Nursing Homes

My dad spent a total of a month in three different nursing homes in 2015.  The first was the worst.  It was so bad, we despaired of him making it out alive or at least sane.  I made a deal with God that if He got my dad home again and healthy, I would write a letter to the powers that be about the awful conditions at that nursing home.  My dad did make it home OK, and he is healed now.  So a few weeks ago I sent a letter to two places, describing my dad's experience at the home.  If you want to do this for your loved one, here are two websites that can help you:
http://www.health.state.mn.us/divs/fpc/ohfcinfo/index.html
http://mn.gov/dhs/people-we-serve/seniors/services/ombudsman/

Here is an excerpt of the letter I wrote:

"So I write this in the hopes that you do something about it.  The elderly and infirm need us.  They need us to stand up for what is right.  To do what they are unable to do themselves.  I hope you consider this and other complaints that I have seen investigated.  I know that in some measures this center is not much different than others across the USA.  That does not make it a good center by default.  It just describes the sad state of affairs that our nursing homes are in!  Our elderly have worked all their lives and sacrificed so much for their families and their communities for this?  This is the reward they can expect from years of paying their taxes?  To be cared for by temporary staff that have little inclination of what they are doing, and don’t seem to care either?"

During this time I also did some research.  I found a website that ranks nursing homes: http://health.usnews.com/best-nursing-homes.  From what I read, it seems accurate.  I also found another website that helps you get whatever services or help you need for your senior: http://metroaging.org/.  Aside from the nursing home rating site, the other sites are for Minnesota, but something similar should be in your state.  I also learned that when you enter a home, you get a patient bill of rights.  If you don't, ask for one; they are required to give you one.

My mom advocated for my dad every day.  If she was not there, I don't know if he would have survived.  I know the nursing assistants are minimally educated and trained, but that is no excuse for laziness, abuse, or neglect.  I know it is a sucky job, one I don't think I could ever do.  But that is no excuse either.  The elderly are vulnerable humans.  They don't always have the ability to defend themselves.  So it is up to the rest of us to do it.  I know it's hard to put your parent in a home.  There are some good ones out there.  I have seen them.  But if you can choose, choose wisely.  Listen to your intuition.  Ask questions.  Demand answers.  You are the consumer, you are paying the staff's salary.  You know what's best for your parent.  Think about what they have done for you.  Then think about what they would want you to do for them, if you can.  They deserve to live their lives out in dignity.

I'm Not Racist

About 15 years ago I worked as a special needs coordinator in an inner city child care center in Minneapolis.  I helped children with special needs get the help they needed.  I got along with the staff for the most part, a few not liking me or not willing to work with me because they were not willing to make changes in their classroom to help the special needs children I was trying to help.  Some teachers I just didn't like because they were controlling and not loving, or just standing or sitting around, not doing their job.

Such was the case for two new aides, who happened to be black.  I was talking to another staff person in that room, who I liked, and thanked her for being there.  I told her I was glad she was there and that I thought she was doing a great job.  I thought we were having a good conversation when I made a faux pas.  I complained about the two black aides in that room.  I shouldn't have complained at all to anybody about any staff, but as usual, I spoke before I thought.  Even though this teacher that I liked didn't know me, she went to our boss and accused me of racism.

I was shocked that she would say that.  To me, it suspended logic.  Why would I take this job, knowing that I would be helping children of all races?  Why would I tell this new teacher, a lesbian, that I thought she was doing a great job?  If I was racist, wouldn't I also be prone to being homophobic?  And finally, as someone who knows what it is like to be discriminated against because of my appearance, why would I be racist?

Even though I have been bullied many times through the years in my various jobs, this was the most painful thing I ever experienced in my employment.  I loved the kids I worked with, of all races.  I got along great with some of the staff, of all races.  I have worked with people who were racist.  I just couldn't believe that someone would accuse me of such a heinous thing.

I felt like it ruined what credibility I had with the staff.  It was hard not to feel paranoid about what people were thinking or saying about me.  I tried to keep doing my job to the best of my ability, but I always had that incident in the back of my mind.

So when people accuse others of racism, or anything other "ism," I want to take a better look.  I want to look at the whole person, not just what they sad one time.  It depends on what a person says, does, and believes.  It is not just a word ill-said.

I used to think my grandpa was racist against the Japanese.  Some men who served in the Pacific theatre during WWII called the Japanese "Japs."  So did my grandpa.  I used to correct him as a kid, I thought I knew everything then.

But as I grew older and learned more about the war, and about what my grandpa experienced during the war, I learned a few things.

