Chapter 5: Things Cannot Be Put Back Together
The next day (November 12) I
Mom and Joyce, 1957
Roles
I wanted to have a place in the family clarified and I asked what my role was. Sonya said to me, You tell us how long you intend to stay, and we'll tell you what your role is.
I countered with, Oh no, you tell me what my role is and I'll tell you how long I intend to stay.
Mom heard me say that and said to me, Of course, how silly, you know what your role is. You're my daughter.
So Sonya said, Your role is to make meals, clean and vacuum the house, wash clothes, and entertain guests. Later, I heard Sonya describe her own role as "looking after Mom and Dad." I never did indicate to any of the Ns how long I planned to stay. I don't think they cared anyway. Sonya once asked me what my plans were. I told her they were to visit Mom three times a day, from nine to eleven in the morning, from three to five in the afternoon and occasionally in the evening. She said, That's not what I meant. I did not want to know what she meant.
Every time I reduced my expectations to match what Gord and Sonya wanted, I left myself vulnerable for even fewer propects. For example, I began as a so-called member of the family, I was reduced to a maid without caregiving possibilities, and then I was treated as a visitor. Strings were being manipulated; puppets were all madly dancing to Sonya's tune.
Another Group Counselling Session
Sonya and I talked about getting counselling to solve the problems we were having. I wanted to talk about a possible care-giving role. I asked her to do the phoning to set up a meeting with a couunsellor provided by the nurses. She did so. I specifically asked Sonya to have our meeting without Mom being present because I didn't want her to be distressed by what was said. I resolved not to cause any more tension that would make Mom suffer. I thought that a meeting to discuss the strain already in the house would help me to understand what was expected of me. I resolved to immediately leave the meeting whenever tension arose rather than risk any more angry scenes. I told John not to be surprised if I left suddenly during the sounselling session.
The meeting was set up for Gord, Mom, John, Alf, Sonya and the counsellor, Dawn, who arrived late. When she saw me she said, You must be the daughter who lives far away. I said, Yes, I am. Right there I thought I was in trouble because Gord and/or Sonya had already laid the relationship groundwork with Dawn. I wasn't even given the opportunity to introduce myself. Then Dawn completely ignored me and went to talk privately with Mom for an hour, then with Mom and Gord together for another hour. I thought we were supposed to go to the church and talk some more without Mom being there, but Mom insisted that she be at all the meetings. When I hear that I thought I would probably leave. I lingered a while longer.
Around noontime, Gord and Mom came out of the bedroom with Dawn. Sonya, Alf, John, and I were sitting at the table finishing lunch. Mom came to the table with Gord solicitously guiding her elbow all the way. Mom sat at the end of the table where there was an available space. Gord's usual place was empty but he insisted on sitting practically on Mom's lap causing others to move and squeeze another chair in. Gord fawned gratuitously over Mom, asking her what she wanted, was the soup too hot, do you want some bread, etc., etc. I just about gagged and got up from the table and left. It was just too much to endure!
Why couldn't I endure it? To my eyes, Gord was trying to impress Dawn with his minute attentions to Mom. Dawn was suitable impressed. I was appalled because Mom had observed many times that Gord usually showed his caring and solicitous self when there was an audience to see him. She told me when they were alone together, she didn't get such attentive treatment. It would have be better if I hand't known how Gord persormed his ministrations.
So I left the table, put my coat and hat on, and went outside. John came to the door to persuade me to stay, but this was more stress than I could handle. I didn't want to say anything to upset anyone. Avoidance of confrontation--that was my strategy. When I told Mom that later, I think it confused her. I think I was the only person at that meeting that understood that one meeting with a counsellor was not going to solve the enormous problems in the house.
The counsellor asked me to phone her. I did. I asked her three questions about Mom's medication, about her falling, and about Gord being able to take care of Mom as time went on. Mom had already fallen three times and Gord was not strong enough to lift her up off the floor. Mom was sporting burises from having fallen in the kitchen (probably when she was preparing food). Dawn had solutions for everything: Mom knew her own limitations (she didn't); Gord could successfully give Mom medications (which he couldn't) and that more home care workers would be added as they were needed (they were, but only gradually over time).
When I asked her about my situaion, she indicated that the marital relationship takes precedence over the mother/daughter relationship. That sounded familiar. She indicated that Gord's wishes are predominant as he is the husband. I started to explain Mom's and my relationhip, but she didn't listen because she already had all the answers. She said Mom liked visitors but was happy when they left. So I threw the phone on the bed and let her talk to herself!
John told me about the rest of the meeting after I left. Alf and Sonya felt I was mainly the problem, especially since I didn't even stay for the meeting that Sonya had organized. They were more concerned for their father's health (he might have a heart attack) than for Mom's. They told Dawn that Gord had been forced to leave the house after he lost his temper. Mom said, Hey now, he left on his own; Joyce didn't make him. At a later date, all three of Gord, Sonya and Alf thought I had committed a major blunder by not being there for the coundellor's meeting. I told them, maybe so, but there was nothing I could do about it after the fact. That picture of Gord fawning obsequiously over Mom remained in my memory every time I thought about that meeting. I don't think I was wrong to leave based on my knowledge of my low tolerance for falseness and fawning! (Sometimes I thought that Gord believed that Mom's dying was really all about him!)
