Ruth Isaacs 1931-2007
Mother finally died early July 30. The call came from the care center before 6:00, but I was already up, since I had just gotten back from taking Evan to the airport for his Theme Park Review roller coaster trip. Based on my mother's condition the day before, I'd been expecting such a call, and had hardly slept that night. Actually, I had been figuring I'd have gotten back to bed and just dropped off to sleep when I got The Call, so the timing wasn't as bad as it could have been.
I told my dad, who wasn't at all surprised, either, and called my two siblings who'd actually be awake at that time of day. Then my dad and I went to the care center, but we got there before the hospice nurse did, so we just went to look at the sheet-draped body in the bed. Mother had lost so much weight I had to look carefully to make sure she was actually in there.
I had already made arrangements for an autopsy at UCLA for Mother's stroke specialist, and all the care center had to do was call the mortuary, but they had the idea they needed to contact the UCLA anatomical gift program - which is something entirely separate. As a consequence, I kept getting interrupted while trying to catch up on sleep, twice had to bring copies of paperwork I had already brought to the care center, and so on. I gave up the nap as a bad job, and I had so much to take care of I couldn't even break down and cry. Even now, every time I grab a hankie and try to find a quiet place, someone calls or needs something.
Trying to get everybody together for a memorial service in Clayton has been a tricky logistical exercise. I figure I'm not going to completely please anybody, but I don't want to offend anyone, either. My sisters and a couple of their daughters came down for the weekend and helped send out cards to notify my parents' friends. Otherwise, I've pretty much been dealing with everything, and although it is not beyond my ability to handle (so far), there's a lot of stuff survivors need to take care of.
Along with everything else, my dad seems quite content to continue to live with me. This is fine for the short term, but I'd like for someone else to take care of him for awhile. I attended a presentation by the Masonic Homes of California on a new Continuous Care Living Community called Acacia Creek yesterday, but Daddy doesn't want to consider it. He values his independence - as if he's as independent living with me as he would be living in his own apartment among fellow masons. I still figure I'll get his name in the pool, since the new communities won't even be available for residency until late 2009. Who knows, by then, he may even admit that such a thing might be appropriate for him ... although I doubt it.
In the meantime, he may go live with one or the other of my sisters for awhile, and we can share him. We all love our Daddy dearly, but it is difficult having a parent living in the same house with adult offspring. At least he doesn't think he can live by himself, because I don't think he can at the moment. If he recovers some of his mental function, maybe then he could consider living alone, but for the moment, he is not doing well. Perhaps he'll find a nice widow; from what I understand, he'll have to beat the old ladies off with a stick, which is not his style.
I told my dad, who wasn't at all surprised, either, and called my two siblings who'd actually be awake at that time of day. Then my dad and I went to the care center, but we got there before the hospice nurse did, so we just went to look at the sheet-draped body in the bed. Mother had lost so much weight I had to look carefully to make sure she was actually in there.
I had already made arrangements for an autopsy at UCLA for Mother's stroke specialist, and all the care center had to do was call the mortuary, but they had the idea they needed to contact the UCLA anatomical gift program - which is something entirely separate. As a consequence, I kept getting interrupted while trying to catch up on sleep, twice had to bring copies of paperwork I had already brought to the care center, and so on. I gave up the nap as a bad job, and I had so much to take care of I couldn't even break down and cry. Even now, every time I grab a hankie and try to find a quiet place, someone calls or needs something.
Trying to get everybody together for a memorial service in Clayton has been a tricky logistical exercise. I figure I'm not going to completely please anybody, but I don't want to offend anyone, either. My sisters and a couple of their daughters came down for the weekend and helped send out cards to notify my parents' friends. Otherwise, I've pretty much been dealing with everything, and although it is not beyond my ability to handle (so far), there's a lot of stuff survivors need to take care of.
Along with everything else, my dad seems quite content to continue to live with me. This is fine for the short term, but I'd like for someone else to take care of him for awhile. I attended a presentation by the Masonic Homes of California on a new Continuous Care Living Community called Acacia Creek yesterday, but Daddy doesn't want to consider it. He values his independence - as if he's as independent living with me as he would be living in his own apartment among fellow masons. I still figure I'll get his name in the pool, since the new communities won't even be available for residency until late 2009. Who knows, by then, he may even admit that such a thing might be appropriate for him ... although I doubt it.
In the meantime, he may go live with one or the other of my sisters for awhile, and we can share him. We all love our Daddy dearly, but it is difficult having a parent living in the same house with adult offspring. At least he doesn't think he can live by himself, because I don't think he can at the moment. If he recovers some of his mental function, maybe then he could consider living alone, but for the moment, he is not doing well. Perhaps he'll find a nice widow; from what I understand, he'll have to beat the old ladies off with a stick, which is not his style.
posted by Jeannette | 11:53 AM
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