The night always seems a tad bittersweet, melancholy even. I don’t love change, and I am not one to want to hurry time along. I never have been. I love to bask in moments in time and hold on to them as long as I can. So ushering in the new year with celebration and anticipation always seems like I have to be letting go. This year I think most people would agree that there is much to want to let go of. It’s been a doozie! Yet still, I look back and hold this year close.
Reflecting back, for me it was ramping up in August of 2019. My dad’s dementia was getting worse, we hired caregivers to assist/relieve my mom at home. But in October he took a spill walking to the bathroom at night and cracked a rib. Over the next week pneumonia developed and ultimately he was hospitalized. The night he went in I remember him being so disoriented and restless. I stayed with him all night, and finally about 3:00am he drifted off to sleep. I was sitting by his bed with my head resting on the bedrail, sleeping as much as possible. At some point about 4am he woke up, clear eyed and looked over at me and said, “ Carolyn, what are you going to do with those sleds in your truck?” I lifted my groggy head, looked him dead in the eyes and said “I’m going to put them in the garage on the shelf.” I had no idea what sleds he was talking about and he hadn’t seen the inside of my suburban for months! He pursed his lips together, looked at me, shook his head a little and responded back, “I don’t know how you’re going to get them in there with all those damn bikes!”
Oh! My! Gosh! Here he was, in pain from a broken rib and pneumonia, dementia that was stealing his memories and understanding and in this one moment he was lucidly fixated on my cluttered garage! He recognized me and called me by name, and he was still worrying and nagging me about the number of bikes I had in my garage! This had been an issue since my divorce in 2006! Every time he came to my house, he would walk through the garage, count and assess the bikes, come in the back door and ask, “How many people are living here? Because there are (insert number of bikes, sometimes between 8-11) and 6 people surely don’t need 11 bikes. I would then explain why we had so many bikes, some were in case friends came over to ride, a couple were just for riding trails and I was storing the Earth Cruiser for my friend Darrel! My dad was really concerned about the amount of space the bikes took up in my garage. I assured him that I didn’t need that space for anything else but I could tell the bike situation was a constant vexation for him. Even delirious with medication in the ER, when he hadn’t remembered my name in weeks, the bikes and sleds were worrying him! And I was so damn happy about that, because for that brief moment at 4am in the ER, my dad was back!
Fast forward. We ended up needing to put dad in memory care after being discharged from the hospital. That was a hard decision. Really hard. My mom was exhausted. My sister flew home to handle a lot of the logistics. She stayed a couple weeks. My mom developed some back and leg pain. She was trying to rest and heal at home while Patty and I took care of getting my dad settled in. This was all so difficult emotionally for all of us.
Patty went home. My mom’s pain got worse. She called at 8:00am on October 30th because she couldn’t get out of bed due to the pain. Fiona went immediately to help. I went over after work. She didn’t want to go to the hospital. By 7:30 that night, she knew she would have to go in. She wanted to wait for shift change in the morning. Once a nurse always a nurse!
There are a lot of great details that I am leaving out here, they really are a story of their own. We called an ambulance at 6:30. The biggest concern for my mom was the pain in her back and legs. The biggest concern for the doctors was her heart. At some point she had developed Afib and she had a lot of fluid around her heart. And still the pain! She also had a new compression fracture in her back that was pinching nerves. She needed surgery, but the heart issues made that a very dangerous thing. She wanted to call hospice. Thank God for her friend and cardiologist, Dr. Harris. He and the neurosurgeon Dr. Barret, along with the hospice nurse, convinced her that even if she chose hospice (she was not a real candidate at this point) they would insist she have the surgery. Dr. Barrett stayed late to talk to her about this on Halloween, while his kids were waiting for him to take them trick or treating. He talked fast and seemed rushed, but still, he stayed to make sure my mom didn’t take a blood thinner that night so he could operate the next day. He assured her she would feel 100% better than she did right then. They were all worried about her fragile condition. They let me stay with her right until they took her to surgery. Dr. Harris, Dr. Barrett and the anesthesiologist all prepared me for a “worse case scenario’. The waiting was horrific. But she made it through.
She needed to go to rehab before she could go home. Patty came back. Ultimately, mom decided to go to assisted living and not home. There was a small room available in the memory care unit and she could have that while waiting for an assisted living apartment to open up. She was near my dad. We made the room as cozy and homey as possible. There were several nights that I went and stayed with her while she slept in her lift chair, still in pain. Those were not bright days in 2019. I was looking forward to 2020! Imagine that looking back!
