Showing posts with label hospice care. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hospice care. Show all posts

Monday, October 3, 2022

Nine Months of First

 Nine Months of Firsts


I pray that the words of my heart ring true and offer healing, forgiveness, and hope. 


First February and Mariah’s birthday without Libby.  First Spring without Libby.  First Easter. First Mother’s Day without Libby. The first end of a school year.  First Summer without a family vacation altogether.  First New school year. First every day.  Every day is truly a day without Liberty, and some days that is very hard to reconcile when I am growing and healing on my own time. I am so very blessed to have an honest relationship with Mariah who has her own journey to traverse with her sister in her heart.   She strengthens me; she is a force to be reckoned with every day.


So much has changed in my world, and I know that I have been the catalyst of many of the changes.  It has been growing- a lot of growing.  It has also been a lot of aching hardships as I learn how to ride the waves of grief.  Liberty passed away on January 30th  with a beautiful hospice team, her favorite music, and her beloved family around.  So many of her loved ones were able to be there to say their farewells and offer support.  It was hard, and it was lovely.  I could not have asked for it to be more peaceful as she passed.  


Slowly my body is resetting, and I am no longer waking up multiple times a night to give Libby her meds or check on her. Now instead of getting up or reaching for her, I say her name and tell her I love her. I was blessed to have been part of her care team.   This time last year I knew Libby would not be with us too much longer.  Memories of last year are either convoluted or terribly clear.  There are many things I do not remember or don’t want to. For months, I would wake up mid-anxiety attack and/or crying. I knew my world was crashing and all I could do was what I could do: love the kid and support the others who love her.   


It was the letting go with grace and faith that was hard.  This hardness hits on and off like waves but hit full tilt in the last couple of weeks as my birthday approached.   It took a while for me to realize that the heaviness I felt was the fact that I am still here and Liberty’s is not.  Parents are not supposed to bury our children period. Losing a child in any way should not be part of the roller coaster we call life.  And even though it was a peaceful and perfect homegoing, it was still going away from our girl.  The child we all fought for and pushed to keep her happy and comfortable for so long is gone.  Still, I remain grateful to have been a part of her journey.  Grateful.


I am putting that heaviness off, as I cannot undo or change the long, hard, and blessed road we all traveled beside Liberty.  Now, we all need to forge new paths without her physically here.  Since April, I have made some big changes in my life.  These changes were for me to create a way to grow and heal.  After over 13 years of being a caretaker, I needed to be able to find who I was and try on the new growth my spirit was craving.   


I moved out of Happy and got a place for me to live in Amarillo. I have never lived alone.  Never had a bathroom or a closet to myself. It has been a blessing and a new kind of being.  I am learning to simply be in my space.  I enjoy being close to the church, school, and even stores, but  I miss the open spaces in Happy, the beautiful friends, and the community.  I miss my dogs and other animals, so grateful to have Monkey with me in Amarillo.   


My move caused many people I love pain, and for that I am sorry.  I needed to breathe and heal my own pains. I needed to go. I separated from Rachael.  In therapy, I have learned that two disparate things can be true, such as I didn’t want to hurt anyone,  and yet I needed to go for myself.  Completing the steps to end our relationship was hard.  We had many, many years growing together.  Now I pray that we can each grow strong as the individuals we are capable of being.  

   

I changed my job as well.  I went from teaching Advanced Placement English Literature and Dual Credit to returning to my first love in teaching: Special Education.   I am a co-teacher for several wonderfully talented teachers.  My learning curve has been huge; I love the challenge.  The world of Special Education has changed greatly in the last 15 years, so I have great things to learn. I am trying. My short-term memory is not great partially due to grief.  I am excited to keep trying and learning in this new position.    


https://music.apple.com/us/album/graves-into-gardens-studio/1524503069?i=1524503568

 

I pray that all that have loved and cared for Libby can grow and continue to share the love.  As this is my first birthday without her, may we all keep moving forward in love and hope. Every day is a day without Liberty, and yet she is always with us.  I have carried this grief in a pregnant heart as we step past the nine months of changes.   I am sorry I have not been sharing for so long.   Been doing the work and processing it on my own time.   Thank you all for your support. 


Friday, January 28, 2022

Libby’s Willow

We have bought many trees to add to our property beside the house.   Many trees.  Trees of all kinds. Whole trees- saplings- seeds- all of it.   We did research and planted another and another variety.  None of them really took.  

