laughter – ALS Fact of the Day~

T.M.I.

Disclaimer*** TMI!

If bodily functions make you queasy…I suggest you just keep on scrolling…Nothing to see here…

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Almost five years ago, when I tepidly decided we could date, but that I really wasn’t looking for a serious relationship at the moment, I had no idea the adventure I was headed towards with Matthew.

Take for example shortly after we began dating. Matthew thought it would be great to take a quick weekend and explore Glacier National Park.

Having no children of his own, we packed up my (then) 6, 8, and 13-year-old children for a fun excursion. Things were off to an awesome start. Fun things to see, hiking and all the smells and sights, in majestic mountains. After day 1, we headed into Whitefish for dinner. I believe Yelp was the go-to app that directed us to a lovely café, on a beautiful street filled with quaint stores, and all the Montana paraphernalia a person could buy.

I remember the kids chose the customary mac and cheese dinners, while Matthew went with a burger and fries.

I chose a warmed spinach salad.

A healthy and delicious meal that I smugly ate, assured in my choices to help my waistline as well a great example to my growing children.

A decision I quickly began to regret.

In less than an hour, my stomach was rolling and gurgling…a sure sign I had food poisoning.

Now, if you know anything about me, then you would know that bodily functions are something I don’t want to announce. So with all the strength of an elephant, I shakily kept my face neutral, while the goosebumps spread across my skin and the sweat broke out across my upper lip and forehead. I quietly prayed I was wrong, and this was just a little stomach bug and nothing more. This would pass, I know it would. I would not throw up. The very idea was ludicrous!

I forged ahead, willing my stomach to hold its contents and not embarrass me in front of my boyfriend on our very first vacation together. And, in less than an hour I knew what was coming, and I was hoping against hope that my body would not embarrass me with what was sure to be an eruption of epic proportions.

Thankfully, I was able to hold it together until they were asleep. Then I hastily crept into the bathroom, running the shower water and sink water, and expelling, quite violently, all the remnants of the rotten, warmed spinach salad.

This event lasted well into the wee hours of the morning. I remember gingerly placing the small waste basket, unassuming to the poor passer-bys, outside the hotel door for the poor housekeepers that morning. I don’t even want to go into details of what happened, but let’s just say, it was violent and from both ends… And poor Matthew…he had to load up three children and myself, weak and unable to move, to drive the five hours back home.

Now fast forward three months after that…

My first trip to Cabo San Lucas! My first vacation in I don’t know how many years.

Matthew has, as usual, planned the most amazing time to be experienced. We went on bottomless boat rides, and sunset cruises. We had drinks on the balcony and walked the beach, watching the sun melt into the ocean.

It was perfect…

He excitedly grabbed my hand one evening, wanting to show me the very location where he personally partied the night away with the very famous Sammy Hagar as well as various other celebrities. His eyes lit up like a school boy at Christmas as he excitedly showing me where he sat, drinking and dancing with wealthy socialites and bodyguards, and how he was invited to the after party, long after most people would have called it a night.

The place was called Cabo Wabo. Maybe you have heard of it?

He ordered his usual Coors Light and three tacos.

He raved about these tacos.The flavors and the fact that we just had to try them…

They were good, I guess. Nothing too mind blowing that I can remember. The atmosphere was fun, but I guess without Sammy Hagar, it was just another one of those overly hyped up locations in a tourist trap. And the tacos?

The damn tacos gave us E. Coli that lasted at least fourteen days.

Yep..the same thing that happened to me just three months earlier, only 100x worse!

Only this time…we both were sick…

The rest of the vacation was spent staying within ten feet of any bathroom…and we both were walking a bit funny after the rest of the week, when our bathroom breaks were still happening at least every ten to twenty minutes..

It was less embarrassing, since we were both suffering together, I guess.

You might be asking yourself why I am telling you all this…

Well, I think the Poopy Curse has struck again.

Let me just give you the little by-play last night.

11:00 Pm – I finally close my eyes.

