EXIT Strategy

Yesterday was quite possibly the worst day yet. I should have known by the way it started.

It begun with Jasper keeping me out in the pouring rain for thirty-minutes while I waited for him to drop a deuce. He didn’t. He whimpered and cried while both of us stood out there like idiots getting soaked. Then, hours later, I couldn’t get my wife to roll out of bed long enough to follow me in her vehicle while I dropped off my car at the mechanic. So I spent another thirty-minutes walking home in the rain. But it wasn’t until later in the afternoon when the real bomb dropped onto my lap.

While at work I was informed that my parents were not only considering prematurely ending my mom’s life through an assisted suicide program, but were actually putting the plan into motion. I had tentatively planned on visiting my parents later that evening, which I was hoping to blow off because of how crazy she’s been lately, but my mom was expecting me to show and wanted to say her good-byes to me – followed by my sisters this weekend. So I had no choice but to go. Suffice to say, my thoughts and emotions were spinning out of control.

The last four hours of the work day were an absolute living hell - no customers, no clients, no one around to pick up the phone and talk to me while I sorted things out. Just me alone in my own twisted head, debating the moral, ethical, and legal implications of this decision.

Watching my mom go through this suffering, I truly believe that every human being has the right to say when enough is enough and to go out in a manner of their choosing with a little dignity. Unfortunately, society doesn’t agree with that notion. Assisted suicide is illegal and is considered murder in the State of Illinois. I know that this is what my mom wants, I know how much hurt both my parents are going through, and I know that this will bring her peace – but at what cost?

I spent the rest of the work day pacing, staying as far away from glass as possible, trying to figure out what I was going to say to them while walls of anger and frustration and fear boiled over. I drove to their house as fast as I can, prepared to storm into the kitchen and unleash the demon that was festering underneath my skin, but by the time I walked into the house and found everyone in the living room playing Scrabble… they told me they had changed their minds!

For now (anyway) they’re not going to go through with it.

Huh?????????????????

Family meeting planned on Sunday. Followed by another shitty Bears game at Abruzzi. Who's in?

Last Holidays

Heading into this week my father planned on hosting Thanksgiving at the house. All of my sisters and their families, including even my in-laws (!), were planning on coming over to celebrate. I think we were topping out at twenty-eight total bodies, which would have been interesting to witness because of how small that house is. Well unfortunately that plan has been thrown out the window.

Because of my mom's increasingly erratic behavior, it's been decided that it would be in every one's best interest if Thanksgiving at the Klemz house was cancelled. So now what?

My eldest sister Chris has offered to host the event, which was the original idea all along, but that plan was axed because there's no guarantee that my parents would even show. That pretty much defeats the purpose of even having the thing, because the whole point is to spend the day with my mom during what could very well be her last Thanksgiving. And even if they do decide to come, my mom's M.O. is to want to leave as soon as everyone settles down and is about to eat. At least if everyone was at my parents' house, if my mom wasn't feeling well or was getting agitated and tired we could simply wheel her into her bedroom.

But alas, back to the drawing board. Regardless of what happens now, with Thanksgiving being so near alternative plans have been put into motion. Joanna promised her parents that she would spend the day with them. And with me needing to spend as much of this possibly last holiday season with my mom, regardless of where it takes place that leaves me and Joanna separated on our first Thanksgiving as husband and wife.

We've been together for almost nine years at this point, and it shouldn't bother me because we've spent plenty of holidays and events apart from one another, but this year feels different. Maybe it really is the marriage, but it sucks that I'm not going to to be able to flick mashed potatoes and gravy at my wife's head while she's not looking. Sure, we can set aside our "own" Thanksgiving on another day... but it's not the same.

So I guess it's my job to successfully kidnap my folks and drag them kicking and screaming from Chicago to Woodridge. If I fail (or if things are way too depressing), the idea of spending Thanksgiving alone with my cats and dog and a frozen pizza is starting to become very appealing...

Withdrawn and Quarterly

My mom’s mood swings are becoming more and more severe. Although I’ve been watching this rapid wave of deterioration for well over a year now, I still cannot even begin to imagine the amount of physical and mental strain she is under. And boy, she sure does like to make the effort to point that fact out to everyone!

Yesterday was simply “one of those days”. If she wasn’t trying to convince someone to call the Police because we’re all conspiring to end her life (even though every ten minutes she’s pleading with us to kill her), she was busy being verbally abusive to everyone around her. I don’t know how he does it, but my father – who is usually the focus of her anguish – can just sit there and take it. “I’m like a rubber ball, baby!” he told her at one point. “I keep bouncing back for more!”

I’ve been the brunt of her abuse on more than one occasion, and although it’s not pretty it’s much easier to accept when you realize that the person in front of you isn’t the person you know and love as your mom. It’s the disease.

During a stretch of the afternoon that couldn’t have been more than one-minute long my mom kept asking me to move her (wheelchair) closer to the dining room table. Then five-seconds later she wanted to be moved a couple inches away, then closer, then back, over and over and over again. Once I got her into an area where she was "comfortable" within seconds I was being repeatedly called an “asshole” and my intelligence was insulted. "College boy" is what she kept calling me.

I was thrown off guard, because usually when all of a sudden I’m the asshole it’s because I AM the asshole! I’ll either say the wrong word to her (which is usually “no”) or I defend my father over something. But I didn’t do anything! In fact, when I first walked into her bedroom to say hello she wouldn’t even acknowledge my presence (which should have clued me in to the beginning of another “beautiful day”)!

It took a while to figure out what she was mad about, but what set her off and turned me into a collegiate pile of shit was that I failed to set the “lock” on her wheelchair.