I also visited Nurse S's office to ask about my role in care giving. When I talked to her she began to tell me about the importance of the husband's role, and I said that I had already accepted that the marital relationship took precedence over the mother/daughter relationship. I wanted to know why no one listened to Mom when she told Nurse T that she would like to move to a facility. First Nurse S said that the husband's wishes came first and he wanted Mom to stay in the house. Later she said that there was no available bed in the facility. So I thought, which was it? Nurse S also began to tell me how they established the degree of self-sufficiency for a patient's level of care. She said Mom was in the 50 to 60 percent range. Hospice care rated 30 percent. These numbers meant nothing to me. Who establishes the criteria? Anyway, Mom wasn't a number--she was my mother. I also mentioned to the nurse that my mother had osteoporosis and already had had three falls under Gord's care. I told her I would be really, really upset if she broke a bone on top of everything else going on.
Nurse S, too, had all the answers in favour of Gord and none for me. I told her I wasn't the wicked witch of the East. I just couldn't understand why there seemed to be no room for me to look after my mother in her home. The nurse's concern was for the continuity of professional care, not these conflicts that upset everything. I said, I can go to hell for all you care! I left very upset. I was beginning to understand that there was going to be no remedy for my situation amongst the personnel of the health care establishment. It was not their concern.
Visiting Mom
For a couple of weeks, I visited Mom for about two hours in the morning, a couple of hours in the afternoon and sometimes in the evening. At first I rang the doorbell and said Hello to Gord, visited with Mom and later said Goodbye to Gord. I was not intrusive. It seemed to be an imposition for Gord to come to the door, so I began just tapping lightly on the door and walking into the house. Sometimes I offered to visit Mom in the evening so that Gord could go to church or to Bible study. I did not cook during that time. I did, however, buy some frozen hospital dinners, which were easy to prepare and nutritious. Mom had begun to supplement her diet with Boost, which gave her the vitamins, protein, and minerals that she needed tin her diet. I felt bad about not cooking for her and for not bing able to make sure she ate properly. In fact, it made me crazy to think of her not getting proper meals because of Gord's pigheadedness.
Often during this time when visiting Mom, I would be asked by Sonya and/or Gord to stay the whole afternoon while they went to the States, or visiting, or to town to shop, or to Kelowna. Sometimes I was able to see her for the whole afternoon two or three times a week. These were great times for me. I would do some vacuuming, have nice visits with Mom, make her meals and talk or let her sleep. I knew that Gord was taking advantage of my fervent desisre to be with Mom, but I didn't care. Any extra time with her was fine with me. I always told Gord that it was my pleasure to take care of Mom. Curiously, he didn't seem to mind my caring for Mom when he wanted to gad about.
Mom told me about a visit she had with Alf. He sat beside the bed with his head on her stomach and was quiet for a long time. When he lifted his head to look at her, he had tears in his eyes. I said to Mom, He loves you too. She made no response.
Giving Away Her Prized Possessions
Mom told me that according to her Will, if she died first, everything went to Gord, including her joint bank account. I knew all this and accepted it. What I didn't know was whether or not Mom mentioned any other bequests in her Will such as donations to the church or gifts to friends. I knew that Alf and I would be involved as co-executors only if Gord died first.
In 1995 Mom and Gord drove across Canada and visited us in New Brunswick. At that time Mom brought me all the things that belonged to her that she wanted me to have before she died. She gave me her sterling silverware set, a whole set of good dishes, many ceramic ornaments, some pink depression glass pieces, family pictures and many other thing that she valued highly.
As for anything else in her home that she wanted to keep for now but wanted to eventually give me, she put my name on it. She put other people's names on other objects that she had promised them. For example, the large vase in the living room in front of the bay window has Gay 2002 written in black ink on the bottom. I held the vase up for her while she wrote on the base. She commented to me that the vase would probably never get to its destination but at least we tried.
Mom asked her relatives and friends to take pictures off the wall that they would like to have. Melissah chose three needlework pictures; Jenny and Joe took home a set of dishes and were promised a TV lamp; Alf was to have all the crystal ware. I would go downstairs and pick out new pictures that Mom had painted to replace those taken from the walls upstairs so that there wouldn't be any "naked" walls. Friends and relatives were taking Mom's gifts now whenever she offered them.
Over the years Mom had accumulated quite a few pieces of costume jewelry. She loved to take it out and go through it and tell us the history of each piece. She had sets of matching earrings, necklaces and bracelets. She had necklaces that she made for herself. She matched her jewelry to go with each of her outfits. Even during her most sick days when she had to visit the doctor, she would dress up with jewelry to match and look like the classy lady that she was. She didn't often wear necklaces but she loved to wear bracelets. She charm bracelets, slave bracelets, and watch bracelets of all kinds.
She loved Black Hills Gold and had a few pieces that she wore all the time until the clasp broke on one while she was in the hospital in March. When she had company, either my cousings, or her sister, or her granddaughters, or even her friedns, she would bring the jewelry out. When Mom became very ill, she gave away any pieces that someone indicated she liked. I went through this process a number of times during my visits, both in the winter and fall before she died. Each time I took some of the jewelry she offered. We laughed and joked a lot while looking at what she had collected and it made Mom happy to see us take her beloved jewelry.
