November 13, 2015
Waterville
Our family doesn't generally do things in "normal" ways. When my dad passed away, he wrote his own obituary, didn't want flowers, and no memorial. And that was fine with me. Mom also requested no funeral or memorial. At the very end she said that although she didn't want anything...she felt it might be selfish and said if we REALLY wanted to do something she wanted us to be able to and not feel bad. It has been a year and we haven't done anything formal. (Although we all do things to remember her in our own ways.) This story is one piece of my way to remember mom. I hope to work with Tom on a sculpture and plant a tree in her honor.
Laura Zitzelberger
Above is a video to accompany my short story about how my work and personal life combined...to make a perfect day. A memorial for my mom.
Taking care of the Sandhill crane chick was turning out to be one of the most gratifying experiences of my 25 years at Nature's Nursery. This bird came in unable to stand due to puncture wounds and lacerations from a dog attack. She had movement in her legs...but no real control. We started her on anti-inflammatories, antibiotics, and lots of physical therapy. I was immediately drawn in by this bird. When I looked in her eyes, I felt a connection beyond what I normally do with animals I rehabilitate. I didn't feel as if she perceived me to be a threat to her the way most animals we care for do. So often people will ask, "Does the animal seem to understand you are trying to help?" And the honest answer is no. Most animals we care for see us as predators. And that's okay. In the long run, it is in their best interest to view us as the enemy.
Each day, we would hand feed her since she couldn't remain upright to eat. After a few days we were able to assist her in standing...but her balance was nonexistent. As soon as we would remove her support, she would collapse. As the days progressed, I was amazed at her willingness to allow us to manipulate her legs...showing no obvious stress. I wasn't at all confident that she was a candidate for placement in a captive situation, let alone possible release. The little progress we experienced seemed to have hit a plateau. After four days we decided to push the physical therapy a bit more. We made a sling out of a ridiculous looking children's laundry basket shaped like a frog. It was made of netting and vinyl with big eyes. It somehow seemed wrong to put this amazing creature into this silly contraption...but it was what I could find at the local dollar store that fit my design for a sling style walker. I cut leg holes and slid the bird in. It literally looked like she was wearing a frog costume. This was the first time she seemed to fight me at all in the rehabilitation process...but I didn't mind, because her legs were moving. She wasn't in control of them, but they were moving in a normal type of motion. After 2 days of this type of therapy, I was seeing deliberate movement in her legs. She was still unable to support her weight, but I knew I wasn't imagining the minute improvement. The next morning I received a photo from one of the staff. It was the chick, holding one wing out to the ground for balance...but standing...on her own. My throat tightened, and I allowed myself to imagine the possibility of her release. I couldn't wait to get in and see her in person.
From that point, the changes in her physical coordination and strength were amazing. She began taking steps, and maintaining her balance while lowering her head to eat out of her water bowl. Her appetite was good from the beginning, but it increased to the point she was eating dozens of mice, smelt, and worms every day. The time had come for her to get moved outside and gain more distance from us.
Once she moved outside we continued to see wonderful physical progress. We were seeing her make short flights. I also started to see a change in her attitude towards us. She wasn't as comfortable with us, and we were glad to see that as well. Sandhill cranes are known to imprint on people when raised in a captive situation. I was proud of our efforts to keep that from happening.
While we were doing all of this...we were keeping in contact with the homeowner where the chick came from. Thanks to their updates, we knew that the parents were still there. Now we wanted to attempt getting her reunited with her parents. Exactly six weeks after she came to us...we were trying something I never would have imagined when I first saw her. We were driving the hour to Pioneer Ohio with the plan to get her back to her parents. Not having ever rehabbed a Sandhill before, I really didn't know what to expect as far as the reception she would receive from them...or if they would even be there at the time we arrived.
When we arrived we touched base with the homeowners to get an update and learn about the lay of the land. We drove down to the pond and were disappointed to find the adults were nowhere to be found. We walked the entire area around the pond and still no luck. Going back with her wasn't an option. She was ready to go. Today was her release day, with or without her parents. After waiting for quite a while we decided on a section of the pond that had trees, shade, and lots of shallow area for her to forage. I was so nervous. The time had come to let her take her chances. The time had come to let her go. We opened the kennel and she bounded out without hesitation. She immediately started foraging in the shallow water. We waited for quite a while...then decided to leave her alone, grab some lunch, and come back.
When we got back, we walked to the pond and I lost my breath. The parents were there. They were at the opposite end of the pond...but they were there. Now, Sandhills can be quite vocal...but not our chick. She wasn't making a peep. So we went over near her and played Sandhill calls from my phone. The parents looked up, but went back to eating. Eventually they flew off. We had to leave and weren't sure what to do. We decided to get the chick to walk towards where the parents had been...in case they came back. I wasn't overly comfortable leaving her there because she was very exposed. I hated driving away.
