Argh, matey

I was told that today in honor of the new "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie, Disneyland is closed for a special party that starts with a red carpet at the entrance all the way to Frontierland. This was from the hospice RN whose birthday it is today. I was actually glad to have that bit of trivia so that when I walked with my aunt Sunny and we went to the French Quarter in West Hollywood for brunch, I understood why the children and people on the street found my aunt's eye patch so endearing.

This morning, I met with Mom's physician (who blessedly and ahem conicidentally when the hospice RN was there) and we discussed the prognosis. It was as I had expected --that Mom is not going to get better; nor will she return to her apartment. The doctors and the hospice nurse all felt that this was the strongest and most loving course of action. I think we managed to communicate this to Mom. At the very least, Mom understood that she would not have to go back and forth to the hospital anymore and that hospice would manage her pain. When the doctor asked Mom if this hospice plan (frankly,
I don't think Mom would have known what hospice was even before she fell ill) she looked befuddled, so we reframed the questions till we felt she did understand what we were suggesting and she agreed.

Argh matey.

Then I spent another hour filling out forms, answering questions and putting things in place. At which point, my aunt showed up to meet me for lunch --patch and all-- and startled the nurse. A lovely Monty Python moment to be sure.

Oh and speaking of pythons--while I was waiting for the hospice nurse this morning, I sat at the bedside in an attempt to meditate as a proactive course of action. It was a trifle difficult to do because the televison that was on in the room for Mom's roommate was on the Animal Planet channel. Normally, I think I would like that. However, this morning, I learned more about how an anaconda preys (versus the praying I was wanting to do) and how it digests it's catch. Ewwwwwwww

When do I get to say the hard part is over? Now I have to tell the landlord and the tenants and manage to close up and move out of mom's apartment. ARGH. I was doing so well about not moving. I guess this is an improvement as it is not me that is moving. But somewhere in my DNA must be a cardboard gene. Can one have PTSD from the sounds of packing tape and moving too much? Not to mention, allowing for Mom's timing to depart. No wonder I feel kinda weary. No wonder that when I saw my reflection in the store windows today I was taken aback by the less than attractive image I saw.

And yet, having spent more time lately with elders particularly ones who are not healthy or mobile, I have had a renewed appreciaiton of my body. I see how The Body seems to - dare I say it? - betray us as we age. I wondered how many of the physical ailments and manifestations that landed these elderly people in the hospital or nursing care homes, were a result of more than just reckless living or ignorant eating. What if our bodies carry all that stress, judgment, criticism, etc. up to a point and then just flat out rebels? Is that some of what goes on when the body begins to decline? Oh, how I wanted to hug myself, my body and apologize for all the harshness I have levelled at it over my lifetime. Why haven't I lavished it with praise, beauty and goodness instead? I am beginning to see how this all works; and it makes me want to open HeartSpace all the more. I am eager to get back to regular exercise and my Egoscue series, too. And I think I shall be a bit more kind to myself with my inner dialogue. Our bodies are tremedous allies and I want to stay at peace with them.

On the walk back, I saw those flyers on the telephoe posts and I had to read a bit more. What is a perfume margarita? The person with the used rubber fist for sale had too many at the Pink Taco... and the forlorn soul who lost their heart between L.A. and Venice said he/she needs their heart back as it might be broken. Part of me wanted to call them to offer a kind word; but my cyncial L.A. mood advised against it incase it was a come-on for other reasons.

On my return walk, more of the stores on Fairfax were open since it was so much later. I passed one of the eclectic art stores I had stopped at yesterday when it was closed. And I thought back to how I had categorized my behavior as denial. This time, I got a different insight. My pausing at the art store or the pet store (called Barks n' BItches and they are celebrating their one year in business today) was not a form of denial--actually, it was a form of Self-preservation. I capitalized that 's' in self on purpose. Because when I stopped at these stores, my energy changed. I began to soften and smile and return to my general state of well-being. These stores (their contents) brought me closer to my joy state. Once I returned to that, I was walking differently, thinking differently, and certainly, feeling a helluva lot better. I began to look at where the glass was half-full in all of this for Mom. I moved back to present time instead of futurizing about all the stuff that might be ahead of me to do.
I began to notice the people and things around me. I looked down at my hand and saw how the sun caught my engagement ring and it sparkled. I jiggled my hand and did it again because that tiny act brought me pleasure. Thank you and Praise the Law.

Much of what "The Secret" and the Law of Attraction have been buzzing about it exactly that--especially with Abraham-Hicks. Think on things that feel good; make you smile, keep you in the moment and your life will be better for it. Often times, that has sounded simplistic. This ordeal with my mother has given me a new insight to all that. If I can shift during this difficult emotional ordeal, I certainly must be able to do so during the everyday opportunities, right? Right.

Shiver me timbers, by George I think I've got it.
AHOY, land ahead.