12:00Am – Matthew needs adjusted.

2:30 am – he groans. I sit him up. He tells me his stomach is gurgling. We wait a few minutes. He seems content to go back to sleep.

I lay there for a while. I can’t fall back asleep. I grab my phone. I know better, but I catch up on the news, and waste away an hour. Finally, I set my phone down and close my eyes…

3:30 am – He moans again. He needs to use the bathroom.. ASAP!

Well, shit!

I left the hoyer lift in the trailer. Bad planning on my part.

I quickly dress and run outside into the parking lot, unlock the door and wheel it out. Quickly, I throw the deadbolt back on the hatch and hurry as quickly as possible back into the room.

If you haven’t figured out by now, bodily functions while having ALS is a process…and never a quick one.

Without going into too much detail lets just say, there were sad eyes, apologies and a lot of gagging on my part…and his. And a lot of groaning from him, and comforting words on my behalf

(btw..how I had three children and changed diapers daily is beyond me! I can do anything…literally, I can handle anything…but poop!)

The damn waste basket was put outside the hotel door again. A pile of towels, and about two hours later, Matthew was all cleaned up again.

When we had checked into the hotel that evening, there had been a mistake and we were placed into a regular room. At the last minute, I switched our rooms. (Just in case, I told myself.) There was just no room to move around. After the last two hours, I was so thankful I made that switch..or the mess would have been much worse.

And the kids…yeah, they slept through the entire ordeal!

5:30 am – I close my eyes and finally sleep

7:00 am – my children are giggling, ready for the day to begin

I am determined not to let a little lack of sleep ruin Day two of our vacation!

We load up and are right on schedule!

Well, shit!

Matthew has to poop again. ( I groan a bit inwardly here, not gonna lie..)

Deep breath…Okay, no biggie…

I send the kids out to begin loading up the trailer.

As this is early in the morning, we have plenty of time to make Crater Lake and then a short drive to our hotel in Klamath CA.

I wheel the hoyer lift out to the parking lot…determined not to make that mistake again!

I pull the deadbolt key out of my pocket. Ready to hit the road, the kids are bouncing around, feeding the local chipmunk and being generally goofy.

The damn key won’t fit.

Well, Shit!

In my rush last night to get the hoyer, I had slammed the deadbolt on upside down. Now the key won’t fit in the hole.

Freaking wonderful.

The maintenance man is summoned. After about thirty minutes, he moseys along, hacksaw in hand.

With a shake of his hand, and a $20 bill, I tell him I appreciate his help. He seems to take it in stride and gives me a toothless grin in return for the tip.

Okay, NOW we are on our way. An hour and a half behind schedule now, but all’s well that ends well!

A quick stop for another deadbolt, and we are off!

Kids still have no idea where we are headed or what adventure awaits.

Crater Lake was breathtaking!

Souvenirs are purchased, and without WiFi or a map, and the wrong turn, we finally figure out we were going in the wrong direction for 45-minutes!! Ok, NOW we are finally going towards our next destination!

The Redwood National Forest!

We stop for gas, a quick stretch and a pee break.

The kids and I run in, as I am ushering them through the aisles, sending them towards the snack aisle. FInally, I make my way towards the restroom.

I fumble with the top button of my pants, my mind scattered, trying to hurry so as not to leave Matthew alone in the car for too long, and make sure this time we are headed in the right direction. My jeans are shimmied down and..

Plop!

My cell phone, which was in my back pocket of my jeans, lands in the toilet bowl…

Well, shit!

****Disclaimer #2

Day 2 of Vacation is still awesome! Even with all the little unplanned for quirks!

A letter to my daughter…

A Letter to My Daughter;

The time has come.

I must admit, knowing for years that this moment would be upon me, I was still caught off guard. I had no idea the multitude of emotions I was going to feel, seeing you sit among your classmates, in your cap and gown, as the speaker announced the Class of 2019. As your hand reached up to move the tassel from the right side over to the left, signifying the completion of your high school career, the tears began pouring from my eyes.

