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She Waited, by Dick Hanzelka, 2002 |
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She Waited By Dick Hanzelka I
remember Mom waiting for me in the house on cold winter days when I was
out sledding on the three block long hill which was barricaded against
automobile traffic so that kids in Tama could slide. It's the first of
many of Mom's waiting stances that I remember. As I learned to drive at
sixteen and came home late from any number of adventures and trysts, she
waited---sleeping in a chair in the kitchen or living room or wherever she
happened to stop for five minutes as she busied herself around the house. She waited for mail and visits from me when I got to the University of Iowa and again when I married Mylene and moved to New York. That must have been an incredibly difficult five years for her as I think about it now. We moved back to the Quad
Cities from New York in 1969 and I was struck again by the waiting for
phone calls, mail, and visits which were all very obvious waitings. Each
time we called I could almost sense her waiting right next to the phone.
When we drove the 130 miles to visit, it seemed as if she had been
waiting patiently for a long time, anticipating the visit, even when we
dropped in unexpectedly. ***************** For a number of years she had
waited in the Kahl Home for Aged- especially for Sundays when I would pick
her up at 9:00 a.m. and return her at 4:00 p.m. after Mass
and then lunch and popcorn at our house. When she became unable to go
out because of a problem with incontinence and disorientation, she waited
on the second floor of the Kah1 Home. She waited for visits from any of
our family who could go to see her as she tried very hard to carry on
conversations about topics that so often had disjointed contact with the
past and no logical connection with the present. She waited for someone to
get her out of bed, change her, walk her down the hall to breakfast, walk
her back from breakfast and repeat the changing and walking routine twice
more during the day before she was put to bed for the night. Still
she cheerfully greeted me (or any other person--staff or otherwise who
happened across her path or into her room). At each three month review
with the staff at the home, I was told how cooperative and friendly she
was with everyone. I was told she was no problem. I was told she enjoyed
where she was. She waited. ************* I
Waited I waited. My mother, the woman
with the "iron grip" and cook's hands that seemed to be able to
hold onto anything, no matter how hot, was dying. Despite her high blood
pressure, edema (which made her ankles twice normal size), and
increasingly bad heart, she struck me somehow as indestructible. For the past several months of
the six years she had been at the Kahl Home for the Aged, she had been
slipping. Now she was curled up, breathing heavily, as I waited for her to
expire since she, and we, desired no artificial life support system.
Several very small strokes had weakened her, and her mind also slowly gave
up. We were at the Chicago Hilton
Hotel when we got the call that we needed to return home. As I walked into
my room for a noon break between meetings, the phone message light was
blinking--somehow I knew it was about Mom. I called Kristi who informed me
that the Kahl Home had called and didn't expect Mom to live. I called Ted
in California and Paul in Minnesota and informed them. Then I waited--for Mylene to
return from a shopping trip in downtown Chicago where she had gone with
the wife of another conference attendee. Of course she didn't know the
situation. For three hours I paced the hotel room with no real choice but
to wait for Mylene. At four o'clock in the midst of
rush hour, we finally began the "three hour drive" to the
Quad-Cities. We got to the expressway--and waited. What should have been a
three hour trip stretched beyond four. When we got the the Kahl Home,
Mom was obviously not many hours from death. Teri got to Davenport on a
late, flight from California and chose to stay the night with Mom. Early the
next morning I arrived back at the home with no change in Mom's condition
except for the existence of "mottling" in her feet and legs.
This was explained to me as the first sign of the body shutting down. Teri left and I gathered my materials around me (lap top computer, etc.) to begin the wait for the inevitable to occur. Conditions stayed as they had been for hours--her breathing labored, her mouth open and very dry- she stopped breathing on occasion only to start again. I waited--trying to concentrate on my work but seeing it pale in light of the life of my mother ending in front of me. I finally gave up trying to
work-to watch and wait. A nurse came in occasionally to
check vital signs and encouraged Mom, in a loving way, to "give it
up." It seems cold as I write it, but Mom was a ' favorite of the
staff and they hated to see her continue to simply exist without being
able to smile and enjoy life. Teri and Mylene came back later
in the morning along with a couple of our daughters. The wait continued. The
mottling increased. The pauses in breathing became more frequent. Sometime after noon there was a
stop, a cough, a breath, and finally My mother was dead, and I felt
overwhelming sadness especially about not being able to spend time with
her any more. I guess it was fitting that the woman who gave me life was
the first person whose death I directly witnessed. It is
encouraging to know she is no longer waiting for anyone (or anything) but
even as I write this, I sense that maybe she is. |
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