Her Tragic Death, Our Temple Triumph

She wanted to die. Her troubled mind had convinced her there was no other option. It wasn't death she was seeking, but relief from the torments of mental and physical illness. We saved her from herself countless times. Racing to the emergency room hoping there was still time. Why mom, WHY. Over and over and over.

She would end up in care entirely against her will. there was no other choice. Anger and rage eventually overtook any recognizable pieces my mom had left. We no longer knew her. We were just collateral damage to an illness that would not relent. A mother would never treat her daughters like that.  Our slow goodbye happened years before her death.

 A phone call before dawn on a Sunday morning told me she was gone. Her death brought no relief. Just more unanswered questions.... She had fallen, they didn't find her until it was too late. She was 62. Her devastated daughters not quite thirty.

Grief hit like a tsunami. Nothing brought comfort. My knowledge of eternal life and families dug like a knife in my heart. I was so traumatized by what we had been through, the thought of spending eternity with her was terrifying. All the platitudes that people say to grieving children brought deeper resentment and anger. "She's in a better place", lucky her. We were going through hell. You are not supposed to be angry at dead people, especially not your mother. I felt like a fake and a failure. I suffered for years. Struggling to trust anyone with the darkest corners of my sacred heartache.

My heart was shattered. I never imagined healing was possible. Those blessings were for other people who didn't hate their mother.

For years I had no real desire to let go of the hurt or heartache. It some how felt safer than the alternative. More than a dozen years passed and I was so tired, the hurt so heavy. I had to set it down. A kind counselor, a good bishop and many dear friends gave me a safe place to start unpacking my bags. Slowly resentment was replaced by acceptance. After a few more years I only carried a small suitcase, the last bitter remnants of the hell we had been through. It wasn't really that heavy. Maybe someday with enough courage I could unpack it too.

I need to be sealed to my parents. I had refused the thought for years. Why would I spend eternity in chaos. But over the last year the thought kept coming. I knew it was part of my healing but how could I find the courage to face something I once thought impossible...


Our dear friends were called to serve in the Vancouver temple. We were present when they gave talks in their home ward before they left. One of them shared the following quote....

God, in His infinite capacity, seals and heals individuals and families despite tragedy, loss, and hardship.

Those words flooded my heart with peace. I had known I needed to be sealed to my parents for years, I now had the courage....

So many obstacles still stood in front of me... But a kind, inspired bishop made it possible to clear those hurdles. I entered the Vancouver Temple last Friday to be sealed to my parents. My sweetheart by my side. My bishop and his dear wife, steps behind me.

 It seemed surreal to be sanding at the top of the mountain. The temple was so quiet and peaceful. Our dear friend sealed me to my mom and dad. Gratitude flooded my heart for my mom and dad and all that they have taught me and continue to teach me.  I left that that little suitcase in that sealing room. There was no longer a need to unpack it, it was no longer mine.

Peace was possible it just needed 15 years to find a home in my heart.

That Sunday morning phone call was fifteen years ago today. I miss her and can't wait to get to know her again someday.

Healing continues to always be possible.

Magic Legs

It was a hard decision. Getting AFO's (ankle foot orthoses) after more than thirty years of make every effort possible to ignore the fact that I have cerebral palsy. I don't actually remember a step in my life without pain, but I had an amazing ability to mostly ignore it. So it worked. Until I hit forty.

The last four or five years, the pain progressed to nearly excruciating, each step brought agony and finally the (medicated) courage  to seek help.

I figured they'd give me some grandma shoes and some Advil. Turns out there was much more need, my feet and ankles were messed up. Thanks Cerebral Palsy. Bilateral foot drop, a torn tendon and a degenerative tendon issue to start.... You are such a FALL risk. I heard repeatedly. Safety sold me, AFOs would provide balance and stability and probably save me from serious injury from falling......

Wearing them the first few days I felt like the Tin-man and Forrest Gump's love-child. So awkward, so obvious, and the stupid stairs (and stares) and the hard questions. (What's wrong with you???)  I wondered if I'd made a mistake. Give it a few days....


Within that first week I realized something. It no longer hurt to walk. No pain. Each step solid. I haven't tripped once wearing them. Grateful triumph.

I'm still figuring out stairs and have to use the handrail. People's questions are sometimes too personal and I still can't find pants that will fit over top of them. But I. Don't. Care! I love my new legs and the gift of freedom they have given me. My magic legs and I have become fast friends.


Even a few months ago these answers seemed like an impossible leap of faith. Trusting them brought the ability to leap again. (okay more like hop, but I'll so take it) The lesson here is not lost on me.

And I think this may be my new favorite scripture:

Isiah 40:31  But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.

 

Braced.

I walked into the Queen Alexandria Spasticity and Orthotics Clinic, in Victoria yesterday. The sights and sounds, made memories flood back. Its been at least thirty years since I've walked through the doors of such a place. Walking the same checkered Linoleum hallway again and again as professionals with clipboards watched me walk. The only difference from my years at the Rehabilitation Institute of Orange County  and CHOC in California and yesterday is they asked me the questions.

