by Leigh Kramer
Justin held up his hands in reassurance. “I'm not saying that time is now. However, it would be wise for you all to figure out what to do when that time comes.”
“Thank you, dear,” Gram replied. “I appreciate your honesty.”
She turned to me. “Add that to our to do list, right after that wine tasting event. That'll put us both in good spirits.”
I nodded my understanding and scribbled a few notes in the notebook glued to my side. Gram didn't appear bothered by the notion of needing help. This from a woman who'd lived by herself in a rambling home for the past thirty years.
Before I could say anything else, the doorbell rang. Likely the hospice social worker had arrived. I heard Mimi and Gram complimenting Justin on the color of his shirt as I went to the door and tried not to smile. It was a nice color on him.
A petite Latina woman perched on the steps, a riot of brown curls framing her warm face. She wore a jade tunic over slim black pants, the color complementing her warm terra cotta skin. She at least had good taste in clothes.
“You must be the social worker,” I said.
“Yes,” she smiled. “I'm Cassie.”
I opened the door to let her in.
“I'm sorry, I couldn't remember your name.”
“Oh, don't worry about it,” she waved as she walked inside. “There's so much information coming at you right now; we don't expect you to keep any of it straight.” She glanced down at her feet and asked, “would you like me to take my shoes off?”
“Oh no, that's fine.” I gestured to my own feet, clad in navy booties. “We tend to keep shoes on here.”
“I love your shoes!” A radiant smile stretched across her face.
“Thank you.” I smiled back in response. We were going to get along just fine. “I was in the mood for something fun and different today.”
We continued down the hall until we reached the living room. Cassie and Justin greeted each other and their genuine affection was apparent. I wondered whether that extended beyond the workplace, then scolded myself for thinking of Justin's love life. Just because he was attractive and didn't have a wedding ring didn't mean that I needed to play matchmaker.
Thinking of Justin's love life made me wonder about Reagan's love life, however. I hadn't heard from him since our brief wave at the gallery Friday night. He hadn't returned his contract, nor had he suggested we get together again. My forehead wrinkled. I must have really blown it with him.
There was no point in thinking about this now. In fact, it was better if nothing happened with Reagan. I couldn't afford to be distracted, especially while Gram’s hospice crew was visiting. I jerked my attention back to the present.
Justin let Cassie know he'd raised the issue of what would happen when Gram was no longer able to live by herself. Cassie nodded with understanding, encompassing both Gram and me with her compassion.
She may have looked young but she appeared more than capable. Who was I kidding? Anyone would be more capable than me at this point. These visits served only to erase the confidence I had, what with mentions of bowel habits and medical equipment. I missed my carefree ways and my sense of humor. Somehow I was going to have to embrace this experience without losing myself.
Cassie asked Gram if she wanted to discuss her caregiving needs now or at the end of the visit.
“We might as well talk about it now,” Gram replied, shrugging her shoulders and then looking at Mimi. “It'll give the family something good to discuss.”
“There are a few different options. It really is helpful to consider each one now before you're in the position of needing more help.” Cassie laid out the differences between private in-home caregivers, respite care, and nursing home care.
“You might also hear people talk about assisted living facilities or retirement communities. What you'll want to remember with those options is this: hiring a private caregiver or nursing home care would still eventually become necessary as your abilities change. But we can cross this bridge when we come to it. You might need help getting up in the morning or medication reminders, or you might need assistance with personal care. Your family might prefer to do those things for you or you might want to hire someone. Whatever you decide, we'll back you up.”
Gram nodded thoughtfully. “I do enjoy hearing I'm in charge.”
Cassie laughed. “I can tell we're going to get along great.”
After a few minutes of small talk, Justin bid us all a good day. He needed to move on to his next patient and it was already four in the afternoon. Not surprisingly, Aunt Mimi left shortly thereafter.
“I do have some questions for you, but before I get started I'd like to know if you have any questions for me,” Cassie began.
“That nice admission nurse filled us in on what a social worker does,” Gram replied. “I can talk to anyone but most of the family does not think highly of counselors. I don't want you to be offended by them. No matter how hard I've tried, they're as stubborn as my husband was about emotional matters.”
“Ella May, thank you for letting me know that. I'm here for you and whoever else may need me. Most people aren't sure what to expect of my role or how a social worker will be able to help them. I've found the more we get to know each other, the better we'll both understand how I can be of use.”
As Cassie spoke about visit frequency and the various aspects of her job, Gram nodded along. She clearly liked Cassie and didn't seem fazed by her youthful appearance.
I tried to stay engaged in the conversation, but my overloaded mind wouldn't cooperate. I was exhausted. Cassie must have sensed this because she asked if we could meet privately.
I checked with Gram first. She nodded and declared she could use a little rest. Cassie agreed to come back next Tuesday at the same time.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Ella May. I look forward to learning more about you.”
Cassie and I moved into the kitchen. While I made tea for both of us, I told her she'd be in for a treat if and when Gram shared her story.
