Oh boy… Am I? he’s got me there. A direct question. Now what?
He rapidly followed up his original question with another – equally as innocent, yet equally as provocative. “Do you still want to be a writer?”
Whew! The same questions I’ve been asking myself. What should I say? I decided I had no choice but to answer him honestly. “Sooo, ya know, I mean, ummm, well, with 2020 being what it’s been and all, I ummm, ya know…” After hemming and hawing, I finally answered his question, “I do still want to be a writer, but no, I don’t really have a current writing project in the works. There’s a project in my mind’s eye that I’ve been considering for quite some time, but haven’t delved very far into it yet…”
My answer to Tony was true; there is a creative project in my future, but it has sat dormant for quite a while. Life, with all of its twists and turns, seems to have played a few tricks on me. His question made me stop and think; this year really has been a challenge - not just for me, but for Todd and me; for our whole family; for our friends and neighbors; for the whole country; and for the whole world. Am I right? And while all of that is true, there’s no real reason why I should have ever stopped writing. I should have documented everything as it happened! Unfortunately, I didn’t.
I took a deep breath and mustered the courage to look back at my “Blog Log” (a list of all my posts on “Katie’s View”). I realized I hadn’t written a new one since January. JANUARY??? That cannot be right, it’s already the end of October!!! But… I’m sad to say that January is the fact. I decided to brush off my laptop’s cobwebs and get busy. I’ll continue to envision my new project, and for now, work on it as inspiration hits me. That said, I know we’ve all met with challenges this year. I figured what the heck, I may as well write out some of mine. Who knows…? If I catch up and post on my blog, maybe somebody out there will be able to relate to one or two of my stories; maybe I can even help someone, somehow. One thing I’m sure about; time will tell.
I started to write. I wrote and wrote. I wrote some more. What I had to say was no longer the length of a blog post, but more the length of a chapter. I contemplated my next move, and decided to re-work the stories into several shorter posts. Today is the first of several more I’ll be adding over the next couple of weeks.
Are you ready? Here we go!
During the fall of last year (2019), I shared that I had a loved one with dementia (my aunt), living in a nursing home. Truth be told, things weren’t going very well. She started to fall a lot. The dementia kept her from remembering she could no longer walk. It became the norm for either my brother’s or my own phone to ring (at least once) daily, alerting us to another fall. We met with the staff, offering numerous ideas of how to keep her seated in her wheelchair. We learned that there are so many restrictions in place to keep the elderly “free” to live, that their safety is actually what takes a hit. Absolutely nothing makes sense. (Shaking my head)
Somehow we got through the holidays, but in mid-January we received the call, saying our aunt broke her hip. This is always bad news for an older person, but for someone who’s 93, things don’t usually go very well. My brother and I couldn’t fathom allowing her to sit on an unfixed broken hip, so we consented to the surgery. It went ok, but… she was never the same again.
I learned so much during that time; about hospitals, doctors and nurses, procedures, hopes versus realities, advocating for a loved one, life, and possibly most vividly, death. I think that my “being responsible” for another person’s every health decision, through all of these experiences, made me a different person.
My brother was out of town, so when the time came, as her POA for Healthcare, I needed to decide whether to place her in hospice care. I consulted with him on the phone. I asked my dad and my other siblings what they thought. While my brain knew it was the right thing to do, my feelings about it all became complicated. After I signed the paperwork, she passed away within four days. I know that doesn’t sound like a long time, but it felt long. The process was relatively peaceful, but wasn’t “quite as peaceful” as I’d imagined. There are certain things we must do that nobody can ever really prepare us for. (Sigh) It was only the end of January, but it felt like a lifetime.
As if there weren’t enough other things on my mind, planning my aunt’s funeral led to a few disagreements amongst extended family members. It was the last thing anyone needed at a time like that, but I’ve noticed that stress can bring out strange behaviors. When my mom passed away in 2003, my dad was in charge of the arrangements. We were there for him, but he made all of the final decisions. For our aunt, it was up to my siblings and me – the service, flowers, music (which Tony volunteered to provide – so beautiful), burial, luncheon, etc. If you’ve never planned something like this, there’s a lot to it.
Once the actual day arrived, everything turned out well. It was that one, rare, warm, sunny, Wisconsin February Saturday. Todd was by my side and so supportive; both of my children flew into town to be with me (so special) and to say good-bye to their great-aunt. I courageously prepared a eulogy, and was able to speak it from my heart. I must say, all was well with my soul.
All these months later, I do miss her, but would never want things back the way they’d become. In fact, once COVID showed up, and nursing homes went on lockdowns, I felt relieved (blessed, actually) that my aunt wouldn’t have to endure life there, unable to understand why nobody could come to visit. Instead… she was already home. Thank you, God…
A couple of days before the funeral, I had started coming down with a sore throat, runny nose, and a cough. While it was wonderful to see Tony and Megan, I didn’t feel very good. On Sunday morning, the day after the funeral, it started snowing like crazy. Thankfully, both kids had morning flights scheduled. As we drove them to the airport, we felt hopeful that their planes would be able to take off without a weather delay, which they did.
When I said good-bye to them, my voice was almost gone, but still audible. Those were the last words I spoke to anyone for over a week. I got so sick. I couldn’t talk at all. Todd is too much of a gentleman to admit if this was a good development for him (my “not talking” I mean) but the jokes certainly did fly. Every time I tried to speak, or even whisper, it came out in a croak. When I tried to lie down to sleep, I felt as though I was drowning. I slept upright in the recliner chair for many nights. It was such a miserable time. My first round of antibiotics did nothing. My second round finally knocked it (whatever "it” was), out of me. By then, it was already early March.
While some of my symptoms were similar, I don’t think it was COVID. Nobody around me, including Todd, ever got sick. I think it was probably stress-related from everything I’d gone through leading up to Catherine’s death and funeral. I’ll never know for sure.
Sooo… that was our January and February, 2020. I’ll stop here for now, but as I said, the saga will continue soon, so if you’re interested, please stay tuned.
Until then, stay well.
God’s Blessings!
Katie
Katie Kolberg Memmel is the author of three books: “Five Fingers, Ten Toes… A Mother’s Story of Raising a Child Born with a Limb Difference”; “From This Day Forward…”; and “Silly Stories and Sentimental Stuff.” All are available through Amazon as both an electronic and paperback version. For more information, visit her website at www.katiekolbergmemmel.com
