November 6, 2011

We turn the clocks back today. Everyone gains an hour, or so we say.  I'll take it.

You see, today is also my mother's 88th birthday.  And what I wouldn't give to turn the clocks back, but we'll need more than an hour.

My mother has dementia. The good news: she still knows who we are, although she has forced me to go back to being "Kathi" since she has no idea who "Kat" is. Score one for Mom.

And if you spend enough time with her, she comes out of the dreamy world where she hangs out so much of her wakiing hours. She will laugh and even joke with us. When I take her hand, she resists at first because it startles her. But then when she gets used to touch...any touch... she will give my hand a little squeeze. When I tell her I love her, she will say, "I love you, too."  

Sometimes, she will even come up with something to say on her own. Sometimes, it's "I don't know what I'd do without you" or "Thank you".  Occasionally, it's in the language of the other-worldly place she's been visiting, so it sounds like gobbledeegook to us. We do our best to interpret. We offer sips of her Vitamin Water. We point things out to her so she will open her eyes. We put ointment on her back to help with the itching and so she can feel loved, feel affection.

More and more, I am fighting to keep her from slipping away.
I know ultimately I will lose. But I'm stubborn, and not willing to give up. I can't.

This morning, I made a big birthday dinner to bring to my brother's. Like a masochist, I played, "The More I See You" while I cried over the shrimp. It's good to get it out before I'm with her.

We've gained another hour today. But I'm feeling the loss of her on so many levels. I would like to turn the clocks back just six or eight months, to when she could walk easily with the walker. Or  climb the stairs so she could come to my house for the day. Or turn them back further to when she could spend the night or the weekend, to when we could go to a movie or shopping or even Friendly's (which she has come to LOVE in the last couple of years) or talk to her on the phone. I could get greedy and want to turn the clocks back even further...to when she could drive down from Vermont, get her own groceries, go out to lunch with friends and come on trips to Maine and Truro.

Turning back an hour will not get my mother out of this new nursing home, where there are some activities, but so much of her  time is still spent in the "day room" dozing in her wheelchair. It breaks my heart. So I must force myself into gratitude on a daily basis.

Number one, I am grateful she's still here.

I am grateful she's close by and safe in a nice place. I am grateful they (mostly) take good care of her. I am grateful to have the help. I am grateful we can still take her out for a drive. I am grateful  we will all be together today. I am grateful for my brothers and their families, my husband, my cousins and the friends and relatives near and far that still hold her in their hearts and prayers.

I am grateful for all the lessons she has taught me, for her spunk and sweetness, for her sacrifices and her courage and her willingness to go on despite the loss of my father, her sisters and brothers, sisters-and-brothers-in-law, nieces and nephews and longtime friends.  And even through cancer. I am grateful for every memory of every year I've shared with her, for every laugh, for every tear, every fight (yes, even those), and  every time we have pushed through something we did not think we could do and come out the other side of it stronger and richer and closer.

In a few minutes, I will pick her up.We will go to my brother's house. She will get to sit on a couch instead of the wheelchair. We will find a way to get her in the house, shower her with love, and celebrate her life.

We will not say it out loud, but we all know the clock is ticking. And we will cherish each moment with her as if it may be our last. One hour, one minute, one breath at a time.

If you want to leave her a birthday greeting, you can do so on her Facebook page.

Related posts: What I Meant to Say and This One's For You, Mom

I know a guy who likes to say, “I’d rather see a sermon than hear one any day.”  Me, too.

There's no shortage of preachers out there. Some wear suits and preach about how to do business or social media. Some preach about relationships, health, money, homes, parenting, careers, etc.

It’s easy to preach. It’s easy to tell others what to do and how to do it. It’s easy to tell stories about how you got your shiny successes. I like telling those stories, too.

But what I admire – really admire – are living examples of how people are walking through their stuff now. Right now. Not knowing the outcome. But trusting that it will be good.

So here’s how I’m doing it. In case it’s helpful to somebody else.

Last week, I went in for a routine eye exam. I have to do this a few times a year, because two years ago, I had a detached retina. It’s something that can happen with nearsighted eyes. It happened to me, and it’s a longer – and, yes, funnier – story than I’ll tell now.

The good news:  I’m now reading at a 20/20 level. Something they told me was impossible two years ago. The “bad” news: I have two tiny holes in my retina, and they have to be sealed up right away. With laser. (Not to be confused with Lasik, a pretty much painless procedure that is done so you don’t need to wear glasses or contacts.)

My immediate reaction: OH, NO!!! (Yeah, I said that in the doctor’s office.)

The laser is, to put it mildly, excruciating.

I should know. This is my fourth time.

Dr. Sang said it’s something like 120-140 pulses of laser at a time. When you’re lying there, every 10 pulses seem like one. So here’s how it feels: 

1-2-3-4 “I can do this.” 5-6-7 (fingers and toes start to curl) “Ow, ow, ow!” 8-9-10 “Stop, stop stop!”

You get to rest for a breath, then back at it again. Did I forget to mention that she taps on your face to tell you in which direction to look, and that you have to hold your eye there while they come at you from a different direction with a blinding bright light? Okay. This level of detail is not helping.

