because their nurses and aides helped me keep my promise to my mum that she would stay in what became her home here with us.
It was NOT easy, anyone that tells you that being a “carer ” 24 hours a day 7 days a week will not leave you drained, frustrated , emotionally pulled in so many directions has not walked that path.
I found myself having to do things for my mum in those last weeks that I hated doing and she hated having done. She could tell by my face that I was struggling with things. I was never cut out to be a nurse , never wanted to care for the ill but you do things you never thought you would because of love. There were times I didn’t think I could keep my promise as lifting and being “on duty” 24/7 took their toll physically, my husband and I were the walking wounded to begin with. Thank goodness for my daughter who stepped up to the plate on more than one occasion.
And then all of a sudden she was gone, my job was gone as well, it has taken many days not to listen for the sound of her “chimes” calling me upstairs to help her. Not to look at the clock , not to wake at 3 in morning and get up and check on her. The days of trying to find something she could eat or might tempt her to eat put aside. Tea was her elixir of life in this house.
I am grateful to the Doctors , nurses and aides because those last months sheandI didn’t have to worry about the prescription coverages, the medical bills. WHY because she was covered by insurance and why was that ?
Regular Readers will remember this time last year I was fighting the gatekeepers . Kasich , the Governor of Ohio , had done away with the medical program under which my mother was covered and paid into for decades. People who should have known a way forward did not help this 98-year-old woman , bureaucracy abounded and for months I fought and cajoled only to be turned away by the local Social Security Offices ( Medicare) – Job and family Services – all this is documented and one day I will write in-depth the whole sorry fiasco. I was at my wit’s end for so many weeks – I was helpless – ME who can cut through the crap to solutions stymied , lost in a healthcare limbo, not knowing where to turn next.
On November 6th we will be voting , I am in a quandary as to how most of my votes will be cast BUT there is one person who will receive my vote as well as that of my family Sherrod Brown – https://www.brown.senate.gov/
Why???? because his staff in Lorain and “his” caring , expertise and knowledge of the medical system, federal programs cut through all the gobbledegook I was facing and pointed us in the direction of HELP when not one other agency or politician would or could.
Still the confusion with bureaucrats and up jumped Muppets of Medical abounded BUT now I had people with knowledge to help us through and that was totally thanks to Sherrod Brown and his offices. Because of that my mum and I only had to deal with “dying” and could access the medical assistance she needed .
So yes this is a political “Vote For” post but I know in my heart of hearts this man and the people he employs CARE and cared when I needed the help the most. I am not a Democrat or Republican and haven’t ever before asked anyone to “vote For” but I am doing so now and I take this plea very seriously please vote for Senator Sherrod Brown thank you ………..
Will you write about me? What will you say? You won’t forget me ?
Yes mum I will write about you , but not an obituary after all how could I put into 200 or at the most 450 words the life lived for 99 years ? I could fill that space with just the last 5 months. I did write a special post on your 97th birthday which covered some highlights of your life
“My mum is gentle , sweet, never sees the bad in people ( sometimes a failing), can bake for Britain, loves people with a depth beyond knowing, always makes excuses for their not so nice behavior, and has a strength to her that has sustained her for 97 years.
I don’t know what I will say I never know until I sit down at the keyboard but I am sure nothing I can write can do you justice to people who do not know you or know you well.
You won’t write the bad bits will you? I didn’t put the bad bits in my book
“ROY ( my father) was on leave from the Navy for 4 days. He phoned on the Sunday and we were to be married by special license in the little church on the Ridgeway , Mill Hill on the Monday.
