Drives Me Nuts!

It's a gray and rainy day. I didn't get much sleep. Got some bad news. Then a lady put me on hold. I was calling long distance, which admittedly doesn't mean much today, but geez...after a while I began to think she was putting me on "ignore" rather than "hold." She checked back, started to talk, then said, "Sorry, I need to put you on hold again." This happened three times.

Stuff like that drives me nuts! In fact, I have a whole list of things that tick me off:

1. Waiting in line while the clerk answers a phone call and takes care of THAT customer first. Hello? I made the trip, for why? To cool my heels?

2. The server's phrase "Are you still working on that?" Like eating is a job! If it is, the food wasn't very good, was it?

3. People who sprinkle when they tinkle and don't wipe the seat. I swear, some women must back up to toilets and raise their legs like dogs.

4. Unwarranted personal comments. I hate it when people look over your purchases and say, "On a diet, eh?" Or at the library, "Hoping to get a book published?" There's something so revealing and, ugh, intimate about knowing people are watching you and making judgments .

5. People who honk at you when they can clearly see that a.) you are from out of town and clueless or b.) you can't go anywhere. By the way, I'm now convinced that DC is the honking-est place in the world. Man, they love their horns here. I bet they teach horn-honking in drivers' ed.

6. People who chew with their mouths open. I was at brunch with a group of friends. One of the husbands joined us. He sat there and mushed his food around in his mouth like a human blender. Gross.

7. Men in suits who step in front of women, assuming that they (the guys) are businessmen and that any woman is just a bon-bon eating mom having a nice day out with friends. I was leaving Malice when just such a man walked right past me. He actually reached over me to present his claim ticket to the valet. The young man at the parking desk raced off to get Mr. Big his vehicle. After this happened, I spoke quietly to the two other valets who were working. "I'm not trying to be nasty or unkind, but please don't think a man in a suit is more important than I am," I said. The female valet smiled at me. "I agree, ma'am. And I'm the boss here. Believe me, I'll make sure THAT doesn't happen again."

Now that's the sort of thing I love! Someone with a great customer service attitude who cares about me! Someone with a sense of humor and a ready smile!

What ticks you off? (PS, I'm on the road, so if I don't comment right away, please chat without me!)

Saying Goodbye

I came down to Florida expecting to escort my mother up and down the aisles of Wal-Mart. I figured we eat a lot of broccoli cheese soup from Chili's and her favorite shrimp scampi dish from Olive Garden. I planned to go over her handwritten memoirs with her. I made a special photo album of her life.

Instead, I've been sitting by her bedside watching her die.

My sisters and I agree: Over the past week, we've all done things we didn't think we had the strength or courage to do. We've given my mother physical care we couldn't imagine. We've prayed and sung and held each other while we cried.

Fortunately, we haven't been alone. Mom "activated" hospice. And these wonderful people have been our guides and mentors.

Hospice comes from the same root word as "hospitality." It means "a place for weary travelers to rest." Unlike aggressive hospital therapy, it takes its lead from the patient. Instead of setting the agenda, it takes its pacing from the patient's needs, not the hospital schedule. It cannot cure, but it can palliate. It cannot heal a dying body, but it can provide ease of pain, peace, and solace for the sufferer. And most of all, support for the caregivers/family.

Most people wait too long to activate hospice. They call when a person takes his/her last gasps. But when my grandmother died, her doctor refused to activate hospice, and I was left trying to make good decisions without good information. I couldn't get Grandma to eat. She and I went 'round and 'round about it. I was frantic. I felt like I was failing her. In desperation, I phoned the local hospice, explained my circumstance, and started sobbing. The kind woman listened to me, calmed me, and explained, "This is a natural part of the process. She doesn't need food now. It's all right. "

"But aren't I killing her?"

"No...the disease is killing her. This is a natural, human reaction to that disease. Her body is shutting down. It's okay."

On Saturday, Sally Lippert, a friend of our family and a hospice nurse from VITAS came to assess my mother. Mom couldn't tell her what year it was. Nor could she name her grandchildren even as they stood in front of her. She had lost her fine motor skills, a sign the cancer was in her brain. She'd also lost the ability to walk without lurching from one piece of furniture to the next, and her legs ached terribly. That was a sign the cancer had metastasized to her bones.

Sally asked Mom, "Do you know why I'm here?"

My mother, a very proper Southern belle, said, "Yeah, I know... It sucks."

Talking with Sally in private, Mom could finally set aside her denial. She didn't give in--no, not hardly--but she did allow us to step in and care for her. I arrived the next morning, and Mom was already in and out of a coma. She's been in and out of it since. With the help of Sally and our assigned hospice nurse, we care for Mom. My sisters and I sit with her, clean her, and give her medicine. We do what Sally calls "a life review," starring Mom!

One night, we sang all the songs she taught us as children. Another we told funny stories. We continue to tell Mom how much we love her. And lately we've told her, "It's all right to let go."

Because it's time.