Candis is watching Sesame Street -and screaming at me- from her high chair, Mom is in her room, checking her emails on her computer. Its a stark contrast from the early days of her recovery, when she would lay in her bed, her eyes closed, her breathing labored. She didn't have the energy to lift her hands off the bed, and surely didn't have the energy to come sit at the table with Candis and me. But thankfully, this Thanksgiving is shaping up to be much, much different from last year.
Thanksgiving is a hard holiday for me. Some years I want to stay in bed all day with my head under the covers.
My birthday is tomorrow, and my birthday marks the last "normal," that I can remember.
The year I turned 18 was 2007. My Dad was dying, slipping away right in front of me. We didn't have much of a party. I have always been the type that all I need is my family and I'm happy. So because my Dad was sick, we had a small store bought cake, pizza, and some visitors. I'm pretty sure I worked that morning -I was a private tudor for some local homeschooled friends at that time- and went to the grocery store as soon as I got off work. I was in college by that time but I only went two full days a week, and I just dont recall my birthday being one of them that year.
Daddy was frail, but he was in good spirits, telling stories, laughing with his visitors, tickled that he'd lived to see me turn 18. It was a reality none of us were truly willing to accept, except for probably Daddy himself. He knew he was dying, he was prepared, and ready to go when the time came. I received a video camera that year as a gift, it was the first my little family had ever had. I managed to film my Dad 4 times before he passed.
Thanksgiving that year was different, so so different. Before my Mom had always hosted her family: her sister and her children and their families. Before my Grandparents passed away we would always pick them up and bring them to our house, and with my Dad at the helm, we would always have a blast, and without fail too much to eat, which in turn resulted in my cousins and my uncle and Daddy falling asleep in random places all over the house. One year we lost my Unlce Wayne, and after a search we discovered him asleep between the bed and the wall in my parents bedroom. But that year, 2007, it was Mama and I in the kitchen alone. No 20 pound turkey in the oven, instead we baked a pack of turkey breasts. We didn't have countertops loaded down with side dishes; macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, bowls full of black olives - my grandpa's favorite. No dressing in a pan, no stuffing in the bird. No hot mulled cider in the crockpot, simmering away. No Thanksgiving Parade on tv. Daddy was asleep in the recliner for most of the day. We'd been told he would likely pass into a coma before he finally passed on and I remember being terrified all day long that that is what was happening. My parents best friends stopped by for a visit. They were such good friends that they built a home directly next door and gave me a key to go in at will when they weren't home, I still count them as my second parents. On the day I was married, the husband walked me down the isle and I, to this day, refer to them as Mama and Pa, and my daughter calls them Gramma and Pa. It was a miserable day, full of fear. I've tried to forget as much as possible, and mercifully I have.
Daddy passed on November 26th, and in the 10 years since his passing, Thanksgiving has fallen on the 26th a handful of times. Thankfully my husband and his family are sensitive to that, and they know the 26th is the hardest day of the year for me. Some years I drag myself out of bed to watch the parade, the tradition I will never break no matter how little sleep I get the night before. It was my Dad's favorite thing to do. As soon as his eyes popped open on Thanksgiving morning he would rush to the living room and turn the tv on, get his cup of coffee and settle in to watch while Mama fussed in the kitchen getting cinnamon rolls made for us for breakfast and checking on what all she needed to do to finish up preparing for the big day ahead, and while I rushed between the living room and my closet, trying to come up with the perfect outfit to wear for the day, and complaining about the hot rollers in my hair. It happened every year, without fail. Some years I sit amongst my husband's extended family and I lose the battle of trying to hold back my tears, and I let one or two slip down my cheeks. In the past when that's happened, my niece, or a cousin of my husband's will come sit next to me and hold my hand. I'm thankful for my in laws. Every year, I'm so thankful for them.