What a day for a wedding France had surrendered and our guests were more concerned with the war news” SOURCE
After the reception we left Roy’s home to “go away” Where? we had no idea . Uncle Jack had kindly lent us the Humber. As he stood at the door waving us off he said: “You look such a couple of kids no one will take you in” I was silent as we sped along the great North Way – this was June and the last time I had seen Roy was the previous Christmas when we became engaged”
I promise I won’t add to what I have already written and you have already seen and read. I have written reams about you every birthday for the past 10 years, your life with us, I will not add to what has already been written of those times . BUT mum those bad bits and terrible times were your finest hours the adversity and pain you faced showed your absolute courage and strength of purpose.
‘No , not the bad bits that only you know…
Ok mum but what about the artist that wanted to paint you nude?
NO certainly not I only found out in time he wanted to paint my breasts as a back splash for the hot and cold taps in his kitchen .
There are hundreds of people all over this world whose lives you touched in your 99 years. You always found the good in even those that hurt you and caused life changes , you were so different from myself. I could never forgive those that caused you pain. I did put up with at least one of them for your sake, you never made or wanted fuss and confrontation.
The only people you never forgave was the Tim and Sue Lombardi clan and their offspring ( Angela Lombardi ( Ritchey) Murphy, ( she has a steel rod up her back were your words just a few days ago , very cold) so unlike you but they caused this family great hurt and in your words were unconscionably cruel to your loved ones in the passing of your long-awaited grandson Chris .
It was the only time you didn’t tell me to “forget and forgive”,probably knowing as well that is never going to happen.
No mum we will never forget you , you were a stabilizing force in all our lives, kind to a fault, funny even in those last days trying to bring a smile to those having to watch the Danse Macabre .
You were always so worried that you would have to go into a home,
“I am not afraid of dying it is what you have to die with that worries me”
She hated the thought of a long drawn out death that she would not be in her own bed. and would be surrounded by strangers . I promised her that she would remain with us in this house, in her own bed and she would always be clean and her bedding fresh but there was nothing I could do about the months it took for her to slowly disappear . She hated the loss of her independence , such an independent little soul, not to be able to contribute to the work load around here but was adding to it .
Mum tried every day to “help” even when her little body was less than 60 lbs.
Finally came the days when she was bedridden and needed help to do the simplest task such as eat or drink, no longer having the strength . No longer could she sit among the flowers on her balcony , only viewing through the window in her bedroom. She did not deserve to have to wait for her death this way and I am angry that she lost the things in dying what she so treasured in life, privacy, independence but I tried my utmost to give her the dignity she so deserved that was denied my son, in that at least Nikki and I succeeded.
“I am so tired, exhausted, I know I won’t see those little boys grow up , I love them so much they are held in my heart , make sure you tell them. Make sure they always have a Christmas present from me.
My mum made her arrangements in 1992- and nothing changed -she once again thought of others even those long years ago , just as she had made life easier for me as her daughter in life , she did so as she passed. I got to hold her hand , sing her the songs of my childhood , songs she sang to me to quiet my bad dreams or pain hoping that it would help calm her journey and take away the fear we all must face. She slipped past me quietly without fuss or drama , her granddaughters words of love bringing a quiet smile.
No mum we won’t forget you , how could we you are in your granddaughter’s eyes, Braedyn’s laugh and Gavin’s kind heart……………..You are in the collective memory of nieces nephews, some of whom are in their 70’s and 80’s whom you knew and held as babies, who came to stay with you over the years, of friends who became family…… as for me I cherish your spirit and always will……. til we meet again……..
Once again, I am locked into a performance with death. I am exhausted and angry as I watch this thief of life steal everything that is and was your Nana and my mum, just as I stood helpless as you too were locked into this grim dance of reality that faces us all.
The purloiner of life has taken the light from her blue eyes, made them red ringed and pale, her smile just a memory , as she waits , she has disappeared within her own body as it stubbornly clings to life and the loved ones around her . She is caught between the notes as the music of death is played, no longer having the strength to walk , sit or feed herself without help , her pride of independence, privacy, modesty gone , slowly drained buy the vampiric interloper and yet it seems that is not enough- still the dance partner of death continues the performance, sapping her of what is left of her , cruel in its movements as the tune reels and swirls, no respite or quarter given.
