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May 19, 2004
I'm so over my head, I could spit. Really. That's what Kaillan does when she's wired.
A couple of weeks ago, my vivacious, vibrant, 73 year old grandmother was nearly done her laps at the public pool when the mother of one of my closest friends, who hadn't equated our connection, saw her floating face down in the water and ran for help. My grandmother's known brain aneurysm, the one she'd had checked in a routine appointment just weeks before, was bleeding. I didn't know that something like one in 200 people lives with an aneurysm and doesn't know it. That night we waited while they put in five coils to stop the bleeding and figured out some short term plans. My grandmother bounced back from both a heart attack and a stroke before. Bounced? No, LEAPED back, with no deficit, so while I had much to be hopeful for, deep down somewhere I dared to consider what if this is it? One of the doctors who came out during her surgery said she had asked for a lipstick. We grinned our faces off. She was obviously ok.
I should probably backtrack a second to where my week was at when this happened. I was two days from going home for the weekend. One of my closest, oldest friends is getting married next month in Edmonton, but because Remo's cousin here is getting married the day after, and because our time is so tight this time of year, going to her wedding would mean two days of travelling with three kids, to stay there for two days. Plus the best tickets I could get were a hundred million dollars. So plan B involved our friends and her family coordinating a shower and a stagette a weekend I could go and squeal SURPRISE! I can't tell you how many things excited me about this adventure, besides the part where I miss them all so much. I was leaving Thursday and bringing the baby with me. I wasn't packed because what I had to bring was God knows where. At work, two people were leaving on mission and sucking the life out of the rest of us, stress was gooping out my ears, all of my children were sick with one of the worst flues we've had this season and what it took to get the antibiotics into them was nothing short of a miracle. My house was upside down and crap it just hit me, tomorrow we HAD to wait in line with two hundred people to try to get Brandan one of forty summer camp spots. You can imagine the anxiety?
I left the hospital late that first night and Remo dropped me off with my grandmother's friend. She was the only one who knew where I had to park my grandmother's car in her building. She was, by fair account, a nervous wreck. Now I am excellent in crisis mode: focussed, organized, direct. Efficient. When we got in my grandmother's apartment, by the time the friend (an adorable and kind woman, I must interject) had figured out which keys were hers and which were my grandmothers, I had every possible thing I knew my grandmother would want, in her bag. I'm including the scavenger hunt because being there was, I'm not sure how to describe it, sad, eery maybe? I know my grandmother is organized. She plans incessantly every minute of her day. It was very strange knowing that her intention when she left that morning was to come back. She's been forgetful of late, I'd attributed much of her confusion to her hearing. But the notes, the unbelievable notes everywhere, made me wonder...why? What amazed me and inspired me actually, was how prepared she was. On the table beside her door were so many envelopes, bills with the dates they had to be paid, cards that had to be mailed on specific days to arrive exactly on a birthday. A suitcase in the hallway with her best dressing gowns in case she had to go to the hospital for an emergency. In case she had an emergency...
I went home with the garbage bag of sopping wet stuff the hospital gave me and called my parents. It was two in the morning, while I was clipping Brandan's magic letter homework for the next day, when Emmie woke up screaming. She's had a decent bout of separation anxiety stage these days, raw ear drums and tooth numbers three and four are arriving painfully slow. My morning was hours away and aside from getting to the hospital before work, my stomach was in knots because holy crap, holy crap, I had so much stuff I needed to do when I got there. The kind of work rushing will seriously complicate.
I went to the hospital and was relieved to see Grandma Jackie alert. She had moments when she was totally confused and some when she had complete clarity. Par for the course. She reminded me her horoscope said she would die when she was 73. I asked her what day it is, she said April 27th. Yay! I asked what year it is, she said she thought it ended in a nine. She wanted to know if she was still pregnant. Um, no. She said she was on the way to the pool when she had a stroke. Close. I went back at lunch and she told me she hoped she could get a TV in her isolation room because today was supposed to be a good Oprah and she was NOT going to miss American Idol either. I was supposed to leave tomorrow, I asked the doctor what he thought I should do and he suggested that since her procedure was routine and it would take time to recover and because most of the time I'd be gone she'd be in ICU, maybe now would be a better time to go, given that she would need me more when she got out of intensive care. I felt wrecked.