Until after her diagnosis in 2012, Liberty asked for a willow tree.  She wanted it because of Harry Potter’s “Womping Willow”  not because willows are my very, very favorite trees.  

This tree grew.  And grew. Flourished.  Truly flourished.  We would sing concerts to the sister tree during the summers. 

We adorned Her with fairy lights that Libby loved.  Strand after strand after strand.   Until someone cut several of the light strands, it was a gift to drive home after school and Libby would be giggly over all the fairies living in her tree.  




So, we built a fence to protect the tree and the fairies. The willow with the fence. 


In the spring of 2021, I noticed that her tree was not leafing the way it had in the past.  I refused to talk about the decline of Libby’s tree with Rachael.   Refused.   I didn’t know why then.  
Now I know that the tree was telling me what my heart couldn’t handle.  That damn tree was still hanging on this fall with only a few branches clinging with any leaves to offer to the fall.  

Just like her tree, Liberty is stubbornly hanging on.  Today, January 28, is the tenth day that Libby has refused food and water.   Her beautiful heart has been at race pace for days now.   She is beyond tiny.   She is no longer responding most of the time.  Her body is done- her heart isn’t.   
She’s still pushing against the wind. 

We’ve told her it’s okay.  We will be okay.  Blessedly, so many have come to tell her she can go.  Yet, she’s holding steady.   Her Grandma Geva and Papa are waiting.   Damn these stubborn genes.  



This is terrible.  Grateful for the time.  For me, this level of decline has helped me reconcile letting her go.   She has earned her Liberty ten fold.   

Saturday, January 22, 2022

In God’s Time and Libby’s Stubborness

Going through this hospice process with Liberty is beautiful and yet terribly hard. It’s a lovely chance to cover her in love, and yet, it’s hard. Watching her body decline is terribly sad.   But I prayed Libby into this world, and I will continue praying her out of it.  

We met with our clergy last weekend got  her Celebration of Life and Home going planned.  So grateful to have that mostly done. 


We wanted to be in school long enough to get our students back into the groove of the day to day schedule.  I found myself anxious to get to school and anxious to hurry and get home. While at school I cherished the time with my students and yet, wanted lots of updates on Libby.  My heart was stretched to want to be with both.  

Here’s one of Libby’s favorite songs to lighten this update: https://music.apple.com/us/album/piano-man/158815463?i=158815547

This week several things fell into place: teacher volunteers to cover recycling, Care Closet and Snack Shak for our campus and the right people to cover my classes.   (Cannot tell you how much I’ve worried about making sure the people who need the food get it while I’m out.  It’s going to be okay.)

Every day for the last two weeks she has changed in some small manner.  As of Wednesday, the 19th, Libby is refusing food.  She is also declining almost all liquids.  Thursday she would not even take her crushed pills for me.  (I was a bit dumbfounded.  She refused anything from me!  The nerve…) 

For the last three days, she is no longer taking  her meds five times a day. She is getting her seizure med and a small
Relaxant.   That’s all. My days are completely off.  That five time a day schedule has been engrained in me for over 13 years. I’ll need to get retrained. 

I believe she has had her final shower as I’ll move to giving her bed baths.   So many of the  Caregiving activities, like showering and shaving, are more to make me feel comforted and needed, not because it’s vital for Libby. I can let some of that go. 

I know this is part is all part of the Hospice process. It is not about our typed out timeline or our expectations.  It’s really between God and Libby. I can envision the back and forth arbitration  happening. Libby saying, “I’m not ready” and God replying, “you can have a wolf at your side every day…”. Or “I’m ready” and God responds, “not yet. It isn’t time.” Either way, I know there’s some push and pull going on.   I mean- it’s Liberty. 

Liberty is the epitome of STUBBORN which I say with a smile. It’s partly her stubbornness that has kept her here with us for so long.  Now she is in negotiations and whoever “wins” won’t really matter.  We will love her out as fiercely as we have fought for her. 



Starting Monday we are home with Libby.  I have very few days to take, but  I’m not going to concentrate on that aspect.  Right now I am right  where I need to be. Being with her is vitally important right now. 

Thank you all for your ongoing love and support. 

Sunday, January 2, 2022

Docile and Compliant

 We have been blessed with several very lovely holiday get-togethers.   Libby loves to have her people with her.   She is such a rock star.  