What matters most is not how I direct my eye. It's how I direct my mind. 

It would be easy to go into fear. I did. It would be easy to dwell on how much it hurt before. I did that, too. It would be easy to drum up sympathy and a chorus of "Poor you's". I'd like to. But it won't serve me in the short run. Or the long run.  So instead, I'm focusing my attention and setting my intentions. It goes like this:

The "Isn't it great" Game

• Isn’t it great that I have one of the best doctors in the world?
• Isn’t it great that we caught the two holes when they were tiny?
• Isn’t it great that I don’t have to hold my head down for days, like before?
• Isn’t it great that I can have this done at the doctor’s office?
• Isn’t it great that I can ask for time to breathe in between lasers?
• Isn’t it great that by dinner time tonight, it will be over and healed?
• Isn’t it great that we can save my sight?
• Isn’t it great that my honey will be with me, giving me love and support like nobody’s business?
• Isn’t it great that we can pick up yummy Pad Thai on the way home?
• Isn’t it great that I can fill up on joy in the days before my surgery, knowing that it will help me relax?
• Isn’t it great that I can see so many beautiful thing with these eyes? The striking blue of the sky at the beach yesterday, the aqua tones in the water, those cottonball clouds drifting by, and the rich greens of the dune grass?
• Isn’t it great that I have so many loving, supportive people in my life?
• Isn’t it great that I can clear my schedule and take time to nurture myself around this?
• Isn’t it great that my little Sweetie cat nuzzled up to me this morning, to start my day with a smile?
• Isn’t it great that I got to water all the flowers on the deck?
• Isn’t it great that I have a God to see me through?

~ ~ ~

"Isn’t it great" can be about the issue at hand, or about anything you can feel appreciation for. So that’s how I’m working it.  And I expect the best.

My surgery is at 4:00 today. 

If you send some good vibes, I’m sure I will get them. Thanks!

~ ~ ~

What challenge/situation are you facing right now?  Can you do your own “Isn’t it great” list about it? I double-dare you.

IF
my friend Lisa had backed out on our plans to go to a big convention in San Diego, I would not have gone, either.

IF
the hotel had the right aerobics schedule, I would not have missed half the class at the nearby fitness center.

IF
I had not missed the aerobics class, I would not have attempted to run. But because I did run, and not badly, I announced to Lisa when she flew in that “I’m a runner!”

IF
I had not opened my big mouth, Lisa would not have egged me on to join in the 5K Fun Run on Saturday morning.

IF
we had not stayed up gabbing until the wee hours on Friday night, I would never have told Lisa to go ahead without me when the alarm went off at 6 a.m.

IF
I had been able to get back to sleep after I heard the door close, I would never have gotten dressed for that Fun Run.

IF
the shuttle bus had not pulled up IMMEDIATELY when I got to the curb (since Lisa had taken the car),  I would have turned back.

IF
I had not gone down the flight of stairs at the race site and found Lisa standing right there, amid the thousand or so other runners, I would have chickened out.

IF
we hadn’t seen the runners taking each other’s pictures after the race, Lisa would not have remembered that her camera was still in her backpack.

IF
we were not so fussy about who might take the best picture of us, we would never have skipped over three other bystanders and zeroed in on that one guy who “looks most alert.”

IF
we had not asked HIM to take our picture, we would never have been invited to meet up with his friends and him later that day by the pool.

IF
I had not put my magazine down long enough to join in at least some of the conversation Lisa was having with the guys poolside, I would never have had a clue what a nice guy our picture taker turned out to be.

IF
I had not been so detached, so certain that I did not intend to meet anyone in San Diego and that whatever we did was absolutely “going to lead nowhere, so what the heck?” I would never have gone dancing.

IF
I thought that by exchanging phone numbers, that guy in San Diego was actually going to come visit, I would never have done it.

IF
my friends didn’t set me straight, tell me “he has the nicest energy of anyone we’ve met in a long, long time” and that “If you keep doing what you’ve always done, you’ll keep getting what you always got”  --- I would not have stopped giving him a hard time.

IF
he hadn’t opted to stay those extra days and learned how to go to the beach with me (which meant buying the highest SPF and an umbrella) and been so extremely good natured and sweet, it would have ended right there.

IF
airfares hadn’t been so cheap that flying back and forth from coast to coast was possible at least once, sometimes twice a month, and

IF
ten months later, he hadn’t decided to move the 3,000 miles so we could be together, and

IF
we hadn’t worked through a ton of adjusting, helped more than a few couples counselors make their boat payments, walked through our fears of committing (yes, both of us), we would never have gotten married.

IF
we hadn’t learned how to argue without decimating each other, figured out what was and is important, let go of some childish behavior, taken time out to get clarity, given each other the benefit of the doubt, and learned to re-LIKE each other, we wouldn’t still be married.

