The Unexpected Hat
In June of this year I went to North Carolina to visit with family for 18 days. I packed 3 hats with me: a top hat marked "Uncle" which I would don very proudly for my niece's graduation, a hand-me-down flat cap for the annual family reunion, and a very slick cowboy hat that was going to help me wrangle my 74 year old father into his first physical EVER. Of course, I had my trusty standby: a flesh-colored scrub cap that I wear in most interactions with my dad so I can evaluate the progression of his OBS (Organic Brain Syndrome - the umbrella classification for mental deterioration illnesses such as dementia & Alzheimer's). I have to slip it on quietly - and bought it in flesh-color - so my evaluations can go undetected. Dad doesn't think he has OBS and fortunately doesn't even know what the acronym means.
Shortly after arriving, however, I needed 2 more hats. Dad's air conditioning was on the fritz, the whole-house fan had given up the ghost, and the TV in the den had, too. I grabbed a Garrison Cap marked "Consumer Advocate" and quickly helped him get a good HVAC service tech and pick out the best TV and fans. I should have known better than to leave my hard hat at home; I'm always getting into some engineering/construction type of work when I go up, and installing the fan was this trip's project.
I was home for exactly one week before my grandmother was admitted to the hospital for bleeding and shortness of breath. Two days later I drove up while she was having the procedure which found colon cancer. I had the forethought to grab several hats for this trip, including the Newsboy cap to wear as the "Family Information Center," the mint-green scrub cap (since I would be consulted on most medical decisions), the Fedora for legal & power of attorney issues, and the visor of translucent green for financial questions. Over the next 24 days I would also wear a Jester's hat to keep everyone's spirits up, a beret while handling issues with 3 family members in the hospital at the same time, and a nursing cap to wear while providing the care for my grandmother that today's medical establishment just can't afford to provide. There were so many questions to answer, fires to put out, issues to handle, directions to give - and even threats to make when not getting the help needed. There was little time to rest, as there was always someone handing me one of my hats to handle something else.
September only brought a couple short trips to NC when I couldn't get a full understanding of situations by phone, but mostly I wore the Newsboy cap and would slip on the scrub cap when dad had questions about why Maw Maw was taking this or doing that or not tolerating the other. There were a couple times when I would try to be there sans hat, but with dad's OBS being exacerbated by stress, the flesh colored scrub cap found its way on my head even when I tried to ignore it.
Then came September 28th. My grandmother had suffered a massive stroke and dad had been too paralyzed by fear to call anyone else during the hour it took me to return his call. Beret on. Get family there - NOW! Newsboy cap on. Notify the appropriate family members so each of Maw Maw's siblings found out in person from one of their children. Scrub cap on. What are her vitals? What do her pupils look like? What functions has she lost? A Boonie hat was necessary to get me in the trenches and under the radar so I could get stuff done here for the inevitable trip to NC. A peaked cap kept me focused on the drive up there on October 1st, strategizing Plan A, then Plan B, then Plan C... until I ran out of letters.
When I arrived, a Scrum cap was waiting for my fights with the doctors and social workers. Yes, she WOULD get a central line. Yes, she WOULD have TPN for hydration & nutrition. No, physical therapy will NOT be allowed to bother her. The scrub caps, beret, nursing cap, newsboy cap and peaked cap melded into an endless rotation of headgear that sheltered me from any feeling - any emotion - anything that may cloud my judgment. Changes were necessary, transfers had to be made, documents to be executed. On the night of October 18th, I sat wearing my scrub cap as I watched life ebb away from the patient whom I had monitored for months. I called time of death, grabbed a nurse, and threw on an informal flat cap to intercept my father before he walked in the door. Over the next few days the hats rotated again, as funeral arrangements were made, financials examined, information and directions disseminated...and so, so much more.