Thursday morning I called in sick. Besides the what-if-something-happens-to-her terror, I wasn't even remotely prepared for the trip. Remo would be home alone with Brandan and Kaillan and I felt compelled to have everything ready for them or they'd suffer. It's crazy, but I had to do it. Even if Remo's awesome. I called him to figure out if I should go or not and he insisted I had to go. Two other friends said go. Claudia, my best friend in the whole wide world, had been sequestered for three days on jury duty, so I couldn't weigh what to do with her. I wanted someone to make me second-guess my decision. The moment I decided to go, I took off like a maniac, so frantic in my race to find and pack and organize things. I decided to leave little gifts on the kids pillows and love letters all over the place for them. In theory, the idea sounds warm and fuzzy, but I lived a moment of heebee jeebies while I whipped out those notes. What if something happened and these were the last words these guys had from their mother? Would they cherish them with all their hearts and lovingly read them all the rest of their days? These words I was barely giving thought to? You know something? I feel really safe when we're all together. My tight little family.
That morning I sent Brandan off to school with an extra snack, juice, fork and spoon for his cubbyhole - in case Remo forgot one day. I explained in the note he should take the school bus home. Obviously the note went in the cubbyhole and not to Mme Poirier. Remo was trying to wrap up his day from shell, and I was in a what-do-I-pack panic. I mean, if you're going home and you haven't seen anyone in a year and a half, you have to look cool. I live in a fashion capital for crying out loud. It's my nature to bring everything I own but I was only going to be there four days. On the other hand, Edmonton gets cold and cold clothes take more space. Two hours went by. Then three. My original plan was to pack, run to the hospital and pick up the girls on the way back, spend a couple hours with them til Brandan's bus came and we'd go to the airport early. But all of a sudden it was time for Brandan's school bus, I hadn't left the house yet, Remo was late and aaaaccccchhh, I found a thousand freaking ants at the front door.
I ran up the street as the bus came round the corner. There wasn't a Brandan on it. It was stifling humid, I had no idea it was going to be so hot out. I ran all the way home and as I started to call Remo, he opened the garage door. I had half an hour till I was supposed to check in but we had three children to pick up first. It's no wonder I didn't end up in the hospital with Grandma Jackie. Things got worse at the airport because the lineup was halfway home. How bad? The guy I work with, who's flight was two hours after mine, was fifteen people in front of me. I checked in, knew I had maybe twenty minutes before I had to board and swore I could squeeze in Burger King. I live on the edge and man, was it worth it. Never in my life have I ever had a whopper like that. Totally knock out.
I was really lucky because on the plane they gave me an empty seat for Emmie. But as I shlepped down the isle and saw the young, good looking guy sitting beside us, I cringed and started apologising. Care for a post ear-infection infant with your coffee? Turns out he has three little kids of his own AND he lives in the same town as my parents! He was just coming back from Saudi Arabia, he works on the rigs there for 28 days, then he's home for 28 days, just like that, we were fast friends. Emmie was fantastic on the plane, totally happy. When (blink) the plane stopped in Ottawa, I made friends with the flight attendant too. He lives in Montreal and we had a mutual acquaintance. He came back at one point and said we were going to lose Emmie's seat, the flight to Edmonton was packed. Enter Mary. I'm not sure how old she was, mid forties maybe, she took the middle seat between Harlan and I. The flight attendant told me he had arranged two things; someone would switch seats with me once we were at cruising altitude so I could have an extra seat for the baby and the pilot was going to ask air traffic control if we could begin the decent into Edmonton earlier because of Emmie's ears. Wow! When he later came to help me move, I reluctantly declined. Mary, Harlan and I were stuck to each other like glue. Three musketeers. We talked four hours straight about every thing in our lives that made us nervous or proud or scared or happy. It was the most fun I have ever had on a plane, ever. I have no fear of flying at all, but I will admit to some apprehension ever since September 11th, less because I work in the industry and more because I'm a mom, but if it's my time to go, it's my time. I'd just hate it if it was the person beside me's turn and I was simply along for the ride.
Now getting ready for the trip, whilst I was cursing like a creep, I swore it wasn't worth all the stress. No way in shell (there's that word again), was I doing it again. It was going to take a week to get everything ready before and a week after to recover, and for what? A bit of selfish gallivanting? It did, it honestly did, recharge my batteries. In life I run and do and rush like crazy all over the place. Now there I was, with breakfasts and lunches and dinners booked up to my eyeballs, but my pace was relaxed. I missed Remo and the kids impossibly but they were having a blast. Too much fun, in my opinion actually. At my end, if Emmie had separation anxiety issues before, staying in a strange place with the one person in the world she loves most (me!) only heightened them. We got tighter, her and I.
