadness broke my heart. <br />
<br />
Like a shot, I suddenly felt that resenting my family was not serving me or my mom. Ego filled with negative emotion was my personal enemy which fueled resentment that built upon itself. I spiraled into my own abyss of self pity. I felt a painful loneliness that was dark and scary. I had to get out of this place I found myself. I needed to be free from my self-inflicted bondage. How? I needed to change me, the only person on the planet that I can control.<br />
<br />
I made a conscious effort and turned to the power of love. I got over myself. Focusing on my mom, I quickly realized that Ma wasn't going to leave this life until she knew everyone was OK, that her family was together again. <br />
<br />
I forgave everyone, including myself. I began a refreshing new approach to life; live every day from a place of love. <br />
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<b>Love is peace.</b></div>
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Everyone that my mom called out for visited. Lives put on hold to travel long distances, <span style="text-align: center;">lifted the cloud that seemed to be hanging over Ma's heart.</span><span style="text-align: center;"> She began to smile. She was happy to see her children and grandchildren.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Donna with Ma </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drew and Gram</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marty walks with Ma</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTHjAmzGOQquYkeJyKllKF-H72Ej_LwQj9iK8VCirc7HXHNPn_QkVjLvJbY2I8VuiG0ubJs2v7R0knDZAS7PSYWfJ4AL7R51lZD5MIJ-X1QYRTkDumn0sShmnNQuf-KTLGb8caYbFTe3dl/s1600/joemelindaameliavisitgram+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTHjAmzGOQquYkeJyKllKF-H72Ej_LwQj9iK8VCirc7HXHNPn_QkVjLvJbY2I8VuiG0ubJs2v7R0knDZAS7PSYWfJ4AL7R51lZD5MIJ-X1QYRTkDumn0sShmnNQuf-KTLGb8caYbFTe3dl/s320/joemelindaameliavisitgram+005.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joe and Melinda introduces Gram to her Great Granddaughter</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gram telling Joe what she wanted to tell him. Unfortunately, it was gibberish. Joe said, "OK."</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDH4UpgiqvDnNBdjTz22tz5sCDJQMGlxtGcQbmLOfHY5kiwiksRK_LEDz7Dj9rPxkgHsi3debbddeXN0PmrHAdX08CbuKCHMbE_mfSD5raGheY9WoVs1a7KQpEcMZTX0fAhUZm4SIZ77tx/s1600/annvisit01202013+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDH4UpgiqvDnNBdjTz22tz5sCDJQMGlxtGcQbmLOfHY5kiwiksRK_LEDz7Dj9rPxkgHsi3debbddeXN0PmrHAdX08CbuKCHMbE_mfSD5raGheY9WoVs1a7KQpEcMZTX0fAhUZm4SIZ77tx/s320/annvisit01202013+008.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ann helps Ma drink. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy4JJ4PFpXm77xd0uhjw27ztN-BTFbQSY1pdztBWmKize1AJx2jqy6Aus0OnigGbz35ZFCHWcaRJ4CA04msAeXFA2hfMzANIYICJq3_1M1-jAxpjDgy3v63qm6oq6vUpSPmRLdSCBbynvk/s1600/annvisit01202013+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy4JJ4PFpXm77xd0uhjw27ztN-BTFbQSY1pdztBWmKize1AJx2jqy6Aus0OnigGbz35ZFCHWcaRJ4CA04msAeXFA2hfMzANIYICJq3_1M1-jAxpjDgy3v63qm6oq6vUpSPmRLdSCBbynvk/s320/annvisit01202013+011.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ann and Me, together again. Ma was happy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhW5OyoZ0Ohaht7P4DYhJd8SfK_Vt_fi-WYpcuwIsF-DRh2olVl5X0arO0EDISxId9oD2wlNQqVZt4sULAqRDBO0ieILzON7HFybTjKQXaaSZ-bGUQOdrAYGDshKr67bCB8cviDhrbtcPn/s1600/annvisit01202013+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhW5OyoZ0Ohaht7P4DYhJd8SfK_Vt_fi-WYpcuwIsF-DRh2olVl5X0arO0EDISxId9oD2wlNQqVZt4sULAqRDBO0ieILzON7HFybTjKQXaaSZ-bGUQOdrAYGDshKr67bCB8cviDhrbtcPn/s320/annvisit01202013+014.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ma after her nap, happily talking about her family visitors.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Ma is happy. She saw everyone. </div>
Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-38743465753508508362013-01-13T07:18:00.000-05:002013-01-13T08:34:01.372-05:00Pictures Tell the Story<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPME6sQitg-CC3__XjeXApg7Yue_L_G_gaCjisck66KdoIDDxmKV1s9CHPJ5ZyGWw8JTotB4qasKhrGX63YwOoZxCX45GSFFo33xkotsYjBZkIUZPUpo7QJ09cVWD1Nnaxj1YEZRQWwzRb/s1600/andyvisitsgram011213+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPME6sQitg-CC3__XjeXApg7Yue_L_G_gaCjisck66KdoIDDxmKV1s9CHPJ5ZyGWw8JTotB4qasKhrGX63YwOoZxCX45GSFFo33xkotsYjBZkIUZPUpo7QJ09cVWD1Nnaxj1YEZRQWwzRb/s320/andyvisitsgram011213+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom with Drew when he first arrived. She was delighted to see him . She head butted him and held his hands.<br />