After a week or two when mom was feeling a bit better, we wheeled her down to the sun room to see my dad for the first time in 2 months. It was precious! He recognized her. They held hands looking out at the birds. Noah and I cried and soaked up the moments. This all felt so surreal. This was never their plan.
We celebrated Christmas with both parents in that same sun room at Devonshire. My dad, still sneaking and trying to open his presents before his turn. Elsa, Fiona, Olivia and Noah each taking a turn distracting him and laughing...basking in the normalcy of it all. We sang carols. We didn’t know what was coming. We took pictures to document the moments, even though they were bittersweet moments.
And 2020 rolled in on us all. In a whirlwind of decisions, we sold my parents home and disseminated 63 years of memories and possessions . Treasures, what- nots, trinkets and tools. That was hard. It’s still hard.
Mom’s back improved slowly. Dad was holding his own. Trips to Devonshire to visit and take things they needed happened almost daily. They both had so many friends and neighbors stop in to visit with them. It was amazing for us that other people checked on them both when we couldn’t. We were all getting to know the staff pretty well and they probably got tired of us being there. We didn’t really care! At the end of February a room opened up in the section of memory care my mom was living in. They moved my dad to a room right next to hers. They could eat together at meals and my mom was able to “teach” the staff his eating habits, likes and dislikes. He didn’t really eat much there. He spent a lot of time sleeping. He recognized us less often. He did have a few really good, lucid days. Days he remembered us and where we had glimpses of his old self.
In the last week of February an apartment finally opened up for my mom in the assisted living section of the building. It was at the opposite end from memory care, but mom really needed to be with other people who still had their mental faculties. She could still visit dad and the staff was good about making sure they spent time together. Patty was still here wrapping up the sale of the house, and was able to oversee the transition. She was heading back the morning of the 29th, but staying in Detroit on the 28th. I was out of days at work but I took a half day on Friday, February 28th to help her get mom settled. There were boxes everywhere! Patty was at the end of a long stint here filled with so many decisions, organizing and wrapping up the sale of the house. She was ready to be home with a lovely glass of wine!
And she almost got it too! She had just arrived home in Oregon and poured herself a lovely red, when Devonshire called to tell her dad had fallen in his room. Saturday, February 29th. I’m sure she emptied that glass in one slug. I’ll bet money she didn’t share the rest of the bottle! I went over first thing in the morning on Sunday. Mom and I stayed with him in his room most of the day. He was in pain, hospice came in and ordered an x-ray. We were pretty sure he had broken a hip. Mom had already made the decision that if this were to happen, surgery would not be an option. The hospice nurse agreed. The x-ray, when finally done, showed no fracture. They were giving dad morphine for the pain, a low dose, because moving him to change his Depend was painful. He had some lucid moments that day. He recognized mom and I both. He ate for the caregivers and they were so good with him. I fed him 2 popsicles, the last right before leaving. Mom and I decided we both needed to get a good night's sleep, because we felt like the week ahead would be filled with hard choices and long days/nights. I let my boss know that I would likely need more time off that week but I would come in and work at least a half day Monday to get things organized for the week. I might even work the whole day, it would depend on the call from hospice in the morning.
I went to the bathroom during my 2nd hour. I missed the hospice call. I had a text from Patty telling me to answer the call because she was boarding a plane and couldn’t. I called, expecting to hear the new, revised plan to manage dad’s pain and get him up and moving, since there was no hip fracture. The hospice nurse was so kind. “Carolyn, I’m so sorry, but your dad passed this morning.” The next moments were a blur as I stood in the hallway trying to assimilate this information. I was crying, loud. Co-workers came out of their rooms to check on me. My students alerted my co teacher that something bad was happening. She helped me gather my things as I tried to process it all. As I walked to my car crying, my friend Nate was coming in. He had lost his mom earlier in the year. His dad went into assisted living. He and I and another co worker were all sharing this phase of life journey together. I was the only one who had not lost a parent. We had lunch together every other week or so and prayed for each other. Running into him helped me focus. I pulled myself together enough to drive. My mom was waiting for me to get there to go see dad.
I called each of my kids individually as I drove to Lapeer. I wanted them to hear this news from me. Noah was on a cruise. I did not want him to find out via social media or from someone else. At some point I had my friend Tony try to track down the ship. Mother of year had no clue what ship Noah was on or where his cruise was actually going!
