Forever Lessons of the Elderly Scott Parents

I remember moving to Wichita because my parents, the Scotts, were sick and no one was there to help them through it.  So I put everything in a truck, called my brother, and he helped me drive straight through to Wichita.  I arrived on my Dad's doorstep so I could see what was going on for myself.  I could not seem to get clear answers on the phone when I talked to them.

The first thing we did together was attend church, sing in the choir, and begin doing some concerts at local nursing homes.  Dad and Mom were both happy to have me there.  It felt strange being in their basement but it gave me a good look at how they were coping.  I worked tirelessly to establish a practice in acupuncture in Kansas.  With references from Jim and Chris, my brothers, I ended up with a practice in both Wichita and Kansas City.

I moved into a nice one bedroom apartment with room for my piano in an old house.  It has a huge kitchen that was shared by all the boarders.  My piano fit in one of those classic parlor rooms.  I felt like I was in a mansion from the 1920s but still within a few blocks from the folk's home.  Dad took me to various seminars on money and investments.  He loved to attend them but never bought into their sales pitches.

I bought into a sales pitch and began studying about investments.  After four months of intense training, I found I did not like it.  I did not want to put my time or money into following the markets and moving money around to make a living.  My Dad told me at one point that he was so happy that we had time to live together.  He saw what a hard worker I was because I worked through much of night as well as the day.  He understood, he said, that in my life I was investing in myself.  He told me that it would pay off over time.  Keep working on it.

I guess what I loved most about that time was the music.  Dad and I would sing and harmonize every single day.  I would prepare lead guitar parts to complement his band for the nursing homes and for church.  Mom and I would be in choir every week on Wednesday night with all her church friends.  I found out she had perfect pitch.  I loved singing tenor and it strengthened the choir.  Dad preferred to sing with his band in the church and had stopped coming to choir so Mom had someone to be there to support her again.

The pinnacle of that time was taking one of my Dad's songs and arranging it on the piano.  Then I actually wrote it up in choir form.  Then I taught the choir how to sing it in parts that I had arranged.  We kept working on it bit by bit until we had it down.  It was Father's day and my dad had no idea what was happening.  I went up to the piano in the chapel and the whole choir surrounded me.  We sang his own song, Praise Jesus, in an arrangement he had never heard before.  He was crying.  Mom had this perfect pitch that made the harmony zing.

It turned out they both had cancer.  My Mom Scott had gone downhill with Parkinson's Disease and could no longer stop shaking or even work out.  She was hanging on with these growths on her face.  My Dad had his continual intake of chewable Tums as he struggled with stomach issues.  Still, as I stayed there over the first month, they were independent.  They could drive, shop, and still were attending church and interacting with their friends.

I loved how every Sunday they met with friends at various restaurants.  The conversation and caring for each other was amazing.  They were involved in the lives of many people both in and out of the church.  Mom was volunteering 2-3 times a week at the local Catholic hospital, Via Christi.  Dad was busy following his investments and aiming them as best he could to keep safe their nest egg.  Both were still singing and playing.

I moved out after living two months in the basement to an apartment nearby.  All seemed well enough and safe enough.  Even while sick, they really could manage.  It was obvious Mom's face was covered with cancer so I asked her to tell the doctor to check for it.  Then they started treating it.  They shaved off bit by bit every part of both cheeks and the nose until they were down to the bone.  It  was a long, laborious process -- each time leaving her weaker.

My Dad's doctor found cancer in his esophagus and began a series of operations.  I was able to be there at his doctor's visits.  I was there at the hospital.  1-2-3-4 operations to be specific.  After the first operation, I placed my hands on his shoulders and said, "Dad, did you know that the sooner you get up, the sooner you will be out of here and recover?"  He was up and walking that day.  Every day he walked further.  And within the week he was home.

My Dad listened to me and let me treat him as well.  At times I used acupuncture or Lifewave patches and they helped tremendously.  The cancer was persistent and the doctor never got it all.  It kept working its way down.  At one point I bought this big table with a infrared chamber and a chi machine.  He got in it and got out and said, "I can not do this one."  There were things that simply were too much for him to try.

My sister DeLynne often came to help them both in this crisis.  She was there for each operation.  My Dad got to the point he could no longer eat and was pushing liquid food through a port in his stomach.  He no longer wanted to live in this state.  He told me clearly, you take care of Mom and make sure she is treated well for the rest of her life.  DeLynne would come and clean.  She would help them through the tough moments when it got too much for me.