If anything happened to Remo (KNOCK ON WOOD again and again), I would seriously, seriously, consider going home to raise my children there. I live in a big city and I don't know half my neighbours. Maybe I know a few of them. Out west, everybody knows everybody, or at the very least, the person they're with. They're kind and considerate and patient. Everything here is rushed. Frantic sometimes. But it's the way people look out for one another there that floors me. In fairness, things changed this year when Brandan started school, I feel a sense of community. Remo and I are, by no means, short of friends. We can barely keep up with them actually, but they're all over the place. I didn't realize actually how important it is to me to belong to a community. Hadn't connected the part where I was staying in the one our house sits in, but that it's up to me to LIVE in it. If I brought back one souvenir with me, that lesson is the most precious one. I'm going to somehow, but definitely, connect more.
Before I left, I called my Dad to see what the temperature was in Edmonton, he said a balmy 19, 20 degrees. Yah right, I was going to freeze my tail off. So I woke up that first morning and pulled on a black turtle neck and cream pants. I took off my three quarter length jacket when I left Barb's (an old, true, awesome friend) because it was so warm. We set off on a Costco run (it's one of my favourite joints), and wouldn't you know it, I sat on someone's gum (not mentioning any names Nathan). Twenty degrees in the dry air, was not twenty degrees in Montreal. So while everyone was baking in the sun half naked, I had a coat covering the evil looking burgundy gum and a turtle neck up to my nose, I looked like an idiot.
I drove to Shelley's shower with her mom and mother in-law and the mother of a guy I went to school with. Most of my excitement came in seeing my friends, I hadn't given much thought to how Shelley would feel when she saw me. When they said her car was driving up, my stomach flip-flopped. I didn't know where to stand or what to do. All of a sudden she came around the corner and.....stopped dead and cried and cried. We all cried. Her stagette later that night was fun too. We had a bite to eat and then a big, yellow school bus came to drive us into the city. The theme was farewell to a cougar, so we had Shelley wearing a tiny, tight leopard print shirt, with fake nails so long she could kill someone, massive gold hoop earings and makeup caked on. She had a list of embarrassing tasks she had to accomplish but we were all willing to help her conquer them. I got in at three in the morning. Five in Montreal. Emmie was still on Montreal time and that hurt.
I shopped, ate well. Shopped. Edmonton has the world's largest indoor mall, with an indoor amusement park, golf course, the exact replica of the famed Santa Maria ship on a lake with submarine rides around it, dolphin shows, an NHL sized skating rink, casino, over 800 stores, a water park with a lake with waves you can surf. I went to the Olive Garden with my parents, sister, uncle, nephew, brothers and an almost sister in-law and felt very Andrew Firestone. Adored the company, was disappointed in the meal. Colour me too Italian now, I can't believe I don't like the Olive Garden anymore.
Next thing you know we were on the way home.
Man, but do I love my family! Maybe there was a hundred people who passed through the gate before it was my turn but that electricity? Their excitement. Kaillan and Brandan raced through the crowd and jumped on Emmie first! Remo and I couldn't stop grinning. In those couple of days, something in me changed. I'm not sure how to explain it, because I'd have to figure it out first. I found peace or became grateful or just "got" taking it one day at a time. Live. Laugh. Does it sound crazy? Whatchamacallit, whatever I caught, is good. That's all.
Back to Grandma Jackie, I've established a routine. I try to go to the hospital before work or at lunch, sometimes both. I walk in the door, stopping at the disinfecting station. Go to her bed, check to see if her eyes are open or closed, read the various measurements on her screen and the notes on the clip board, rub my hands till I see sparks and slather her up with cream and vaseline (I made her skin baby soft). I check the colour in her urine bag and wake her up, yelling the various instructions I am now an expert on. Yesterday, they had to do something to her so I stepped outside the curtain, close to the man who just checked in. I said hi, asked how he was. He was trying to eat something, was euphoric. He asked if I wouldn't mind taking that bandaid off because it was bothering him while he chewed. The problem as I saw it, was that bandaid wrapped around the place where the top of his head used to be. I respectfully declined.
The other day, I sauntered in to a buzzing ICU. There were people with masks and carts all over the place and the word of the day was isolation. Isolation, isolation, isolation. Two men were taking the curtains down around beds, many of the beds were actually gone, and most of the medical staff had masks? You can imagine my need to bail out. I asked Antoine, the social worker, if I should leave. Used my best puppy dog eyes to tell him about my three little babies so he'd give me the antidote too. He whispered in layman's terms something about there being a patient transferred from another hospital and standard precautions being taken and also there's that patient who used to be in the room beside us who tested positive for gzfmmnbt. What? Gzfmmnbt Oh. Gzfmmnbt.