When I got to Devonshire and mom’s room we just took time to weep. We both felt like we had made the wrong decision the night before. Neither one of us had been with dad when he passed. He was alone and we both were devastated by that. We went down to say goodbye. The 2nd most difficult goodbye of my life. The most difficult goodbye to watch as my mom squeezed his hand and kissed his forehead for the last time. The two of us were just stunned and bereft. We also had decisions to make and plans to put in motion. First we ordered lunch. Michelson’s are Michelson’s after all, even in grief, we still needed to eat!
Olivia drove home from Kankakee that day to be with me and Grandma Gloria. Fiona had just gone to Buffalo for spring break. She headed home. We met with Todd Muir from the funeral home that day. He was amazing. There was no way Noah could be home before Saturday. He still didn’t know yet. We made the decision to put the funeral off until March 13th and 14th.
Over those 2 weeks the Coronavirus was spreading quickly across the U.S. Hospitals were filling up. On February 28th Governor Whitmer had activated a state of emergency operations center to prepare for potential Coronavirus cases. On March 10th the first 2 confirmed cases of Covid-19 were confirmed in Michigan. On March 11th Governor Cuomo of New York moved SUNY and CUNY to distance learning. Fiona’s boyfriend was teaching and learning from Michigan. Colleges and universities in Michigan were following suit. Social distancing measures were being implemented. Masks and PPE were in short supply for healthcare workers. The general population was encouraged to limit contact with others. On March 13th gatherings of 250 or more were banned in Michigan The visitation, funeral and dinner were in question. Muir Brothers were prepared to supply hand sanitizer at the door and other locations at visitation and the funeral. The pastor wanted to cancel it all. Todd Muir put his foot down. Visitation at assisted living facilities was restricted. Devonshire made an exception for mom given the circumstances. Things were changing daily as the pandemic swept across the country and globe. We were concerned about the visitation, and tried to limit hugging ect. Of course at some point, all of that caution became lax. Those 2 days of family viewing, burial, visitation and funeral were all we had hoped they would be to honor my dad. In the aftermath we held our collective breaths hoping no one got sick. Thankfully, no one did. There were people who opted not to attend in an abundance of caution. We totally understood those choices.
March 11th was the last day schools met in person. I had come back on Monday/Tuesday of that week but took Wednesday-Thursday off. I wasn't there to say goodbye to my students. I had no clue I would not see them in person again. This year was already surreal and it was only March!
Statewide stay at home orders were being implemented in Michigan and many other states across the country. Elsa made the decision to stay in Michigan for the remainder of her senior year, as it would be online. Noah had moved out of the dorm and back home. Fiona was teaching from home and Sean, her boyfriend, did not return to New York. The 5 of us sheltered in place together. Toilet paper became a scarce commodity but I was not worried. I had stocked up before everyone came home for the funeral. I didn’t stock enough! Savannah and Olivia returned to their homes after the funeral. Oliva continued to work in labor and delivery and Savannah was working from home helping many who were out of work navigate the overwhelmed unemployment system. Bars and restaurants were closing on March 16th at 3:pm. We all went to Johnny’s Pour House for breakfast/lunch/drinks one last time. It was eerily empty. We made sure to tip well. We celebrated St. Patrick’s Day at home, but did it up right!
The shelter in place order was honestly just what we needed. Except that after March 16th we could no longer go in and see my mom in her apartment. The kids couldn’t go in that day, only me. I took her birthday tostadas and lemon meringue pie. The kids all sat outside her window in lawn chairs, holding umbrellas, wrapped in blankets. It was a sweet moment. We thought it wouldn't be long until we could all be inside together again. We were so wrong.
There are so many good moments and memories from our time sheltering in place together. We cooked a lot! We rested. We grieved. We taught and learned remotely. We learned HOW to teach and learn virtually. It was weird. And good at the same time. We all looked for toilet paper if we ventured out. We went through pounds of coffee. We missed my dad and missed being able to see my mom.We watched home videos. We Facetimed Grandma Gloria and that was good. I had Zoom happy hours with friends. It wasn’t the same, but we stayed connected. We went through a lot of booze. And then we got a hold of ourselves. I started to walk daily. Healing was happening.
June arrived and while the pandemic restrictions were lifted and modified, social distancing and masks became our new version of normal. We were eventually able to take mom out for drives and even dinner in restaurants that were practicing safe Covid protocols. We vacationed with caution and did so much more outside than ever before. I continued to walk daily and honestly, there were good things that happened during those months.
