Author: chelleren

“How about #45?” she called out. “Great choice!” I responded. As I played the hymn for the residents, memories of piano lessons flooded my mind.

My Saturday mornings as an elementary student were spent at piano lessons where I dutifully played for my teacher, Mrs. Werkema, a church organist. She insisted that I learn the hymns because ” You never know when someone will need a pianist. Knowing the hymns will help you in many ways.”

When Virginia, an activity manager at Freedom Village, informed me that the piano had not been played for such a long time, I immediately volunteered. ” I love playing the piano!” I enthusiastically responded. At 4 PM, I wheeled my mother and guided my father to Copper Harbor, a named area where residents were waiting.

I played a variety of hymns– “Amazing Grace” “Jesus Loves Me” and many others, but my favorite moment occurred when the residents started singing. We even sang Christmas songs! One request, “O Little Town of Bethlehem” came from a little lady wearing an orange shirt who started flapping her hands at the conclusion.

As we entered the elevator to head to the dining room, my mother remarked,” It was nice that you could play”. She ate more food at dinner and seemed more alert, despite her confusing conversation.

“…[W]e lose sight of how powerful melody and rhythm can be in the realm of medicine, particularly with respect to Alzheimer’s patients and their caregivers… nursing homes and hospitals are finding that working with a music therapist can make a big difference…”

– C. Gorman. Time, November 14, 2005 https://www.musictherapy.org/assets/1/7/MT_Alzheimers_2006.pdf

Reading about music therapy validates the importance of including music in my aging parents’ health plan. It reminds me of the importance of elementary students singing to the Lafayette nursing home residents. It definitely needs to be a part of this journey and beyond.

L-R: the front door of 1891, Mitch and Corey eating breakfast in the kitchen, the MI welcome sign, poppies in the high school field, 1891 before the door changed to white, MI flowers

Salsa, our red mini- van, needed repairs today so I couldn’t see my parents which filled me with worry. What if my mom passed away when I was at my house? I wondered about my dad’s medicine since it is the last day of July, but my brother took care of it. I wondered about my mom’s eating habits. Did she eat the same way as yesterday when I fed her, rather forcefully at times? Or did she eat very little because nobody was guiding her every morsel? These thoughts distracted me today as I completed various household tasks.

Caregivers, in any role, need breaks. Teachers, nurses, parents of young children, parents of special needs children, and any other type of caregiver need breaks, rest, and relaxation. But does our society work together to help each other out? Do we communicate our needs for breaks or do we often feel that we need to continue as if we are some kind of martyr?

I am not sure if I really took a break today because my thoughts were consumed with worries. A better choice would be to schedule the repairs near their residence, but that thought did not occur to me until later.

Spiritual Emphasis Week, a week-long focus on our school theme, seems long ago, but these photos say it all. I need to trust in God’s ways and have faith that He will provide. Tomorrow will be a new day of opportunities for caregiving. The journey continues.

As we continue this journey, my mind goes back to 2005, the year of our first sabbatical to Wageningen, The Netherlands. Wageningen is home to one of the best plant research universities in the world. We also chose it because of our Dutch family ties. I am thankful for my notes since so many details could be easily forgotten.

One entry, dated May 20, reminds me of the ease of moving to another state versus traveling overseas.

It was not a very successful day. We went to register in Wageningen, but we could not since we didn’t have a contract. We also learned that we have to complete huge forms and pay $1,800 in Euros. There goes the Rome trip. A bank account was also denied since Mitch needed a work statement from the university. Discouragement set in like a blanket of fog over the city harbor. How are we going to get that money overseas? I wonder if we should have taken a sabbatical in New York instead??

Another entry, dated May 26, details one adventure I had forgotten.

Today, filled with excitement, we headed to the zoo! We missed the 9:21 bus, so we spent time at a sandbox waiting for the next bus to arrive. Hurray! The 10:20 bus picked us up and we were on our way. Riding the bus, less tiring than walking, provided simple entertainment for the three kids. Once we arrived, my eyes focused on the prices: $16.50 Euros for adult; $13.50 for Chloe/ Caden; Corey- free equaling $53 for one visit. Much to the disappointment of Chloe and Caden, I could not justify the expense. Caden cried and cried. Chloe didn’t say much. Corey sat on a bench, chowing down on raisins. When all the school buses drove in, transporting multitudes of children, Caden agreed that it would have been too crowded. The bus transported us back to Wageningen where we ended the adventure with some ice cream and playground time.

The benefits of taking a sabbatical, however, outweigh the challenges. Traveling overseas with three children, ages 6, 4, and 18 months caused us to step outside our comfort zones, take new risks, and meet new people. I have no doubt that this Michigan adventure will be the same.

“It’s so dumb, it’s funny,”one teacher remarked as we posed with our named vehicles in the school parking lot.

With the school year behind us and sweet summer ahead, a group of teachers and staff gathered in the school parking lot to capture the moment. A “teacher kid” took the photo, we laughed hysterically at the sight, and we agreed to share the photos in some manner.

We recently purchased “Salsa” after the “Bluemobile” entered its final resting spot- the salvage yard. I feel a certain bonding with this 2010 mini-van my teenagers cannot fathom. “Why did you get another van, Mom?” “Makes no sense”.

However, it makes perfect sense when I am transporting my father with his blue walker. I love how the van seats easily fold down, I can park it in most spots, and it transports an entire family if needed.

I depend upon Salsa to drive us safely from 1891 to Royal Park and then on to Freedom Village, where my mother is living. I am thankful and grateful to be able to use a dependable vehicle in midst of this journey.

Smiley faces, words of encouragement, and the phrase, “Miss you at the table” find their way in the correspondence. I frequently discover them on my dad’s table and find myself eagerly reading them even though they are meant for my mother. Lois Stegink, I need to meet you.

