Where Do They Go September 20th 2024

      I grew up in the wild wild west, in the middle of a rain forrest back when this corner of my home and native land was still frontier.   And I was an odd duck in so many ways.  We know things now about people like me that we didn't know then.  I am dyslexic,  and very spectrumy.  ADHD I would suspect which I believe wasn't too rare in my chosen profession.  But in the 1960's my reaction to things was simply bad behaviour.  And in truth?  Well it was.  

I have a couple of grand children who are also on the spectrum and truth be told their lives aren't real easy.  But there is some understanding about people like me these days which may at some point in time make their lives a little easier.  

    Back in the day, I basically grew up as an only child.....but not really.   I came as a surprise to my parents some eight years after my older sister.  Eight years.   She was born at the conclusion of world war two shortly after my mother moved to the Canadian Prairie from Scotland.  My dad Joined two granaries to make their first one room home.  Mom cooked on a camp stove, which stands to reason as they were basically camping in those days.   There was a radio and books for those evenings and rainy days.  My mom and dad were always ravenous readers.  Something that was passed on to my sister.  

   Now eight years between siblings is a  lot of time,  but it wasn't just the difference in age that made me feel like an only child.  In her youth my sister contracted polio.   Polio in those days was pretty epidemic. I will ignore the urge  to get into the refusal of vaccines these days.  We will do that another time.  But today I just wanted to share some things about my sister for whom polio was life changing.  

   I was basically home alone for most of my childhood because my older sister was in hospital.  In Edmonton.... In Calgary.  She missed an adolescence that most of us experienced.  She spent time on a striker board,  in an Iron lung, bed ridden, in a wheel chair.   When I was a pre-schooler she was in a brace that fit under her chin to keep her back strait.  She could pick up just about anything with her toes.  Twice, I remember my parents receiving a call and heading to the city as she was in dire straits.  

    She fooled us a thousand times, she did.  Spent her adolescence in a hospital and in the ninth grade her departmental exams were the second highest marks in Alberta.   She was awarded all the local scholarships in Drayton Valley that year, even though her schooling was constantly interrupted with recoveries from several serious operations.   She went on to University, obtained two degrees, and taught for over 35 years.  But I am getting a little ahead of myself....... Cause even though we missed many years together, she was my big sister.

   She always had money and treats for me.  Her gifts to me were always spot on.  She read to me.  She shared her treats.  She treated me to what ever she could afford.  When I was 12, she took me to an Ian and Sylvia and then a Gordon Lightfoot concert in Edmonton.  It was because of her university years that I became a folk music enthusiast.  As I grew older, many of her friends became my friends and vice versa.  When my family came along, she was auntie supreme, as she lavished them in toys, and books and attention.   

   Her respiratory system was ravaged by polio which made Covid a truly dangerous virus for her.  So in that two year period she hunkered down in isolation.  We saw her once when I brought her home for Christmas.  We phoned her on occasion and she assured us she was doing fine.   She advised she was in contact with her friends and exercising caution.  It seemed like she was once again making it work....until we got the call.

  It was a call from a friend of hers who told us she had gone to see her for the first time during the pandemic,  and they were distressed over how they found her.  We traveled into see her that day, and basically took her home with us.  She was a fraction of herself.  She was distracted and her house was in complete disarray.  A painter, a crafter, a writer of some talent, all her interests had been neglected.  Although her fridge was full, it was full of expired items.  In the months that followed, we moved her into an independent living situation closer to us.   And it is time to move again.

  She has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's recently, although we knew already.  My sister still recognizes me, however she is completely uncertain about my children.  She can't use her iPad any more.  She can't watch t.v. because she can't use a remote.  She constantly unplugs the phone.  She struggles with dressing herself, and even though we have been paying someone to remind her to eat the meals provided she is loosing weight at an alarming rate.  While visiting with her last week,  she asked me "How's Mom doing?"   Mom has been gone for 19 years.  

   My better half cares for her personal needs and tidies her quarters and hangs her clothes while I distract her with a visit in the dining area.  And yet,  my sister isn't there.  She is gone for long periods of time and her lucid moments are fewer and farther between.   I can't help but wonder, where do people inflicted with this horrible disease go?  It doesn't seem like a nice place.  It doesn't seem happy.  It doesn't seem familiar cause they are often confused, worried, scarred.  

   Know what?  When you have overcome what my sister has in a difficult and physically challenging life, you deserve better.   It should at least be a happy place, wherever it is you go.