Our contentment in the moment, versus mortality

My mother, Martha H. Williams

The stillness of morning is so soothing on this April 23. The day is Sunday, a day my parents always prioritized for their faith. They were temperate or mainstream Christians from a time when that outlook was common, rather the norm. The political aspect was felt hardly at all. 

Our church of First Lutheran in Morris had two services on Sunday. That was quite the norm, assumed to be permanent. My, it is such folly to consider almost anything the "norm" any more. Where would one start in assembling a list? You could go to a bank and arrange for a savings account that paid you enough interest to make a difference. I mean, it could cover a few bills. 

I'm thinking of Mom and Dad because tomorrow is the fifth anniversary of Mom's death. Have five years really passed? And it has been ten years since Dad's passing. Ten years! I can visualize them so easily in our house, as if they were continuing in their robust life. We had three small dogs through the years that were totally members of the family. 

I have written memorial posts about my parents before. Some might suggest it's time to move on. As a matter of reality of course we do that. I occasionally write a new memorial post about someone close to me who has just passed. In doing so I am most definitely existing in the present. I recently wrote about the iconic local educator Truman Carlson when he passed. He was 96. The same age as Dad when he went on to the next life. 

I have written in a memorial way about Becky Felstul-Burnett and Allen Anderson. So often we remember the struggles of these people in the closing stages of their lives. God created us in a way that means we get vulnerable if we're so fortunate as to have longevity. We like to assume longevity is a good thing. We always like to have our health issues addressed, right? So as to make sure everything keeps functioning?

I remember when Mom was at the nursing home in Barrett toward the end of her life. I stayed there a good share of the time, too, probably against the wishes of the nursing staff. Two young men came walking down the hallway one night. I heard one say to the other "it's better to die than to get old." 

Such frankness and candor. Has any nursing home visitor not thought that, as they observe the age-related trials, physical and mental? 

I think a huge conundrum is presented for medical people. I have a friend whose mom was in the nursing home late in life too. My friend related how his mom was evaluated and found in need of a heart operation. But her advanced age cast some skepticism. I suppose there was concern about getting through the operation. The conundrum is about the feasibility of extraordinary measures to keep life going. 

Our natural instinct is to say "yes" on such matters. Anyone my age who has been around struggling older people will sense that there has to be a gray area eventually. 

Young love: Ralph and Martha Williams

My mom had an impulse toward resisting medical intervention. She was born way back in the 1920s when medical science had far fewer tools. I remember her saying once "people died all the time." 

Oh, and I remember a little conversation I had with a local pastor just 3-4 years ago. This was not my First Lutheran pastor. We were actually at McDonald's one day. He talked about a previous chapter in his career when he went through the rolls of past members. He told me he was struck by how relatively young so many were at the time of death. We can forget about that element of our history: the fragility of life in past times, quite marked. 

So today the resources are enormous for solving medical issues. And people get old. In many cases they become not like their past selves. The essence of their personality becomes lodged in our memory, as if that "real" person has really ceased to exist. 

One of the most popular members of my Morris High School Class of '73 has a spouse who has come down with Alzheimer's. Think of the burden these caregivers face. 

The '73 class has its 50-year reunion set for this coming September. I hope the classmate I just cited is able to come. Our high school class recently lost Mike Eul of the very well-known hardware family. The list of deceased classmates will expand. The reunions held after our 50th will be quiet affairs, I'm sure, where the prevailing feeling would be one of just appreciating being alive. 

The anniversary of a parent's death makes one look back. We can wonder if we could have organized our life better, smoothed over some bumps in the road. I can look back on my own caregiving for both my parents. Anyone in my position would have to think there were certain decisions that could have been made better. It's the classic hindsight conundrum. Then I think to myself: had I addressed certain things a little differently, there still could have been an unforeseen calamity that could take their lives. 

Dolores Lammers told me at a time when both my parents were still alive: "They'd both be in the nursing home if it wasn't for you." 

My mom resisted medical intervention so she said "no" to Dr. Wernsing re. a mammogram, until finally I became assertive. I postponed the appointment at first after reading stuff online about mammograms that was concerning. Then I finally realized the necessity. The delay was just a matter of a week or two. And of course the examination revealed cancer. 

So Mom and I got an early-morning appointment at SCMC for Dr. Sam to do what he could. He was masterful as he always is. He could not get all the cancer but Mom was put on a stable course relatively pain free, for a long time. We were blessed in that extension of life. She was more alert in her very last days then you probably thought, if you were around her any. You just had to be around her in the morning in the familiarity of her home. She was alert, aware and happy on many mornings. 

We have big picture windows facing to the north. We often see wildlife. So I'd say to her sometimes "there's Mr. Rabbit!" It was on April 24 in 2018 that she left us. I wonder what she'd think of my holding my own in the family residence. I cannot predict the future. Who knows what course my own health will take? None of us can know. 

Your blog host w/ Mom in NYC, 1964

We'll praise God if we can just show up for our 50-year class reunion in a relatively stable state. You can double that feeling for any reunions after that. We'll be about 78 years old for our 60th! Mercy. A fair number of us will probably join our maker before then. 

Dr. Sam once operated on mom for something called "adhesions." She seemed gravely ill until Dr. Sam took over and remedied the situation. I remember him saying she had to "pass gas" before being discharged.

So Mom made it to age 93, almost 94, thanks in part to Dr. Sam's genius and caring. A long-distance friend recently told me "it's good you have a doctor that you have faith in." This was after my own episode with Dr. Sam. I have followed in Mom's footsteps this way, owing perhaps my very life to Dr. Sam of SCMC. 

From now on, I'll thank the Lord for every single day of stable health He blesses me with. Every single day. I have this feeling particularly in the morning. Hey, that's when Mom was at her happiest in her twilight of life. I feel happy right now, would like to tell "Mr. Rabbit" about it! 

I have joined the ranks of those for whom remembering to take one's pills in a certain way every day might be our biggest responsibility to ourselves. I am now a diabetic, perhaps have had this for a while. But I feel fine.

I did not take this photo. I am unable to credit it to anyone, but it was a UMM person who wanted to capture Mom in her well-known gait across campus when she managed the campus post office.
 

- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com