We called the homeowners the next day to check on them. They had seen the chick up by the road, but no adults. The next day, they had seen the adults flying over, but hadn't seen the chick. I couldn't stop thinking about it. Had the parents rejected it since it had been so long? Had a dog or coyote taken the chick?
Two days later, I couldn't take it any longer. I had to see for myself. The homeowners were elderly and it was an effort for them to go down and walk around the pond. Maybe the chick had gone to a part they couldn't see from the house. I felt like leaving the Center and making the hour drive...just to satisfy my curiosity was a bit of a luxury. Since it was basically going to get in the way of getting anything else done, I figured why not even be more frivolous? I called my mom to see if she wanted to go with me. I knew taking her along would slow down the process, but I really wanted to get some time with her.
I really didn't expect mom to go with me. Mom was 84 years old at the time. She was one of the most healthy, active eighty-somethings I knew! She worked almost full time up until she was 82 and the store she worked at closed. I had always regretted that I didn't make more time for her over the years. Until this year, I had never spent a Mother's Day with her in the past 25 because Nature's Nursery had always had an open house on Mother's Day. We changed the dates of the open houses, so I actually was able to see her on that holiday for a change.
Over the summer, since she wasn't working, I had made more and more time for visits...even if they were short. Mom started having some minor health issues since retirement. The one that seemed to affect her most was an intestinal issue that made her not want to stray far from her own bathroom. She had seen her doctor about it and was trying to keep things under control with over-the-counter meds. For this reason, I completely expected to hear mom politely decline the idea of an hour drive to spend an hour or so, and then drive an hour back. Three hours away from the security of her own bathroom!
I was shocked when I called mom and explained what I had in mind, and heard her say "Sure! Sounds like fun." I even said again that we would be in a pretty remote place...and she still sounded excited. She and I had been talking about the Sandhill Crane a lot, and she seemed as concerned about its welfare as I was. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, blue skies, a slight breeze, and temps in the low 70's. Mom and I talked the entire hour drive. I can't even remember what we talked about...but we talked.
When we arrived, we stopped at the house to check in. We were told they hadn't been down to the pond, but had seen one of them out in the shallows. I was hoping it was the chick. We drove down to the pond. I grabbed my cameras and walked around to help mom. Like I said, she has never seemed old or frail to me...but lately her balance had been a bit off. When we would go to Side Cut Park to walk with Phineas, my dog, she would sometimes involuntarily take a few steps backwards when she stopped walking. The grassy area around the pond wasn't exactly level, so I wanted to offer her an arm to hold until we got to the dock. We started towards the dock and I saw them. All three of the Sandhill Cranes on the far side of the pond! I gasped and pointed. A huge smile broke out on mom's face. We slowly made our way out on to the dock. We weren't at all close...but still moved slowly, in fear they would leave the pond's edge and head into the corn field.
Once we were on the dock, I immediately wanted to get photos. With the movement of the structure, I was concerned about mom's balance issues. I had her hold onto one of the posts as I quickly snapped off a few pictures. I wanted to lie down on the dock to take more, so asked mom if she would be comfortable sitting down on the wood planks. She had always been pretty limber so she said yes and I helped her down. We sat on that dock...mainly in silence, but talking quietly every-so-often. We watched the three cranes walking and foraging in the shallow water. There was enough of a breeze to keep the old metal windmill behind us spinning and making an unusual sound. To me it sounded like a low, repetitive lion's roar...which seemed to transport us to someplace much more exotic than a wetland in Pioneer, Ohio. But I wouldn't have wanted to be in some exotic land. That day, that time, that place, were all perfect to me. We sat enthralled as a hawk hovered over the grassy area to the east of the pond. An Egret strolled around close to the three cranes, and eventually a Great Blue Heron glided in. We wondered if there would be problems since the homeowner mentioned she would sometimes see the herons chase the cranes off. But that day seemed to be a blessed day. I would occasionally glance over and watch mom watching nature. She looked so content and so beautiful with her white hair gently blowing in the breeze. We could have sat there for hours but I didn't want mom to become uncomfortable. So after about an hour, we decided to make our way back to the car.
On the trip back we talked about what a fantastic day we had. We stopped closer to home to have a quick bite to eat and then I took mom home. I left her house thinking about how very happy I was that I asked her to join me, and that we had been spending more time together. I vowed then to make even more time to spend with her. I did spend more time with mom...but not in the way I had hoped.