Preparing for fall and the return to school had us all apprehensive. The virus was on the rise again by late August, just as Dr. Fauci had predicted and cautioned, just like the Spanish Flu in 1918. I was not in favor of returning to teach F2F. Fortunately, neither was our superintendent. We began the school year teaching remotely, which honestly was weird. Being in my classroom with no students, the halls quiet. But I did enjoy collaborating once again with dear colleagues. Those days had some fun moments as we navigated trying to meet, yet stay distanced. My room is huge, so we often met there.
Eventually, the students came back in a hybrid model. The numbers were rising, students and staff alike tested positive, were quarantined, traced...it was good to see those kids in person, but the constant stress and worry about exposure to this virus took its mental and emotional toll. By the middle of November we were going to be back to virtual learning. I breathed a sigh of relief. My biggest exposure risk was now going to be gone. On November 12th I had an intestinal issue at work. I had to leave early or risk soiling myself and decimating the staff bathroom. As this was a Covid symptom, I had to have a negative test to return to work. I was certain this was not Covid related. I went to an urgent care 1st thing Saturday morning, was the 3rd person in line. I waited 4-6 minutes in the waiting area before being put in a room, swabbed and sent out the door. The test results didn’t come back until Tuesday but they were negative! We started virtual learning that Thursday. I was in the clear and breathed a huge sigh of relief. There were 14 days until Thanksgiving and while we had decided to not have everyone come, I felt good about Noah and Olivia coming home. Sean too. We continued to do all the right things.
The night before Thanksgiving Brian’s allergies flared up. Or he had a cold. I joked about Covid. The neighbors came down and had drinks on the deck as we prepped dinner inside on Thursday afternoon. We kept the sliding glass door open so we could visit easily. I kept telling them I was ok with them coming in. Shelley did not want to risk exposing me if she had somehow been exposed. They stayed on the deck. Thank God!
We did our usual decking of the halls that weekend. I developed my usual cough that happens when I haul out the holly from the dusty, musty basement storage. Brian didn’t feel great on Monday so took the day off. Tuesday they didn’t have anything going on so they told him to stay home another day. Wednesday they told him to get tested before coming in. I worked from my classroom on Monday and Tuesday, but focused on getting a lot of things organized so that I could attempt to teach from home. What better joy than to be at home all day during the holidays, teaching and working by treelight! I was just getting ready for my first Google Meet when Brian texted me to call as soon as I could. I knew. He tested positive. We were both stunned. I tracked down a place to get a drive through test the next day at 4:30. I was terrified. Fiona’s boyfriend came back from his parents. He had only been there a few days. Hopefully if he had been exposed, he wasn’t contagious yet. He came here to quarantine. My test came back Friday at 2:30. It was positive.
The first word out of my mouth started with an F. A really BIG F!! But I felt fine. I had my usual holiday decorating cough...but F...maybe it was more than that! I called my doctor who called in preventative steroids. I purchased a pulse oximeter. I busted my ass finishing up the Christmas decorating, getting the Christmas bedding on all the beds and all the things I hadn’t quite finished on the weekend. Just in case I started to feel worse. Being sick in a half decorated, cluttered space would be untenable, clearly! Then I packed a bag to quarantine at Brian’s “island of no chores” for the weekend...maybe longer. He felt like he had a bad cold, a little crummy, I felt okish. And then I didn’t. Ultimately, we all survived. I was hospitalized, I thought for sure I would be part of the global pandemic statistics, but here I am...looking back on this New Year’s Eve.
It’s been a freaking shit storm of a year! There has been sorrow, loss, grief, celebrations of life and death, unexpected gifted time quarantined for months with adult children, the unexpected joy of eating in our favorite restaurants after months of them being closed, cooking new things, and a brush with death. Oh yeah, I also refinanced my house and did a massive remodel! I was without a washer and dryer from September 17 to December 18th! In the big picture of surviving Covid, this seems inconsequential, but let me just say, those appliances are a bright spot in an otherwise really dark year.
This year I have learned to look for the joy wherever and whenever I can. This New Year’s Eve will not be spent out with friends, or out at all. Everything is closed. This New Year’s Eve will be spent looking back, letting go, giving thanks for life and lives well lived and looking forward!
Looking forward to whatever changes and challenges await us in 2021. Looking forward to vaccinations and the opening up of the global community. Looking forward to living life as fully and joyfully as possible, knowing that each moment of it is a gift to be treasured and held close, because things can change so quickly despite our best laid plans and intentions. I will always hold this year close because of all that we have endured and learned and shared. But on this New Year’s Eve I am so ready to let this year go and move into the next, with a bit of trepidation, quietly so as not to awaken any sleeping giants, but with hopeful anticipation of change and goodness that surely must be coming!