One time Mom looked around the house and lamented, His girls are going to get everything here. I wish I could give everything away before I go! i said that she couldn't leave the house bare for Gord. She agreed by saying, I guess not. But she sure wished she could. She tried to get her friend to take the ceramic molds (they didn't come to get them while I was there). She said she wanted Ruth to have one of the sewing machines downstairs. She wanted to give her organ to Gay. She wanted to give the picture in the dining room to Heather. She wanted the tufted moose hair pictures to go to John and Esther. She invited Angie and me to take any material and thread we wanted from her sewing room. She wanted me to have all her art materials and frames. She herself began to collect these for me and I would carry them down to my motel room and store them.
Mom asked me to take objects from the house that were not chosen for anyone else. I took what she offered me until my suitcases were too full to hold more. Then in the month of October, Mom told me that whe wanted to make sure her ceramic pieces went to the people she designated. I delivered the large deer figurines to her friend, Barb. She also wanted me to pack up all the ceramic dolls in the cabinet in the living room to give to Heather. These dolls represented her most challenging and successful handicraft project. Mom had experimented a lot with delicate lace dresses for the dolls and had even used dog hair for their heads. They were beautifully and intricately made. No one else had shown any interest in these ceramic dolls that Mom had made.
Gord obtained boxes and packing material for me. With Mom's help, I started to carefully pack the dolls into their boxes. As I did so, Sonya warned me: Joyce, you better be sure that Heather gets those dolls now! I said, You don't need to worry about that. She kept repeating this as if I hadn't heard her. Finally, she and her Dad sat in the living room making comments while Mom and I carefully packed each doll. Sonya kept telling us we weren't doing it properly, the dolls should be done by an expert, we should get Mailboxes, Etc. to give us a packing pamphlet, that the doll on the chair was going to fall, and so on. I suggested to Gord that maybe Sonya should do the packing herself, but he said Sonya was leaving for home.
Finally, Mom got exasperated and said, Okay, you guys. We can manage. They both left the room and we continued packing in peace.
Each day I would pack 3 or 4 dolls and then carry them to my room downtown. I walked wherever I had to go. Mom said it was a load off her mind to have that taken care of. She was too tired to do it all herself. Sometimes she got confused about what to do with the mahogany cabinet and her kiln. She wanted them packed and delivered to the new owners except that no one had asked for the kiln. She was troubled by her confusion and I tried to set her mind at ease.
One day when she was feeeling a little better and we were alone for the afternoon, after I had finished packing the ceramic dolls for the day, she kept bringing me other things to pack--ornaments, candle holders, trays, thimble sets, bells, etc. Everything she brought to me, I packed carefully into boxes. She was so pleased that I was doing that. I went downstairs and retrieved all the ceramics that she had put my name one, plus a few others. I took some material, lace yard goods and thread that she wanted to give me. I took about half the picture frames from downstairs. She gathered together more frames that she wanted me to have. We packed and packed all afternoon. She was so happy that I packed all the things that she gave me. This memory helped to sustain me after Mom's death.
Heather had told Mom that she liked the painting that was hanging in the dining room. Mom said that I should take down the painting and give it to Heather. One day when no one was around, I took the painting to the basement and put up another one to take its place so that the wall wouldn't be bare. No one even knew it was gone until I mentioned it to Mom. John came to transport the cabinet that housed the ceramic dolls, and I put Heather's painting in the back of the truck with the cabinet. Later Gord got very angry with Mom for my taking the painting away. Mom said to me, I bought all the materials, I painted it, why shouldn't I give it away? That was my question too. I decided to not pay attention to this haranguing as it was Mom's painting and she wanted it to be given to Heather. That much was clear to me.
I asked Mom if I could have the pansy rug that she had hooked and rolled up in her sewing room. She said okay. She suggested that I wash it before taking it to the motel room. I did so and took the damp rug with me to cover the stain on the floor of my bedroom. It was very comforting to have her rug on the floor. I also used large pieces of Mom's yard goods to make curtains for the bathroom, living room and kitchen windows. I hung some of the more picturesque cloth squares on the wall as pictures. When I painted with Mom's acrylic paints, I used the finished paintings to further decorate my motel room. I was surrounded with reminders of Mom. I described my room to her and she looked pleased that I had made my surroundings inviting by using her things.
Alone, Mom and I discussed what we thought was happening with Gord. She said the Norrishes were like dogs that chew on a bone. They keep gnawing and gnawing away until it's devoured. I daid to her, If I bring the painting back, will the gnawing and nattering stop? She said, No. I said: I didn't think so either. I wonder what they will gnaw on next? Maybe we should take our time and keep the painting so they can chew on that and won't have time to start on something else. Mom wasn't sure that would work either. She couldn't understand why Gord had "a burr in his bum" as she put it. Neither could I.
