Wela

 October 18, 2019 is day I will never forget.   On that morning, one of my worst fears was realized when I found my grandmother on floor of her bedroom after she had a stroke.  I have no idea how long she had been on the ground, as I hadn’t heard anything from my bedroom upstairs.  This doesn’t surprise me when just a few days before a big tree fell mere inches from my front door and I didn’t hear a thing.  

When my grandmother, my Wela, came to live with Elio and I, I was a bit nervous.  She is one feisty little lady and had some type of conflict everywhere she lived.  I wasn’t sure how having her in our home would impact our lives.  Needless to say, it was a huge impact.  All of a sudden, I had to answer to someone who needed constant attention.  It was also obvious that she was becoming more forgetful.  The more she forgot, the more aggressive she became.  We constantly fought and I always felt I wasn’t doing enough.  She was never happy with anything I did.  I could never win, no matter how hard I tried.  

We had her tested and she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and vascular dementia.  It was official, she was diagnosed with a condition that would only get worse. There would be no magic pill or treatment to cure her.  Once again, I was at a loss as to how this was going to impact our relationship.  Thankfully, it was progressing slowly and I assumed we had time.  You know what they say when you assume.   Not only did the stroke affect her ability to speak clearly but it also seemed to progress the dementia.  

When she was discharged from the hospital, she was sent for a short term stay at a nursing home.  Everyday she would complain about being there and just wanted to come home.  I knew she would be in the home for at least two weeks because she needed PT and ST.  We would have weekly care meetings and the nurse and therapeutic staff would discuss how she was progressing.  After each meeting, it came back to the same thing, she would need 24 hour care in order to be discharged.  24 hour care?!?!  How would I be able to provide that for her?  I didnt ever hear when she fell.  How could I ensure that she was safely taken care of?  

We applied to various agencies for assistance but it didnt seem that we would be approved for in care home assistance.  Without financial assistance, we wouldn’t be able to hire someone for her.  Even with all this, I figured I had to suck it up and figure out a way to bring her home.  What kind of grand daughter would I be not to??   This lady had done so much for so many and here I was giving up on her.  Was I scared?  YES!  I was terrified but I figured I’d find a way.  

My opinion changed when I went to see my primary doctor and she asked me about how I was doing.  I explained Wela’s situation to her and how I was trying to figure out to bring her home.  Empathetically, she questioned if that was the right call.   She explained that to bring her home would be to give up my life for my Wela.  I wouldn’t be able to do basic things such as run errands because Wela couldn’t be left alone.  I thought, well I could always ask someone to stay with her.  But then I had to really think about it. Before the stroke, I always felt like if I had a child that couldn’t be left alone for too long.  Now she would need even more care.  Would I be able to mentally and physically handle that toll? 

After careful consideration,  I realized that I couldn’t.  The best place for her would be long term care at the home.  I discussed it at length with Brenda, my sister, and she was there when I informed Abuela.  She seemed resigned to the news and eventually, she was moved to the long term unit.  Having her in the home long term was no easy task.  For one, she doesn’t speak English and the little she understood was destroyed by the stroke.  She also refuses to eat the food at the home.  For the last two years, her daughter has prepared her meals for the week and brings them up to her every week.  Initially, I tried to compensate for my decision by visiting her every night.  Yes, every night, after a long day at work, I would go spend 1 -2 hours with her.  This was exhausting but I felt I had to.  

Eventually, I started cutting back my visits from daily to 3 - 4 times a week.  When the world first shut down due to COVID, I am slightly ashamed to say I was relieved.  I could take a break from that task and it wasn’t my fault or doing.  However, after a few days, I was overcomes with guilt.  Talking to Wela on the phone was painful, as she would tell me she missed me and our nightly routine.  There was nothing I could really do to comfort her.  I tried calling her often but as the dementia creeped in, phone calls were increasingly harder to get through.  I was racked with guilt by this point.  I made the painful decision to leave her there and now she was completely isolated from everyone.  

