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Haikus 4 Alzheimer's Debt Freedom!

When I was 33 I started the slow descent of losing my Mother to Alzheimer’s. It would be a journey that spanned tens of thousands of miles traveled and 9 years of my life.

I’ve done a lot to heal. Like many people I felt crushing grief and guilt during her decline.  I travelled between Seattle and Iowa, where she lived, on a regular basis. I often felt like a machine during that time; dutifully checking off list after list of things that had to be done. I regret not just sitting with her more making her feel more “normal”.

 One particular visit was a cold February in Iowa. I walked into the side door of the house as usual, lugging my suitcase up the two steps into the kitchen.  She wasn’t waiting for me. There had never been a time since I left for college that she wasn’t waiting for me ready with a hug. She would sing a welcome in her woefully out of tune voice. Sometimes there would be cookies. She would call me Lena and wrap me up so I could smell the Jontu perfume on her neck. But this time she was sitting on the couch with her tweezers in her hand grooming at two in the afternoon.  She saw me and looked scared for a moment. I could see her mind working. I had to tell her something that I think no one ever thinks they will have to say to their mother, “I am your daughter, Angie”.  She nodded and said of course, that she knew that already. But I could tell she was confused. She was unsure and my world tilted. If I’m honest it fell off its’ axis and rolled away. I think it was one of those moments you can’t explain to anyone who hasn’t been through it. Nothing would be the same again, it couldn’t.

The years between then and today are a jumble of emotional ups and downs. I became her power of attorney and stepped in as a mother figure to her. She started to depend on me for everything. I would get calls all hours of the day and night. My heart hardened and softened again. My marriage almost failed. I flew three or four times a year to take care of the things that had to be dealt with in Iowa. I went into massive amounts of debt. I deciphered the code that is someone else’s life and managed to pay all her bills for years without any major mistakes.  I forgot what it felt like not to be terrified of a phone call. I cleaned out my childhood home singlehandedly and prayed for forgiveness when I felt relief after I put her in a nursing facility where I knew she was safe. I had a voice in my head that echoed for years, “You’re a terrible daughter”. I dreamed of disappearing. I changed planes on the way back to Seattle many times and flirted with the idea of just walking through the door of the airport, any airport, and fading away. Just daydreaming about it would make me feel crushing guilt and giddy relief. I drank too much. I ate too much.  But I didn’t disappear. I kept flying to see her. I did it over and over and over again in those 9 years for one simple reason. I love her. I have always loved her. The great pleasure of holding her hand was my reward. She may not have remembered me as her daughter but I was lucky that she found a way to love every time I came to see her. She would smile at me when I smiled at her and I am sure of this, she loved me in those moments. I have never been surer of anything in my life.

It was Sunday, November 29th at 9:43pm when I got the call from the hospice worker at the nursing home. I frantically grabbed the bag always kept packed and called every airline I could to get the first flight out. I had just spent two weeks with her the month before, turning her room at the nursing home into my mobile office. We didn’t talk much, she really couldn’t. We held hands. I rubbed and scratched her back and told her I loved her about a thousand times.  I think somewhere inside me I knew it would be the last bit time I would spend with her The last night I was with her I started to cry. I tried very hard not to cry in front of her because she could be so easily upset but I couldn't help it. In that one short moment I got to be her child again. She reached over and picked a tear off my face with her fingertip and said, "Don't cry sweetheart." That moment I will remember forever; my head in her lap, my arms clasped tightly around her waist. In the montage, that I am sure will flash before my eyes when it is my time to go, that moment will have a starring role..

I was somewhere over Nebraska when my Mother died. Flying as fast as any human could at 30,000 feet to try and be by her side. Connie’s daughter by definition, the sum total of everything I had ever known was built upon that premise. Every award won, every loss, every love or heartbreak dutifully reported to my maker, my mother.

I guess what I am getting at is I don’t regret a minute I spent with her. I don’t regret everything I had to do to make anything better for her. It’s been a year and half since I lost her and while I have done things to help myself recover emotionally I am still struggling to pay off the debt that Alzheimer’s cost us. I had a dedicated credit card for all of the travel expenses, the emergencies, the vet bills, the etc. It was there to cover what couldn’t be covered by her and as it turned out that was a whole lot. I look at that card and cringe every month. It’s a painful reminder of that time.

 You may or may not know me but I am a master Haiku artist (I am saying this while winking at you). While sitting with a friend last week lamenting about my debt they told me I should put my haiku superpower to the test.  Every Thursday I write a little story about my life and add a Haiku at the end that was inspired by that story and share it to Face Book. I love it. In actuality I write Haiku’s all the time.

So here’s my spiel. I want to write Haiku’s inspired by you. My goal is to pay off this debt one $15 Haiku at a time. I’ve counted and that is well over 350 haikus. Could this reprogram my brain? Maybe? Could we be causing irreparable damage to my cerebral cortex? Probably. But I can tell you that seeing this bill every month and remembering why it is there is not doing me any favors.

If you would like to trade me $15 for a haiku click on the donate button. Add a word or phrase you would like to be the subject of the Haiku. Make sure you include your email address when you fill in your info and the Haiku will be to you within a week. It’s easy peasy.

Thanks for taking a minute to read this. I have appreciated all the support I’ve gotten over the years from everyone.  

Organizer

Angie Stutting Marcelynas
Organizer
Seattle, WA

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