In the meantime, Mom, Sonya and Gord drew up a list of the items in the house with the desinated beneficiary for each item. They showed me the list. My name wasn't on it. Heather's name was mentioned as the recipient of the painting that Mom wanted her to have. Sonya took the list home with her to type up. Gord searched for the list one day and decided that "Joyce must have it." When things went wrong or missing, Joyce was often considered the cause. But he never mentioned any of this to me, only to Mom. I worried about him making her life miserable and bullying her with these repeated complaints. When the list came back, Sonya had added a sentence that said that everything on the list was to be given away only at Gord's discretion. It didn't matter what Mom wanted. Mom was asked to sign the list and she refused. I told her that was the right thing to do. I didn't quite understand the purpose of the list as none of the items concerned me. Gord put his signature on the list. Things were heating up.
So the new rule was put in place. Only with Gord's approval could anything leave the house (Rule #2) Mom couldn't understand that reasoning. Everything she had given away had belonged to her and only her. She either made it out of materials she bought or bought it outright with her own money. Once when I spoke to her about what was going on, I said, They are taking away all your power. To my mind, They referred to both the medical establishment with their patches of morphine, sleeping pills, anxiety pills, gravol suppositories, nebulizers, oxygen masks, diuretics, anti-depressants, blood thinners and all the other medications she took, and the Ns who were taking away her decision-making powers when she was still capable of making decisions. It seemed to me that the doctores practiced a lot on Mom with their medications. The Ns likewise were beginning to practice their newfound sense of control and power. Everybody wanted to be in charge.
How does one go about making it clear to others that Mom could still make her own decisions? No one seemed to hear her. Mom should have been able to make decisions until her very last breath. She was denied this by everyone except, perhaps, the daily home care workers. I tried to find out what she wanted and bent over backwards to do what she wanted. Consequently, doing so got me into even more trouble.
Conversations with Mom about Her Health
As the month of October drew to a close, it was evident that Mom was failing physically a little more each day. Early in the month, she indicated to me that she was in a continal state of depression. She had been depressed for some time. Most of that was because she couldn't do any of her projects because she felt so ill and, of course, the knowledge that death was coming. When we visited the doctor, he gave her something for depression. Mom was tired and wanted to sleep, but even her pills would sometimes fail her. She told me that before she got ill her ideas about dying were totally different from what she was experiencing now. She thought she would sleep most of the time away; instead, she was so tired that she couldn't sleep. I told her that was called being "meta-tired."
Poor Mom! She was denied "sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care;" sleep, "the death of each day's life" and sleep "counterfeiting" death. She wanted to sleep away her death.
She said she thought that Gord really didn't know how sick she was. She talked about how hard it is to die. I once said to her that when I was swimming, I used to think that drowning would be the worst way to die; not being able to breathe was frightening. I also said to her that she would probably face death the same way she did life--with courage and bravery. She looked at me a little skeptically when I said that.
I also told her about my experience with Don's mother's death. I described sitting with her the night she died and reading Ecclesiastes to her and listening to her breathing become slower and slower. I said that his mom had quit eating some time before that and the nurses would feed her the little she would take. Her death was peaceful.
Mom told me that she now understood better the appeal of euthanasia even though her religion and her own natural instincts would not allow her to consider such a step. Mom said to me that she didn't like the slow process of dying; she was hoping for a quick end. It was hard to hear her say such things. I asked her if she discussed these ideas with Gord. She said, No, because shouting so he could hear made such a discussion impossible. So Mom was denied sharing her innermost thoughts with the person closest to her. Would he have wanted to hear them? I don't know. Gord is not an introspective guy.
Mom once sat on the edge of her bed and told me, I'm afraid, Joyce. I'm afraid.
It tore my heart to hear her say it so calmly. I sat closer to her and put my arm around her and said, I know. It is hard. I didn't know how to answer but suggested that when she was afraid, she could think about all the beautiful things in the world. Think of all the flowers you have grown and all the different colours, the red roses, the yellow chrysanthemums, the glads, the petunias. I listed as many flowers and colours as I could think of. Such an inadequate answer! I just said what first came to me. (Later when we painted together, I chose to paint many different coloured flowers. While she was dying in the care facility, I tacked our paintings on the wall opposite the bed so she could see them. I hope she saw them and felt comforted.)
Now I wish I had told her I would be afraid too. Maybe I did, my memory could have tricked me. Now when I think of her saying this, I don't know if she was afraid of dying, or afraid of what was happening in her home to upset her wishes for everyone to get along, or some other fear. Mom's conversation became a matter of short phrases, some of them inexplicable. She didn't have the strength to explain things in detail. I understood and accepted this. Some of her speech was disjointed when she was over-medicated. It took her longer to answer questions or understand complex sentences and ideas. But given enough time and thought, she could sort things out.
She asked me if she was losing her mind. I told her, No, because all she needed was time to consider what she heard. I said the medications slowed down her thinking but as far as I could tell, she knew what was going on and understood everything. I told her that sometimes she didn't answer direct questions but I just assumed some things just weren't important to her anymore so she didn't pay attention to them. All her life Mom had worried about becoming senile like her own mother had been before she died. Yet, I know Mom had her wits about her until the very end of her life, which turned out not to be such a blessing.