The difference with you, my darling son there was another dance partner , who lent strength to my body and soul- that of HOPE. Hope was my partner, the hours of driving, the meals, the days and nights of care, the medicines , doctors and trials would work . Parallel days with the dance I am once again intertwined , unable to find escape cold grasping fingers refusing to let me go, crushing my heart. Another August, September , October and the dance continues , the music raucous and disjointed – a cacophony of jarring notes , breaking the peace.
October 3rd , the last time you were home with your family, filled with hope that Houston would be the answer to stopping the dance, but hope, although strong in our hearts, was not enough to combat the “danse macabre” …… and now once again the robber of life has entered our home and our very beings..
and ripped from us joy , hope and laughter. I love you Chris and I know you will be here for your Nana as this final dance ends…………
Paula, had written about many varied things over the years just type Paula Tobias in the search box. My dear friend knew she would only be able to keep her fight going for so long, the disease and the treatments took their toll on her more than she let the outside world know.
A year before she passed she asked me to do two things for her, to write and give her eulogy at her celebration of life and to oversee the placement and landscaping of a bench which she had chosen . “Come Sit With Me” that would look out over her beloved Lake Erie and the east side of Lorain.
Following is part of the eulogy for Paula, so those that read this blog outside of this city will hopefully understand how we have lost a woman who was of “worth” not just to her friends and family but to her community :
“I loved Paula and she was “there” during my worst days- my strength-, helping me through my darkest hours
Her words “anything I can do? Were her mantra, it didn’t matter how busy or what was going on in her own life she was there.
The loves of her life Frank, Jean and Liz were always first in her thoughts and actions. Paula fought so hard to beat the obscenity that is cancer, not just for herself but for them, her mom and the rest of her wonderful family. Paula put up a fierce battle with grace and quiet strength just as she had done throughout her life.
A life that touched so many of us….. in such positive ways , she would see a need and would try her best to meet those needs. Paula saw a need in Lorain and the nurturer she was…. Ran in 2007 as mayoral candidate for Lorain……. She called me from her car ….
“Luvvey! I am on my way to the BOE to pull petitions for Mayor – this should be a surprise to some!!!!!
Unknown in politics, she still managed a very successful campaign as an “Independent” running 2nd to the Democratic candidate and overtaking the sitting Republican candidate. Both parties having great respect for her – her commitment and love of her community. She added class to the campaign
Such was Paula’s influence and respect among all political parties she continued with soft-spoken strength crossing over and through political parties making a difference in this city she truly loved.
Always an advocate for Lorain… There she would be at City Council meetings and reporting on them …. holding up placards when the Bascule Bridge took so long in getting repaired to filling potholes…She researched a new machine and introduced that machine to Lorain by bringing ii into the city .. Pitch Patch Paula putting on overalls and her personal hard hat and filling the test pot holes herself. . It took a while but Lorain has now a similar machine.
Paula turned her hand to being a blogger….. her thoughts and hopes for Lorain are still there on the internet waiting to be acted upon.
Paula was also on the Board of Directors for the Lorain Port Authority bringing with her historical knowledge, passion and common sense. Paula was involved in so many of the situations good, bad and beautiful because she was “there for her beloved Lorain. She wanted the visitor to Lorain to be welcomed with inviting neighborhoods.
YES! Paula was there, her style was quiet determination, softly speaking sense – little notes baked goods and chicken soup if needed accompanying her lovely smiles/ .
I will so miss the lilt in her voice as she would call
“Luvey??? Do you need anything/”. I still hear her voice in my mind….
In all those terrible months after her diagnosis not once did she complain to me about her battle, the physical and emotional cost.