I learned that when you have an enemy in a war, it is easier to do battle with them if you don't see them as human.  So you create a derogatory name to describe them.  In this case, Japs.

Also, my grandpa saw the destruction the Japanese military did on the many little islands in the Pacific.  These islands were inhabited by natives who had nothing, and yet, this was taken away too.  Their lives were changed by a selfish dictator who wanted more power, no matter the cost.

So I began to realize my grandpa wasn't racist.

It is not an easy thing to know someone, to understand.  It is much easier to judge and accuse, and damn the consequences.  We all do that.  I know I do.

But I implore people nowadays to do just that.  At least don't accuse someone of something so heinous until you see the whole picture.  If you don't have time or the inclination, don't judge at all. I know, I am just as guilty and need to take my own advice!  But realize the destruction that happens when someone is accused of an "ism."  Just because someone is in the "majority," it doesn't mean their feelings don't matter, or that they are without problems.

All lives matter.

Minnie

 

Over the last 6 months, since my dad fell, I have spent a lot more time with my parents' dog, Minnie.  I stayed there for a total of 6 weeks, helping my mom out and keeping Minnie company.  Not only did Minnie comfort us when we were trying to cope with my Dad's injury, she was a great comfort to me in my own grieving for my beloved pet, Chocolate, who passed away a year ago.

Minnie loves to just sit on our laps and be loved, or take naps with us on the leather couch.  She also loves to run around outside and bark at all the woodland critters, telling them to stay away.  Unfortunately, she also likes to eat animal poop!  But she is good hunter.  Last summer she killed 4 young groundhogs.  But usually, the chipmunks and squirrels are too fast for her, as they can run up trees.  But she doesn't give up, she keeps trying, in the hopes that someday, she will catch her prey.

Minnie loves her mommy and daddy.  She was so depressed the first few days when Dad was gone that she wouldn't eat her food.  When he came back, she was so excited, leaping and barking all over the place.   Actually, she does that whenever they come home, as if they had been gone forever.  She is not at peace until they are home.

She also protects us.  She protected me against a big, hyper dog, growling and barking at it to stop.  She protected my mom against a woodchuck, wrestling with it until my mom was able to kill it with a few good whacks from a shovel.  And she protected her doggy cousin from a big, scary dog that tried to attack her, by jumping on it and trying to stop it.  For her troubles, she got a few bites, but she was OK.
I love this dog.  I look forward to seeing her when I come over.  She always gets so exicted.  How could anyone not love that cute little face?  I am so glad mom and dad asopted her.  She is just what we needed.  And she needed us too.

Nibby II

When I was growing up, I had a beautiful Siamese cat named Nibby II.  We had just lost Nibby I and I was bereft of a best friend in the form of a pet.  So we bought Nibby II at a home breeder two weeks later.

Fast forward to two months ago, I painted a portrait of Nibby II at Cheers Pablo, like the one I painted of Chocolate.  

Nibby II was a mix of Lynx and Seal point Siamese.  She slept with me under the covers every night, "massaging my back."  During the day, if my bed was made, she either slept under the bed in front of the heat vent, or followed the sunny spots on the floor around the house.  She just liked to be warm.  But she was also a lap cat, and she loved to have me carry her around.  

She didn't live as long as our first Nibby, who lived 18 years.  Nibby II only lived 13 years.  She died within 24 hours of a vet visit.  I really don't know what happened.  The vet said there was nothing wrong with her, but I knew there was.  She had been pooping upstairs the last two  years of her life.  I don't know if she was trying to avoid our new dog, Trixie, the rat terrier.  She used her litter box, which was in the basement, to urinate, but she pooped upstairs.  

Losing my cats were the greatest loss of my life.  I gave so much love to them, that when they died, a it seemed my whole heart went with them.  It's not just in the losing of a loved one.  It's in losing a part of my identity as a cat caretaker.  Something that depended on me as much as I depended on it.  I suppose that is why it is so hard for me to get over that loss.  Not that one ever gets over it, but it does get easier as time goes on.  

It is hard to get enough love back to pour into another living being.  That is why it is taking me so long to get another pet, if I do.

Until then, I appreciate the blessings these pets have had on my life.  They were a gift to me, as I hope I was a gift to them.  And for that I am eternally grateful.

New Years's Day

This holiday has always been anti-climactic for me.  It is just another day, except for the change in  my TV viewing schedule.  I never make resolutions as winter is the worst time for me, and holidays are also not a good time for me to make decisions.  Here, my schedule is messed up and I feel all out of sorts, not having a plan every day.  Needless to say, I am not a fly-by-night person.  