I suppose it may seem silly to some, but I wasn’t ready. I’m still not ready for my job as your mother to be over. I have no idea how to move forward as a mother to a young woman. So please forgive me, as I am sure I will stumble along the way. I have had you all to myself for eighteen years. And I want more time. I am not ready for this to be over.

I will never forget the moment those two pink lines appeared, signaling the changes that would soon begin in my body. I will never forget the first time I felt the little flutter of kicks as you began making your presence known. As the months went by, and I was more than ready to have the heaviness of carrying you inside of me over, I would learn so much about your personality, and you weren’t even born yet!

You were ten days overdue. Even then, you were stubborn as hell. I should have learned in that moment, the extent of your stubbornness. There was nothing anyone could do to make you do anything you didn’t want to. It wasn’t until we were both exhausted, and our heartbeats and blood pressure were dropping, the risk too great to both of us, that the doctors in the room decided to take action. After 18 hours of intense labor, you had to be dragged, kicking and screaming into this world.

As the months went by, you taught me how to be a mother. I must admit, I was probably more nervous with you than I was with your sister and brother. I read every book on what to expect, through each month or stage along the way and which milestones you should be hitting and when. You were a great napper but would only sleep through the night if you were walked and sung to. I was sleep deprived for years, but I loved every minute of it!

And true to your personality, you did things when you were good and ready. You were independent from the beginning. Never fearing the strangers around you, or being out of my line of sight, you were off on your own adventures. You waved goodbye on your first day of daycare, with no tears or drama. I doubt you knew I went to my car and cried like a baby, seeing your two-year old self walk into that room of strangers, with out a care in the world.

I remember your first days of preschool, and kindergarten. Your first temper tantrum. WOW! Over and over again, you showed me your fierceness and independence. You never wanted to fit in, nor try to morph into those around you. And you have always excelled at voicing your displeasure at things that do not go your way.

Maybe that is why it comes as no surprise that you were anxiously wanting to grow up and get on with your life. School was never your thing, nor were clubs or sports, or group activities. You preferred beating a drum all your own.

I was the hardest on you. I am sorry about that. I suppose because you remind me so much of myself. I want you to be so much more than I ever was, and I definitely pushed you. You, of course, pushed back.

I watched you walk down that aisle yesterday, that beautiful smile across your face, as you looked at me and said, “I did it, Mama!” and my heart ached once again. Another symbol that my job is over. This is it. I don’t get a do-over, or more time. You are off to begin your new life.

I probably embarrassed you after the ceremony when I grabbed you and began sobbing, my head tucked into the crook of your neck. You are now as tall as I am, and more beautiful than I ever could have imagined.

I will feel this heartache for a while, I suppose. It seems incredible that these years have flown by so quickly, and my role is now changed. I wasn’t ready. I am not sure if I ever will be. My heart is breaking into a million pieces, but I expect this is the same feeling the countless mothers experience throughout their lives.

You taught me how to be a mother. I can never thank you enough for that. It has been the most difficult journey of my life, and the most beautiful and rewarding. I am immensely proud of the woman you are growing into, and I hope that throughout the years, you will hold that independence and strength inside of you. As you struggle, and experience roadblocks and failures along the way, I hope you know you can always lean on me for strength. I will always be here, cheering you on.

I know that I was not perfect, but I hope you know how much you are loved, and I tried to show you how much I loved you as often as I could. I never cared whether you were the smartest or the most athletic, nor the most popular or the most beautiful. I have always been in awe of your ability to walk away from anything that does not serve you, including the need to please others. Your character traits will take you far in life, so hold on to them.
I am still on the journey of discovering who I am, and more than anything, I wish you happiness. I hope you take the time to learn about who you are and the things that bring you joy. I hope you reach for the things in life that are important to you, no matter what the world whispers in your ear, look for what you are passionate about. I hope you choose kindness over judgement, and forgiveness over anger. There will be many times when that will be real struggle. Learn to let go of the things you cannot change and as I always say, “You have no control over others, you can only control how you respond.”

