All day, I've found myself thinking of the University of Michigan study cited by Atul Gawande in his 2012 Williams College commencement address. It found that hospitals with better outcomes weren't necessarily more successful at reducing risk & that they were basically on par with other hospitals when it came to post-surgical complications. Where they stood out was how they responded if a post-procedure, post-treatment patient took a turn for the worse. It was their ability to rescue patients with complications that set them apart.
Found myself remembering my mother's emotional nose dive following a hospital stay, back in the early '90s. It hadn't been a difficult hospitalization, yet a residual effect of her stay shredded Mom's self-confidence. That something was colitis. Although it was getting better every week, she still had little warning when it would strike.
By late March her condition had become fairly manageable, but the gnawing fear stayed, emotionally disabling her. If I'd left it up to her, Mom might never have stepped foot outside the house again. The woman who adored even a ramble to the pharmacy would not venture out the front door. In the spring!
Nothing worked. She wouldn't go out, not even to see the snowdrops making their demure debut in Cairncrest's woods, She turned down Louise's invitation to come over for a cuppa & see the crocuses covering her lawn. The daffodils spreading down from Cairnwood to the Pike weren't enough to lure her out.
It was the promise of seeing the first-ever blooms of a friend's star magnolia that finally drew Mom out. She could handle the 10-minute drive, and we did exactly as I'd promised, driving her past the magnolia, turning around at the elementary school & driving past it again, so it was right out her passenger's side window. The we went straight home, where she collapsed into the big chair in the living room & I brewed her a reviving cuppa.
We were gone all of thirty minutes, top. But it was a beginning.
Praise be for Gail's star magnolia! It was an opening. Once Mom had seen the beauty of those glorious white blooms & soaked in Bryn Athyn in springtime, it was easier to draw her out of the house. But never past Bryn Athyn's borders. That became her boundary line. Anything within, nothing beyond.
How I stretched those borders! The first drive was to Gail's, the next went just a few minutes further, around the driveway at BATS & Orchard Artworks.
Next, we added a loop around the college & through the high school, then a nip past the cathedral & around Cairncrest.
Finally, one day I drove past the post office, across the bridge, out of our hometown, up Fettersmill, then right on Terwood, then roller coastered to Edge Hill.
Never down TO the post office. As strange as it might sound to those who knew her, the post office embodied Mom's greatest fears.
Her deepest fear? Talking to friends. Nothing I did shook her of it. The last place in the world she let me take her was one of her best beloved - Bryn Athyn Post Office. And the dangled possibility of going to Snacks by the Tracks, which she dearly loved, was met with particular horror.
The challenge wasn't just to rescue Mom from her fear of getting out & about, but from a terror I couldn't understand yet totally gripped her heart.
Then, a light dawned. Approximating how long Mom usually went between visits to the bathroom & estimated driving time, I took a gamble. On one ramble, we headed up Fettersmill & turned left on Terwood - by then, a familiar route - then turned left onto Washington Lane.
We meandered along roads that took us past Meadowbrook Farm & charming homes with lovely grounds. All the time, we talked about friends who lived along the way - Richard & Dorothy, Ginger & Gordon & their children, Bishop Odhner, Kirk & Carolyn, Bill & Cathy, Nora & Richard, even J. Liddon Pennock.
And the whole time, I kept waiting.
Finally! We'd just driven around Penn State/Abington's cozy campus & were headed off Cloverly Lane, up past the "Rapunzel house" on Rydal Road, when Mom touched my hand & said those long-awaited words, "I think I need a bathroom."
"Oh," I answered, as casually as possible, "No problem. We'll stop by the Barnes & Noble that just opened, just a minute from here. It has a nice ladies room."
Trumpets sounded &
angels sang!
Of course, I knew the factors at work, ones most people wouldn't connect. Mom had been a fan of Barnes & Noble since the 1970s, when Mim introduced (addicted) us to what was then its one & only location*, at 5th Avenue & 18th Street, NYC. Just hearing the name touched her heart, opened memories. And she loved a hot cup of coffee, a nice nibble & a great book.
At B&N/Jenkintown, she found all of that - plus super easy access to the ladies room. One visit & she was hooked.
I still couldn't get her to go to the post office or head down on a Saturday morning to Snacks by the Tracks, but she was always up for a ramble over to B&N. She had full confidence that she could make it there without getting "the call" & that, once there, a bathroom was literally seconds from the cafe.
Barnes & Noble/Jenkintown served as Mom's training wheels back into the larger world. We even celebrated her birthday there, with stuffies in attendance & a cake large enough to share with Rob Nash & his children, who happened to be there.
Had planned on a fun party, but having Mom connect with Bryn Athyn friends was an unexpected blessing. Just as the star magnolia had opened the way for Mom to reenter the her old familiar physical world, Rob et al opened the way for her to reenter her social one.
It didn't happen all at once. It took baby steps, then bolder & bolder strides, but by the time June 19th drew near, Mom was back as a regular to Snacks by the Tracks, reveling in Heather's sticky buns, Chris' grilled sausage sandwiches, and a bounty of good friends.
What Gail's star magnolia resembled then... and now!
* Technically, there were two - B&N's textbook store was across the street.
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