Single parent status

April 27, 2017 by Genie Stryker in Message, Parenthood, Diabetes, Cancer

Hey gang, checking in.

Ian is now registered for summer camp at Norfolk Academy (space camp, chess/3D printing camp, soccer, and swimming every afternoon) for June and July. He's also registered at the Jewish Community Center for camp in August (also with swimming twice a day). I was able to pay those in full (which included a discount for doing so) because of your generous donations.

Ian is seeing a counselor every other week, at his request. So far that's going really well. We spent Spring Break in Tampa with friends where we played in the pool, saw wild animals, and went kayaking.

We celebrated Ian making A's honor roll last week for the third quarter. His certificate is on the fridge and he was delighted to see both Shrop and me in attendance. He also used his own money at the book fair last week to buy a journal *with a lock*, a Minecraft book, and a giant 15" long pencil. We're back to reading Harry Potter again before bed. He just met Professor Snape in the potions class.

He's spending the afternoons with my parents down the street as he's not very comfortable with the house being empty now. We just got two kayaks with a lightweight trailer and have already been on the water a few miles from home. As my mom said, we're not letting grass grow under our feet.

Once I finally got an appointment, the Social Security office visit was painless. Direct deposit for Ian's death benefit is already set up and will start June 1. I must say having that behind me is a relief.

I'm not sleeping 10-12 hours a day anymore, which is a welcome change. I am back on the wagon of getting massages regularly so that I can turn my head to the left *and* the right. And I can't rave enough about my witch doctor (chiropractor and applied kinesiologist) for clearing up my head, my muscles, and my heart. Anyone local to Tidewater should go to Applied Health Chiropractic and make an appointment with Dr. C. Honestly, it's worth a long drive or a flight to see her.

I'm doing a keto (high fat low carb) diet to manage my anxiety and my blood sugars and that is working well right now. I put heavy whipping cream in my coffee, I buy eggs from Costco in five dozen packages, there are three different types of shredded cheese in my fridge, and I cook lamb at least once a week. I do miss sweet potatoes but not bread. (I may have an occasional small sweet potato.)

Shrop has finished his senior project as of last week and will graduate this spring with a mechanical engineering degree (in addition to his previous BS in Psych and MBA). Commencement is May 6th and we're celebrating with friends. Shortly after that, he leaves for Mount Everest for two and a half weeks where he will hike 38 miles to base camp (and the same 38 miles back down) with his besties. I'm excited for him and very happy that I'm not also going on that adventure right now.

I'm pleased to say that I'm doing better than just surviving. I'm thriving. When I went to renew our membership at the JCC so Ian could go to camp (and I can lift weights and do yoga) the front desk attendant's computer blurted out the first six notes of the "Always Sunny in Philadelphia" theme song as he accidentally clicked on a link someone sent him. I had assumed hearing that song after it played in our living room non-stop for a year would make me cringe, but I actually smiled. I checked the box on the form for "single parent" and will assume that song was Rich's participation in the whole process.

How is Ian?

March 23, 2017 by Genie Stryker in Cancer, Message, Parenthood

“That happened back when Daddy was still alive, so it was a long time ago.”
- Ian, this week

I love how kids live in the moment. They’re like dogs only with slightly less fur.

I used to be asked every time I saw someone, “How is Rich?” Now that the question is no longer relevant, the new request is, “How is Ian?”

The status of Ian is a complex one, just like the status of most humans. He slept with me every night once Rich went into hospice. When Rich died, I dragged Ian’s twin mattress into the master bedroom so he could still see me and be near but I would stop getting elbowed in the head all night.

A week after Rich died, we moved the queen bed up into Ian’s room and gave the twin bed away. Ian spins himself in circles with at least one dog and cat each night in his own bed in his own room right down the hall. I set an alarm for 30 minutes before we have to get up and go to snuggle with him in the mornings. That has worked well for us both, whether at home or at Shrop’s house.

Ian was riding his bike to and from school since just before December. This worked out in that the house was always unlocked and there was at least one caregiver in the house for Ian. He largely managed himself but he didn’t get lonely.

Once Rich and the caregivers were gone, I made sure I was home after school so that he wouldn’t be lonely. Work has been exceptionally understanding about my need to work from home after 3pm the last month. The house is significantly less hectic than it was before, and while that’s good, it’s unnervingly quiet as well. So Ian doesn’t like to be downstairs alone. We’re working through that. For now, he’s hanging out with my folks after school.

Ian has had trouble getting along with other kids the last month. He’s super sensitive to even the slightest perceived injustice or inconvenience and will cry victim, overreact, and stomp off. I reminded him that if he has a problem with literally six different children in the same day, maybe it’s not all these children being awful, maybe it’s just him being an asshole.