Thanksgiving 2016 was supposed to be laid back. My Father in Law's sister always hosts in her home, but that year, she had no home. She and her husband had sold the home they'd raised their family in and were in the process of building a new home, so it was decided amongst the family that Thanksgiving temporarily be moved to the local community center and be held on the day afterThanksgiving. Meanwhile, we were still dealing with Mama's health. She'd been home from the hospital for a couple of weeks and was doing well, she was in physical therapy and managing at home on her own. We'd stayed with her for a week and then she kicked us out, saying we needed to go home and she needed to do this on her own. Candis was a couple of months old at this point. A week or so before Thanksgiving, my mother in law had had a light heart attack and after a couple of days at home decided she felt well enough to go back to work. But she'd jumped the gun and gone back before she was completely ready and had a second heart attack [at work] and was in the hospital on Thanksgiving day.
We got up and watched the parade like normal. I have pictures of Candis sleeping like an angel in her swing that sat next to our entertainment center in the small house we'd made our home. I tried waking her up to see Santa, but she was too little, and just didn't care. I baked cinnemon rolls, another Thanksgiving Day tradition. We decided to go out to eat, just the three of us, for a quick meal, and then to see our Moms. While we were getting ready, his oldest sister called and gleefully told us that their Mom had been released, and she was going to stay with her and her family for a few nights before going back home. We quickly formulated our plan. Out to eat, his mom, my mom, home.Cracker Barrel on Thanksgiving Day is no ones idea of festive or fun, or traditional, or at all what I wanted my child to say was her first Thanksgiving meal. But that's what it was. We dressed up, cause it's whatcha do for Thanksgiving, and off we went. Our meal was fine, pretty normal for Cracker Barrel, and then we went to Aaron's sister's house where the whole family had gathered to welcome their Mom home, and give thanks that a serious situation with her heart had been averted.
After about an hour there, we all decided to watch It's a Wonderful Life, it's always the first Christmas movie of the season in my husband's family and so we all settled into the living room to watch. I found a secluded back corner in the living room, and started nursing my very hungry, very sleepy 2 month old.
We didn't even get past where Old Man Gower slaps young George Bailey's ear till it bleeds. My cell phone rang. It was "The Bare Necessities," the eternal ringtone for my mother, and I knew it was bad.
Did you know that an ultra slim percentage of patients with Guillain Barre Syndrome will have at least ONE relapse? It's so rare that whenever a relapse happens it throws the physicians treating them into a tailspin, questioning what exactly it is. That's what was happening. Her chest was constricting, her swallowing was impared, she had the full body quivers, she was studdering, couldn't think. We rushed to her house. After one look at her, I made my husband call an ambulance.It was a more swift experience in the emergency room. Her neurologist left his Thanksgiviong table to see her in the ER in person. Here is where my fondness for that man ends. He was so horribly ill informed about GBS that he immediately told us that "GBS doesn't come back, so thats not what you have." We were terrified. I'll never forget standing in my Mom's driveway (which, unbeknownst to me, would later become my driveway) looking at my precious 2 month old sleeping in her carseat on one side, and the paramedics loading my mother into an ambulance on the other, and crying, hyseterically, into my husband's chest. I spent the night in the ICU with Mom, the first time ever away from my baby, and when I went home the next morning, all I knew was that life was different now.
Life takes some wild and crazy turns. One thing I have learned is that NOTHING is certain and to be thankful for everything good (and in turn, everything bad - the Bible says "in everything give thanks") all the time. I'm thankful that last Thanksgiving saw my mother in law home from the hospital, and I'm thankful that my own mother survived last Thanksgiving. I'm looking forward to a much more "normal" Thanksgiving this year, Good Lord willing. I'm excited to wake my baby girl up and tell her all about the parade, and watching it with her "Pappy" when I was a little girl. I'm anxious to see her eat cinnamon rolls for the first time. I can't wait to see her engulfed with the love of my in laws. I'm excited to cook a special "friendsgiving" later on for my parents friends. I'm excited to cook in the kitchen with my mother once again.
Being a caregiver is taxing. It's trying. It's hard. When you see a person you love go through what my mother has gone through, and come out clean on the other side, Thanksgiving isn't just the last Thursday of November. It's all day, every day. She could have left me this time last year, and by the grace of God she didn't.
I am THANKFUL.
I am GRATEFUL.
I AM BLESSED.
Happy Thanksgiving - 2017 - from my blessed household, to yours!