Sharing some raw realness. I don't know if there is a step-by-step guide on how to do this.  Surely there is a section in the parental learning manual titled, "How to completely lose your shit while your child dies"  or, "How to gracefully let your child go."  These are my current steps in no order.  

1. Be angry.  Be very pissed. Tattoo guilt on your face. Ask all the whys. Wear righteous indignation like the emperor's cloak.



2. Try to handle the anger by doing online research and then regret it immediately.

3. Be envious of other parents who have healthy children.  Why is life so damn hard?

4. Also, be envious of those who have successfully raised their children and are empty nesters. 

5. Immediately feel guilty for #4.   Try on grace for a long moment. 

6. Doubt everything you've done as a daughter, mother, wife, friend, and human.  

7. Blame the illness on everything from the Purple Tella Tubby to Crop Circles to passing a curse on genetically. 

8. Try to race ahead of the typhoon of grief, make a list, and then feel like you're drowning; dream repeatedly of water.

9. Lose the list, or throw it away because you can't hold a thought in your head and suddenly realize it doesn't matter.

10.  Ask "How much time do we have?" Register the look from the Hospice Team and not ask again because who really knows.

11. Walk into three rooms and not remember why I went to any of them, or I'll Pick up an old toy and carry it around the house for no reason.  Did I start the load of laundry?   Try to give her juice again?  Are the bed room doors closed?

12. Get my shit together and try to work on school stuff.  

13.  Regret spending any time not focused on my child.   Remember to trust in faith.

14.  Escape from the caregiving because you cannot breathe and then regret not being there.  

15.  Look online for support groups, support articles, anything to remind you that you are not alone.  Anything that shows that other Mommas have survived this.  

16 Read articles about grief and anger and caregiver burnout.

17. Start another conversation about the future plans for your kid and swallow those words like you've been starving.  

18. Get more sad than angry.  Go silent.

19. Discover that you have worn your daughter's old bra all day and never noticed it- just felt vaguely uncomfortable.  Tell her about it and get a blesssed giggle.

20. Constantly look for any signs of the ugly insidious approach of her passing, and beat myself up when I think I have missed something.  

21.  Ask how I am supposed to survive this.  Is that the expectation?  Just need the rules.

22.  Try to hold on to faith and sunlight.  

23.  More rambling crap to incoherently follow...

Libby's body is moving through the stages as her body gets smaller and smaller. She still gives us giggles and some smiles, which I am ever grateful for.  She is spending more time staring blankly; I think she is listening to KT Oslin, Johnny Cash, and now Betty White.  

We have the Hospice bed now which is keeping her much more comfortable through the days in the front room.  I've been surrounding her with her pack of babies.  This gives me solace.

  I need to change Libby's name to Docile or Compliant.  She is refusing to eat or drink very much. I am a Southern Momma who wants to feed EVERYONE, but not this kid.  She is 100% Liberty.   She is not able to stand on stiffened spastic legs to help us transfer her from chair to bed and bed to chair.   Her legs are now not responding.   Still spastic, just not load-bearing.  The slow and steady decline is no party and isn't for the weak of heart.   But here we are.  As for now, she is still herself and I pray she knows how loved she is.  

Liberty and all of her beautiful stubbornness- “Broken Horses” https://music.apple.com/us/album/broken-horses/1577159552?i=1577159680 

Liberty turns 25 next week.   Trying to plan a celebration that won't wear her out and can keep everyone safe isn't easy. I do know that I'll be asking for small hygiene products for our Care Closet and/or monetary Snack Shak donations.  Will continue to give and serve as we can.   Grateful to be able to be ugly honest. Here is the announcement   We will ask for safe considerations of our girl.

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers.   


Monday, November 15, 2021

The Veil

I dream.  I don’t know that I’ve ever dreamt this much, or maybe I am just remembering them more. Or I just want to remember. 

 I’ve continued to sleep with Libby, probably as much for me as it is for her.  Some nights we sleep hard straight through.   Other nights she moves and kicks and fidgets all night long.  It’s like trying to sleep with someone break dancing; that’s an antiquated reference.  It’s taking more and more to knock us both out.