Do you fall a lot?

Is climbing stairs painful?

Do you fatigue quickly?

YES.

Then came the options for support:

I was expecting something cute, maybe with flamingos, what they brought out was this....

Its called the Blue Rocker. "Do the shoes come in VELCRO?!?!" I ask, not sure if they caught the inflection.

I've never been a vain person but suddenly I felt like a Kardashiam in a thrift shop.

Seriously. How am I supposed to keep my disability with those on the down low?  Those are going to look absolutely sexy next summer in my booty shorts. 

I wanted to cry. 30 years and here we meet again. One can run from nothing in life. Or in my case walk swiftly praying my face doesn't hit the pavement. The Dr and Orthotist left the room and my tears flowed..."braces: you're just looking for attention, Robin" the thoughts in my head racing...All those years of hiding this as a kid and I paid a high price emotionally and physically. 

Finding validation is cathartic. Have prayers answered helps my faith even when the answers make me look like Inspector Gadget and the Iron Giant had a baby.  Accepting a visible reality of being disabled will take time.  

It will take a month or two to get everything made and sorted, so I'll have time to have a proper funeral and send off for my beloved VANS collection. 

Shaking Hands

I fell apart Easter weekend, a story for another day. But that emotional mutiny forced me to seek help and support and acknowledge a wounded heart that still needs a lot of healing...

It was in the middle of that emotional mutiny  that I got the last minute call and invitation to attend a Leadership Conference in Vancouver with Elder David A Bednar. (A member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles). With all the changes announced in General Conference, Relief Society presidents in our area were asked to attend...

I should have been thrilled with the invite, but instead felt this instant lack of worthiness to be there, its amazing where your thoughts go when you are struggling. And I wondered how I could manage to make the logistics work. But a dear friend stepped in and made sure I had no way of backing out of attending.

That friend also took me to the temple, something I desperately needed, but didn't realize how much until I felt the peace that can only be felt in the temple.

Saturday morning we entered the Langley chapel, were given name tags and assigned to sit in our Stakes. Nanaimo Stake got right at the front (Go Nanaimo) . They had asked us to be in our seats by 9:30, a half in hour before the meeting was to begin...We were surprised when Elder Bednar walked in early with the other visiting General Authorities.

Our area seventy Elder Murray came to the pulpit and announced that Elder Bednar and the other visitors would like to shake the hands of everyone in attendance (200+). Say what??? Being in the front we had just moments to understand what Elder Murray had just said. I hope I will always remember the love I felt as Elder Bednar  looked me in the eye, shook my hand and thanked me for serving...Tears flowed as I filed back to my seat. The spirit tenderly comforted me as I sat in the pew waiting for each one to file past . Such a sweet experience at the end of a most difficult week.

We all spent the next four hours with Elder Bednar, Elder Kearon, Elder Dube and Elder Murray in a Question and Answer session...It was truly an amazing experience. And taught me that even in the midst of turmoil, with our Heavenly Father's help we can continue to serve and help those around us... 

"Imagine how it would be if you didn't have to worry about someone taking it the wrong way"

"There is no rule against common sense"

"Unity is the prerequisite to receive revelation"

Much needed solace for the soul. 

 

Reaching Adulthood

Man-child turns EIGHTEEN today. According to the Canadian government that means adulthood. (I'm guessing they haven't spent much time with any 18 year olds, lately). Every Kramer is now an adult. . I'm sitting here swinging  somewhere between stoic sadness and relieved wonder. Until yesterday this moment seemed like an eon away.....

I had barely reached adulthood myself when motherhood came, and by 25, I was the mother of five. Crazy really. I have never felt like a natural at this gig. and still feel like I'm in the middle of a test I haven't studied for....But somehow we managed figured it out together. I worried way too much about the wrong things when they were littler. Matching church outfits didn't matter. The repeatedly spilt apple juice and Lucky Charms all over the kitchen floor, didn't matter. Feeling like I had to maintain the unattainable perfect mother persona , absolutely pointless.

Somewhere between the diapers and the grad ceremonies, I became much more comfortable in the constant chaos and commotion and embraced my mothering awkwardness. I traded in the perfection trophy for a This Is Me t-shirt. They actually never noticed. 

Just love them it's that simple. Yes they will break your heart (many times actually) But that love will always be the bridge across the break. Adulthood is awesome., they are amazing. A milestone reached but nothing really has changed. I love them dearly and I'm their mother. Now will someone besides me please go clean the laundry room?!?1

Compassion's Price

I struggle to feel understood sometimes, like I think most of us do. As I share my life experiences there is always a risk of sorts.  If someone knows the true nature of my  journey through tragedy, abuse and heartache will that bring hated pity or the "me too" of empathy ???

