personal history

Overcoming Loss

~ marestales

Journey to Certification, Part 2:   Bone marrow transplant day arrived in March, 2013. It was quite an experience and an amazing process to be a part of. I was grateful to have my older sister by my side that day. We laughed. We cried. She fed me, because I  was not allowed to arms. She kept tabs on both Carol and I throughout the day. We understood the importance of what was about to happen, the chance to save our sister,  but we knew there was no guarantee. I produced over 9,000,000 stem cells in the 4-5 hours of collection. About two-thirds of those were given to Carol around 5:30 pm that same day. The rest would be frozen and saved for another time, another person, perhaps. We were all gathered around her bed and watched as the transplant took place. Hope, love, and gratitude filled the room.

The next seven months did not go as hoped. Even though I was a perfect match, the cancer fought against the transplant. Her body did its best to fight back. Blood tests kept showing low magnesium and potassium levels, and she endured hours and hours of infusions. The doctors decided to give her a second dose of my stem cells, but still the leukemia would not give up. I felt like I had failed her. How could this happen? Did the doctors underestimate the strength of this cancer which they knew so little about when they decided to go with a lighter prep regime? Was I such a close match that her body could not distinguish between my cells and Carol’s?  Everyone was so disappointed, but still she fought.

Another donor was sought, someone not related. A second transplant was to be given in February, 2014. One of her daughters and a granddaughter were her care-givers in 2013, but they couldn’t be there in 2014. I was asked to fill that need and willingly accepted. Things seemed to go better at first, but eventually, the cancer would win. Carol fought a valiant fight for four long years. The literature on her disease predicted at most 18 months after diagnosis, so she did beat the odds. She passed away in May 2014.

Her passing created a heavy feeling of loss, but also a feeling of greater love for my sisters. An Olson Family Reunion was planned for July 2014 by a cousin in Minnesota for the purpose of reuniting the last two living sisters born to Emil and Marjorie Olson–one lived in Minnesota and was nearing 100 years of the age; the other, her baby sister, lived in California. This is just what I needed–a new purpose. After losing my sister, I was bound and determined to make sure these two sisters, my aunts, would be together once more. I convinced our aunt, the one in California, to make the trip out to spend a week or more with her sister. I would drive and my older sister would accompany us. What a great adventure we had! So many memories.

But that tale is for another time…

TO BE CONTINUED

 

 

A Need for Early Retirement

~ marestales

Journey to Certification, Part 1:   In January, 2008, the beginning of my 32nd year as a California public school teacher, I decided to start doing some retirement planning. I had enough years in to retire at that time, but I wasn’t old enough. So, I made a five-year plan and set June 2013 as my retirement date. If I knew then what I know now, I may have retired in 2008.

In February 2008 my mother-in-law had a stroke at her home on the Pacific coast, over four hours away from where her middle son and I live. As her power of attorney, he was responsible for making sure she was taken care of, but it would be too difficult to manage that care from so far away. The stroke was not debilitating, but is was unsafe for her to drive or to live alone.After a short stint in the hospital and a month in rehab, we brought her to live with us. I worked out a reduced-day assignment with the district and became her primary caregiver. My husband hired someone part-time to help out while I was at school. Caring for her was not difficult physically, but it was trying emotionally. Both of us were strong, independent, alpha females, and we often butted heads. Nine years later, she is still with us. She has had more TIAs since then, especially in the last two years. She is more frail and demented, and caregiving has become more demanding in some ways. Yet, she accepts her circumstances and makes the best of them without complaint. Thank goodness.

Then, in September 2010, my middle sister Carol was diagnosed with a rare form of T-cell leukemia. She went into remission at least twice with chemotherapy, but the cancer was relentless. Eventually a bone marrow transplant was needed. In December 2012 our older sister and I flew to Denver, where Carol was being treated. We volunteered to be tested, on the outside chance that one of us could be her donor. In January 2013, while waiting for my husband to be taken in for a partial knee replacement, I received the call. I was a perfect match! Hallelujah!

Besides care-giving responsibilities at home and being needed by my sister, many other things were going on at this time, all of which would aid in my decision to retire in February of 2013 rather than in June. In 2010, my arthritis was throwing fits to the point that I went through a series of joint fluid injections and several weeks of physical therapy for foot and knee pain. After a bad fall, I had two separate surgeries to repair meniscus tears–first in one knee, then the other. In November 2011 our daughter Katherine gave birth to her first daughter. She had her second daughter in February 2013, while I was in Denver doing the prep work for the March bone marrow transplant.