If I drop off the face of the earth in the next 2-14 days, we won't wonder why
The situation with Grandma Jackie is not good at all. She's can't move, can't speak, barely keeps her eyes open. I go every day before work and at lunch. She's had severe vasospasms (the arteries tighten so much blood cannot pass through) which caused her to have a stroke on the right side of her brain and possibly some mini-ones, but the most concerning is a small part near the front of her brain that controls her motivation, her will, the message centre between the two sides. Unless that part comes back she will have no hope for any rehabilitation, though at very best, she will never walk again. So what she can't walk, I just want to be able to talk to her. I know, really truly know, she would not want to live like this. Yesterday was one of the most alert moments she's had in weeks, I swear while I was hanging over top of her, she knew me. I need more time. I want her to know, really know how important she is to me.
That Tuesday night I got home from Edmonton I found out I had an interview Thursday morning for a job up my alley. There would be three of them conducting the interview and when personnel explained it was going to be so intense, they would be sitting in to ensure it was fair, I considered withdrawing. Took maybe ten minutes to consider I have nothing to lose, except maybe my reputation and another chance ever and that I'm satisfied with where I am now. I decided to go for it. I took Wednesday night to prepare for the interview. My brain would only let me jam so much into it. I went. Left feeling confidant, but in reliving things in my mind later, thought I should probably smother myself. The thing is at this level they have to be over the moon in love with you, so much so that they'll go before a board and convince them they can't live with out you. I know I'm adorable BUT...
Thursday Remo said SURPRISE! Remember how badly you and Gina wanted to go to the Shania Twain concert? Well he and Peter, Gina's husband, got us tickets. Another day I'd have smooched his face off, but I couldn't find him over the laundry and all I wanted was to climb into bed with the kids and read a story. I went to the concert, sang my guts out and came home. Nothing more than that but only because my heart wasn't entirely in it.
Obviously I had to be booked on Friday too. Remember way back when, I sent invitations to all the Mom's in Brandan's kindergarten class? For the dinner to honour us? I had the perfect excuse to skip it but Remo insisted go! Have fun! I went and I did. Getting back to how back home, everyone knows everyone, mark my words, I will know the parents of my children's friends. People are forever telling me to enjoy these years because it'll be over soon and the kids won't bother with us before long. No way. If I go down, I'm going down fighting. We were a collection of very different women, some were easier to gravitate towards than others and some were just plain cute. We knocked back plenty of wine and talked and laughed. Getting to know each other was really cool and we all hit it off, staying long after the restaurant closed. Whoever Brandan chooses to be best friends with or fall in a crush with or get rip-roaring mad at. It'll only be to my advantage to know their moms. In case something needs to be fixed or shared or treasured.
The other night, we went on a frog call. It happens once a year at the ecomuseum near my house (animals in their natural habitat). We had to wear rubber boots and bring our flashlights and after a brief lecture we headed off to the marsh. It was cool actually because the frogs spend their days up in the trees (who knew?), and then after dusk they make their way across the high grass to the marsh. You could hear a hundred million of them everywhere and our instructions were to catch them and carry them down to the marsh. Futile, maybe, given that they were on the way there anyway. I tried like a bandit to catch one. Nothing. My sister in-law, who practically showed up in high heels, caught three! In my own frog hunting defence and for the record, it is impossible to catch a frog while you're nursing an Emmie.
I know there's more, but there's always that space issue to consider and whether you guys make it to the end anyway. I'd like to leave you with a smile, but the only thing that comes to mind amounts to a you had to be there moment. I think. Our offices have to be secure, newcomers have to pass themselves and their bags through x-rays even. Where I park my car, I have to go through two sliding doors with my pass before I hit a revolving door with bars on it. It's a very tight space and your pass will only work once. I know someone who got stuck in the thing and had to call security to get out and I live in fear of getting trapped. Now I have to get my grandmother out of her apartment and while you CAN'T imagine how much stuff she has, you can imagine how desperately I need boxes. Yesterday, I was bringing home six photocopy paper boxes (they don't fold) and only when I got to the revolving door did I wonder how the shell was I going to get through it. I tried kicking some, tried hooking some on my head like a turtle, tried stretching my arms, but with my briefcase and my purse and another bag and the bars so close to clicking me in, it was contortionally impossible. I dropped everything on the floor and then Peter came in. The God. We considered several scenarios and next thing you know he's wearing my purse and and I'm carrying his briefcase and our feet moved in a blur butin all the confusion, we pushed through like we were carrying lungs for a transplant. We survived and laughed til we could barely stand.
He swore he'd ask security for a copy of the tape.
Then we went on our merry ways.
I must get back there now,
Allisun
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