I have the privilege of serving with the women in our church, a calling that puts me at the crossroads of many families during their greatest joys and deepest heartaches. It has forced me into the stratosphere beyond my comfort zone and face fears and acknowledge damage and scars long ago hidden away.

I have sat in sacred places and shared experiences once thought too painful. Each time humbled at our heavenly fathers ability to give beauty for ashes.

Someone recently shared this with me.

As I have come to know you Robin, I have come to understand that you have paid a very dear and heavy price to have the level of compassion and empathy you have. People see your compassion, but they have no idea the price you have paid for it.

I don't think even I had thought about it that way before, but it is true. Compassion comes with a price and most of us have had to pay dearly for it.

Grateful for a moment of understanding and clarity and empathy.

Terrible mistake, Divine clarity.

Saturday was busy and I came in the door exhausted at 9:30. I jumped in the shower and got ready for bed. Sleep was the only thing on my mind. My legs and feet were tight and throbbing.

I went in search of Advil. Realizing the bottle was empty I grabbed the blue dosette sitting on the top self in the medicine cabinet hoping there was some left in there. Nope. (It's the seven day pill container I throw in my purse, every time Grant and I leave town. Usually filled with over the counter stuff and a dose of Grant's Seroquel)

The dosette was empty, except for the Monday and Thursday compartments. The white caplets in both compartments looked identical to me, in the haziness of a near dark bathroom. Thinking it was all regular strength Tylenol I popped three pills into my hand. Then swallowed them without a second thought.

I crawled in bed quickly and fell asleep...Less than hour later I startled awake shivering uncontrollably, I yelled at Grant to turn off the AC rattling above my head. I felt woozy and foggy. My arms and legs were jerking, I felt disjointed. I looked up and saw Dallyn hovering beside me. I thought he had died and was coming to me as an angel. I was instantly terrified. Grant told me Dallyn wasn't there, he wasn't even home from work yet. "What's wrong with you? Just go back to sleep."

I was still shivering, I got up and stubbed to the bathroom attempting to get in the shower to warm up. I turned on the water and then realized I couldn't coordinate my legs to step in the tub, my head spun. In a moment that can only be divine clarity I looked at the bathroom counter to the still open dosette and realized one was Tylenol and the other was Seroquel. Oh my GOD, oh my god, oh my god. I took Grant's Seroquel. I screamed for him.

How much did you take?
Three.
Robin?!?!

PANIC

He called poison control. I tried to vomit.

Call an ambulance I begged.

Poison control told Grant anything over 100 mg is a problem. I had had nine times that. 900 mg. And asked how close the hospital was. 10 minutes.

If its any longer you need to call an ambulance.

Grant got me in the van and Alex drove. Poison control had already called the hospital, they knew I was on my way.

I got in a wheelchair unable to hold my head up. I mumbled through the questions at triage and they took me back to a gurney.

They put in an IV port, hooked me up to a continuous monitor my  heart, O2 and blood pressure.

 I couldn't lift my head. My heart racing faster than I have ever felt in my life. My mouth dry as a desert I could get words out. I thought I was going to die at any moment.

My head felt separated from my body. I had little control over either.

 The next 14 hours felt like a nightmare. I would startle awake my heart racing and racing, my head swirling. Unable to adequately express my needs or questions or fears. I wondered when death would come. I was poked and prodded. Had several EKG's. Unable to ask or understand I was terrified.

It was after noon on Sunday that I woke up with a doctor talking to me. My head still so foggy but I could comprehend some of what he was saying...

My heart handled the crisis. It would take a few days for the Seroquel to leave my system, but there should be no lasting effects or damage.

Okay so I wasn't going to die...

The were still concerned about my lack of coordination, shakiness and difficulty walking. And told me it would be some time until I could go home. (Picture a new born giraffe trying to walk from the gurney to the bathroom.)  I reminded them that I did have cerebral palsy and that it might be making the muscle control issues worse. They agreed and let me go home.

It took days to clear the fogginess and have my physical strength. It is going to take even more time to work through the effects of trauma.

This has been really hard on my sweet heart too. His guilt.

"If the medication wasn't needed and in the house, this would have never happened."

Not being able to help me in the way he wanted because of his own illness is heartbreaking to him.

I am still trying to make sense of it all. Looking for understanding and purpose. This is just one more thing to add to the list in a very challenging year. Will I ever be worthy of normal? How could I have been so careless and stupid? Why now? (shoulder shrug)


How grateful I am for the many acts of great kindness we've experienced this week. Especially for the friend who drove and showed up on our doorstep and knew exactly what to do and say to give us both the courage and hope to continue. There are indeed angels who walk among us, there wings just hidden from view.

It's just going to take some time....

PSA: Don't ever take medication out of its prescribed bottle and store it in anything unlabeled.  I have since thrown out all our dosettes. And I will never again buy Tylenol or any other medication in forms that looks so similar to Grant's meds.