Occasionally during October and November, Mom had difficulty talking and carrying on a conversation when the morphine patch was at its strongest. This patch was changed every four days and during two of those days the drug almost incapacitated her. As time went on, Mom talked less but we could carry on a conversation if I spoke so that she needed to answer only Yes or No. By December, Mom was talking in short phrases and had to think awhile before answering. However, she was always aware of those around her. One day, I made the mistake of asking if she knew who I was and she was quick to say, Of course I do. I never asked that again. When Mom was awake, she always knew who was in the room with her.
Once Mom told me that she was having hallucinations. For instance, the clock in the bedroom looked like an Oreo cookie. She said she thought she saw a person sitting in the room with her when no one was there. My aunt told her that the figure might be her guardian angel. Mom really didn't like having hallucinations because they upset her. She also said that she heard images and saw sounds arise from the words in the book she was reading as though it were a television! Another time she explained how it felt to have angina. She said it felt like the TV screen looks when the power begins to fail and the picture breaks up into many uneven squares of different colours that continuously appear and disappear. These were vivid descriptions of what was actually happening inside her body.
She told me how her thinking was being affected by medications and her illness. She said, You know how we all can have two or more ideas in our heads at the same time and still carry on a conversation? I said, Yes. She replied, Well, my ideas are all intertwined and meshed together so that I can't unwind them very fast to be able to think one clear thought.
Once she said to me that it must be hard for me to see her slowly losing her physical and mental strength. I said, No, I could slowly adapt to that. What's hard is the chaos going on in the house. She also said that she noticed how much more affectionate I had become. I said, Better late than never!
As time went on, Mom had occasional accidents. On October 18, 2002, she told me she had urinated before she got to the bathroom. She sat on a towel to regain some bladder control but when she got up, she urinated again. The home care people cleaned up. Gord came into the bedroom as she was telling me this story and he nonchalantly told me, I guess I gave her two water pills too close together. Mom told me Gord had trouble remembering things like the grocery list and she had to help him remember what to put on it.
Mom began to have spells of vomiting and difficulty breathing, especially when lying down. Once she told me about failing to get to the toilet in time and falling on the floor and defecating. She told me that she and Gord cleaned up the mess. I was not happy that he let her help clean up. Each time she had an accident, she would tell me. It was her way of including me in what was happening to her because I wasn't living in the house anymore and she knew I was interested in her care. Once she told me that Sonya had cleaned up after he and hadn't complained about it. I said I was glad that she didn't complain.
Converations with Alf
When I was in Edmonton after Gord lost his temper the first time, Alf tried to phone me to find out "what I had said to make Dad so mad." He couldn't get the unlisted number there and tried later to phone me without success. I knew that Alf was upset about Heather's picture being taken from the house because Gord talked to each of his children about it. I made an appointment to meet Alf in the baker/restaurant downtown to try to explain what was going on at the house with Mom, Gord and me.
We met inside the bakery and Alf sat down, looking steadfastly at the floor! I finally insisted that he should look at me while we were talking. I told him that I wasn't the wicked witch from the East. I couldn't talk to him if he wouldn't look at my face. He looked at me then. The first thing he said to me was, I know my Dad tells lies, but I will stick with him anyway, no matter what. Well, that threw me for a loop but I took it in stride and never responded although I much have lookedf mystified.
When the time came, Alf expected me for pay for his coffee and cinnamon roll and,poor fool that I am, I did.
Alf told me that story about Gord getting angry at him and blaming his moving to Keremeos on his bad relationship with Alf. Alf said, He used that just as an excuse for moving. I replied, Just as Gord is using me for an excuse to be angry.
First I told him how much I appreciated our past relationship--his inviting me to meals at his house and welcoming me as part of his family. I said no one else in the family had done that. I thought we got along very well. He talked about why Shirley and Sonya were upset with me when I visited Mom during the past winter. He said he couldn't remember why they were annoyed. I didn't pursue that.
Then I told Alf that I would do everything in my power to make sure Mom's wishes were carried out while I was there. I asked him to talk to Mom and ask her about what she wanted done with Heather's picture. He said she was probably too sick. But I assured him that she could talk about that. I said she wanted the picture to be given to Heather right now. I encouraged him to talk to Mom to confirm her wishes. Then I said to Alf, I hope you will be my friend just so I can phone you and talk to you when I need to talk to someone. I have never been so lonely as I am now living in a room by myself. Will you be my friend? His reply: absolute silence! These are very very tough people.
I told him that I was allowed to visit Mom but not take care of her. He said, You're a visitor, just like me. I thought not.
I asked about Mom's organ and Alf said he thought it shouldn't be taken from the house until Gord said so even though it belonged to Mom. Mom had bought it and was the only one in the house who played it. He said the organ would be given away to Gay when Gord decided it should be. I said, If you believe that, then I have a bridge I will sell you!! Then Alf launched into all the problems he was having with lawyers, his divorce, the kids not paying attention to him, his mother-in-law's illness, and so on. The discussion about Mom was over. We left the bakery and went our separate ways. I knew that he didn't want anything more to do with me. It was his choice.
