"Here comes the sun, here comes the sun, and I say it's all right
Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun and I say it's all right"
We had plans to visit my mother, Ruth, who had been living in Tampa for the past thirteen years. She was not feeling well and we were going down to check on her. So, we did not classify it as a pleasure trip. I booked through Expedia and just bypassed all their tempting offers for discounts to the area attractions.
Our travel date was March 20, coincidentally the first day of spring. After this brutal winter it seemed appropriate to start out that day,
Paul arrived home the Thursday before our trip, midday. He said he was not feeling well. I immediately asked if he had a fever. Paul does not consider anyone sick unless one can produce a fever. He answered. No "my legs are heavy, I could barely drive." I declared"no fever, not sick." He took to his bed with Liam.
They both rose later that evening for our beloved reality show "Survivor." I thought watching the harshness of the challenges would inspire Paul to pull himself together. Nope. He woke Friday, called in sick and announced "you have to go by yourself."
What!, go by myself. This was a trip chock full of meetings with staff, caregivers, accounting, lawyers , doctors, management, housekeeping and future plans with Ruth. Oh No! "What is wrong with you?" " I am having an anxiety attack. Take one of your friends." Oh hello. Isn't that what a terrorist does? Just give his/her ticket to a friend and pretend to be a U.S. citizen? Too late. Drugs needed. There are drugs for cruises, there must drugs for planes.
We got the miracle flying drug, xanax, after an emergency doctor visit. A medicated hubby is a fine companion. Why didn't I think of this 27 years ago? Paul did not even mind the 2 hour delay or that I had a window seat or that there were no snacks or that I was sharing the NY Times over him with a nice man in the aisle seat-the seat Paul coveted. I could not wait to tell Ruth, she would love this story.
We arrived at the hotel via rental car
about 8:30. The online ads for our hotel boasted of an on site restaurant. When we asked about it we were sent to an on site restaurant in the broadest sense-on the same block. It was charming, named Central Park, with a mural drawn on the wall by its owner, 
a New Yorker, we got in just before closing at 9. Obviously not a true NY restaurant. Paul had yummy pork chops 
Again my mom would love this story and the pork chop photo, cannot wait to show her. She might not like the small rental car though.We ate and vowed to make it our daily nite spot.
Tampa Night March 20, 2010
Newly medicated Paul was ready for bed. Bed! My night was just beginning. I have restless leg syndrome, sleep apnea, insomnia-all these maladies are only enhanced by an unfamiliar hotel room. A sleepy Paul asked which side of the bed I wanted. Which side of the bed? I need my own room. I need two floors. I need a kitchen, a second bathroom, I need Liam. Liam and I sleep together. He has the bottom I have the top of the couch in the den in NHP, Then midway through the night he joins Paul upstairs in the bed on what was once "my side"
My friend Lynne describes my experience that first night by sharing how she feels:
You know that I can fully appreciate the sleep situation you are dealing with (besides everything else). When my husband and I go away somewhere and share a room, it is not an easy night. As you know, I have so much trouble falling asleep on any night. Some nights I just convince myself to stay up and wait until morning. I usually can get some sleep but it is not fun.
Then if I am in same room as him, it is nearly impossible. I cannot lay there and listen to snoring. My body reacts as if it is being forced to listen to jazz (hope you laugh at that one). And then the more I try to relax and fall asleep, the more impossible it becomes.
And then I get nervous since I am not in familiar surroundings. he does not care; he is asleep. But I am faced with being confined in a small room, no ability to wander. or sit curled up in the den watching TV, playing with dogs, etc. All of the things that take my mind off of the fact that I am awake and the world is sleeping. And I too must be quiet. In my own house, I can wander to another room, get a snack, flush toilet, etc. and he probably will not hear. Hotel rooms do not give you any room to "escape", turn the lights on, and just pretend it is morning.