I had one lovely dream of Libby in her fragile little body of today, except her body is working.   She is dancing.  Now she has always been a waltz in a world of two-steppers.  She is dancing in her cowboy boots. She is dancing to a rhythm no one else could ever hear.  Happily stomping in her own way doing her “happy feet” moves that are completely her  own. 

She has this authentically perfect way of ignoring the rest of the world and just dancing.  The only thing in this dance is that she is confused.   She’s looking at me and asking “what’s happening?” More Liberty dancing then “Mom what’s changing?”  Then she was moving those fast little feet again, and I woke up talking nonsense out loud with wet cheeks. 




Three Saturdays ago , Libby giggled throughout the night. Seriously- giggling. The kind of happy, care free little girl giggling that is rare.  The kind of uncontrollable bubbly giggling that cannot be contained. She was giggling and then  would clearly say, “yea” several times.   She was even shaking the bed.  She giggled through the night and into mid-morning.   

I asked Libby what was so funny and she’d get quiet and go on sleeping.   She was sleep laughing. 

It was so random that it was both deliciously creepy and sweet. Luckily, Rachael heard it as well.   Later that evening, we were telling Grandma Linda about our “Giggler”.   I asked Libby what she was laughing at- more giggles.  Then I asked her WHO she was laughing at.   She got serious.  I went down the list of names: Sister, Jasmin, Xavier, Rachael, Betherty, Uncle David, and Jennifer,  to no response. I had a silly hunch, so I asked  if Grandpa Terry was telling her his corny jokes and she said “yes” in the most clear voice.   And she giggled some more.  
 
Don’t know about many things, nor do I understand many things, but I know the love we share in this life bridges to reach the other side. 
It makes my heart smile to think of Terry whispering his goofy “Dad” jokes to Libby. 





What a gift.  My friends this is hard, heart breaking shit, but she continues to bless us with glimpses across the veil.   Some days I feel as if I will suffocate from the weight of it.  Then she giggles or tries to reach out for me.   And I take a breath and keep going.   

Thank you for reading and supporting us.   We are blessed. 

Wednesday, October 20, 2021

The Mostly Short Version of the 12 Year Saga

This is not my story; this is Liberty's story. I am just cataloging her journey. It used to feel like a bite was being taken out of me every time I told her story.  Now, it is a review process that allows me the chance to remember and remind myself of how far we have come. 

(I took three older posts and added the last few years. I apologize if there are still repetitions.)


Libby was born on her due date perfectly normal on January 9, 1997, in Ruidoso.  Her sister, Mariah, was my birthing coach.


She met every cognitive and physical measure early including crawling out of her crib at 9 months.  She was so adventurous that she could have been hurt many times.  Libby loved to climb and hide. She would climb up anything she could, including bookcases, weight racks, and later tops of cars and trees.  She earned the nickname "Eagle Eye" as she is able to see things others miss. 


If there was a way to push the boundary, she would find it. She is the personification of her name in every way.  She didn't care about rules and hated being told to speak to people on command, and Lord help you if you wanted her to hug someone.  Liberty didn't perform on command.  Now, let her listen to a song once or twice and she would memorize it.  By four I could challenge her to see if she could memorize a song faster than me.   I would begin a song lyric and she would finish it. 


We are outside people. We camped, hiked, worked in Palo Duro Canyon, and Geo-cached everywhere we could.   It was no big deal for us to play in the water in the canyon or return from hiking, and then check each other for bites.  It's awkward, but it is what you do, especially when the grasses are taller than your kids.  This is the Texas Panhandle and if the heat and cold don't kill you, then there are plenty of things that'll bite you.  


In 5th grade, Libby was Commended in her Reading. She even earned a phone call home from her elementary librarian with questions as to whether or not Libby needed to read Janet Evanovich and Lord of the Rings instead of her AR books. She was rocking her trumpeting skills in band, singing in front of everyone almost every week at church, and working on her basketball skills. The math and physical coordination genes did miss this kid.  Math and coordination did not come naturally. Socially, she preferred animals to people and would rather play than abide by any girly stuff.  She is our little wolf and LOVES dinosaurs.   


The night we returned from our last big camping trip in July 2007, where we had been to Southern Utah and Libby had what we believe was a massive seizure.   Mariah woke us up and saw Libby mid-seize on the top bunk. This changed everything.  We headed to the nearest hospital by ambulance and our testing trials began.  Even though there was blood taken, there was little analysis and we were only given the advice to get her seen by someone who deals with seizures.  We brought up several times the long camping trip and the land, lakes, and streams we had been swimming, fishing, and hiking in.   