Two days later when I was talking to Mom she told me about a phone call she got from Alf. She said he had phoned and asked about the painting and she had told him that she wanted Heather to have it right away. Alf talked to Mom until he badgered and bullied her into agreeing that it would be best if the picture stayed in the house until Gord decided to give it away. Mom said it made her sad and distressed that Alf would not see her point of view. Mom said she also asked Alf to be supportive of me because I had no one else to help me. Alf's reply: You have another daughter, you know. (The picture remains in Gord's possession. He has moved from the house in Keremeos. Maybe he threw the picture in the garbage. It wouldn't surpise me.)
That pretty much sums up Alf's stance towards me in the family. Later that week when Alf visited Mom and Gord, I sat in the living room to visit with them as well. I sat slightly behind Gord so he couldn't see my face, but I had a face-on view with Alf. He spoke to Gord and me for about an hour and never once lifted his eyes so that they met mine. I chuckled at this reluctance to look me in the eye. Gord occasionally suffered from the same malady. Maybe it's genetic. Alf visited the house one more time in mid-November with his new girlfriend but still couldn't make eye contact with me. The last sentence I said to him then was, How's every little thing? Alf never looked into my eyes ever again. I excused myself and said Goodbye to him and left the house. I never spoke to Alf again.
Sonya's Big Blowup
Ruth decided to visit Mom for a week to help her out with cooking and cleaning. Sonya began phoning to obtain more help for Gord around the yard and house. First she found out that she couldn't get free yard maintenance from veteran's affairs. Then, Sonya wanted to know what my plans were because more home care was needed for Mom. I said to go ahead and get more homecare. It was all right with me. I had no intention of moving back into the house and that seemed to be the criteria under which I could do any caregiving myself. On Monday, November 4, 2002, Mom, Ruth and I were in the living room and we could hear Sonya on the phone talking to the nurses about increasing the hours of the home support workers. Gord was in the kitchen with Sonya.
Sonya then began speaking very loudly so that we could hear her in the living room. Apparently, the person on the other end of the phone, Nurse B I think, had asked about my helping out as she knew I was there for that purpose. Sonya said that I had decided I was only a visitor and wouldn't live in the house and help out. As she was talking, I walked into the kitchen and said into the mouthpiece of the phone, Don't speak for me, Sonya. Then she became really irate and said into the phone that she was going to get a restraining order to keep me out of the house and if that wouldn't work she would have the RCMP come and remove me from the house permanently.
We were astounded at this news. I went back into the living room.
Mom said, What did she say? We told her. She said, That is ridiculous. It doesn't make any sense. Get a restraining order!! Imagine getting the police!! Ridiculous!
Mom was appalled that Sonya had even made such a suggestion. Ruth and I were astounded too. Then Sonya and Gord joined us in the living room. Gord was adamant about my leaving and not coming back to see Mom. He yelled, Go away for two months and then come back (Rule #3). Mom, trying to keep the peace, said to me, Maybe you could go away for awhile. I looked at Gord and said, You promised me that I could visit Mom at any time. You promised me that. He said that he had invited me to stay in the house and I didn't want to. I said, You didn't invite me back. Sonya did. I said you want me to go away and return and everything would be the same as it is now? Gord said, Yes, it didn't sound like a good thing to me. I would have to struggle all over again to see Mom.
Then Mom started to talk to Sonya about her telephone conversation. She said she was tired of Sonya trying to control everything when she visited the family. Sonya talked on the phone for hours at a time. She picked up the phone when Mom was talking to her doctor about her medications. Sonya took over the phone conversation as if it were meant for her. When the doctor came to the house she introduced herself and made herself the most prominent person there. Mom may have said more, but I can't remember what.
Sonya got very angry and turned toward Mom and let her have the full force of her anger. She said she had to know what was happiening with Mom's health when the doctor phoned. Sonya told Mom she never talked on the phone for hours and hours. Mom must have her confused with Shirley. Mom turned to Gord to ask if Sonya talked on the phone all the time. Gord said, Yes. Sonya talked about a meeting where things had been decided on and Mom said she couldn't remember any meeting where things had been decided on and Mom said she couldn't remember any meeting where decisions had been made. Sonya then raged away about Mom's memory not being good. She repeated herself many times about how wrong Mom was to accuse her of taking control of family affairs and about how bad Mom's memory was.
On and on and on she went. I can't remember everything she said because I was looking at Mom and thinking how unfair it was to rasie such a ruckus when she was feeling so ill. No one noticed the effect of this disturbance on her, except Ruth and me. She sait erect and regal, maintaining her composure and looking very sick. She was too ill to take part in any argument. Ruth and I were too sick at heart to do anything but stare in astonishment at the spectacle being played out before us. Sonya and Gord looked manical.
Then Sonya turned and raged at me for having the nerve to speak in my own defence while she was castigating me on the phone. She was livid because I had spoken into the phone while she was on it. She went on and on. Finally, Gord told Sonya to shut up. Surprisingly, she did. But Gord didn't stop the commotion. No, Gord continued the raging. He pointed at me and said, She is the cause of all the problems. I want her to go. I said, You can't make me go, Gord. He agreed with that. He said, I want her (pointing his finger at me) out of here! He claimed that my being in the house visiting Mom made him tired. He was losing weight too. he was upset that I didn't do anything when I visited Mom (by that he meant cook for him, I guess.)