This was a most difficult year so far for me.  The worst was my dad falling.  It took 6 months of 3 weeks of traction, major surgery, 1 week in hospital, and a month in various nursing homes.  My dad is OK now, but he still uses his cane, even though he is not supposed to.  I think he is scared he will fall again.  I don't blame him.  I would be scared of that too.  I think it was the most horrible time in his life too.

I also had 6 months of pain in my arm and hand.  I have had 4 sessions of trigger point dry needling, which hurt like hell, the worst pain I have ever experienced.  But it helped.  But the pain is coming back, I hope not for good.  I guess we will just have to see.  

I still miss my cat, Chocolate.  It has gotten easier though, and not so painful.  This Christmas was a lot easier.  But I fear trying to adopt another pet.  I am such a light sleeper, but if I don't get enough sleep, I am depressed and anxious.  

I am also still going to school for ABE/ESL certification.  I hope to have enough credits in May to sub.  Although I fear leaving my volunteering will be hard.  I will so miss the staff and especially the students.  I have come to care for them and enjoy helping them.  But, I am tired of being unemployed.  They say it doesn't define me, but I can't help feeling like a loser being unemployed and unpublished.

I also have no new relationships in my life.  Just my family, my KFS group, and 2 childhood friends.  But they are busy and have their own lives, and I understand that.  We have gone our different ways.  I was too dependent, as I don't know how to make or keep friends.  Besides, I have my family, and they keep me busy.

But sometimes when I am in the throes of my period, I feel lonely and alone, and wish I had someone to share my life with.  I wish I had someone who believed I was beautiful, and worth it.  Someone who doesn't try to change me but accepts me as I am, and appreciate those parts of me.  I don't know why it's so hard.  I just can't seem to attract a mate.  It's like I have the plague.  I don't just look and sound weird, but I also struggle with anxiety and depression, which men don't seem to want to deal with.  I don't either, but I have it so I have to.  I have both disability and mental illness.  And I have to deal with it.  And sometimes it can be exhausting.  Even so, I still want a "normal" life, and when I can't seem to attain it, when I fail, I just get more and more discouraged.

I usually don't talk about all this much.  It makes people uncomfortable, and I don't want to upset them.  I don't expect people to fix it, I know they can't.  I just want people to hear it, and realize that this is my reality.  This is what I have to live with.

So no, I make no resolutions.  I know I have no control over my life.  I can't make a man like me, I can't straighten my spine, fix my nose, fix my brain, and fix my upper body.  I can't make people hire me, and I can't make people like me.  I am what I am and I am certainly not God.  Sometimes I think I would like to be, but still, people wouldn't like me when they don't get their way.  Because we just don't sometimes.  Because that is life.  

So no, I don't like New Year's Day.  It is an end to that magical season of Christmas, and a reminder of my futile attempts at trying to be "normal."  

I hope next week is a more cheerful topic.  Maybe I am this way because I am in PMS.  What stupid things these hormones.  Especially as I don't plan on getting pregnant!  The hormones mess me up!  How useless!  

I hope I don't upset my family the most.  Sometimes I think it is worse on the parents than their children, as the parents can't fix it.  They want to be strong and they hope for everything for their children, but sometimes it is not to be.  And they have to accept that, like I do, even though they, nor I, want to.  I guess we just have to try to see the good in things.  And appreciate life as it is.  For I am rather spoiled, with a great family, my own home, education, travels, pets, and health, such as it is.  I am not a woman in a third world country, suffering so horribly as they do, with no rights, no education, and no hope.  

Advent: Joy

I assume this final week is about joy.  I follow 3 other bloggers who also are writers, and seeing their success makes me sad and feeling jealous, I have to admit.  I was not successful in my 10-year foray into this most murky of professions.  I get tired of trying and failing, trying and failing, and trying and failing in all aspects of my life: in relationships and career.

I was feeling great until I read my fellow bloggers' posts for this week.  I know I shouldn't feel this way.  I should feel thankful for what I have.  But then again, there is that word, "should," which should (!) not be part of my vocabulary, coming from such a legalistic background!  

Maybe I am just tired.  Maybe I am just out of sorts because my schedule is different these 2 weeks.  Being out of my routine, throws me off.  Relationships continue to baffle and repulse me (quote from Sheldon Cooper from "Big Bang Theory!")  Actually, they don't repulse me.  I just can't seem to keep them.  I seek them out but find no one, or only the ones that eventually hurt me.  But I guess, that is typical, people are not perfect, I hurt, as others hurt.  We all hurt each other, especially the ones we love.