The next morning we were sitting in our pediatrician's office and were then sent with referrals to get the EEG and EKG to see if there was anything neurologically wrong.  Over the next year, Libby had visited hospitals in Amarillo and Lubbock had three more seizures, many EKG and EEG's, MRI's, sleep studies, and lots of blood work.  Nothing.  Everything came back normal.  We carried paperwork that stated she had an Undiagnosed Seizure disorder.  


In November of 2007, Libby's Grandpa, Terry Collins left us.  She didn't cry or sing for months.   She stopped drawing and writing her stories. 


The next year, 2008-2009, 6th grade seemed fairly normal. Her big sister, Mariah, was a senior and the world was changing, so normal may be the wrong term.  Looking back there were many signs that something was affecting Liberty neurologically.  You don't know what you don't know. Her speech showed some weirdness, where she would drop off parts of words.  Interestingly, her singing remained outstanding.  Her ability to play her trumpet at the high level she had before remained static, except for sometimes she showed an inability to sustain the breath needed. Her handwriting got weird, really weird. But this is the kid who invented her own writing that was only to be read by animals with paws when she was three or four, so weird handwriting- eh.  She started sneaking spoons to school in her lunch box instead of forks.  She also started using bendy straws, we call them "sick straws" as well. 

Her shirts had some weird stains and I would find them hidden in weird places. She tried to shave her legs for the first time and called me crying because she had cut her leg, also not unusual.  Now, when she decided to use a razor to trim her eyebrow and called me with a thug-looking brow into the bathroom, I took the razor away from the kid who was starting to shake- alot.  Once we made it through Mariah's graduation and summer hit, we got Libby into singing lessons.  We did elocution practice at home, as well as some handwriting review.  We spent that summer building up Libby's self-esteem.  (I thought she was acting out because of the loss of her Grandpa and her sister graduating.)


I noticed a tremor in her hands and started watching her blood sugars and eating patterns.  Diabetes does run in my family. I noticed that she spilled food a lot and had trouble drinking unless she used a straw.   She had probably been having hand tremors for a while and had hidden it. I didn't catch it.  


In July 2009, she started her menstrual cycle.  In August she passed her yearly Pediatric check-up and we were reminded to keep an eye on her emotions as she may be depressed and reacting to Mariah's graduating and the many other changes.  She also passed her athletic physical to play basketball and tennis.  


We went on a regular hike, a long hot hike, and I basically had to carry Libby back.  She said her left leg hurt and didn't feel right.  I thought she was being a wolf princess butt and was claiming fatigue. 


7th grade started and her teachers began contacting us about changes they were noticing in Libby.  She was referred to a local psychiatrist.  I made an appointment for the middle of October to check in with our Pediatrician. The school's diagnostician did some cognitive tests and called me on October 2, 2009, my 39th birthday.  She said that she thought that what was going on with Libby was biological and that she thought something was wrong.  


By the end of the first six weeks of her 7th-grade year, 2009-2010, Libby was falling a lot, her left arm was curling in whenever she run, she couldn't get a spoon to her mouth, she couldn't rinse out her hair, her handwriting was illegible, her speech was disintegrating and she collapsed one day on the way home from school.  An ambulance brought her to the nearest clinic, her Pediatrician's clinic, and all tests showed nothing.  She must be very tired. 


We saw our regular doctor and then more tests at the hospital in Amarillo, then on to Lubbock.  The Neurologist was in Lubbock, the same one that we had seen for the seizures. We were referred to Cook Children's in Ft. Worth. On Rachael's birthday, November 12th, we arrived on a Thursday evening in November, by now we are helping her shower, dress, and feed herself. That Friday, the first doctor we saw referred us to another and ordered tests.  We were to go home, pack, and return on Monday prepared for a long stay.  

We spent the weekend putting up our Christmas decorations almost as if we had the recognition that the return visit to Cooks would be a more extensive stay. We also had Mariah come home so we could talk to her and prepare her. For what, we didn't know. From Rachael: I can vividly remember being up on the roof of the house with Mariah hanging Christmas lights and talking to her about the very real possibilities of where we might be headed with Liberty and what a diagnosis could bring our way. I didn't even know and now I was having to prepare Mariah that her sister might never be the same again. It wasn't the same jolly time we'd had in previous years putting up lights with Christmas songs playing in the background. 