Mom put in a few good words for me, namely, that I was the only one that was really trying to take care of her welfare. She suggested that Gord should apologize to me as I had apologized to him. He admitted that he had lost his temper in the incident where he left the house. It was no apology. I felt so bad dor Mom that I ran over to her and knelt by her and said, I'm so sorry all this is happening. I think you are so courageous to say what you did. Sonya looked pure daggers of hatred at my back. I could feel them. She said something like, Look, she's only pretending. The rant against me continued.
Mom and Joyce, 1967
Sonya said, Yes, look at little Miss Perfect over there. She came over to me and in front of my face said to me, Wipe that smirk off your face! Mom said, Joyce, you had better get another look. I wiped my hand down my face and changed my expression.
What can you do when people blow up in such an unnatural way? Ruth tried to make some sense of this chaos. She asked Gord in what way I was to blame for his being tired and losing weight. He looked sheepish. She told him that I vacuumed when I was here alone with Mom. I don't remember his answer. I didn't do or say anything because I didn't know how I could help things when I seemed to be the center of all the N's distaste. The only way I could make them happy was to leave the province. I wasn't about to do that. But I apologized to everyone before I left the house! I apologized for my being the centre of the controversy.
On reflection, that was the first time I had ever seen Sonya and Gord in full fighting trim. Mom must have seen it many times before. I was totally astounded and tongue-tied. Neither of them even considered holding back for the sake of Mom who was too ill to participate. Neither of them had any regard for her. Both were so centred on what they wanted (Sonya to be in full control of everything and Gord to fulfill Sonya's wishes because they matched his own desire that I leave) that they had exactly no regard for another person--not even one who is going to be dead in a short while!!! That had to be the epitome of stupidity and self-centredness on their part.
Ruth and I had already planned to eat lunch at a restaurant downtown so we left to do so. We talked about what was at the heart of all that anger. Certainly jealousy must have played a big part. I related to Ruth how astonished I was at Sonya's full-blown hatred for me. She had never indicated this before now, but I always halfway suspected she might not like me.
When we came back from having lunch, we found out that Nurse B had been there talking about the additional hours of home care. Sonya indicated that the nurse had left a note for me. This is what the (unsigned) note said:
Do you mind visiting in the morning between 10 am and noon.
Ester (sic) is at her best and enjoys visiting at this time
and this works best with our Home Support Schedule.
How unkind that note was to me!
Mom mentioned to me that maybe she had agreed to something that she shouldn't have. So I guess she had agreed to the two-hour visiting rule meant for me (Rule #4). I wasn't really surprised as she had told me some time before that she couldn't stand up to Gord anymore. She was too sick. She would do whatever he wanted. But even if the nurses had wanted to know what she desired, I don't think Mom would have had the strength to go against Gord and Sonya's wishes. After all, Gord had complete control over everything concerning Mom. I knew that Mom had capitulated and respected her choices for the rest of the time she was alive. She was too sick to make her wishes known, if anyone (besides Mom's sister, brother and daughter) had bothered to find out what her wishes really were.
I said to Mom teasingly, Youn be sure to be awake during those two hours wo we can have a good visit. She smiled assent.
The next day I entered the house with much trepidation. Sonya immediately apologized to me for what had happened the day before. Then Ruth talked to Mom and Gord about a compromise. The compromise was that I would only come the two hours allotted me by Gord and the Nurse and I would use that time to cook for Gord. I asked Gord to explicitly tell me what he wanted me to do so I would do the right thing. He started to tell me that the freezer downstairs was full of stuff and needed a good cleaning out. I said, Wait a minute now.
Before Gord agreed to this plan, he said he had to consult with his children! Ruth suggested he didn't need to do that, but he insisted. He kept saying, This has just got to end. It's got to stop. There has to be an end to this, and so on.
I started to say that I would be happy to share the work with Shirley and Sonya if that was what Gord wanted. Sonya came into the room while we were discussing this compromise and heard me say that. She said that Shirley's son was dying and she wouldn't be able to come to take care of Mom. That was out of the question.
I said to Sonya that if we were supposed to be sisters, why was it that I only got two hours visiting time with Mom and she got to have 24 hours whenever she came? Sonya only came to visit about every second week and each time stayed for about ten days. Well, she reasoned, only people who lived in the house had full visiting privileges (Rule #5). Sonya started to get angry again and said that everyone treated her as a stepdaughter rather than a real daughter, as if she were second-class. I said, That didn't come from me. Mom and Ruth both said no one ever called her a stepdaughter. (Shirley called herself a stepdaughter and Sonya once wondered what that made her. I couldn't answer that.) Mom said, Well, blood is thicker than water. Everyone should realize that a natural daughter is special and important. I thought to myself, perhaps, Mom, you shouldn't be saying that right now. I don't think anyone heard her anyway as everyone was talking at the same time right then.
I agreed to cook for Gord because I knew Sonya was going back home in a day or two.
Then I sat down in the living room alone where Sonya soon joined me. The first thing she said to me was that I had quite the blowup yesterday. I said, Sorry, it wasn't my blowup; it was yours!! She said, Yes, but you would have argued if your anunt hadn't been there. I said I didn't like tension and I walk away from it because it is so stressful. I can't handle stress, I explained. Sonya continued ragging me again about talking into the telephone while she was on it. I asked her if she thought it made sense that I go home for two months when Mom was so sick. She said, No. I told her I wouldn't stay in the house because my husband suggested fI shouldn't and because I was afraid of Gord. I said he would have to treat me at least as well as he did her if I were to come back. She said she couldn't do anything about that.