Wednesday morning, when the funeral was but a memory and all details were wrapped up, I awoke from a 14-hour slumber wearing a hat I knew I hadn't brought with me. I tried to remove it because it was causing my eyes to water - but it wouldn't budge. Feeling it, I could tell it was probably an Alpine hat - familiar because I had worn one many times as a mark of my German heritage. But something about this hat was making me anxious and making my head bow under its weight. I stumbled to the mirror, and through the haze of watery eyes, I was barely able to make out a threadbare hand-stitched word that explained it all.... "Grandson."
Shortly after arriving, however, I needed 2 more hats. Dad's air conditioning was on the fritz, the whole-house fan had given up the ghost, and the TV in the den had, too. I grabbed a Garrison Cap marked "Consumer Advocate" and quickly helped him get a good HVAC service tech and pick out the best TV and fans. I should have known better than to leave my hard hat at home; I'm always getting into some engineering/construction type of work when I go up, and installing the fan was this trip's project.
I was home for exactly one week before my grandmother was admitted to the hospital for bleeding and shortness of breath. Two days later I drove up while she was having the procedure which found colon cancer. I had the forethought to grab several hats for this trip, including the Newsboy cap to wear as the "Family Information Center," the mint-green scrub cap (since I would be consulted on most medical decisions), the Fedora for legal & power of attorney issues, and the visor of translucent green for financial questions. Over the next 24 days I would also wear a Jester's hat to keep everyone's spirits up, a beret while handling issues with 3 family members in the hospital at the same time, and a nursing cap to wear while providing the care for my grandmother that today's medical establishment just can't afford to provide. There were so many questions to answer, fires to put out, issues to handle, directions to give - and even threats to make when not getting the help needed. There was little time to rest, as there was always someone handing me one of my hats to handle something else.
September only brought a couple short trips to NC when I couldn't get a full understanding of situations by phone, but mostly I wore the Newsboy cap and would slip on the scrub cap when dad had questions about why Maw Maw was taking this or doing that or not tolerating the other. There were a couple times when I would try to be there sans hat, but with dad's OBS being exacerbated by stress, the flesh colored scrub cap found its way on my head even when I tried to ignore it.
Then came September 28th. My grandmother had suffered a massive stroke and dad had been too paralyzed by fear to call anyone else during the hour it took me to return his call. Beret on. Get family there - NOW! Newsboy cap on. Notify the appropriate family members so each of Maw Maw's siblings found out in person from one of their children. Scrub cap on. What are her vitals? What do her pupils look like? What functions has she lost? A Boonie hat was necessary to get me in the trenches and under the radar so I could get stuff done here for the inevitable trip to NC. A peaked cap kept me focused on the drive up there on October 1st, strategizing Plan A, then Plan B, then Plan C... until I ran out of letters.
When I arrived, a Scrum cap was waiting for my fights with the doctors and social workers. Yes, she WOULD get a central line. Yes, she WOULD have TPN for hydration & nutrition. No, physical therapy will NOT be allowed to bother her. The scrub caps, beret, nursing cap, newsboy cap and peaked cap melded into an endless rotation of headgear that sheltered me from any feeling - any emotion - anything that may cloud my judgment. Changes were necessary, transfers had to be made, documents to be executed. On the night of October 18th, I sat wearing my scrub cap as I watched life ebb away from the patient whom I had monitored for months. I called time of death, grabbed a nurse, and threw on an informal flat cap to intercept my father before he walked in the door. Over the next few days the hats rotated again, as funeral arrangements were made, financials examined, information and directions disseminated...and so, so much more.
Wednesday morning, when the funeral was but a memory and all details were wrapped up, I awoke from a 14-hour slumber wearing a hat I knew I hadn't brought with me. I tried to remove it because it was causing my eyes to water - but it wouldn't budge. Feeling it, I could tell it was probably an Alpine hat - familiar because I had worn one many times as a mark of my German heritage. But something about this hat was making me anxious and making my head bow under its weight. I stumbled to the mirror, and through the haze of watery eyes, I was barely able to make out a threadbare hand-stitched word that explained it all.... "Grandson."