We were in the hospital for 14 days.  During that time every sort of test you can imagine was run. At first, they thought she had a very progressive form of early-onset Multiple Sclerosis, or Huntington's, or a form of Palsy, or maybe she had gone through multiple strokes, or ALS, Wilson's, Meningitis, HIV, and more that we cannot even remember. Libby had blood tests, EKG, EEG, Lumbar puncture, Liver biopsy, skin biopsies, 24-hour urine catch, more blood tests, and an MRI with and without resolution.


The MRI showed an area in her right frontal lobe the size of a quarter that had undergone either atrophy or necrosis.  Her brain was also smaller than it should be. Basically, that portion was dead and not working.  This area had been missed by all the other MRI machines she had been in.  The one at Cook Children's had more power or resolution.  What our Neuro doctor, Dr. Hottie said, is that something had probably been killing that part of her brain for a long time and that she had slowly been losing her fine and major motor skills for some time.  It had finally reached a critical mass and that is why it seemed like she had fallen apart all at once.  


Her Lumbar puncture showed something, a possible form of Encephalitis. He gathered a crew of specialists, including a Geneticist, who did all of the background testing possible.  Down to requesting the chemical results from our water system here at home in Happy.  They also had Carbon Dioxide detectors placed in our house just to make sure.  We asked again if she could have caught something during our outdoor exploits.  


We were told at a staffing meeting, think of the TV show "House", to start thinking about whether we wanted quality or quantity of life for Libby.  We chose quality that day. We still choose quality. We were released on Thanksgiving Day, 2009, with two more referrals back home, therapy referrals, a prescription for a Parkinson's medication, Sinemet, and follow-up appointments at Cook Children's.  We were told to get her baptized and prepare our family, at the rate her degeneration was progressing we didn't have much time.


After we returned, the first appointment was a basic eye appointment for further testing for Wilson's or other genetic abnormalities.  Christmas happened.  New Year happened.  We were in shock and grateful to be home.  My little wolf cub doesn't do well in captivity.  On January 2, we saw an Ophthalmologist.  After going through the whole background, he performed his regular eye exams and asked if she had been tested for Lyme disease.  He ordered blood tests, didn't know eye doctors could do that, for Cat Scratch Fever, Lyme, and Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever.  


January 10, 2010, the results came back positive for Lyme through the ELISA Lyme test.  I called our doc at Cook Children's and left a message about the results.  He called back and said this could have been caused by Lyme. Our local Pediatric doc and Dr. Hottie agreed to a two-week course of antibiotics to cure her of Lyme.  That is what the American Medical Association, AMA, recommends.  


She wasn't cured. We began researching immediately and found that there are cases worldwide of terrible unexplained illnesses that have been traced back to Lyme. We also learned of governments worldwide not treating Chronic or long-term Lyme. We also learned that there should have been a bulls-eye rash followed by flu-like symptoms. Libby never had a rash.  When camping, we showered in twos.  After hiking we checked each other.  We learned that many, many cases of Lyme go unnoticed because there is no rash and no flu-like symptoms.  We also learned that Lyme was rare in our area.  We also learned that many people die because Lyme likes to attack hearts.  Libby's heart is still good.  Her neurological state has been decimated. 


We have continued to get our main treatments and testing done in Ft. Worth.  Each time there may be a new specialist to meet, different tests to be done, new meds to try, something. In 2012, we met with a Pediatric Rheumatologist and an Immunologist.  They ordered a PIC line and a six-week protocol of heavy-duty antibiotics since that was then what the American Medical Association recommended for tougher cases of Lyme.  She wasn't cured. 


She has never tested positive for anything else.  Most gratefully she has not had any other seizures until recently. 


We have had our genes mapped and there is nothing genetically wrong with her.  She has been diagnosed with Secondary Parkinson's, Spasticity, Ataxia, Speech Apraxia, and my least favorite, Dystonia. On medical paperwork, she has Arthropod-Borne Encephalitis.  


She has had two sets of AFO leg braces, lots of hand braces, and a neck brace.  She has had three official wheelchairs.