“I can honestly say my grandmother is one of the most interesting women I've ever known. She has lived through a lot but she didn't let that define her. She came up with her own definition of what makes a good life and has stuck with it.”
“That's a gift,” Cassie responded. “Both her ability to rise above circumstances and your ability to learn from her life.”
“Oh, I don't know how much I've learned,” I demurred. “My lot in life is to be the family's greatest disappointment. It's only fair you know that now.”
“Hmm. But you're not a disappointment to your grandmother.”
“No, I'm not. She's the exception to the rule. Though making me her decision maker was not a popular choice. That's Gram being Gram. She does things her own way. And I guess I'm like that, too. They just don't extend any grace to me.”
I carried the steaming mugs over to the table to join her.
“I will do whatever I need to do for Gram. Whether they'll agree with those decisions, well, our track record isn't the best. I try to maintain a healthy distance from the intricacies of being a Frasier. I show up at required events, I make small talk, and then I go home as quickly as I can. Gram told us about her diagnosis a week ago and I've had to interact more with my aunts and uncles in the past week than I have the past five years.”
My voice grew loud and strident by the end of my tirade. “I'm sorry. You probably don't want to get in the middle of this.”
“No apology necessary. This is exactly what I'm here for. If you ever need to vent, please call me.” She passed her business card across the table. “If things start to get dicey, I can mediate. Some people believe difficult times bring families together, and that might happen in some cases, but a family's issues don't disappear when a loved one is on hospice. If anything, they might intensify.”
“Oh, great,” I muttered. She laughed in understanding.
“I know that's probably not what you want to hear. We can't control how your famil
y will react in the days to come, but together you and I can process through how you'll respond.” Cassie took a sip of tea and leaned back in her chair. “You looked ready to crawl out of your skin back there, in the other room.”
I hesitated. Talking with Cassie could help with the jumble in my head. But I didn't know her and it wasn’t like me to open up quickly. My therapist saw me for an entire month of sessions before I risked vulnerability. Gina had an open-door policy, even though I hadn't seen her in a decade. Still, Cassie sat before me. We might have been friends under different circumstances.
I took a deep breath. “I don't feel like myself anymore. I've always done my own thing and now I'm carrying a notebook filled with medical jargon and dealing almost daily with the uncle I like the least. Gram cracks jokes left and right and I don't even know how to appreciate that right now. That's not like me. I'm the family's wild child, the black sheep. And I feel like this is turning me into them.” My eyes widened at that terrible thought.
Cassie waited a moment before responding. “There isn't a right or wrong way to act, Olivia. You found out your grandmother not only has cancer but that she needs to go on hospice, which I'm guessing you didn't know much about before. On top of that, you have to balance being a granddaughter with being a caregiver. Then, to add a little fun to the mix, you have a family you don't appear to find supportive.”
I nodded in agreement. “Gram has always been on my side. Maybe part of me worries about the fallout after she...when she...you know. Like, I think if I can appease them now, they'll leave me alone later.”
“How has that been working out so far?”
“Terrible!” I exclaimed. “I'm not sleeping well because I can't shut my mind off. I keep trying to figure out how to handle my family but there aren't any good answers and they don’t think I do anything right anyway. And I know this, I do, but I still want to do right by Gram and get them off my back. I'm neglecting work. I know my assistant can cover for me but that's not fair to her.
“What's worse is I know I'll spend less and less time at work, but I can't plan for any of it because we don't know what will happen to Gram when. I'm not this organized, type-A person, that's what the rest of the family is like. Don’t get me wrong—I’m good at my job but that’s because I’ve figured out the right systems. And those systems won’t work if I’m not there. All of this is out of my control and I don’t want my business to suffer because it’s the only thing I’ll have left when all this is done.”
I blinked as the last words trailed out, the truth in them ringing clear. I couldn’t believe I’d said all that. Cassie probably thought I sounded like a lunatic. She didn’t make any excuses to leave. Instead she reached across the table and laid her hand on mine.
“Then we have to figure out how to let you handle this in your way. Above all else, you have to take care of yourself. Self-care is going to be one of the biggest things I'll preach to you. If you don't take care of yourself, you won't be able to take care of anyone else. And then what will happen to your grandmother?”
Cassie's response made sense. Unfortunately, I didn't see how anything would change. She read the doubt in my eyes.
“One thing at a time. Have you had sleep problems before this?”
Mid-sip, I tried not to spray my tea at the thought. “I’ve always been a night owl. When I turned twelve or thirteen, I started struggling with insomnia. My dad used to say it was the thinking person's disease. It hasn't been as bad the last ten years or so, unless I'm stressed out. Sunday night I finally slept well, so at least that’s one good night. I'm used to dealing with it.”
“Something to keep an eye on. How about eating? Has your appetite changed at all?”
I thought for a moment. “Not really. Sometimes the day gets so hectic I forget to eat but that's not anything new.”
“What do you do for work that you forget to eat?” Her eyebrows were raised in either amazement or horror.