If my own guilt wasn’t enough, she also blamed me.  She has decided that I told the doctor she was “crazy” in order to get rid of her because I didnt want her in my home.  At times she would also promise that she wouldn’t fight so much with me, as if that would change my mind and I would bring her home.  The first day we were finally able to see her, after almost 3 long months, the first words out of her mouth was that she dying to leave the home.  This broke my heart because no matter what I said, I couldn’t get her to see that she was in the home because of her medical needs and not as a punishment.  People often tell me how I’m such a good grand daughter or she is lucky to have me.  While I smile and thank them, I cant say that I agree.  I don’t feel like I deserve any praise or kudos.  After all, aren’t I the one who put her in there?  

It has been almost 2 years that she has been in that home.  Her daughter has continued to cook for her weekly and I visit her at least once a week to take her out for the day.  Usually on Sunday mornings,  I pick her up and take her out of the home.  Sometimes we go shopping or drive her to the Bronx.  I know she enjoys getting out of the home and just being out and about.  She is slowly declining and struggles to speak a little more every day.  Because of this, we don’t talk a lot when we’re together but I’ve come to really enjoy that time.  I put Pandora on a “tropical radio” station and hope that she enjoys it as well.   

Spending these days with her makes me look back at the months she lived with me with a little regret,  Why couldn’t we get a long like this?  Why did I lose my patience so easily?  Why didn’t I realize that her condition was affecting her more than I originally thought and try to be more patient?  Logically, I know that she is in the best place due to all of her medical needs.  Emotionally, I still struggle with the guilt.   Mainly, I struggle because I know that she still thinks that I just dont want her in my home and there is no way for me to convince her other wise. Hopefully, somewhere deep down she knows how much I love her and how I would bring her home if it were possible.  

What is possible, is for me to take her out every week.   We spend the day together and when I drop off, just before I leave, I take a selfie with her.  Brenda recently joked that they’re all starting to look the same but for me, its a way to remember our time.   They also serve as reminder that while I’ve made mistakes, I am doing the best I can. 

As always, thank you for reading and take care!!  

3 Goals

 Anyone who has been following my blog for the last 12 years, knows that I have attempted losing weight multiple times.  I have had varying degrees of success over this time but none have been long lasting.  Before the pandemic hit, I had started slowly improving my quality of life.  I increased my activity level and making smarter choices when I ate.  I had slowly lost over 20 lbs and felt good about myself.  Then COVID came and threw a HUGE wrench into my progress, 

Like many others, the pandemic increased my anxiety and I used food as a comfort mechanism.  When you can’t really go out as much and socialize, eating good food is the next best thing.  Not to mention that I love baking and was launching my small cookie business.  As work got busier, I leaned heavier on take out.  It all conspired to get me off my game.  

At the start of this year, I realized I had put on 25 lbs over the pandemic.  I panicked and decided that enough was enough.  I needed to do something.   I was debating between joining Noom and WW.  As I reviewed my options with a friend, she reminded me of my past success with Weight Watchers.  Without even over-thinking it, I joined WW.  The first day was a STRUGGLE!!  I hadn’t prepared for a change in my diet and only had crap food.  But instead of using that as an excuse to postpone starting the plan, I worked around it.  It was time. I needed to get serious. 

WW has changed significantly over the years and their new app and program were a huge help to me!! They have a social media aspect to the app, so I was able to discuss my fears and concerns with other members who were in a similar situation as myself.  The app also had a ton of recipes for me to try and I found some really good ones.  I didn’t feel deprived and enjoyed trying different foods. 

When I initially restarted WW, I didn’t really share the news with a ton of people.  I felt like, here we go again and I would be met with guarded optimism or cynicism.  However, anyone who was aware of my new journey was nothing but encouraging and positive. It was more about me and the shame/guilt associated with the roller coaster of weight loss.  This reluctance to share with my friends, led me to share with the WW community.   This community was comprised of people who knew what I was experiencing because they had either gone through it themselves or they were still on the journey.  It was a comfort to me. 