A few weeks later, mom ended up in the emergency room because she hadn't been eating, was having digestive issues, and was getting weak. She spent a week in the hospital getting all sorts of tests and they sent her home. She was only home a week when we went back to the ER. I spent most of each day there with her both times. I didn't really want to be anywhere else. I didn't want to miss talking to her many doctors. I didn't want her to be alone. She was so very strong...even when her lungs began to fill with fluid and the doctor put in a drain, right there in her bed as I held her hand and joked with her with numerous nurses and aides looking on. Strong, even though every day they took blood from her arms that were so tiny and bruised. She told me to go home...I didn't need to sit there and keep her company and watch her sleep. I explained, I was perfectly happy to be there with her. I did go home to take care of my pets, pop in at work, and to "sleep" each night. I wasn't alone with mom. My sister Gayle, came from Cleveland for a few days both weeks. My uncle Dave and Aunt Louise (mom's sister) were at the hospital most every day. My brother Eddie and his son Ian took care of things at home and came to visit. She had visits from her sister, Linda, and from numerous nieces and nephews and friends.
I can't remember the details of those few weeks...I just remember mom being out of the room getting a test when a doctor came in to go over one of her tests. I heard the words cancer, stage four, multi-organ. It didn't really sink in. I didn't tell mom when she came back...because I wasn't actually certain what I had heard. By the time the doctor was done talking, it sounded like they were at the far end of a tunnel. Louise came in and I think I vaguely regurgitated the information...but I'm not sure. Later, when I heard a doctor say those words to mom, she too, didn't really seem to comprehend. The next thing I knew, we were talking to Hospice...and arranging for mom to go home. Her main objective was to get home to her cats, Jackson and Emily.
We went home a couple of days later under Hospice care. I imagined that we would spend the next month or more just talking, spending time together, and wrapping up anything mom was concerned about. I hoped to have lots of quality time together. For the first time in 25 years...I didn't care what was going on at work, and rarely gave it a thought. Mom got home, we got her all set up in her favorite chair, a good cup of coffee (she wasn't a fan of the brew at the hospital), and her cats in her lap. All was good in the world. She had her family around her...and we all wanted to make sure she had whatever she needed. I was given all the instructions by Hospice as to how often to give her the morphine and other medications to keep her comfortable. By the next day she had basically stopped eating. Skipping all the many details...mom began the very slow process of dying. We didn't get the month of talking and sharing. We got eight days of watching her slip away. Eight days of trying to keep her from struggling to breathe by adjusting her medications with the wonderful assistance of Hospice.
I spent one night at home after Gayle went back to Cleveland. Eddie didn't have to work the next day...so he said he would stay up with her and give her meds every couple hours. But he called me sometime after midnight and sounded so worried because her breathing seemed worse and he couldn't get her to take her meds. I had him call Hospice to adjust her morphine dose. Eddie looked so sad, worried, and tired when I came back the next morning. From that point on...I just didn't want to be away. Over the next few days, I heard my mom say things like "What did I do wrong?" I said "Nothing sweetie...you did everything right" as I tried not to let her see me cry. I heard her ask "Why is this taking so long?" in one of the few times she was alert. But then, my mom briefly was my mom. When I was trying to figure out what she needed...saying "Can I get you something to drink? Do you need any meds? Do you want your pillows adjusted?" When she didn't say anything, I added, "Or I could just shut up." She opened her eyes and said "Do you promise?" Mom was mom...even if just for a moment.
I basically was with her non-stop for the next five days. On Wednesday morning, November 12th 2014, while Eddie was at work and Ian was in the shower, I sat by my mom's bed and kissed her forehead. I told her how much I loved her...how much we ALL loved her. I told her we didn't want her to hold on for us. We would love her cats and make sure they were properly spoiled. I told her she was the best mom ever...and I thanked her for everything, including being my friend. I sat there for a few minutes...watching her breathe. I got back into my chair to do something stupid like play a game on my phone. Then I looked over and saw her breathing had changed. Ian came out of the shower as I was getting up to sit back at her bedside. I said to Ian that I thought it was time. I asked if he wanted to be there, and added that I wouldn't judge him if he didn't. He wanted to stay. We sat next to her, told her we loved her, and watched as she took her last breath. My mom...almost 85 years old, and until about a month ago...a very independent, seemingly healthy, fun, loving woman...was gone.
My mind almost immediately went back to the day we spent together watching the Sandhill Cranes. That day had been so very perfect. I briefly wished I could have known it was our last perfect day. Maybe I would have made it last longer...or took more video with her in it. But then I realized...it was a PERFECT day. If I had known, that would have tainted it. It would have made it impossible to feel that honest joy and peace. I will always have that day. I will always have those days in the hospital. I will always have those last days at home. I will always have that last breath. But if I'd known...that last perfect day could not have been any more perfect.
With love...to my mom, Shirley Jean Ponceby.
From your loving youngest daughter, Laura Jean Ponceby-Zitzelberger.