Paula, truly remarkable in her compassion for others asked not for sympathy for her own plight, putting on a brave face and smile. Paula became a volunteer to help other cancer patients through their journey as she fought her own battles, I remember saying to her-
I just don’t know how you are doing this you have much more bravery than I
she smiled and said I just want to help because I KNOW the journey they are on…..
How many times she offered me quiet respite from my life- to join her in her beautiful home for an afternoon by her fire or a summer evening on the lake .
Oh the days her dining room and sun porch tables fair groaned with the weight of delicious foods as she invited people to share the beauty of the lake and the hospitality of her family. Paula, nurturing, loving, protecting and intensely passionate with all she held dear.
I have–.. to remind me of her… and those times.. a small antique dining room side board,…… goodness knows where my husband purchased it……… BUT I realized whilst helping myself to food at one of those banquets that Paula and Frank had the rest of the dining room set…. my little side board was a perfect match for her set.
We laughed about my having the missing piece .. a coincidence or fate? the missing piece– her dining room set not complete…. and now my darling Paula is the missing piece., our lives will not be the same and we are now incomplete .
Paula my words cannot do justice to the gracious, inspiring , loving and kind woman the epitome of a “lady” I came to love so very much – I know your pain has passed— which is our only consolation as we have to say goodbye. I love you as does everyone who was touched by your very soul and that is a wonderful legacy … Fare well my friend…………
August– and the week of hell as far as memories go ( and come) has been left behind for another year. The wedding anniversary , your birthday and mine now in the past once more. I live in a self-imposed bubble, especially now ,with your Nana slowly disappearing from this existence.
I haven’t left this house for much more than an hour at a time for weeks, and this house has become my own “living in a bubble,” surrounded by the people and things I love most. I let very few intrude in the fragile existence I am living .
I have stopped letting in the distraction of “other lives” whilst I currently deal with life and death in this house. The crime, the angst, the annoyances of people , politics and lifestyles that I cannot do anything about outside these walls , even writing and documenting has been relegated to another existence.
I close the windows , turn on the air-conditioning not only to deal with the heat of August days but to add a sound barrier to my bubble – to defend against the intrusion of the “noise “of a people without respect for others in this neighborhood. I don’t want to deal with them or anyone not welcome to come into my bubble. I am dealing the best way I know how to get through.
I have taken some time to look at “your book” – No Limits – still stuck after so many chapters, looking for strength to continue , it seems I have limits .
– and I am reminded that for 30 years I lived without “knowing you “, you were not a part of this existence and then you came into our lives and left all too soon , and I miss you so much . Most of those that knew you in your all too short existence have relegated you to a mere memory , if that anymore. Your life ,floating as a bubble on the wind ,has left their existence and eventually has disappeared, a name on a headstone ,in a place not of your liking or choosing……. . you are only bright ,living and colorful in our little universe.
This loss of you from memory will be repeated in all our lives. We are all only remembered for as long as “living memory ” is in play. When your Nana passes so will all the lives of the people she loved , knew and shared her life with when she was young, she is the last one left to remember those times, people and places.
Eventually we all will be forgotten, relegated to some cemetery or plaque that will fall into disrepair and get buried over and forgotten, unless of course you are famous or infamous enough to be documented for some great or terrible deed or happenstance of life. Life consigned to a shelf in a library, computer, television program, “history” interpreted , discussed and revised .
The happiness and love you brought into our lives is not fleeting and neither is the gutting pain left behind after your leaving…….. the love endures …. and so do you in my fragile bubble like world.
You would think after all this time I would run out of things to share about you and the fact you lived but as life “continues” I find, far from being at a loss to find subject matter , everyday continues with you.
Recently, another mother wondered about whether people felt she should be “over her grief by now” another if there is a time limit to being broken?
Because we are broken, and the pieces of us are held together with a very tenuous glue. The slightest “wobble of a memory “ entering into one’s day can see us picking up the pieces and trying to put ourselves back together in order to be on “life’s display”, hoping those we meet , work and socialize with will not notice the cracks. Broken can make people uncomfortable, because they too are not immune from losing a son or a daughter and we are constant reminders that can happen.
