The Phone Call

 

She sits in the blue, comfortable chair. Cellphone in her hand. The landline stays nearby. She waits.

Minutes click by.

She stares from one device to the other. Will she hear today?

The landline rings. Picking it up, her voice wavers. “Hello?”

Is this the call she dreads?

“No, thank you. We give to other charities.” She returns the receiver back into the cradle.

And she waits.

She jumps when the cellphone sounds. “Hello?”

 Her greeting always sounds like a question. Is this it? The call she fears?

“Oh, yes, thank you for the reminder. I will call you tomorrow and make an appointment.”

Sigh. And then another sigh. What kinds of communication comes to her these days? Postal mail to junk? Emails to trash? Doctor appointments to make? Unknown phone calls to ignore, but she answers. It could be the one she expects. But it is not. If the unfamiliar caller is fortunate, she gives a polite, negative response.

Hope grows short with each passing minute.

Why not put the information devices away and work on something constructive?

She considers this.

But she doesn’t move.

She sits.

And waits.

The room is quiet. No television. No music. The surroundings are unusual in this regard.

Tears gather. She wipes them away.

Will it be today?

Tomorrow?

Moments continue to tick by. Can she sit like this every day?

Night falls.

Still no phone call.

The hour is too early for bed, but she needs to change positions.

She charges the iPhone. The cell and landline phones remain on the nightstand.

Wearing her clothes and makeup, she crawls into bed.

And then, she waits.

She stares at the ceiling.

Sleep fails to come.

The landline clangs. “Hello?”  After listening for a few moments, she interrupts the caller. “Sir, I don’t need political solicitors at this hour.” She hangs up and glances at the clock. The dial reads nine o’clock.

Why do politicians phone this late?

She turns over and stares at the window.

The moon’s light slips though the slant in the draperies.

Dozing, visions of a vicious creature prance behind her eyelids.

Other monsters join the first one.

They jeer. And laugh. They jump with joy. They point ugly claws at her.

She understands they wait to consume her.

With a pounding heart, she awakens.

The cell sounds off. The bedside clock reads ten minutes after three.

She knows this is it. 

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Meltdowns and Birthdays

 

Birthday in Tennessee 2023

I'm a proud American, and I'm a firecracker born on the 4th of July. Yep, I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy. 

The doctor told my mom I would come into the world before Sunday School. Not that she planned to go, of course. She was rather busy.

The physician promised my early arrival, but not before my dad threatened to throw him out the window. My father wanted my mom free of pain. Of course, the man in charge of my delivery couldn't do much to hurry up the process, but I guess his prediction was satisfactory to my dad. 

I don't doubt my father, Sergeant Morton fully dressed in uiform, would have made good his threat to throw the man out the window, but the doctor got me here, and my dad allowed him to remain safe and sound.

Needless to say, that was many years ago, but a woman never tells her age. Not this one, anyway.

Do birthdays depress you?

Sometimes, they do me.  

For some odd reason, last year was especially difficult. On this particular birthday, it hit me that I might not outlive our daughter, Shelley.

If you read my dementia posts, or my dementia blog, you know Shelley has been ill with this horrible disease for ten years. My goal and prayer is to outlive her. I oversee her care, and this responsiblity is always with me. Last year, I was filled with anxiety as I thought  about age and realized I might not outlive her.

My family convinced me to take a trip to Tennesee, and I felt guilty for leaving Shelley. She's safe and well attended, but an unnecessay feeling of wrong doing lingered with me.

So, without warning, I had a meltdown.

The mountains have always been my favorite, and we had rented a beautiul house on top of the Earth's surface. The home had three stories.

Without much notice, I sobbed. My sweet hubby said, "How can I help you?"

I couldn't say because I didn't know. I went downstairs to the first level and stayed there until the meltdown ran its course.

Did I pray? Probably. However, I was too angry to confess my thoughts. I feared I might spout off something to God that I would later regret.

In His kindness, He understood and consoled me as I sat alone in that cool, quiet, restful place.

I love mountains, and the Smokies are my favorite. I also love the Rockies, but God keeps me in Texas.

This year, 2024, hubby and I stayed home alone. We visited Shelley. I told her it was my birthday, and my hubby sang the birthday song in place of Shelley doing it. In years past, she sang it to me, but this year, it didn't register.

I didn't have a meltdown this year, but I'm sure one will come again. It happens.

My Dementia Blog

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From Turbulent Skies to Rainbows

 

Are your skies turbulent? Rainbows are coming.

How do you feel about endings? The Merry Month of May is concluding.  Are you happy to see it go?

Perhaps it wasn’t so merry for you. Many experienced pain and sorrow.  A family said goodbye to their mother, and then a few days later, they suffered their first Mother’s Day without her.

Spring storms damaged homes across the country. Owners are cleaning up debris and their repair expenses are gargantuan. 

Tornados killed people and the remaining family bears overwhelming grief.

A friend moved into assisted living. A man transferred to Hospice with three months to live. Their families are undergoing chaos.

When Jacob, AKA Israel, found out his son Simeon had been left in the Egyptian prison, he exclaimed to the other ten sons, “You have deprived me of my children. Joseph is no more, and Simeon is no more, and now you want to take Benjamin. Everything is against me!” Gen 42:36. NIV

Jacob didn’t know God was working behind the scenes.

The storms of life bring challenges, but God is faithful. After Noah and his family left the Ark, God gave them a rainbow.

As with Jacob, circumstances aren’t always what they seem. Your rainbow is coming.

Take courage and believe.

Lamentations 3:21–23: “Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.” NIV.