My Dad walked until the last few days of his life.  He fell down the stairs and went into a coma.  He never came out of it.  I remember the last day my son John had come to play guitar to him.  Even in a coma he lifted his elbow to clap for John.  It was so touching.  I spent most of the night with him and Mom that last day before he died.  Somehow we both knew it was the last moments of his life.

It seems to me that everyone came to my Dad's funeral -- the whole family on all sides.  All of us got to say whatever we felt at the funeral.  I worked so hard to put down my feelings and share it both at the funeral and at the grave site.  Amazingly, Mom drove the car to the burial site close to where Dad grew up, the Nashville cemetery.  I realized watching her drive over that it would be soon for her to stop driving.  It was becoming a bit much for her.

Mom went to a plastic surgeon to fix her missing nose and cheeks.  Amazingly, the doctor removed the forehead and used it to shape a new nose and produce cheeks.  He said they learned how to do this from the operation done in India for those who had their nose cut off -- the punishment of thieves in India.  She took forever to heal and looked like a mummy for months.  Even after a year it had this scarring on the forehead but the doctor said it was the only place it would heal by regrowing skin and blood vessels.  She said she would never go through this again.

Mom retreated into her own world.  She went out less and less.  She seemed glued to the couch.  I had the neighbors checking on her daily as well as my visits.  I tried to get her to do tai chi and she did from time to time.  I made sure she could watch movies but she lost the ability to turn them on.  She seems stuck to the movies from the local channels.  She no longer wanted to sing in the choir.  All the neighbors were worried and checked on her more often.

The neighbor across the street, Lynn, found her passed out on the floor.  Her hip had broken and immediately had her to the hospital.  I met them there and stayed with her as they operated.  It left her  in pain and barely able to manage on her own.  For the rest of her life she was either struggling in rehab or in and out of nursing homes because she needed extra help to make it through the day.  She could no longer drive.

I fell into a rhythm of singing weekly with her wherever we found her a place to stay.  I still had to make sure she made it to doctor appointments and help her in rehab.  DeLynne still backed me up and was often there to get her through the tough moments.  Her mental acuity began to wane so I put her on Vitamin C packets with extra herbs, vitamins, and electrolytes.  She could drink them.  I put her on Curcumin or Turmeric with black pepper.  And I put her on Prevagen for the rest of her life.  It cleared up her mind and kept her able to make her own decisions.

Mom's Parkinson's Disease kept getting worse.  Because of her inability to move safely, it required 24 by 7 help -- even at night she would try to get up and go and fall.  The falls were devastating to her health.  She had to live with alarms and close supervision at all time.  I finally found a home that felt like home.  Comfort Care homes are in a home with only a few seniors to watch.  They made home cooked meals, they gave them regular treats, and they always made sure they were taken care of in regular patterns.  It didn't matter if it were bathing, fixing the hair, cutting the toe nails, seeing the doctors, or taking nice breaks in the backyard -- they were there for her like a home environment.

Mom did not like living by herself.  She often asked me to take her home.  I simply could not take her home.  I decided to make sure we did enjoyable things weekly.  That was the best I could do.  Sometimes DeLynne would actually stay with her in her room.  All of the family visited from time to time.  It wasn't easy for them to see her in this condition but they could see she was getting quality care.  I would thank God daily for the wisdom of my Dad to set aside a nest egg for a rainy day.

I knew at the end it was close.  I came to play guitar and flute.  She still sang with me.  I held her hand in those moments as her consciousness went in and out.  One of her last words to me was, "you are quite a musician."  She always told me that she loved me.  Dying is never easy for anyone.  And I felt Mom had the worst of it.  The cancer came back with a vengeance.  It ate through a part of her back until you could put a fist in it.  Chris helped me find doctors who could treat it.  Finally, it had come back under control after so much pain.  It healed back up to about the size of the end of the thumb.  Then the cancer ate through her face until she could no longer eat or drink.  We all knew that was the end.

We all gathered one last time because she told me, "I want to see my pups again one last time."  So we sang together as a family and held on to the moment of her imminent passing.  We all knew it would be soon.  I am so grateful that everyone came.  I had us singing the songs she had heard weekly for several years.  She still knew the words and piped in with perfect pitch.

The funeral to me was a blur.  I spoke at both the funeral and the grave site.  I truly enjoyed seeing many of the family I had not spent any time with since I was a small boy.  Sometimes I like to say life is fragile.  In this case both my parents were strong and lived healthy lives.  The pain they faced at the end was tremendous.  And they came through it with dignity.  I admire their stamina.  I admire their unselfish lives.  I admire the forever lessons they gave me.