As your Nana is “transitioning” and I am once again “caring” with cooking special foods, diets, changing sheets every couple of days and giving medications ( you too were prescribed) the glue is hardly doing its job most days. It is probably a good thing I am not interacting with people at the moment because I am not handling being broken in “two” .
What little patience and tolerance I had before this latest life event has disappeared. I have become selfish with my time and energy. Telemarketers have found that to call me subjects them to a tirade of “language” not generally associated with one of my age and upbringing. They have become my relief valve, something I need, so I don’t shatter altogether.
As I looked on your Nana’s face this morning I was reminded of the charcoal drawing you made of her when she was 85 looking out of a window. She was quite annoyed. “Chris you made me look 95 not 85” but your artwork prophesied the future as today the portrait is a true likeness as she continues and slowly disappears from this world.
I don’t know why I am writing this , not much point really apart from getting it off my chest. In my theatre days I was part of a production at the Palace Theatre ( Lorain) of John Paul Sartre’s “NO EXIT” Three people trapped in their own kind of hell……
““All those eyes intent on me. Devouring me. What? Only two of you? I thought there were more; many more. So this is hell. I’d never have believed it. You remember all we were told about the torture-chambers, the fire and brimstone, the “burning marl.” Old wives’ tales! There’s no need for red-hot pokers. HELL IS OTHER PEOPLE!”
The “Other” people, they come into a neighborhood that is quiet especially in old Lorain , a Lorain that is not growing old so gracefully.
Agencies provide housing lists where RSO’s and those on parole can “assimilate into the neighborhoods- Bureau of Community Sanctionshttp://drc.ohio.gov/community
Bureau of Community Sanctions Overview
The Bureau of Community Sanctions distributes and monitors grant and contractual funds provided to local jurisdictions and private vendors to establish community sanctions and residential services for adult offenders that are re-integrating into the community or who, otherwise, would be incarcerated in local jails or state prisons. Programs funded by the Bureau include Halfway Houses, Community-Based Correctional Facilities, Community Residential Centers, Permanent Supportive Housing, and Community Corrections Act grant programs including Intensive Supervision Probation, Standard Probation, Prosecutorial Diversion, Non-Supervisory Treatment Programs, Electronic Monitoring, and Community Work Service. Additionally, the Bureau has provided Probation Improvement Grants, Probation Incentive Grants, and SMART Ohio Grants in order to alleviate voids in services. The funds and contracts managed by the Bureau are addressed in Ohio Revised Code Sections 2301.51, and Ohio Administrative Codes 5120:1-3-01 and 5120:1-5-06.
The APA’s mission is to “aid in the reentry of offenders by partnering with community stakeholders and law enforcement agencies to preserve public safety by holding offenders accountable through diverse supervision strategies and technology.” The philosophy of supervision statement for the Field Services section of the APA is to “effectively supervise and provide opportunity for offenders to reenter into law-abiding citizenship and to reward, encourage, and promote positive behavior, while holding offenders accountable for negative behavior.” The APA determines release of inmates from prison to parole or transitional control, sets supervision conditions for inmates released on post release control, coordinates placement of offenders in the community and supervises them upon their release from prison. In addition, the APA assists counties in the development of basic felony supervision services upon request for the Courts of Common Pleas. The APA administers Ohio’s interstate compact agreement for probation and parole coordinating movement of supervised offenders among states.
and now rehab centers for drug dealers and convicted felons, along with people who NEED Rehab. ( follow the money , and the grants)
RSO’s around my house 165 mapable and 15 unmapable…. churches, schools also in the same vicinity along with a struggling downtown.
A neighborhood starts to spiral downward, a business district suffers because of deteriorating neighborhoods surrounding that district and they are getting worse.