And above all, know that you are loved unconditionally and will always have a mother who will support you and love you, for exactly who you are.

It has been an honor being your mother, and I am excited to see what life has in store for you. You are and always will be, my baby girl.
Love Always,
Your Mama

❤️ Richelle Duffield
Matthew Wild

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Nightly routines…

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It is the same process, every single night.

Mundane…sameness…always the same monotonous events that take place for bedtime.

Brush his teeth, but don’t use the minty toothpaste. He doesn’t like that one.
Wash his face, but only in certain spots. It makes him chilly to have his face damp.
Use a q-tip and scratch the itches his fingers can no longer reach. He gets that look in his eye when you find that good spot, not unlike a dog feels when you hit the magic spot.
Use a bit of tissue, and pick at his nose. (I used to feel squeamish getting up in each nostril, but now, my stomach doesn’t even do a little flip flop as my fingers go up and wiggle around, the tissue swiping at any loose snot balls.)
One medicine for anxiety, one for sadness. One that is supposed to slow down his progression. We know two out of three of those meds work for certain.
Pour a capful of white powder and swirl around until dissolved. (It helps him poop.)
Place the pills in his mouth, his tongue is twitching again. Quickly lift the thickened water to his lips.
Remove his lap blanket and place the hand-held urinal between his legs. Push his legs apart so that he pees in the urinal and not all over himself.
Roll into the bedroom and start a machine. The clicking of air, pushing in and out, his cheeks puffed, as he coughs. (The cough is weaker now. Nothing much ever comes out. I can’t tell if I should be thankful for that or not.)
He tells me he thinks he may be getting sick. His throat hurts and he feels warm. I tell him he isn’t getting sick and deep down I silently pray I am right.
Grab the giant metal arm, attach the loops and hit the button. The arm pulls him up and out of his wheelchair. His ass scrapes along his controller, again. I seem to do that every night. He gives me a pouty face, as I apologize…again.
My face turns red as I pull and twist the metal contraption over towards the bed.
Grab the remote for the bed to lift the headboard up, as I simultaneously lower the metal arm down on the bed. Push with my shoulders, and pull his legs out straight, so he doesn’t cramp.

Pay attention, Theresa!

Don’t sit him too high or too low. Keep the headboard at a little less than 90 degrees, just the way he likes it. Unhook the loops, pull the metal arm away from the bed. Tuck it back into the shower, where we can hide it and pretend for just a few hours that it is not a necessary tool for me to move him to and fro.
Pull the straps and the sling out from under him.
He winces.
Place the bandaid over the bridge of his nose. It looks raw and sore again.
The mask goes on next. Hit the ON button. It screeches to life.
Find the remote for the headboard, which is now buried between his legs and blankets. The dog is laying by his feet. The dog isn’t much help.
Laying him slowly back, there is one more thing. Scratches…
Grab the baby powder by the night stand
Dump it anywhere there is a crevice. (I’ll save you the embarrassment of describing all the places that baby powder goes.)
Attempt to roll him onto his side. Not before he whines. He wants scratchy time to last longer. I do not
Check for pressure sores. On the back of his legs and his buttocks.

I grunt again…I swear he is more square than he is round.

Get his leg pillow just right between his legs. Adjust his head pillow to match. (He asks me to push him more. He isn’t on his side all the way. He will tip back over if he isn’t just so. Several more attempts. Several more grunts)

I give one more hard push…

“OWWW, I think you did something to my back!”

I panic! My eyes scanning his body. I can’t imagine what happened. I pause looking him over, his butt cheeks out in the open, legs bent

“I don’t think my legs work anymore!”
Then he giggles.
Rolling my eyes when I realize he was trying to be funny.
“Ok, I am going to go lock up.” I say, as I pad barefoot out of the bedroom.
“I’ll be right here!” He yells.
“Don’t move!” I yell back.
I shake my head with a little grin.
It is always the same thing…every single night.