The room was filled with love.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-KtR2s_nA0DG8zU5H9QERIpdQNgKCDIt2_6-Hx9lwIqECtT9C-8n9qsjiBOaWU7h87FTfPWH_43KfgtBnNOb3DUN1_1PlhXHbPuoytGSn_rdqtKWVJvJYumEjDpbEenpvUF_mplpiuVMv/s1600/andyvisitsgram011213+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-KtR2s_nA0DG8zU5H9QERIpdQNgKCDIt2_6-Hx9lwIqECtT9C-8n9qsjiBOaWU7h87FTfPWH_43KfgtBnNOb3DUN1_1PlhXHbPuoytGSn_rdqtKWVJvJYumEjDpbEenpvUF_mplpiuVMv/s320/andyvisitsgram011213+001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAwQmcNO5sXK8k-j8W0XzB83zHa196MqTJWj3H9V-wRpWVSoekF1AYC-hWGUD93vBbKaCRDFqfc4jRSyQUG9lficUrrfXWO1iCQ2riHAMLu9Kkkv3UJT6obTOYsMU2Bz98V-g8tZXc7nyr/s1600/andyvisitsgram011213+009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAwQmcNO5sXK8k-j8W0XzB83zHa196MqTJWj3H9V-wRpWVSoekF1AYC-hWGUD93vBbKaCRDFqfc4jRSyQUG9lficUrrfXWO1iCQ2riHAMLu9Kkkv3UJT6obTOYsMU2Bz98V-g8tZXc7nyr/s320/andyvisitsgram011213+009.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gram with Drew mid-way through a walk.<br />
Look at those smiles!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6BcZgw4def11qtIlPUxcyYzbeLghTlctDoYqvpIJ1PB-SEOZ9p_EmzRZwbQV_f9YT5OxsZO8u5fZSG5-p9sXd5-VHWZQZKf54oQd4O1IGGDigfrAaUfARa6EmGq9isL9v2yGayA-sq1O9/s1600/andyvisitsgram011213+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6BcZgw4def11qtIlPUxcyYzbeLghTlctDoYqvpIJ1PB-SEOZ9p_EmzRZwbQV_f9YT5OxsZO8u5fZSG5-p9sXd5-VHWZQZKf54oQd4O1IGGDigfrAaUfARa6EmGq9isL9v2yGayA-sq1O9/s320/andyvisitsgram011213+010.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peaceful and ready for a rest with her baby, Gram knows Drew won't be alone now that he has Jenn.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-88273028946295748842013-01-10T19:24:00.003-05:002013-01-10T19:27:26.045-05:00Regrets, I've Had a Few...<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY7ysNfUi_5FsbmJ6OMSsCJgKbgOGkcRhBvHGP8o6AvkbfKHaxqqoRViqssqqgUUEm72YR0uxhG16v-WTOnksOr9KTosR67dQMSAfIzMkx_rHjM8o5VQ0vklVG5jAe7tSU42-BQ0OHTDdO/s1600/variouspictures2012+129.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY7ysNfUi_5FsbmJ6OMSsCJgKbgOGkcRhBvHGP8o6AvkbfKHaxqqoRViqssqqgUUEm72YR0uxhG16v-WTOnksOr9KTosR67dQMSAfIzMkx_rHjM8o5VQ0vklVG5jAe7tSU42-BQ0OHTDdO/s1600/variouspictures2012+129.JPG" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom, loving her baby<br />
December 2012</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoBodyText">
Andy Williams was one
of the singers my parents enjoyed, crooning words to songs that haunt me
today. “My Way,” I can still hear my dad singing it in his
melodic voice. My mind wanders as I remember the words.</div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br />
"Regrets, I've had a few…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
This morning this song popped in my head, “<a href="http://www.maxilyrics.com/andy-williams-my-way-lyrics-f837.html">My Way” by Andy Williams</a>. I thought of my mom and how much I
will miss her when she dies. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I already miss her, my mom... the woman I would sit and
watch sitcoms and laugh out loud. I miss my mom's sense of humor. I miss her so
much. I miss her mind going in the
gutter and her sinister laugh.<br />
<br />
I didn’t appreciate my mom when I had the chance. I remember when my mom made me crazy. I can remember secretly
wishing her dead so many times.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Susie, you will miss me when I am gone. Watch it!” Mom warned,<br />
<br />
”No I won’t!” I demanded in response.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mom was right. <br />
<br />
I miss her and she isn't even dead yet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wish I were nicer to her when she was mentally sound. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I missed out on knowing an amazing woman because I felt
smothered by her love. Her love repelled me.
