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Two Elephants in a Bathtub: Taking Care of Mom
Two Elephants in a Bathtub: Taking Care of Mom
Two Elephants in a Bathtub: Taking Care of Mom
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Two Elephants in a Bathtub: Taking Care of Mom

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The doctors said Mom couldnt be alone. In June, I resigned from my teaching position, packed some belongings, and headed southwith three kids, two cats, and a dogto St Augustine, Florida, to take care of mom.
Mom had been diagnosed with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), a respiratory disease, and every breath exhausted her. I thought Mom and I could fight this illness together. I pictured happy days where we would picnic as a family at the beach, tour the town for garage sales, eat at wharf-side restaurants, and spend long nights watching classic television.
Instead, Moms illness took hold of our whole family. We began twenty-four-hour care. Mom needed us, and we were vigilant. Our life became emergency-room waits, hospital visits, pharmacy runs, and long nights of asking for Gods help.
Two Elephants in a Bathtub is a chronological account of those days. Moms courage enveloped our family. I pass this story along with pride and hope that it will inspire any family with an elderly relative battling against time and terminal illness. This isnt a story about loss. This is a story about love.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherAuthorHouse
Release dateDec 20, 2012
ISBN9781477298275
Two Elephants in a Bathtub: Taking Care of Mom
Author

Penny Wagner

Three cheers for this Jersey girl who grew up to love the Bible, baseball, and the Beatles. Author, teacher, and advocate of children, Penny Wagner earned the knowledge that no two people are alike and that we all possess the inert ability to “make the world a better place.” The hero of her favorite book is the grandpa in Barbara Cooney’s Miss Rumphius. The grandpa in this award-winning children’s book is a seascape artist who allows his granddaughter to paint the clouds in the sky while telling her, “You must travel to faraway places, own a cottage by the sea, and find a way to make the world better.” “Yesterday,” written by Paul McCartney is a reflection of Ms. Wagner’s life, not living with regrets, but recognizing that life binds our past to the present and the future. She will complete the scrabble of her life, which may be descending now, but she has eons to go as an author, a grandmom (currently just two cats), and a purveyor of truth to share with those who may still come to blossom. When she was a child, her two older brothers enjoyed sporting events with their dad. It wasn’t uncommon for him to bring them to a twilight double header at Yankee Stadium. Ms. Wagner wanted to go too, but they would venture without her, saying, “ You’re a girl.” This is still recorded on her memory. Later, as her brothers got girlfriends or moved into college dorms, she won a place with her dad. Today she is an avid Yankee fan and loves watching the games. Ms. Wagner resides in St Augustine, Florida, and her gentle companion is a yellow lab named Kingsley. Her favorite pastime is walking Kingsley by the sea.

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    Book preview

    Two Elephants in a Bathtub - Penny Wagner

    AuthorHouse™

    1663 Liberty Drive

    Bloomington, IN 47403

    www.authorhouse.com

    Phone: 1-800-839-8640

    © 2013 by Penny Wagner. All rights reserved.

    No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

    Published by AuthorHouse 12/17/2012

    ISBN: 978-1-4772-9828-2 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4772-9827-5 (e)

    Library of Congress Control Number: 2012923275

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    Contents

    Prologue

    July

    August

    September

    October

    November

    December

    January

    February

    March

    April

    May

    Epilogue

    To Lin, my beautiful daughter, who has always been and will continue to always be the source of my inspiration.

    Leaf by leaf the rose becomes the rose.

    W.H. Mallock

    Acknowledgements

    Bill and Bobbi for their unwavering devotion

    To Gary and Andrew, Always.

    For Ryan

    Neil, I love you.

    Cathy Harris…for the photo and the walks

    Bernie’s help!

    My friends and colleagues; through the years

    All the students I taught at L.M.C.S.

    The women and children at BGH, Never give up.

    The publishing staff at Authorhouse; especially the editorial and

    design teams for their exceptional devotion to task

    Thank you

    God Bless You

    Love bears all things,

    Believes all things,

    Hopes all things,

    Endures all things.

    (1 Corinthians 13:7)

    Prologue

    Mom and I didn’t have the best relationship. Mom always preferred my brother Neil to me. He was far more her son than I was her daughter. Neil loved fun, and at times, he loved it too much. He avoided taking responsibility for his actions by wooing Mom into protecting him. It seemed to me that she loved Neil more. I was angry at her. But Mom and I did have a special bond. Whenever I needed her, she was there. And whenever she needed me, I was there. So, when Mom became ill, I was there. I took care of the disbursements of medicines, the shuttles in and out of the hospital, the watchful nights to make sure there were movements in her breathing, and the incredibly long stretches of despair, uncertainty, and prayers. I was there for Mom, and rather than giving up, Mom stayed for me. In those months, I did become her daughter. And she became my friend.

    Here Is Our Story

    July

    The doctor was correct. Mom was ill and couldn’t be alone anymore. Diagnosed with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), a respiratory disease, every breath was difficult for her. Mom lived at our home on Anastasia Island in Florida, and I lived with my daughter and two sons in New York. My husband had died a few years prior to her diagnosis, and there were empty places in my life. Leaving was right for me. My daughter, Lin, graduated from high school and would be attending the University of Florida in the fall. My two eighth-grade twin sons, Gary and Andrew, would enjoy the active lifestyle. The children and I were happy together, but we were more of a family when we were with Mom. So we left to go to Mom.

    When we saw Mom, she had just been discharged from the transitional care unit at the hospital. She was smaller and paler than before, and her eyes were recessed. Mom wasn’t the same fiery redhead who quarreled with the neighbors. She was confused and lonely. Her dignity and independence were giving way; she seemed as if she were in a time of giving up, of being stepped over.

    Could I stop this decline? Could a human soul give enough of itself to delay the inevitable? Mom looked up at me. Could we do it? God left Mom and me one more chance to create what we had always wanted together.

    Despite Mom’s crippling illness, the children and I thought we should enjoy some summer activities. Our home was near the ocean, and we went to the beach. The boys learned to surf. Lin sunbathed while enjoying a book. I’d supervise the children in the ocean, but I always harbored a fear that something was happening at home—something deep—and it was going to take Mom away from us. Too worried to enjoy our excursions to the ocean, we decided to spend our days at home with Mom.

    I started to tear at the sandy turf in our yard. The boys pulled up some beach daisies, and we planted them. We found tall grasses and placed them near the side window. I made frequent trips to the nearby garden shop. All the new flowers seemed to promise Mom and me a perennial, hopeful springtime. The garden became a precursor of renewal. As it grew, it reflected Mom’s soft, girl-like face—her eyes more innocent than I had ever seen them before. We were building life, refusing to let sadness tear us down.

    I watched the boys wince every time I returned with a few tiny buds that needed to be planted. But, they became the chief gardeners. They never questioned why the other boys were running to the beach with surfboards while they were going to the backyard to fill the wheelbarrow with another load of topsoil. The boys were angels, and the garden was lovely.

    That summer, I didn’t know how to speak to God about Mom’s health. I worried that if I asked God to take away Mom’s illness, he would take her with him. I was careful, very careful with every word to God. I just kept telling God

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