Like most race car drivers, Danica Patrick has a pit crew. When not getting run over by Ms. Patrick, the pit crew is responsible for topping off liquids, pumping up tires, and, basically, fixing all things that need fixing. The "pitters" have to respond quickly to problems, and adjust with every hurdle, in order to keep things running smoothly and the car on the road. For the past 11 months, Dad, E, D, Emily and I have functioned as Mom and C's very own pit crew. We've pumped liquids, changed tires (depends), wiped windshields (foreheads), and problem-solved under duress, all so that our guys could get back on the road.
Like race car pitters, we've honed specific skills to fit each driver, and each situation. For Mom, who, by the end of her illness, had difficulty walking and controlling her bladder, the routine involved what we dubbed the "two-person shuffle/third person snatch and grab." This involved two people helping her to the car/commode, etc. with the third ever ready with the wheelchair and/or commode. For commode changes, the third person would also help with fetching new depends, changing clothes, and tying shoes. By the end of her illness, a three-person pit crew became standard, as Mom was unable to shuffle even the slightest distance. We became proficient at power lifting, and in particular, lifting so as to prevent injury.
Like Danica, we also travel in style, complete with our own gear (i.e. bucket, wheelchair, commode, etc.). With mom, I was the lucky cat who got to ride in the back with the commode on my lap, and the bucket nestled nicely in my face. One particular commode cart-around stands out; it was when we decided to treat ourselves to dinner at ‘somefin fancy' downtown. We pulled into the parking lot of a very nice restaurant with mom slumping in the passenger seat, Dad (with his cowboy hat) cramped in the back, and me with a commode smack in my face. I had to whip out my fancy Cirque de Sole moves just to get out of the car. Bringing the potty to the people (i.e. plopping it in front of God and everyone) just didn't seem classy. We were half tempted to ask for a party of six and bring it along with us. Laughing aside, that thing was a lifesaver, and without it, we'd have some funny looking carpet by now.
Craig's pit crew has one thing in common with Libya's Gaddafi's security detail: they're all female. Craig could be rampin' up his ‘street cred' if only we weren't his sisters --well, most of us. Not too cool. Since March, Diane, Erin, Emily and I have been rotating the lead pitter post. Even though there's usually one pusher, we work as a team, with a few pushing the meds, another connecting the saline, and yet another hooking up the TPN. We've been keeping our guy well oiled for the past five months, which means pumping him with high-octane fuel (TPN), as well as meds and saline to keep his gears running smoothly. And like other true professionals, we've mastered the pit exchange to within minutes. We can disconnect and reconnect a TPN within two shakes of a lamb's tail. We can draw up Ativan and Nexium within seconds, tops, always following the S.A.S.H. rule: saline, administer, saline, heparin, with alcohol in between. (Actually, we've caught some of the ER nurses skimping on SASH, as well as alcohol. For shame.)
I remember coming back to Craig's apartment one day to find scattered carcasses of our previous "pit". Mom wasn't doing well, and had to rush to the hospital, so we didn't take the time to dispose of Craig's empty syringes. Good thing Denver Place wasn't doing maintenance. From the needles on the ground, one could assume the handsome lawyer in 3104 was actually a junkie.
Like mom, C also travels in style. His travel kit includes a little yellow ‘travel' bucket, a cache of meds, and a red box named Coleman. We can't travel without some sort of vomit catcher, a hefty dose of pain meds, and cooler (for the meds). Without fail, some nurse in the ER will ask us "what's that for." To keep our hearts cool for transplant ...what do you think? Aw, we laugh. Like mom, the bucket and co. have helped Craig through tough times, and, at the very least, have kept the carpets clean.
I'm waiting for my pit crew jersey. Every pitter deserves a jersey, right? We'll need something bright so Craig doesn't run us over like ol' Danica. Maybe Bayer and Genentech could be sponsors. We shall see ... -- J
Jill, you have outdone yourself--this was inspired! I check in daily the Sister blog, and I am so grateful that all of you inherited Mary and Jim's intelligence and wit. I am proud beyond description. All of us just look at each other and wonder how in the world you can endure--we are in awe--and then I remember that you have your Mother's obvious strength that we all clung to and your Father's strength that is communicated by his certain nod and caring eyes. We can tell that you recognize Craig's blessing in your lives--but know in your heart that you are his greatest blessing--what an honor that is! My love, concern and prayers are with you every second of the day. I have daily conversations with Mary--she is right beside you, you can be sure. Rinda
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