On Hospitals, The End and Things That Will Never Change

Ralph and Claudia on their 50th wedding anniversary, Claudia holding her trusty clipboard to record her life in 15 minute increments. She would be an amazing witness to a crime, no one takes better notes than she does.

Years ago, Claudia had a therapist who suggested she control her anxiety by writing down her thoughts. That morphed into writing down all her thoughts, all her activities, and all the things that happened around her. Someday it will make for fascinating reading, when I am done reading every other printed word on the planet. 

The latest news is Claudia is in the hospital with blood clots in her lungs. She is fine, she isn't in pain and she will be released in a few days to resume her life back at the nursing home room she shares with my father. While waiting for hours in the ER for her to be officially admitted into the hospital, Claudia and I had plenty of time to talk.

For us, that means Claudia revisits our dark past, recounting as if it just happened yesterday, how her children were taken from her bosom and how she never, ever would have given us up willingly. It also means I reflexively reassure her that my brother and I know that we are loved, that she and Ralph were good parents and that all is well now. I would say that it is a drag to regularly have the same conversation with her regarding our childhoods, but how can I blame her? Hell, the same demons ate at my table to the point I wrote a whole damned book about it, so I figure she is allowed to tell me, tell me, tell me what she so desperately wanted me to know all those years ago and couldn't. 

Then our hospital conversation turned to the inevitable because a young kid (Seriously. The same age as my kids. Eeekk!) doctor came in and asked Claudia her official thoughts on death and dying. Claudia solemnly asserted her right to die whenever God intended, without heroic measures to save her. When the doctor looked to me for agreement, I shrugged and said, "Give the lady what she wants. She isn't afraid of meeting God." After the door closed on his leaving, Claudia launched into her Jehovah's Witness lecture on the Afterlife, which I have also been lucky enough to hear a bazillion times from her own mouth, followed up by enough church tracts on the subject to wallpaper my kitchen and bathroom. I know she is a believer and it gives me great comfort to know I don't have to feel anxiety about her fear of the eternal future. She has none, other than a tad bit of concern for my soul but she assured me that God has a plan for people like me, she just isn't clear on all the details yet. 

We finished up our time together with the one topic that does manage to stomp the life out of my heart, leaving it in bruised tatters on the floor every single time we revisit it. 

"Why doesn't Lennis call me by my name, Claudia? Why does she get so mad and insist on calling me Janet?" Claudia asked.

"Probably because she named you Janet as a baby and you are her Janet, not Claudia," I reply, already feeling the weariness start to invade my muscles.
"But I'm NOT Janet. I'm Claudia. Janet and I switched places. Janet lives overseas..." Claudia started in and I cut her off, too exhausted to hear the story again.
"I know you are Claudia. I know Janet doesn't live here anymore. But Lennis misses Janet. You have to know that. You are a mother, too. " I argue, knowing full well how this conversation goes, the pattern set like wheel ruts run through cement.
"But I'm not Janet and Lennis won't accept that. I don't know why not."
I stopped talking.
Some days I can do this and some days I can't. Tonight I can't.
I know tomorrow Lennis will light up the hospital switchboard calling long distance from Oregon to find her daughter Janet, refusing to call her by the only name the hospital will know, Claudia. It will get ugly. Lennis, in her 94 year-old state, will get riled up something fierce and then she will call me to cry in frustration that her daughter's name is Janet NOT Claudia and why does her daughter do this to her? 

Lennis will also ask me if Ralph and Claudia are still together. I will tell her they are, with no break up in sight. It has been 50 years, after all. Lennis had her suspicions about Ralph when they were dating and she is still waiting to be proven right, just as Claudia is still waiting for her mother to accept her as her daughter.

Schizoprenia is a devil, determined to drive apart the stubborn women in my family. The thing is, Schizophrenia has no idea who it is messing with. I've never met two more determined people in my life than my grandmother and mother. Neither one of them is going anywhere, neither one of them is going to give in to the other. It will be a stalemate to the very end, like a chess game with no conclusion, just two statues on the board waiting for the other piece to move.

At least I know where they are.