Then she said something that sent chills up and down my spine. She said, "When you turn away and don't fight back, I feel like running after you and pounding you into the ground." I guess that was a pretty clear message to me--if I had had any false notions that either Sonya or Gord wished me anything but harm, they were dispelled.
Before Sonya left for home that day she told her Dad in front of me, "I hope you know that I did all I could to help you out. I tried hard to do everthing I could." Gord said, Yes, I know you did. Later Gord bragged to a friend about Sonya giving such good care to Mom.
The next day when I came to visit Mom, I expected Gord to tell me what his decision was regarding cooking. I helped Mom fold some clean clothes in the TV room. Gord told me that Nurse S had left me a message to phone her. I phoned the nurse and she told me that they were toing to add additional home care hours for Mom. She wanted to know what I was going to do as they didn't want to cancel the home care based on what I was going to do. I said I don't have any authority to either ask for anything or cancel anything. She kept repeating the question. I wasn't about to tell her anything because I didn't have a clue what she wanted me to say. I ended up by repeating that I had absolutely no authority to do anything about the home care situaion one way or the other. I must have said it five times before she finally hung up. Did she want me to say I would to the home care? The whole thing felt like a trap.
I went back to the TV room where Mom and Gord were and repeated what I had said to the nurse. I added that they must have been thinking of Sonya because I didn't have any authority over the care-giving decisions. Gord said No, it was for you. I was puzzled. Then he asked, Did the nurse tell you about cooking? Now I was really puzzled. Gord said, She should have told you that you were to do the cooking at noon (Rule #6). Well, well, well. Gord cannot talk to me no matter what. He was an enigma to me. He couldn't just say, I talked to the kids and they agreed that you could cook.
I went to the kitchen and started cooking dinner for Mom, Gord and me. So I was the cook-in-good-standing again. I hummed as I peeled the potatoes and Mom joined me by sitting in the kitchen for awhile.
Gord was given and extra three hours of home care support on Tuesdays so that he could go to town. The home care worker came during that time, and I took that opportunity to work in the yard, to take down the hanging plants from the front of the house and to store them down in the basement. I planned to overwinter them for her. But later, because of what happened, I lost heart in keeping them alive and let them die. I decided they could die as Mom was going to.
Mom Paints!
I usually tried to pin curl Mom's hair after the home care people had washed it. She loved to have people comb, curl and fuss with her hair. It was very relaxing for her. These times became so important to both of us.
I remembered that Mom had said to me that we should do some painting. She seemed very alert on November 10, a Sunday, so I brought up her acrylic paints, found sojme pictures and paper and set up all the painting materials on the dining room table with Mom's help. I found her favourite brushes in the bathroom and brought them out. I searched through her stash of saved pictures downstairs and we each picked a picture to paint. We had a grand old time painting.
Mom hadn't painted any pictures since the previous fall after she had her bowel surgery. Mom chose to paint a landscape from an old birthday card. (She saved all her favourite cards for painting ideas. Sometimes she would send me a birthday card and then ask for it back so she could do a painting from it!) She showed me how the fan brush worked so well when she was painting her evergreen trees. She said her shakiness helped her paint the uneven strokes better. The next day Mom slept all morning so when the home care woman came to put her to bed early in the afternoon (the new hours) after giving her the nebulizer, Mom wasn't tired. I went into the bedroom after the home care person left and Mom said she didn't want to be just lying there. She wanted to get up to paint. So she got up and we painted. Painting together was so affirming. We had a wonderful time together all afternoon talking and doing our paintings. It was a precious time for both of us.
When Gord saw how much Mom and I were enjoying ourselves, he gave me permission not only to cook dinner but also to come in the afternoons so Mom and I could paint together (Rule #7). An unexpected kindness from Gord which, I suspect, really came from a suggestion by Mom. I pushed the limits of my allotted visiting time. I came earlier in the mornings to start cooking the noon meal. Sometimes I came in the afternoons when Gord was sleeping and visited with Mom. I don't think he even knew I was there sometimes. I broke those visiting rules as often as I could. However, I warned Mom that when Sonya came to visit from now on, I would make myself scarce. She understood why. I began to dread seeing a blue Hyundai sitting in Mom's driveway--the sign that Sonya was back.
But on the second day of painting, Mom and I sat in this little bubble of pure joy, painting, talking about colours, about brushes, just enjoying being together. It was probably the last time we had a sustained feeling of enjoyment together, without tension or stress. I said to Mom that when we paint we use the right side of our brains, the artistic side. It gives the left side of the brain, where reasoning resides, a little rest. Maybe, I said, it helped her to forget for a little while how tired she felt and how sick she was. We laughed when Mom said she was no "Picashio" but she enjoyed painting as much as he. I said, You got his name right. He made lots of cashio! We chuckled over that together as we cleaned up after that wonderful painting session.
Mom and Joyce, 1985