IF
anyone had told me that “for better or for worse, in good times and in bad” would include the loss of a much-wanted baby, layoffs, financial ups and downs, career changes, major parental health challenges, Greg going back to school at 49, and

IF
getting through those things had not made our love and appreciation for each other stronger, and

IF
there were not so many days of joy and passion and comfort and safety in being with each other, we would never be at this beautiful point in our lives -- 15 years since the day we met and 12 years since the day we married -- where I know he is my best friend and I am his, no one encourages or believes in us like we do for each other, and we look forward to growing old together… not in a decrepit way, but in an enjoying the journey way.

Happy Anniversary, Honey.

(Did you see the video where I talk about what led to this chain of events? You'll understand the "decrepit" line better.)

Q: Some of you have shared privately that you have your own sequence of "IF's". Will you share them here? We'd love to hear.

Right now, as I write this, I am nibbling on cheese and crackers. Food that wouldn’t be in the house if we hadn’t had company over last night. And it got me thinking.

Over the weekend, when we found out that friends would be passing through town on their way to Maine, the words ”Why don’t you come for dinner?” foolishly leapt from my mouth. This delighted them and stunned me... read more

Hey, guys! It's my first video.

On how to get what you really want.  Love & more...

After you watch it, join us on Facebook.com/tinychanges

Block #5:  Perfectionism. (Part 2)

The Kenny Rogers School of Overcoming Perfectionism.

For weeks, as I kicked around these thoughts about perfectionism, I kept hearing that line from the Kenny Rogers song, The Gambler: “You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em. Know when to fold ‘em. Know when to walk away. Know when to run.”

The trick is: How do you know when to hold and when to fold?  I asked a few people who I know have pretty high standards:

Tom Monahan,  Founder and Head Creativity Coach at Before & After

Perfectionism is a damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t issue. If you don’t try, what good is that? If you do go for it, can you ever achieve it? One of the few ways around this dilemma is to take a lot of shots at whatever you do. Some will be successful. Some won’t. But if you take a lot of swings you’ll have enough successes to make the “failures” less of an issue. The perfectionist who takes forever to get it absolutely right often doesn’t accomplish very much.

Michelle Tripp  Creative Director, brand consultant, The Brand Forward Blog

Perfectionism is the nemesis of creativity and productivity. Yes, it's critical that we aim for excellence and never compromise what we know is the best product we're capable of delivering. But we need to accept that as long as we meet our internal standards for accuracy, creativity and strategy, we have to eventually give birth to the product or it will never see the light of day. 

Danny Brown, Social media strategist &  co-founder of The SRM Group 

There’s a simple way to determine if you keep pushing on, or it’s time to push off. Ask yourself if you’re still having fun. No matter the project, if it’s fun, you’ll continue to look for ways it can work. If it’s not fun, it’s because you’ve exhausted every avenue and your gut is telling you this. Sometimes you just need to listen to your gut more.

Lisa Hickey, CEO, The Good Men Project 

When I was around 16, I said to someone "nothing's more stressful than being a perfectionist who isn't perfect". And after that, it all got easier.

 Funnily enough, as your question came in, I was reading the back of a book where one character was giving advice to another. And the advice was "fail up". That works for me -- chase perfectionism when you can. But don't let it stop you from acting. Fail up.

Nancy Harhut, Chief Creative Officer at The Wilde Agency

I’ve been fortunate to work with some really talented, dedicated folks. I find myself telling them that -- even on an off day -- their work is better than most. I think that’s a good thing to keep in mind.

Michael Calienes, Owner of transplant 1, co-founder of the conversation factory

Always striving for perfection is like trying to revive a dead horse by beating it; however, I reach for my big wooden club when it's appropriate, and swing for the fences when the horse is obviously just a piñata in disguise.

Tamsen McMahon, Director of digital & strategic initiatives at Sametz Blackstone Associates

I usually feel my perfectionism kick in physically before I notice it intellectually. I start feeling agitated and restless, if not downright anxious, and I've learned from long experience to take that physical feeling as a red flag from my brain that something's out of whack. That's usually enough for me to stop, figure out what's going on, and assess what is, in fact, "good enough" for a particular situation--and acknowledge that my "good enough" almost always exceeds anyone's expectations but my own.

Kevin Kearns, artist featured in the Lemonade Movie

How do I know when it’s finished? I ask, “How much trouble am I going to be in if I don’t deliver this on time?" Perfectionism will keep me from getting the work done because I’m trying to attain this thing that’s unattainable. I become afraid of failure. “What if nobody likes it?” is what kept me from showing my paintings all these years. It’s a leap of faith mixed with a little confidence in yourself. I never know what it’s going to be when I start. I throw paint on it and then I make it look like a landscape. It’s like an editing process. I paint every day -- every single day -- so no matter what, I’m going to get something done eventually. The other thing that helps A LOT is having a show. That’s a really good way to learn to get over the perfectionism. You’re usually working up to the last minute. And all the bullshit goes away, and you just focus on what you’re good at. You have to train yourself. If I think I have the time, I would put paint on it until it turns black.

Note #1: A few others we asked for comments are still struggling to perfect their replies... and shall remain anonymous.

Note #2: I spent hours trying to fix the fonts and spacing between quotes. Finally, had to give it up. Because, you see, I'm not a perfectionist. (I wish.)