I wanted to be my own person and my mom had no place in my new world.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh
how I wish I could be smothered by my mom's love again.<br />
<br />
I wish I could get this message to all young women everywhere who feel their
mothers are a pain in their fannies. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am speaking from the experience of the school of hard
knocks. You will miss your mom, trust me. If I could only turn back 30 years and be a better friend for my mom. I missed my chance. If your mom is still alive, it is not too late. Call her. Love her. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As for my mom, she took a sudden turn for the worst over Christmas. She’s back in hospice. I think this is it; I don’t see her rebounding like she has in the past. She had two awesome months on Lysine. My mom knows who I am,
she knows that I am her daughter; she tells me she loves me often. I am grateful.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today, because of Lysine, my mom can tell me clearly what is wrong and
where she has pain. Lysine is
working. My mom’s body is failing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Mom put up a good fight and lived life her way. </span>Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-84154128238625032522012-12-23T09:22:00.000-05:002012-12-23T09:49:29.929-05:00The Awakening<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTwidwzUYHlwh33RDhb7J9Vt0_wBA7lxVC4GlKQLEBSTJdCdPhCcVKTgf6hYFZ45dk57on_2BgdmmQlCfzlxA4V2rduqsx8zhqXLJDwLATZ-mHUV1D6ED1YlXvG-Be6Yv2ChEna_kKCU6u/s1600/variouspictures2012+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTwidwzUYHlwh33RDhb7J9Vt0_wBA7lxVC4GlKQLEBSTJdCdPhCcVKTgf6hYFZ45dk57on_2BgdmmQlCfzlxA4V2rduqsx8zhqXLJDwLATZ-mHUV1D6ED1YlXvG-Be6Yv2ChEna_kKCU6u/s1600/variouspictures2012+010.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ma with hollow eyes<br />
October 17, 2012</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Could it be? Is Ma getting better? Have we found a solution to the "crazy gene?"<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The last few months have been a wild emotional ride. My mom was declining again, unable to speak and walking was becoming more difficult for her; mom needed to be held up, she tried to sit as we walked short distances. I stopped trying to get her to walk because she seemed to be forgetting how to use her legs.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Ma's eyes were hollow, she had what I began to call the "death stare." It was as though she was in another world. I was left wondering if she was living in the realm of the dead whenever she got the hollow eye look. It was sad to witness but it was fascinating, where was she? Was she with my dead relatives? I was ready for the call from the nursing home nurse, telling me that my mom had passed.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Then...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I got an email from our Naturopath Doctor, Dr. Barton. He told me that he may have found a solution to my mom's dementia. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"What?!" He caught my attention.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's a long story, Kismet. <br />
<br /></div>
<div>
Short story... Brad Pittman cured his mom's dementia with Lysine. He wrote a book about his mom's rise out of her mental fog; his book, "Ma Is Back" gave me a sense of hope. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I began to ask myself questions. Could it be? Could my mom get well? Will this simple solution work for my mom's dementia too? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My mom started taking Lysine, the amino acid on November 1, 2012. Immediately, she had improved cognition. She began communicating with the nurses. She tried to start conversations with other residents. Mom, she began to feed herself again.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Today, mom knows who I am again. No longer am I her "mother." When asked who I am she will look at me, smile and then answer, "Oh, that's my daughter Sue." </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It is a miracle. My mom, she is coming back too. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I have so much more to say about Lysine, but I will save it for another post. All I can say with confidence is my mom is getting better. She smiles. She laughs. She is beginning to say phrases like, "Oh, I was meaning to tell you..." Clear as a bell, words that my mom often said to me. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Friday, I told her about some old Uncle Al videos that I had transferred to DVD. My mom lifted her head and said, "Is he still alive?" I lied. I told her that he is living with Maryann in New Hampshire. Uncle Al, Ma's brother, passed almost 2 years ago; she never knew. I couldn't tell her when it happened. I didn't think she would be able to handle the news in her demented state of mind.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Mom, she is waking up. She knows she is getting better. Dr. Barton told us it could be 6 - 12 months before she is dementia free, time will only tell.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