He still sucks his thumb when he’s tired and takes a blankie to bed. He’s also added Charlie Bear to the mix for certain outings. I’m not bothered by any of this. He won’t suck his thumb forever and if he takes a blankie to college, I think he’ll still get laid provided he not choose the blankie over a potential bed partner. There are enough people in the world who will pick on him over stuff like that, I’m not going to be one of them.

He’s 4’8” tall and 108 lb. That’s huge. The pediatricians lecture me about excess sugar consumption and snacking. Both of the pediatricians in our practice are obese. Ian only drinks water, he has one 100 calorie dessert every four days or so, and he runs around during the day as much as the public school system will allow. He dug a gigantic hole in our yard with a full-sized shovel. The boy is active and strong. He’s also moon-faced and pot-bellied, just like his dad was at that age. What I’m determined about is he won’t have food and body image issues like his father had.

He asked me last weekend why he doesn’t have a sister or brother. I told him that Daddy got too sick when we were about to make another baby and now Daddy is gone. He offered, “Well, maybe you and Shrop can make a baby.” I reminded him that a baby would take away from some of the attention I could give him, but he was adamant that he wants a sibling and he would gain another family member to snuggle if we got a baby up in this joint. Kids live in the moment.

School is either good or the worst possible place I could force him to attend. It changes daily. He doesn’t like change, like a substitute teacher. And he is all about some fairness, or at least his version of what fairness is.

He’s very concerned that people won’t love him anymore. We’re still working through that to find the root of the issue. I remind him that even when he’s being a jerk, I love him. I perhaps love him most when he’s being a jerk. Love is not the issue at stake. He just needs to be empathetic and patient with others. And we will be empathetic and patient with him. There’s a difference between being heard and getting your way.

I hear echoes of my own anxiety in his worries. He sobbed about the potential of getting pinched on St. Patrick’s Day if he somehow lost the green clothing item he was already wearing. There are many “but what if” questions in rapid form over most potential social hazards. I know from experience those are hard voices to silence.

He loves people and he wants to speak for himself. Some people aren’t always willing to listen. When I took him to the doctor about his cough, Ian asked me, “Why don’t you just wait out in the lobby? I can tell the doctor what’s wrong.” I agreed that he could speak for himself, but most doctors like to get confirmation from parents because we’ve had more experience. The doctor teased Ian for talking non-stop and I just rolled my eyes. He has to practice conversation if he’s going to get better at it. I know adults who can’t listen well versus just waiting impatiently for their turn to talk.

Overall, we’re good. Things are settling down, but there are spikes of upset that pop up here and there.

Contracting

February 13, 2017 by Genie Stryker in Cancer, Message, Parenthood

I've only witnessed one death before - Rich's mom. I do have first hand experience with a birth from the mother's perspective, though. I'm seeing parallels I hadn't expected.

I took two months off of work when I brought a person into this world. I should allow myself to take at least a few weeks to escort someone out of this world.

Things are different now than they were a few weeks ago. For me, when Rich went into hospice, it was like the difference between being pregnant and being in labor. Yes, everyone recognizes that pregnancy is a thing and there are some limitations to it versus being decidedly not pregnant. But being in labor is more intense.

"Why are you being so dramatic and noisy? Yesterday you were pregnant and you weren't like this. Geez. If it's so unpleasant, just stop doing it."
"Yes ... I am ... technically still ... PREGNANT ... as this person has not ... EXITED ... my vagina yet ... but this TRANSITION is much harder than him just ... hanging out on the inside. Now go away and make me a sandwich!"

Yes, people visited you when you were pregnant. You went to work when you were pregnant. You had sex while pregnant. You traveled. You tried new things. You laughed. You took care of yourself because there was a person growing inside of you.

But when you are in labor, you don't give a shit about anyone else but the person you are escorting into the world. You don't even really care about yourself. Lady parts are getting straight up ravaged and your only concern is that other person making it through safely.

So it is with hospice. Only instead of a few hours, it's weeks or months. And it's important. And there are no do overs.

Like a birth, there are circles of people this affects. Right now, the Stryker clan is collectively going through a joint labor of escorting a loved one out of this world. We all handle that situation very differently. And just like nine women can't make a baby in one month, adding people to this process doesn't make it easier.

While most of this will just be a blur once it's over, there will be sounds and smells that trigger memories. The hospice nurses make great death midwives but they're not living it. I've been with Rich over 15 years. His father and brother have been with him over 40. Ian has been with him his whole life. Yet everything is different once the walls start thinning.

Rich talks about "going" a lot. It's hard to softly walk him to the moment when he can leave us behind and not use ourselves up in the process. I hope that once Rich is gone, we will be able to enjoy the peace he will have. And while we may be a little beat up from the ordeal, I hope we can all be proud of how we got him through safely.