April 2008 – Blessings and Sorrows

Even before my mother-in-law’s health took a turn for the better, I had started to explore more volunteer opportunities. I joined our church’s St. Vincent de Paul Society, which turned out to be a real blessing for me. The society’s mission, to lead people to “join together to grow spiritually by offering person-to-person service to the needy and suffering” gave me the opportunity to truly be of service to others. April was an especially active month, as our conference President was out of town, and we had more than our usual share of calls.

I also found a position on volunteermatch.org that was quite intriguing. The duties of the Marketing Assistant for a non-profit I’ll call the Marriage Place were right up my alley. I had originally majored in journalism in college, and the idea of writing press releases and brochures really appealed to me. It was fun creating a resume geared to public relations, even if the only experience I had was a number of volunteer positions from 30 years ago. With my new resume and a list of personal references in tow, I went on my first interview in 13 years. Since this was an unpaid position, I had no trouble landing the job.

Now I settled into somewhat of a routine, which gave my life some much-needed structure. I worked at the Marriage Place on Tuesdays and Thursdays, shopped on Wednesdays, and attended Mass on Fridays. I reserved Mondays for journal writing and planning my week. I continued my daily scripture meditations, subbed for Meals on Wheels when called, and worked with the St. Vincent de Paul Society as needed. My husband and I were now dancing four nights a week, and I had choir practice on another night. On weekends we socialized with friends and family, and we especially enjoyed visiting with our older daughter Joanne, who lives in a nearby city. I was certainly busy enough, and no longer plagued with anxiety over my retirement decision.

Five months into my retirement, I took stock of what I’d accomplished so far. I was indeed making headway on my list of household tasks, and I had enough volunteer work to keep me feeling useful. I still hadn’t pursued my creative interests of writing and jewelry making, though I was pleased with the progress I was making with my online photo albums. Another retirement goal had been to spend more time with my mother-in-law and my developmentally disabled sister, Adele. Well, I’d certainly devoted plenty of attention to my mother-in-law! But while I was now visiting with Adele more often, I kept remembering all of the ways I had failed to be a good guardian, sister, and friend to her. For a long time I had been promising myself I would do better, and now that I had more time I hoped to make good on that promise.

I had been very pleased that I kept my patience with my sister over the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays; it seemed that every year this was more of a challenge for me. Since my retirement I was also accompanying her on all of her medical appointments. Adele had suffered from gall bladder distress a few years ago, and now it had returned. With her latest relapse, we decided that her gall bladder needed to be removed.

A few weeks before the surgery, I hosted Easter dinner at my house. Poor Adele was in such an agitated state. She had hardly eaten in days, since to do so would just bring her more pain, but she wanted to join in with the holiday meal, too. I tried to give her as many options as possible. First I had her sit at the table with a glass of milk and a few pieces of ham to pick at. She sat for a minute, then jumped up and said she didn’t want to eat but wanted to sit on the couch. No problem, I told her. But a few minutes later she’d be back at the table, then back on the couch. She wanted to eat, she didn’t want to eat. I put another plate of ham next to her on the couch; she brought it into the kitchen and said to take it out of her sight. I told her to sit wherever she wanted, and to eat or not eat, but just let me enjoy my meal with the rest of the company. But she just didn’t know how to handle the pain, and she wouldn’t give me a moment’s peace. Finally we reverted to our old pattern: I screamed, she cried and apologized, the guests squirmed, and I felt guiltier than ever.

I couldn’t wait for Adele to have her surgery, so she’d be out of pain and able to eat again. I spent her surgery day at the hospital with a staff member from her group home, waiting for the results. After a long day the surgeon came out and told us that everything had gone fine. Back in the recovery room, Adele was slowly waking up. I never saw anyone take such delight in drinking a cup of beef broth! The poor thing was starving; she ate every bit of her ice cream and jello, and was discharged to go home. We could tell that she was back to her old self because she now took an interest in the teddy bears that Kay and I had brought for her. Stuffed animals were Adele’s greatest joy in life, and when she barely blinked at the toys in the morning, we knew she must have been feeling mighty low.

When I left the group home that evening, Adele was sitting contentedly on the sofa with a stuffed bear in each arm. That was the last time I saw her alive. The Lord called my little sister to Him the next day, to be with our Mom and Dad. She was only 53.

I tell myself that Adele is at peace now like she had never been before. She’d had a very rough life, living not just with developmental disability but with episodes of psychosis as well. I know she’s in a better place, and I hope she can forgive me for my lack of patience. As children we had been very close, and I loved her so much; I just wish I’d been able to make good on my promise to be a better guardian, sister and friend at the end of her life.