All I know is visiting my mom is fun. I never know what she will say or do. It is like watching an 83 year old baby grow and relearn skills that were once taken for granted. Soon, she will begin physical therapy to help her walk with a walker. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRYdtg8u8sRf5By79b2zjnHcrDy_DgVl9w2wFc3ZvsNKLXb1_B4vj6213KUHK7HQHm-cwq5bgisHG4HuhlfnW3s30_QQJGUprvBT5kY-0qtzsUXEeZljl4YitSIBikylNeLLM2-uam7tzy/s1600/variouspictures2012+055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRYdtg8u8sRf5By79b2zjnHcrDy_DgVl9w2wFc3ZvsNKLXb1_B4vj6213KUHK7HQHm-cwq5bgisHG4HuhlfnW3s30_QQJGUprvBT5kY-0qtzsUXEeZljl4YitSIBikylNeLLM2-uam7tzy/s1600/variouspictures2012+055.JPG" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Mom feeding herself, smiling, laughing and talking to me<br />
November 7, 2012</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1879192449061145204.post-58199794229637028812012-10-12T15:57:00.000-04:002012-10-12T15:57:57.974-04:00The Strength of the Human Spirit<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsoF1YntkmJUCgf_qWjaDHT00VKAAipjl6OHc44Ni1QNLPsWaCYWoJ6HEo0KS78WezG_LAoE_9ghlgVApxSHEpe66zsxVht6quwcM6ChJlV-pMbQXVO454DF-fMkMsAc0JKNs5Ncu7c0sl/s1600/DSC00732.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsoF1YntkmJUCgf_qWjaDHT00VKAAipjl6OHc44Ni1QNLPsWaCYWoJ6HEo0KS78WezG_LAoE_9ghlgVApxSHEpe66zsxVht6quwcM6ChJlV-pMbQXVO454DF-fMkMsAc0JKNs5Ncu7c0sl/s320/DSC00732.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom, cruising the halls with her baby</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
If there's one thing that my mom is continuing to do for me, even while in her demented state of being, is teach me about life.<br />
<br />
Mom's health was declining over the last year and in February of this year I believed her end was coming soon. I had to be ready.<br />
<br />
Alone on a cloudy day, I went and made arrangements with an undertaker and picked out an urn. The urn is a double one, usually meant for a husband and wife, but I thought my mom would like to have her son Ed next to her six feet under with my dad. Mom's final request before she totally lost her ability to reason and speak was to have Ed's name on her headstone so that people would know that he existed.<br />
<br />
I called Mass General and talked to the folks who take body donations. My mom is all set to help advance science. The undertaker will take my mom to Boston after her death, where the doctors will remove her brain and whatever else they want to remove. It takes about 6 hours for the procedure at Mass General. The undertaker will go back and pick up the rest of her remains and then perform the cremation. Once everything is said and done, I will get a detailed report a few months after her passing and we will know for certain if she has Lewy Bodies Dementia or something else.<br />
<br />
The service will be small and held at the cemetery chapel with family and friends who wish to come. This has been one big long good bye; I sure was ready for her end. Care giving for my mom and carrying the burden alone nearly killed me. I got sick, very sick. <br />
<br />
Glad I survived to write about the experiences.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Juicing fresh organic vegetables improved my health dramatically. Driven to help give my mom more good days than not so good ones, I began to bring my mom some of the juice I was making with beets. I thought it just might help her have better days. My mom, she came alive. Her health improved and she began to have good days every day. <br />
<br />
August 15, 2012, my mom was discharged from hospice services. She is doing very well as of the writing of this blog post. My mom's got a strong spirit. Obviously she isn't ready to die or she would have died by now. <br />
<br />
Who would have guessed that I would enjoy visiting my mom at the nursing home? Every day that I get to see her alert, happy, talking and walking is heart warming; I am doing exactly what I set out to do; give her good days until her end. <br />
<br />
I don't worry about my mom. Her care team (I am part of it) is amazing, we all work together with my mom's well being in mind. It takes a lot of work to raise a parent, but the joy I feel when mom recognizes me for who I am is the greatest gift of all. <br />
<br />
I captured one of our exchanges in this video.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/1Gep7tRwh1w" width="420"></iframe>
</div>
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Every nice day I took mom outside this past summer. We would listen to music and chat. Talking to my mom is like doing a puzzle that has tiny pieces.<br />
<br />Susan Higginshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07019940790074997076noreply@blogger.com5