I guess I compare my life to movies or TV shows, even though they are terribly unrealistic.  I mean, who looks that good all the time?  You never see them on the toilet.  Do fictional characters never go potty?  I know this is weird.  Maybe I spend too much time thinking.  

I live a life of fear.  I fear I will fail in my latest career venture.  I fear I will forever be single and lonely.  I fear I will never be able to tolerate another pet.  Change is just so hard.  I get used to things, and change throws me off and I feel on the edge of a precipice.

But usually, usually, I am happy,  Especially now as I love Christmas, the pain of losing Chocolate is dimming, my dad is healed, my arm is healed.

I live in the greatest country on earth.  I like myself, the way I look, that I am smart, and that I can write, even if few others think so.  I love that I am a good teacher.  I love helping immigrants learn to speak our complicated language.  

I love to read and am thankful I can read.  I love the internet, TV, music, and movies.  I love animals, wild and domestic.  I love art and history.

I think I am an interesting, smart, and funny person.  It really puzzles me why I can't seem to attract a mate.  I am not a typical woman though.  Maybe that turns people off.  I guess it is a miracle that my parents met each other.  Neither of them are typical, yet they met, fell in love, and have been married 55 years.

I guess I just wish I could have gone further in my writing.  I tried so hard.  It is hard to see what you work so hard for fail so miserably.  

But as they say, I have to brush myself off and get back on the horse.  I have to keep trying to do something with my life.  I just am tired of failing.

Well, I guess this post isn't much about joy!  Especially when a neighbor's dog keeps barking in the hallway driving me nuts.  But I guess the point of joy is finding the good even when life sucks.  Because I do have a family, a home, an education, memories, and freedom.  

I am safe and healthy.  And most of all, I am saved by the grace of God, through Jesus Christ.  Even in the midst of my failure, God still loves me.  He still see the beauty in me, because He created me.  And everything I love is because of Him.  I wouldn't be here without Him.  He orchestrated my life so that I could be here, at this time, in this place.  

I think most of us lead pretty ordinary lives.  Most of us aren't celebrities.  Most of us are struggling with something, something bigger than us.  We go through each day just trying to figure out why we are here in the first place.  

I think every life has a story, every life has a purpose, a meaning.  It may look boring or ordinary to others.  But it is not to God.  Life is a gift. I don't want to waste it feeling sorry for myself, feeling things that waste my time and energy.

I just want to enjoy it.  That's what Joy is about.  Living life as a gift from God.

Advent: Love

This week I assume is love.  Wow, that is a loaded word if there ever is one.  I feel a certain lack of love these days for those who hate me just because the color of my skin.  Yes, I mean white.  I have been called a racist, and that is the most painful thing I had been called, because it was from an accuser who didn't know me, and because if I was racist, why would I take a job helping children of all races to get the help they needed?

It is also hard to love the Islamic extremists, who hate me for many reasons: being a woman, American, Christian, disabled, etc., etc., etc.  The plight of the persecution of Muslims around the world is so advertised, but not the plight of my fellow Christians around the world who are killed simply for being a Christian.

I have to remember that some people grow up in a world full of hate.  There is no respect for love, no respect for life, and no respect for death.  They think in the name of Allah it is right to kill all the infidels.  People can pontificate all they want about why they kill, but it boils down to this: theirs is a life of hate and death.

Why else would a couple abandon their own baby, as the San Bernardino terrorists?  If they loved that baby, and if that baby's life mattered to them, they would not abandon him/her.  But their hatred for us and commitment to Allah, superseded that.

It's interesting to note the difference between Christian and Islamic martyrs.  Christian martyrs are killed by others because of their refusal to turn their backs on God.  They don't kill themselves or anyone else.  Islamic martyrs kill themselves and others, in the belief that they are honoring Allah.  All they are honoring is the forces of evil.  God knows what they are doing, and they will suffer the consequences of their evil acts.  They have not won, they will never win.

Why?  Because God has won!  He won by showing His love for us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.  For God so loved that world that He gave His only begotten Son for us, so that, in Him, that we might be saved.   For those who believe in Him, He gave the right to be called children of God.

So even though I can't love my enemies in my own power, I can through Him.  And it is not a love that excuses what they do, or allows them to get away with it.  It is a love that understands that they know not what they do, like when Jesus was crucified, He asked God to forgive those who killed Him, for they knew not what they did.

I, for one, am glad that God is love.  Life is so full of hatred and death that without God's love, it would be hell on earth.  I shudder at the thought.  

So we celebrate Christmas because God demonstrated His love for us through the birth of His Son.  He spoke to the shepherds, He spoke to the Magi.  For Jesus is not just for some people, He is for all people!