One of the things that I saw as I scrolled through the app’s social media were goals.  Lists of things my fellow members were hoping to accomplish by following the plan.  At my starting weight, I couldn’t think about my ultimate end goal,  I still can’t.  It is overwhelming when you have a significant amount of weight to lose.  I chose to come up with 3 short term goals: weigh under 300 lbs, lose 50 lbs and finally fit on the Harry Potter ride when I went to Orlando.  I knew I could definitely meet my first goal but wasn’t sure about the other 2.  Here we are 5 months later and I have met all 3 goals!!  

Before leaving on vacation, I knew I had met the first 2 goals because I was faithfully following the plan and weighed myself weekly.  I wasn’t sure about the last one.  I knew the odds were good when I boarded the airplane and didn’t need a seatbelt extender.  I even took a picture to show much room I had left on the seat belt! I was still unsure about the rides at Universal but decided to go through with the trip.  When I tell you the joy I felt when I was able to ride the first few rides.  I couldn’t believe it but I was still not sure about the main one, the Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey.   

When the HP world first opened at Universal, I was heartbroken to learn that I was too heavy and unable to fit the ride.  I lost 50 lbs and STILL was too heavy too fit.  Over the next few years my weight yo-yoed and I stopped trying.  However, this time, I thought I could do it.  When I got to the “seat tester” at the entrance of the ride, I sat down and held my breath.  As I lowered the bar, I looked up at the attendant to see if it was a go.  With a big smile, the attendant told me that it was a GO!!  I could finally ride it!!   I was actually able to ride all of the rides in both Harry Potter worlds.  

It may seem like something small but the fact that I actually set goals and accomplished them was huge for me.  I choked up on the ride because I couldn’t believe it.  I had actually done it!!  While my journey is still ongoing and I have set a couple of new goals, I am basking in this moment.  I can’t wait for the next big one!!

As always, thank you for reading and take care!! ❤

Where is your mother?

 "¿A donde esta tu mai?" "Where is your mother?"  My grandmother casually asks me as we wait in the waiting room.  As she looks at me inquisitively, it takes me a minute to realize she's just asked me where my mother is.  "My mother?!?"  At this moment, I am instantly forced to realize that she is slowly fading away.  Yes, she is still lucid the majority of the time but dementia is rearing its ugly head.  Begrudgingly, I have to remind her that no one has seen my mother in over 30 years.  Looking in her eyes, I can see the confusion.  Even now, I don't know if she fully understands what I've told her. 

Unexpectedly, I am filled with sadness and feel heartbroken.  My mother's disappearance has always been an open sore for the family.  While we've processed her disappearance differently, her absence is felt by all of us.  Today is her birthday.  I don't know whether to say she would have been 60 or to say she is turning 60.  But on this day, 60 years ago, she was brought into this world.  Although 60 is most definitely not old, it's also not young.   She is past middle age and almost classified as a senior.  The last time I saw my mother, she wasn't even 30 years.  I am now older than she was when she was last seen.  Its unreal that 30 years have passed since she's been gone.  

However, it is not her void that fills me with sadness and breaks my heart.  In that moment, it dawns on me that I don't know how much longer my grandmother's essence will remain with her.  How long before she doesn't recognize who any of us are?   "God, please let me see my daughter again" was a constant prayer for my grandmother.  I remember her crying on New Year's Eve because she wanted to know what happened to her child.  All these years, she's still asking for that child but this time, it's as if its been days since she's seen her daughter, not years.  I guess in her confusion, time has no meaning.

For me, time means everything.  Before the pandemic, I remember thinking the dementia was stealing the time I had with her.  However, the pandemic came and robbed me of 13 months of hugging and kissing her.  Due to the side effects of the stroke and the dementia, speaking to her on the phone is difficult.  Visits where we had to sit across from one another without any physical touch felt cold and empty.  I'm grateful we can finally embrace and frequently find myself reaching out to touch her, even if for just a moment.  I want to show her how much I love her and how much she means to me.  

I don't know where my mother is.  And it feels like too soon, I won't know where my grandmother's mind has roamed.  The fact that she "forgot" that she has ached for her daughter for all of these years, reminds me that eventually, she will "forget" all of us.  Until then, I will enjoy the time we have left.  

As always, thanks for reading and take care.