Winter/Spring season of 2013 was shaping up to be a busy time. I was needed at home to care for my mother-in-law. I was needed in Denver to help my sister. I was needed in Southern California to help with a new granddaughter while her 15-month-old sister underwent eye surgery. I was needed to tend to my husband after a second partial-knee-replacement surgery in March. It would be impossible to be where I was needed and keep teaching. My family needed me. I met with my principal and district superintendent to explain the situation. They were both very understanding and agreed that “family comes first.” My last official day in the classroom was February 15, 2013. My life would never be the same.

TO BE CONTINUED

 

 

 

 

Shall We Dance?

~ marestales

Just the other day, I told one of my nieces about watching my parents learn how to do “the twist.” Chubby Checker’s version of the song by the same name, coupled with his appearance on Dick Clark’s American Bandstand in 1960, created a dance craze that became popular among young and old alike. Mom and Dad were both in their forties, Dad probably closer to fifty, when this incident occurred.

They had just finished a night of bowling for their league and were getting a couple drinks with friends at the bar. (I was only about 10-12 years old, but I was the team’s scorekeeper.) I remember the adults demonstrating “the twist” by pretending to hold a bath towel across their backsides, then pulling it to the right, then the left, back and forth, while twisting their body, pretending to dry off. Looked right to me, but maybe they were just mocking the teenagers. Nah, they would never…

My father loved to dance. He had music in his soul, just like me. When he left home in 1930-31, at the beginning of the Great Depression, he headed west with a friend. The two young men ended up in Las Vegas. They enjoyed going clubbing and dancing with the women they would meet. Maybe that’s when he learned to dance so well, and to play blackjack (but I digress). Later, as he told it, he worked as a dancer for Lawrence Welk, getting the audience “warmed up” before the show. Haven’t completely verified these tales, but I can imagine them happening.

I am not sure Mom loved to dance as much as Dad did, but she seemed happy when she danced with him. They were the perfect partners. He guided her across many a dance floor, and she followed him step by step. They were smooth dancers, gliding or bopping to the music depending on the beat, and made it look so easy. What fun it was to watch them on the dance floor! It was even more fun whenever Dad took this little daughter of his onto the floor and let me dance on his toes. I felt like a princess at the ball!

Dancing is a special part of my parents’ tale, but it is also a huge part of mine. I went to my first school dance 52 years ago, seventh grade, met my first boyfriend, and we danced almost every dance, at almost every school dance after that, for six years! (That’s a whole nother story.) Then, there were the years of dancing with my husband when we were dating and in the early years of our marriage. Later on were the years of putting on school dances as Club Live advisor for middle schoolers, or as Activities Director at our local high school, showing off some moves of my own on occasion, or chaperoning church dances. The music is still in me and finds ways to express itself–tapping a foot, the occasional dancing for exercise, or moving to the beat while cooking and cleaning.

Dancing may not be a part of your tale, but it is just another example of how we can show our tale or that of our ancestors. Do you enjoy dancing, or do you think you can’t dance? Have you or any of your family members learned a cultural dance from the land of your ancestors? What dances were popular as you grew up? Was square dancing a part of your P.E. program in school? Think about how dancing has been a part of your life, and don’t be afraid to show your tale.

A Lifetime of Music

~ marestales

How important is music in your life? Does it help you get through your day? Does it inspire you? Does it make you smile? Or, does it help you cry when you really need to let it go? Does it bring back special memories? Does it take you places you have never been? Music can do all of that, and more.

I am sort of a music addict. I have to hear music wherever I go, whatever I do. And, since I love to sing along, lyrics are important to me. When there is no music playing, then I can always turn to the music in my head. I have quite a playlist. Everything I have heard since I was born–big bands, Sing-Along-With-Mitch (Miller), pop, country/western, folk, American classics, Broadway, rock (not too electric, though), Disney, Christmas/holiday, easy listening,  rock opera (not so much classic opera), new age, hymns, jazz, gospel, and more. Every kind of music imaginable.

I used to break into song when I taught middle school, much to the chagrin of my students, I am sure. “There is a song for everything,” I would tell them. It got to be sort of a game–they would challenge me with a word or an idea, and I would search my memory bank for just the right tune and lyrics. Mr. Holland’s Opus came out about that time. I used the theme from that movie, “a lifetime of music,” to teach history, music appreciation, writing, and more. I used music in my classroom to teach relaxation and superlearning back in the ’80s. One year, my high school calculus class, mostly guys who were big into sports, picked the music from Disney’s Mulan, especially “I’ll Make a Man Out of You,” as our theme music for that year. All their own idea! It was great!!

Music is in my soul. It is an inseparable part of my being. It came from my parents, who probably got it from their parents, and on and on back through many generations and cultures. I have passed this love of music on to our daughter, who I see has passed it on to her daughters.

We can show our tale, the story of our life, in so many ways. What is the music of your lifetime?