Although there’s many things wrong here, at the top of the list… and I’m sorry if my loyal readers can’t distinguish the humor in my voice... but at the top of the list is the fact that THE BITCH CAN’T MOVE HER LIMBS! WHERE’S SHE GOING TO GO???? DISCO DANCING???? Possibly slump down and fall to the floor? Hit her head? Start hyper-ventilating and choking on something that is possibly stuck in her throat? What then? It seems like we’re all carrying signed copies of her “Do Not Resuscitate” form at this point!

Are we all then assholes for ignoring her wishes by helping her up? Or are we assholes for leaving her on the ground to waddle and whimper while we make bologna sandwiches? Shit, maybe I’ll just walk around her and go for a spin in her wheelchair myself…. Maybe try to re-enact some scenes from that television show Glee or something!

My god! I swear, if my eldest sister wasn’t at the house visiting with her family to keep my frustration in check I’m pretty sure I would have done something inappropriate to show my mom what “asshole” behavior really is! The fucking Corticobasal Degeneration was about to get bitch-slapped!

The evening ended with a late-night phone call from my mom that I let go to voice mail. When I listened to the message I could barely understand any of the words coming out of her mouth, but what I could make out sounded like “she missed me” and “wanted me to move back home”.

Why? To be called stupid again? No thank you.

There’s not enough Klemz Burgers in the world to… wait a minute! Klemz burgers?
Maybe I should reconsider this.

Joanna! Question for you…!

Le Bistro

I'm really starting to enjoy our wedding gifts...

Hammering in My Head

In which the Lord of Broken Glass returns to Hell...

SLT and the SLP

A speech therapist is a specialist with training in the diagnosis and treatment of a variety of speech, voice, and language disorders who works with people unable to make speech sounds or who cannot make them clearly.

Meeting Neil is Easy is NOT a speech therapist.

Hesitant and halted speech is one of many symptoms associated with Corticobasal Degeneration, the progressive neurological disease my mom is suffering with. We’ve been anticipating for a long time that my mom’s speech, which has been deteriorating for months, would completely vanish.

We’re finally crossing that bridge.

The image above (minus the creepy smiley face… well, maybe) is part of a homemade AAC (Augmentative and Alternative Communication) board that I’ve been working on that unfortunately we need to start implementing into her daily life immediately. Two days after our reception I was told that my mom went through a three day stretch where her speech was extremely limited, causing quite a panic for everyone at home. Things seem to have evened out a bit, but nonetheless it’s a sign that things are starting to get worse.

I’m told that a new speech therapist is supposed to be working with my mom, but there’s only so much that anyone can do at this point. I’m at least hoping that this person can at least point us in the right direction.

I have no idea what I’m doing.

Aftermath Part 2

My god, it went by so fast. A single week removed from the big reception and that’s still the biggest thing I dwell on. For all the preparation and hard work and needless stressing out and bickering, the thing was over in a heartbeat.

And of course we were told that would happen. Other couples were more than happy to share their experiences, their pain, telling us what to expect and what to prepare for, but until you go through it… Wow! That was a complete blur!

I wish we had more time to actually hang out with people. Joanna and I were pushed and pulled in so many directions at once that I didn’t even feel like we got to chill out with anyone. Again… things we were told to expect but didn’t quite understand until thrown directly into the belly of the beast.

Both of us barely had a chance to talk to our friends and by the time we did, the whole thing was over. Next thing you know we were packing up, heading home, walking Jasper, feeding the mamimals, somehow losing Veronica on Northwest Highway (even though there were only two other cars on the road with us), meeting family and friends at Abruzzi’s, scarfing down pizza, wings, beer, and then heading to Lake Geneva for a few days of much needed relaxation before both of us succumbing to sniffles and colds.

The vacation was great. Even though it’s barely an hour-and-fifteen minutes away, I had never been to Lake Geneva before and didn’t know what to expect. And yes, I discovered rather quickly that Lake Geneva is indeed a quaint little college-esque type of town that happens to be on a body of water that’s catered for rich folk who seem to have nothing to do but spend spend spend and have disturbing little happy smiles permanently tattooed on their itty bitty teeny weeny white round puny faces.

It was cute. And orange.

Very orange.

Granted, we don’t get to travel very often – but if Fall leaves in transition are your thing, then by George grab yourself a camera, some tissue paper, and your favorite bottle of lotion for some good old-fashioned hardcore stroking because you won’t be disappointed.

We stayed at a place called the Lazy Cloud, just about two miles outside of town. It was very very very relaxing and worth every penny. I highly recommend it.

It was the perfect getaway for both of us. We stayed in a lot, took a lot of naps, did a little site-seeing, window shopping, walked along the lake, visited an orchard, and (from what I remember) got totally blitzed one particular night drinking beer and eating dollar hamburgers while watching Game One of the World Series (did I mention how much I love my wife????). Good times!

And god, even though I don’t smoke it was nice to be able to sit down at a normal bar where the patrons can actually be inside and enjoy their cigarettes and alcohol in peace and not have to step outside every fifteen minutes. It’s been so long not being inside what used to be a rather “normal” environment, that just seeing ashtrays sitting out seemed like a novelty act.

“Can I really smoke inside here????”

So now I’m in limbo. I’ve been up since 4:30, walked the dog three times, Joanna just left for work, but I don’t go back until tomorrow. So I’m trapped here with the animals and my own thoughts and mini-errands to keep me company.

I’m both excited and dreading the return to real life, like it’s the last day of summer vacation before heading back to school. But stuff has already quickly piled on and relaxation is about to end.

Oh joy, oh joy, oh joy.