Notes, emails, and texts encourage and uphold our family as we watch my mother’s health deteriorate. They also distract from the sadness of watching and hearing my father’s crying as he leaves each day. I read the notes aloud to my mother who recalls some of the senders. Sometimes she knows the senders and other times not, but we know and feel a sense of appreciation for those who took the time to share and care.

I hope I will meet Lois soon to tell her how my mother misses her at the table, too.

The sound of music usually filled our childhood home on most days. Classical, Christian, the oldies, and even polka provided the background noise. My mother often surprised us with her knowledge of various musicians like Johnny Cash, her brother’s favorite, Elvis Presley, and also the classic musicians like Bach and Beethoven.

Attending outdoor summer concerts, enrolling me in piano lessons, and encouraging me to play the piano at home are some examples of how my mother valued music and its role in our lives.

Bringing her CD player to Freedom Village, her current rehab facility, has been one of the best ways to keep her mind off the pain. Playing a Strauss CD opened up a whole conversation, remarkable since silence can be more typical. “Who is your favorite composer, Mom?” Why did you like Strauss more than Bach?” This higher level type of questioning ellicited a surprising response. “Bach’s music is more refined”. Hearing her use the word refined startled me since her recent dialogue has mostly focused on cleaning windows and getting the pizza out of the oven. “And what about Beethoven, Mom?” I read her some statistics about his life and she nodded.

When I became a mother, I followed my mother’s example of playing music in the home and vehicles. One musical moment is forever etched in my memory. When Chloe, our oldest, needed a calm environment, I repeatedly played a Celtic Psalm CD. The rhythmic cadences lulled her to sleep many times. Years later, I played the same song causing her to comment, ” How do I know that song?”

My first item on my Michigan bucket list, attending “Worship on the Waterfront” in Grand Haven, is completed. Last Sunday, Cheryl, Corey, and I sat in the outside stadium, listening to the sounds of “Building 429”. I can’t keep the lyrics of their newest song, “Fear No More” out of my head. Here is the chorus:

This isn’t what I’d choose
But it’s where I’m finding you
When I’m broken and undone
Your mercy’s just begun
You overcome my doubt
Your hands are reaching out
You hold me through the storm
And I will fear no more

The power of music– a therapy, a conversation starter, a blessing.

I admire those who can cut hair and effortlessly complete manicures. How can they cut carefully and make someone look so good? How can they cut fingernails without causing a bleed? How do they convince someone who doesn’t want the service done?

On Sunday, my dad casually announced, ” You need to trim Mom’s nails.” Hoping I didn’t hear him correctly, I asked him what he said and heard him repeat the dreaded words. Oh no. I am not a beautician, but then I thought, ” I trimmed my kids’ nails when they were young. It can’t be that bad.”

Upon entering Mom’s room, I decided to complete the task immediately. She initially resisted every attempt. “No, I don’t want you do to that, ” she said. ” I am lazy right now. Do it later.” Being a task- oriented person, I persisted, but she frequently pulled her fingers away. How DO nail technicians do this job? However, when I said, “Dad wanted me to do this”, her resistance diminished and I finished the job, despite trimming one nail a little too short. I wish I could say they looked like the picture below, but that would definitely be a lie. I know that I am not a beautician, but caregiving doesn’t mean it’s perfect. It just is about giving care with love.

Evaluating, analyzing, and questioning continued throughout the day as we visited three nursing home facilities. Unfortunately, we do not have unlimited time since Medicare will stop paying for her care on Friday. The original date of Wednesday was extended but only by a few days. What will we do? Where will she go?

At times, the process seemed too overwhelming. The staggering cost of care, the importance of physical versus mental care, and my dad’s declining mobility and emotional state made me want to wring my hands in despair. Their insurance policy, an excellent one, lasts for three years. But then what? The ” what if” questions increased. What if my dad outlives the policy? How will he pay for that cost? Since he does not require the same amount of care, would it be better to only apply the policy to my mother? What should we do with the condo they own? Is a nursing home the only way? What about in-home care?

The final answer lies with the insurance provider, so we wait.

In the meantime, my father is dealing with more grief. He constantly cries for my mother. Today, he shared, ” I could just cry all day when I see her in such pain. ” How can I possibly encourage? I remind him of God’s faithfulness even in the pain, but the words seem shallow and thin. We know this truth and he will agree, but yet, his eyes well up with tears. His grief is in the fear that she will not recover, a fact that I am struggling with as well.

Even though the questions continue and we wonder how this will end, we know that God’s faithfulness never ends. For that, I am always grateful.

Last summer, we spent a considerable amount of time visiting various universities for Caden, our middle son. Walking around the campuses, hearing the students share why they liked their school, and watching promotional videos included these day long visits. In the end, he chose Purdue and will begin classes in a few weeks.

My mother cannot move back to her condo or the connected organization because of her dementia so tomorrow we will be researching a different type of facility– a nursing home with a memory care unit. Will residents share their experiences? Will promotional videos be shown and freebies be given out? Will huge groups of people touring?? It’s doubtful.

Our day will include visiting three different facilities all with one goal in mind- provide the best care of my mother with dementia, a broken bone, and a fragile skeleton of a body that seems like it could wither away in a second.

What should we look for in these facilities? What questions should we ask?

As with any major decision, we have to organize our thoughts and come with a list of questions so we can carefully evaluate each facility at the end. But what questions?

My only experience with nursing homes is when I take a group of third graders to sing at the local nursing home in Lafayette. Making sure they sing songs instead of goof around and hope they don’t get scared of the residents is my only focus.

Thankfully, my sister-in-law, a registered nurse, will also be joining us. Her insight will provide the needed answers.

The journey continues.