“I own an art gallery in Oak Park. Between customers coming in, meeting artists, scheduling workshops, there’s always something different going on and I'm in the middle juggling it all. Now I'm juggling Gram's stuff too and I don't know how I can do it all.” My shoulders slumped as schedules and tasks danced in my mind.
“That's just it. You can't do it all. People are going to offer to help and I encourage you to take it. Right now, you have to figure out a new routine. Your grandmother is doing fine so far and doesn't have a lot of needs. I'm not sure what you've worked out with her but you don't have to be here for all the team visits, though you're welcome if that's what you'd like. I'm sure Justin would be fine with giving you phone updates and you already have my number. As your grandmother's condition changes, you'll adjust your routine accordingly.”
I studied the grain of the table. Phone updates sounded manageable, though I might miss seeing Justin's smile. Bad Olivia, I scolded myself. Focus.
I looked back up at Cassie. “That seems doable. Are you sure Justin wouldn't mind giving me updates? I'm sure Gram and I will talk after every visit anyway.”
She cast her eyes downward before looking back at me. Though her expression was kind, I wasn’t going to like whatever she was about to say.
“It's great to hear about the visit from your grandmother's perspective, definitely. One thing you might want to prepare yourself for is she may start to have trouble with her memory. This could be due to the pain medications, or because she's getting more sick. She may not remember all the pertinent details. Or, if she's a private person by nature, she might not tell you about changes you need to be aware of. It's also important for you and Justin to get to know one another in the days ahead. This is all up to you, of course, but I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn’t tell you this.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding. “I know. I appreciate how everyone has been upfront with us. There's so much about this that I've never thought about before. There hasn't been a reason to know these things. I don't like thinking about Gram losing her memory—I can't even imagine it. She has always been so smart and sharp-witted.”
“The bottom line is that cancer sucks. Having a loved one on hospice sucks,” Cassie said emphatically. “Our goal is to help you through this time. We can't take the pain away but hopefully we can make it a little less painful than it would be if you and your family were going through it alone.”
Her honesty won me over. I couldn't sugarcoat what was happening to Gram. She didn't gloss over harsh realities, proof I could trust her in the days ahead.
We talked further about how I could balance my responsibilities. I brought her up to speed on family dynamics. Even if she wasn't there to take my side, she'd be better prepared for some of the personalities the hospice team would inevitably encounter.
Cassie was good at what she did. Her questions forced me to think and consider other points of view. If she had an agenda, I didn't know what it was. She focused on me and me alone. Ordinarily that kind of attention made me uncomfortable, especially for not knowing her longer than an hour. Instead, I talked easily, even about that which brought me to tears.
After a while, I glanced at the clock and apologized for the late hour.
“This has got to be way past when you were going to get off of work. You should have cut me off.”
“It's not a big deal. Our hours can be flexible and this is one of those times. I'm glad we had a chance to talk and I hope we'll get to do it again soon.”
Cassie gathered her bag. We peeked in on Gram, fast asleep. I promised to tell Gram Cassie's goodbye and then escorted her out.
I hated to wake Gram, but I didn't want to leave without telling her goodbye.
I gently nudged her as I whispered her name.
Her eyes fluttered, then opened. She blinked a few times, taking in her surroundings, then smiled.
“I guess I really did need to rest. Did the social worker leave?”
“Yes, but she'll see you again next week. It helped talking to her.”
“Good, dear. I'm glad. Now you probably need to get going yourself.”
“Are you sure you don't want to talk? We're getting a pretty big list of things to figure out.” I was torn. Leaving work a few hours early meant I'd have to work from home tonight.
“No, no. As long as you're still planning to come for brunch on Saturday, we can go over everything then. That will give me a few days to make up my mind.”
With plans in place, I kissed her goodbye and told her to call me if she needed anything in the meantime.
I forgot, however, that Frasiers don't wait.
Chapter Nine
Tap, tap, tap. The pen seesawed in my hand as I gazed out the window. Mid-morning with a pile of papers before me and all I could do was stare and think. Think and stare. Two days had passed. I'd fielded post-hospice team visit phone calls from several family members and reassured them all seemed well with Gram. I'd considered Cassie's advice about self-care but hadn't arrived at any solutions.
I didn't feel like proofreading contracts or planning the next children's workshop. I didn't want to look at expense reports or work on the budget. I definitely didn't want to be on the floor mingling with customers. Instead I sat in my cozy office staring out the window.
Two more days without a word from Reagan. Two more days in which I tried to convince myself his lack of communication did not bother me. If he'd been a player, I could move on. But I did not enjoy the prospect of losing a talented artist. If he was any other artist, I’d call to follow up on the potential contract. I wrinkled my nose at this line of thinking, equally unwilling to consider Reagan as any other artist or as something more. I was a conundrum.
I rooted around in my purse for my wallet. A trip to the Teapot should cure what ailed me.
Before I could stand up, Suzy knocked on the open door.
