A View...of Claire

The room was surprisingly big, as nursing homes go.  Glancing up at the ceiling, though, I could see that the room used to house two patients.  Or, should I say, residents.  The tracks that control privacy curtains were still visible.  The room was pretty bare.  It just did not have much personality.  There was a dark wooden armoire angled in one corner, a single hospital bed, a night stand, a hospital tray table and a television mounted to the wall.  Oh, and I forgot to mention the one chair that was filled with extra sheets and blankets and, the window with a view to nowhere.  And there sat my sister, Claire, in a wheelchair.  She was surprised to see us.  Her expressions are exaggerated because MS has really slowed her brain and responses.  But, we still got a warm reception and weak hugs.  Her sense of humor is quite intact though.  She wanted to know why her son had brought “aliens” with him.  I am sure that comment was aimed at me since I am the Trekker.  Hmmm…I guess it has been a long time since we were in the same room together.  We talk on the phone often enough, but our lives seem so far apart even though the distance is only roughly two hours by car.  She laughed when I rolled my eyes at her and told her to “Live Long and Prosper”.  She loved the flowers that we brought. 

They were after all, the brightest thing in the room.  I know that my sister needs a certain level of care and that she may not be able to live without assistance any more.  But, she should be able to live!  There was not a lot of life in that room.  I get that residents need some “hospital–like” equipment and all, but could they at least make the place a little cozy.  Does it all have to look so antiseptic and dingy?  The room dwarfed Claire.  She must only weigh eighty or eighty-five pounds.  She has always been tiny, but not like that. 

 Her hair, that had once almost reached her waist, was cut short and was very curly.  She told us it was her “Halle Berry” look.  And, I could not help but notice the contracting muscles in her left leg.  She explained that she was going to have surgery to help relax the muscle and ease the pain. 

She did not know when or what was going to happen after that.  “Are you coming back here?”I asked.  “Oh, I don’t know”, she mused.  We brought her up to speed about all her nieces and nephews and their children.  She looked amazed as I showed her pictures on my cell phone and said” Everybody is so big!”  She laughed when her son said that “We kids grow, Mom” and she said she was trying to sell him but no one was buying!  She picked up the phone to dial and it took a lot of concentration for her to coordinate making her fingers work and getting the number right.  Her son laughed and told her she had a crazy “phone face”. 

 After a while, we left and promised to come see her again soon.   I laughed about the crocheted pink flamingo pillow on her bed.  Claire used to crochet a lot and was quite talented.  She said she had made it.  I was glad someone thought to bring it because it was at least a familiar thing…something that reminded her of home. 

Well, that place is not going to be her home…at least not looking like that!  We are on the hunt for a better nursing “home” and when we find it, we are going to jazz it up.  MS or not, Claire deserves to “live” as much as she is able and not be stashed away like a forgotten dusty book.  And, there will be a view.   

 Remember to treasure your footsteps.  They are a gift from above. 


Blessings!

Chérene

                                                                                                                                                                                        

Watermelon thoughts of Claire

I’m not the best blogger.  I’m not the best at a lot of things, I guess.  Life kind of gets in the way. And then, something just happens to you...just out of the blue.  Like today.  I was cooking. It was nothing fancy...steak, potatoes with butter and parsley and salad.  I pulled pot holders down from the shelf to check the oven. They are crocheted and shaped like watermelon slices with seeds and all.  My sister made them for me...my baby sister.  I stared at those pot holders and lots of those “back-in-the-day” images flooded me.  You know the ones.  We all have them at some time or another.   My Mom is and was a beauty and my sister Claire is the spitting image of her. My baby sister is Claire...the little one, the pretty one, the popular one, the smart one, the driven one...and now, the sick one.  You see, my sister has Multiple Sclerosis...the primary-progressive kind.  That means there is no remission, no relief, no improvement.  My sister knew what she wanted to be almost from birth.  That would be a nurse.  She got one of those nurse outfits for her 4th  birthday and it hung in a place of honor in her closet for years.  I mean years...well into her 20s.  She even had the bag with the pretend syringe and candy pills.  When my brother got the measles and the family was supposed to go berry picking, she volunteered to stay home and take care of him.  She was only five and she sacrificed strawberry picking or rather eating in her case.  When I broke my arm, my mom made me suffer the indignity of having my little sis spoon feed me vegetable soup so she could be nurturing.  And that same mom of mine volunteered me as a guinea pig when my sister needed to practice administering shots when she was doing her clinical training...ouch.  I endured the hot sun at her college graduation.  When my Mom collapsed at home, in the middle of the night, you can’t even imagine how grateful I was that my sister, the nurse, was at home and knew what to do.  And we held hands at the funeral.  And, yes, she became a nurse and what a nurse she was!  She went on to earn her Master’s degree and almost achieved her PHD before the MS robbed her of her plans.  She worked at a hospital and even taught nursing to others. Even now, when she is not so clear in her thoughts, she still can give everyone smart advice about medical things.   Images of her cuteness and her smiling face keep floating in my brain.  I can see her in the Halloween costumes that my Mom always hand made and in her high school cheerleading uniform.  She played the saxophone and was Salutatorian of her high school class.   I can see her in her cap, gown and hood with her gorgeous smile.  But, I also see how she has deteriorated...how small and fragile she is.  Even though she repeats herself during conversation and she isn’t always coherent, she always remembers everyone’s birthday and calls to say “have a happy day”.  Her favorite color is pink and each time we talk, she tells me she needs an address book, some slippers (pink of course) and a wind up alarm clock.  Well, once again, I find myself talking to God .  I mean, I have two sisters and go figure, they both have MS.  How does that happen in one life?  And, why?  My other sister, Colette, has the relapsing/remitting kind of MS so she is not in the same shape as Claire.  Claire is in the hospital now.  She is probably headed for a nursing home because the medical folks keep throwing the words “constant care” around.   Claire is not that old.  As a matter of fact, the problem that presents is that many nursing homes will not take her because she is “too young”.   But, I don’t want to think about that.  I prefer the yesterday  images floating in my brain.  Something I saw prompted me to seek out Isaiah 40:29-31..”.He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.  Even youths grow tired and weary; and your men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will  soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint. “  I am praying and hoping that Claire dreams about the same images that float in my brain.  I love you Claire and I know that you are soaring with the eagles...and I am praying for miracles.

Blessings,

Cherene