A Darkness Within the Light

About a week ago, I asked my therapist how long this particular Major Depressive Episode had been going on. Without a pause, she answered, “Since the summer.” I could have saved a bit of time and checked the publication date of my last blog post — on ALL of my blogs. I have not written except for assignments for school, since summer.

“Since summer,” the words rang in my head.

I thought back to summer. My summer was great! In July three grandmas (including me) took four grandkids on a ferry boat to Vashon Island where I spent some of my teen years. Then, in August, my mom and I trekked to Alberta, Canada to see the area where her mother was born. We also drove back through the forest fires in British Columbia, resulting in my second case of pneumonia within a year. This time I was not to recover nearly as quickly as I had the previous Christmas.

As the infection abated in early September, I found I was not able to physically care for myself. The symptoms I thought were lessening from the Fluoroquinolone toxicity had started again to worsen while we were in Canada and kept getting worse until I could barely lift my left arm. My left shoulder was “frozen.” 

I finally requested help. I had no idea AFTER you humble yourself and ask for help, it can take literally months before help arrives! I applied for home health care through the state process in early September. In November, my physician was fed up with the lack of movement on my case and made her own recommendations and referrals. It was interesting being the subject of “Adult Protection Services” at the mere age of 52. 

“Carrie the Caregiver” and me celebrating “Blue Friday” #GoSeahawks

I sit here now, on December 15, finally having employed a wonderful home health care assistant with the help of my local assistance office. I have left a large part of my privacy and pride far behind as I am venturing into the life of having a “PCA” (Personal Care Assistant). But I am finding that I am also making some great new friends as well as getting my life back.

Another change will be coming soon. After suffering several significant falls (not just saying “hello” to my good friends–my walls), my doctor has suggested that I sit down. The pain, numbness, and weakness in the tendons of my feet and legs have progressed to the point where a powerchair has been prescribed. I will make sure to post with photos when it arrives!

Jaina Anita Ellen Capley Grandchild #4 (Photo by Siobhan Capley – Jaina’s mama)

This holiday season has been a dark one for me, but I am coming back into the light.  This will be the first Christmas for my newest granddaughter, Jaina Anita Ellen Capley, and I plan on enjoying her and the rest of the grandchildren to the fullest!

I hope everyone reading this has a wonderful holiday season. Please don’t let the shadows pull you in. 

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Grandma Duty

One week ago today, my fourth grandchild was born. She is the first child of my last child; the baby girl of my baby girl. Yes, I am a happy grandma and a very proud mama, preview-10.jpgbut why does being a Grandma mean more to me than any other role I have ever held? I would say that most likely has something to do with my Grandma, my namesake, Margaret “Ellen” Savage Rebman.

We learn by example. I learned much from my childhood and my grandparents. Both of my grandmas were named Margaret, but my mother’s mother used our mutual middle name as her first. Everyone called her “Ellen,” but for me and three other very special children, she was “Grandma.”

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“Grandma King” as a child

My father’s mother had experienced a severe car accident in a Mustang convertible that left her in a wheelchair for as long as I can remember. My childhood memories of visiting “Grandma King” as she would be known for the last surname she acquired by marriage, were filled with the strange smells and sights of retirement homes. I wish I would have had a chance to know the woman who I hear from my uncle spent summers vacationing in Canada hunting with my grandfather. But that woman was a distant memory by the time I was old enough to carry on a conversation with my Grandmother.

My mother’s mother was an entirely different story. My childhood memories are full of beachcombing trips and my first time on a salmon charter boat complete with my grandparents and mom.

My Grandma and Grandpa (Ellen and John) lived on the beach in a cove on Hood Canal at the base of Puget Sound in a little place called Union, Washington. It was a slice of heaven. They moved to Olympia to be closer to their great-grandchildren after my second child was born, but my memories of them were on the Canal.

My boys with my grandparents
Grandpa & Grandma and my boys 1987

A CB Radio handle she adopted fit her well, “Beachcomber” fit Grandma as well as “Monkey” fit me. Many of the summer days I spent with my grandma were on the beach in front of their home. Grandpa had built a dock jutting out of the bulkhead between their home and their neighbor’s summer home. It was the perfect place to fish off the end of and catch the ugliest fish you ever saw… but grandma’s cats loved them.

The cats grandma allowed me to feed my catches to were actually strays. As an adult I now realize being so close to the water, the only way to keep rats away was to keep cats around. My grandma was pretty smart that way about a lot of things.

Ten days before I turned forty, my second son and his girlfriend became the proud parents of a baby boy, Aydin. My first grandchild and only grandson to this day. He changed my life by making me a grandma. preview-7.jpg

Very soon after Aydin was born, his mother decided to continue her education. By taking a class here and there, she could continue to be active in school, yet still feel she was fulfilling her duty to her son. I agreed to help out.

The daily traveling to my baby grandson’s home, then taking his mom to school and spending time with him and sometimes my mother who worked on campus was an incredible opportunity to bond with my grandson. This also allowed Aydin’s great-grandma to see him much more than she would have had an opportunity to if we weren’t visiting her at work. A few hours a day, every weekday for a three month period of time, I had “grandma duty.”

1433511313573In 2010, I finally had the opportunity to meet my twin granddaughters, Saphira and Serulea, daughters of my estranged firstborn son and his wife. They were just getting ready to turn two years old. The girls were living with their mother’s mother, Mary, and their little sister B.

Our visits have gotten more frequent over the years. Currently, we live only about a mile apart and we TRY to go to church together each Sunday. It is a crazy new experience for me to live just down the road from these now preteen girls and we are having a lot of fun getting to know one another.PicsArt_05-29-10.47.22.png

As I held my daughter’s daughter last week… this precious new life… I reflected on what being a grandma means to me. What “duty” do I have to these little girls and one lonesome boy?

I am a different woman than I was when Aydin was born. Jaina’s grandma will not be the same woman Aydin’s grandma was. I’m eleven years older than I was back then. But I am younger.

When Aydin was born, I was living out of a bed. My arm always had a fabric band on it to protect him from coming into contact with the deadly narcotic that kept me able to be active at all. When Aydin came into the world, my body was heavily dependant on the pain management of opiates.

1363382360393In 2009, when Aydin was three, I said farewell to opioids. It was “grandma duty” that got me out of bed during severe withdrawals and gave me the impetus to keep on trying. One week ago, I saw my daughter display more strength than I thought possible when from her tiny frame she gave birth naturally to the most perfect little angel I have ever met.

My grandchildren are my heart and soul. They are my mirrors. I anxiously await the journeys we shall experience together. I am just thankful to Heavenly Father I am here to be able to get to know these wonderful little people He has seen fit to share with my family.