She takes Sinemet, Baclofen, and Clonazepam. What started as a turned in left hand, has traveled to her left leg, then foot, then right hand, then right leg, the right foot, and her neck.  Parkinson's has given us an additional gift with swallowing issues that are made worse by the Botox that loosens up the rest of her body.


In 2015-Libby's left foot had reached 90% Achilles contracture and she had bi-lateral tendon release.  We believed after recovery we would work on walking more.  That didn't help much as her body fought back with a vengeance. Liberty graduated from high school where she was active in art, choir, and community service. She was voted Caprock Prom Queen in 2015. 

In the summer of 2015, we completed the required Department of Aging and Rehabilitative services Neuro-Cognitive testing.  They had to prove whether or not she was employable in order to provide services.  We had to go through DARS to help get services for Libby and college.  DARS was the gatekeeper to many services for Libby.   We really still didn't know how life after high school will look for her, but we knew that she will have a life. 


In July 2015- Deep Brain Stimulators were inserted that we charged about every other day.

She has been on a five pill-a-day schedule for years; her main one is the Parkinson’s drug. She had a baclofen pump inserted into her abdomen as of last Thanksgiving 2016.


In 2018, she now had the neurological and muscular diagnosis of Parkinson’s, Bladder and Sphincter Dyssynergia, dystonia, spasticity, ataxia, and speech apraxia.  


We’ve tried lots of things including physical and occupational therapy, clean eating, weighted blanket, and even blessed water.   Libby’s body continued to stiffen and struggle. We fought her spasticity with many, many Botox injections until they stopped working in 2019. We have gone through four different therapy places. 


In November 2019, we pursued getting Liberty. She has been dropping weight for the last three years. We went through three different procedures to get the feeding tube placed. Because of the way her body twisted, her stomach had lodged itself partly under her rib cage and could not be inserted easily. This was the last time she was placed under anesthesia for a procedure.

Our Neuro, Dr. Hottie, couldn't give us a prognosis or any kind of timeline.  He told us that we have been living on “bonus time” for a while.  She was outside of any medical normalcy. As we talked about the progression of her diseases he reminded us that these last years are beyond what he could have predicted.  


In March 2020, we went into COViD lockdown.  Libby was home with us throughout that spring and summer.  When we went back to our classrooms, she stayed safe due to her careful caregivers.   Her body continually declined: her stiffening was ever-present.  We have increased her clonazepam to offer some relief.   Her ability to speak and answer basic questions dwindled away.  Her weight continued to drop. 

In May of 2021, Libby's Parkinson bite caught her index finger in her mouth and broke the skin.  She bit her finger so very hard. She has worn a specially ordered hand mitten since then.  (Now I believe she had a seizure and her jaw locked down.)

As we prepared to finish out the school year, Libby began crying almost every night. By the end of the month, she is crying every evening: uncontrollable and inconsolable. This continued throughout the summer. Liberty's period has stopped.   


In June we were asking her local doctor for guidance.  In July, we knew she was Sundowning.  This is not the quality of life we have focussed on.  We began making plans for Libby to stay at home with caretakers when we started school. Getting her in and out of the cars and into wheelchairs and out take a toll on her very little body. 


In August we went to get her baclofen pump refilled at Cook's.  The next day we got her feeding tube replaced in Amarillo. 


 On August 4th Libby had a full seizure. One of the few things that I have pleaded with God about is seizures. They are terrifying. She has had several more since then. We are now of Keppra to keep the seizures at bay.    


On August 19, we began receiving Palliative Care. This is a blessing. It is a true gift to have support for the caretakers.  


On October 11, we signed Liberty in the Hospice Care program.  She needs more and more eyes on her. More support.  She is changing incrementally and I don't want to miss it. Having this wonderful program in place has given me some peace.  We want her to be calm and happy as long as possible, but most of all I want her to be HER.  Some days it doesn't seem like she is my Libby: my wolf girl.  Then the next day she will smile and giggle and it's like the sun shines again.  


https://music.apple.com/us/album/grit-and-grace/1527828770?i=1527828773


School remains my safe place. We have wonderful classes and could not be more blessed by our campuses and our peers.  Each day I am ready to be on campus and then want to race home as soon as I can.  This is hard.  Loving her through this is hard.  And it is beautiful.   


Every day we are blessed. This continues to be our bonus time with her.  This is not my story to tell, this is hers. We continue to learn Liberty.  

You are loved.