Others move into these homes, others who are bent on living THEIR life style , no respect, just feed the sound system, deal the drugs, intimidate what is left of a neighborhood, bring in “others’ until what is left are those that cannot move , are unable to cope and so hide within their homes, frightened of the “armed others”.
The “left people, meaning those that are left – not of the political term- they try to call government, the police, anyone , they for the most part do not live this lifestyle, it is foreign to them , they don’t understand this disrespect or how this is happening, they do not know what can and can’t be done, they reach out for help……… and not a lot can be done.
There is NO HELP from the likes of a Bureau of Community Sanctions, helping THEM to live in their neighborhood. No service agency for those that are left , trying to live a peaceful hardworking existence and live out their lives in their homes whether owned or rented.
Most of these issues, the music , the loud lifestyles, the implied intimidation , watching people dealing in parking lots , the lack of quality of life CANNOT be addressed quickly or with much accountability. So we live in a limbo of fear of retaliation perceived or intended.
The crime map of this morning , as I type, you can see this old neighborhood is seemingly outnumbered by the “Others” How does community breathe in the 44052 . http://communitycrimemap.com/
Oh some of the drug deals etc are looked into and documented for the courts by our Lorain Police Dept, sometimes months of work goes into these deals and dealers. BUT what good is it when felons are given a ” time out for drug rehab” and a $750 fine and released back into the neighborhood. What message – Judges of Lorain and County does this send to the people who are “left” ?
The police can only do so much, “call when there is an issue.. “make sure your mention they have a scanner if you believe that to be the case” The police have to witness the “crime or activity”. In Lorain on any given day or night there are only 6 -7 officers on the streets for a population of 64,000 and covering 24 square miles and is comprised of 113 Police Officers and 34 civilian employees.
The “Others” know the system they know how to get around the laws, they know how to waste time , they know eventually the “the lefts “ will either give up, die , move or just get plain worn out or be put down as a “complainer”… Been there done that
In this house, at the moment I have a hospice patient, last days of living in Lorain…. dying slowly without a murmur and if you ask me Lorain and the 44052 are following in the footsteps…….
I hope I am wrong but if this street and what is happening in this neighborhood is anything to go by we the lefts are terminal as there isn’t much hope with the solutions we have…… I am not sure there will be a “continuation…..” not when the “others are spreading the disease as quickly as they are….
August 3rd- continuation- Chris Ritchey
You would think after all this time I would run out of things to share about you and the fact you lived but as life “continues” I find, far from being at a loss to find subject matter , everyday continues with you .
Recently, another mother wondered about whether people felt she should be “over her grief by now” another if there is a time limit to being broken?
Because we are broken, and the pieces of us are held together with a very tenuous glue. The slightest “wobble of a memory “ entering into one’s day can see us picking up the pieces and trying to put ourselves back together in order to be on “life’s display”, hoping those we meet , work and socialize with will not notice the cracks. Broken can make people uncomfortable, because they too are not immune from losing a son or a daughter and we are constant reminders that can happen.
As your Nana is “transitioning” and I am once again “caring” with cooking special foods, diets, changing sheets every couple of days and giving medications ( you too were prescribed) the glue is hardly doing its job most days. It is probably a good thing I am not interacting with people at the moment because I am not handling being broken in “two” .
What little patience and tolerance I had before this latest life event has disappeared. I have become selfish with my time and energy. Telemarketers have found that to call me subjects them to a tirade of “language” not generally associated with one of my age and upbringing. They have become my relief valve, something I need, so I don’t shatter altogether.
As I looked on your Nana’s face this morning I was reminded of the charcoal drawing you made of her when she was 85 looking out of a window. She was quite annoyed. “Chris you made me look 95 not 85” but your artwork prophesied the future as today the portrait is a true likeness as she continues and slowly disappears from this world.
Loving you continues- being broken continues ….
photo -self -Chris Ritchey
August 2, 2018 at 10:58 pm 2 comments