Paul announces. Lights out. The panic sets in. He sleeps in a position that is the opposite of his day personality. Totally open, on his back armed stretched wide. It is a queen size bed , but no other person could fit. Liam could curl up somewhere, not me. But we have a room with two Queen size beds, so I am on the other.
Then the snoring starts, I have no earplugs with me. I put toilet paper in my ears, Kleenex too bulky. I read. I take- klonopin-my restless leg drug. How many are fatal? I text. I read. I have 5 books with me. I look at Facebook on my bb, email, media, photos anything on my bb. Somehow I fall asleep.
Day, Sunday, March 21.
Arrive at University Village Nursing home.
We go in to visit Ruth, room 154. I expect a chat, a possible drive to the beach, some talk of the future, some laughs about our Tampa adventures. I walk pass a group of folks in wheelchairs slumped against the wall, going right to her room. "Your Mom is out front, didn't you see her?" Not my mother, not one of those sad dependent wheelchair people! I come back out, the nurse ( my 2 month phone friend) brings me to my Mom. I do not recognize her, then I see. It is a new version of Ruth.
She does recognize me, maybe. I do not know. I think she knows me. maybe. She pleads "help me"
There will be no drive to the beach, no shared stories, no back and forth exchanges. This is not a pleasure trip in the truest sense.
Night, Sunday, March 21.
I now have earplugs, hot pink squidgy ones. I have wine. I have drugs. I have Amazing Race. I have my defense against the medicated snorer.
We have discovered that our cutesy NY restaurant is only open one night per week, on Saturday, and that day is now over and done for our stay here. We have no nighttime place. The on site restaurant is their Continental breakfast nook
misleading, oh yeah.We have a fridge and microwave. We buy food. I eat on the desk, Paul in his bed. after all it is his bed.
Day, Monday, March 22
Arrive at University Village Nursing Home. Today is worse. She only recognizes Liam's photo, but the smile that little dog brings was the last sign of any recognition. The staff confides that her decline since our arrival has been precipitous and observed by all. Ruth is not on machines or drips or anything. She is just leaving us.
Night, Monday, March 22
Same procedure. But this night we have no TV shows we agree on watching. Thanks goodness for Anderson Cooper. I now have found that wine, klonopin, earplugs, a late shower, my bb next to me get me to sleep around 3AM. The medicated hubby sleeps deeply. I try not to hate him.
Day, Tuesday, March 23
I talked to my Mom for a long time. I tell her what has been happening with everyone, relay their hellos, their good wishes, I rival Jay Leno in doing a good monologue. I then tell her "Time to go, join Charlie at a sunny beach." The staff asks "Did you tell her to go?" I say "yes"
Night, Tuesday, March 23 Our last night in Tampa
an ominous feeling settles in. I take a photo of the night Tampa oaks with moss
Texting on bb with friends. wine, restless leg, shower, Klonopin, is there a limit as to how long a person can stay awake? Will morning ever come? Do I want it to come?Wednesday, is our last day and something is happening all night and early morning. Nothing, nothing has let sleep come. I am struggling to sleep with all my power, but it is elusive. Lynne also has a bad feeling.
Day, Wednesday, March 24, 2010.
Early morning we get a call from the Nursing home. "your Mom is gone."
My Mom, Ruth McNiff, was an avid reader of LiamLicks. She only wanted a hard copy, she refused to make the leap to the Internet. so I mailed one each week. All the LiamLicks were stacked in her apt. Most recent ones unopened-guess that is when the trouble began. On her desk was Liam's puppy photo.
She said his spirit and look of Independence made her smile every day. She had said "he is his own person" This is the pic that she loved.
She had folded it to fit it into her favorite silver frame. I think I had once resided in that same frame, but Liam was the one!You were your own person, Mom. Rest In Peace.
Woof, Woof
Liam unfolded from Mom's frame in photo next
now free, you may notice the lines she has drawn to make sure she got him in the the frame just right. So like her to be so precise.
