Monthly Archives: May 2021

Recently, my 94 year old mother entered Hospice care. She suffered from Kidney Failure and then COVID came calling. She was weakened so that she stopped feeding herself, became incontinent, and became confused and had COVID pneumonia. It is apparently difficult to treat as antibiotics don’t do much to resolve the severity of it.

Mom was on lockdown like a prisoner in the Assisted living facility because they had residents with active cases of Covid 19 for over 4 weeks. It spread quickly because of poor PPE practices, not quarantining early, and workers continued to come to work sick. When we saw her last in early July, she was still able to take her own shower, transfer to and from her wheelchair, and feed, groom, and dress herself. Within a month she was totally dependent and unable to do anything but lie in bed.

Being locked away from her family took it’s toll because she was used to talking to family every day on her phone. Because she had to be moved into a COVID isolation area of the building, and it had little to no phone reception, we were unable to speak to my mother and she was so weak she could not have tolerated a window visit requiring her to sit up.

After she fell and we demanded she be sent to the ER to check her for a broken hip or pelvis, she was direct admitted into Hospice care at an incredible $300 per day just for the room board fee. This did not include nursing care, foods, meds, and equipment.

While other families would be unable to afford this advanced end of life care, our father had assured money would keep coming in form of military pension split and retirement investments, long after his death.

We were able (with special permission) to start visiting to say goodbye after the first week in their care.

Mom, Dot, Dorothy, sister, grandma, great-grandma, sweetheart, friend, aunt, best friend, matriarch; she had those names and so many more.

It was in those final days with her, holding her hand that no longer squeezed back, that I prayed she heard all the words she already knew. We were very close. We had talked for so many years about all the important things in life and even not so important things. I cried every tear for all those in the family who could not bare to be there to see the shell of her sickly body. I helped nurses bath her, change her clothes and talked to her as she had done for me so many times in my life.

Even though the conversations were one sided, I knew she heard. I knew she was ready to see my dad again, dance again, and see many old friends gone for a long time. I lost my best friend, the voice in my head, and the heart that loved me without measure. We never know when our last day will be with those we love. So, if you are reading this, take time now to contact that person. When was the last day I told that person that I care?

I do not remember a time in my life when I didn’t enjoy writing. Personal journals, story writing, poetry and tutoring, were hobbies when I was not reading or visiting the library. I am happier when I am writing or reading. My professional life for over twenty years had been nursing. Twelve hour days on my feet, caring for patients, their families, eating on the run, and dealing with emergencies or death created my need to escape into books, or writing when I got home at night. I decided to set a goal to write a book. I was no longer happy keeping writing in my pocket. I needed to share my joy of writing. Ninety days later I mailed a query letter to a publisher and one month later I was offered publication. Although it was 180 pages of imperfection, it was also my first goal met in writing for others. It was an eye opening experience because I made a lot of mistakes. I knew I wanted to write more, and write better. At forty, I returned to school to study writing and read great writers. Moreover, I wanted to be guided by professionals in literature. I gave notice at my nursing job and tried to explain that I was quitting to go back to school full time to get my bachelor’s degree in English literature. Many thought I was crazy, and as a single mom, I was terrified but excited.

Very quickly, I realized how inept I was at writing for discourse. I went from writing high school five paragraph essays to a fiction novel. Neither required knowledge of a specific “voice” to my writing. My academic writing skills were non-existent. My professors were supportive and offered their time to help me develop my strengths and overcome my weaknesses in writing. As my skills increased, I was asked to join the student journal and consider becoming a tutor. I worked at the student tutor center about 12 hours per week on campus. I also worked voluntarily about six hours per week editing and proofreading student work for the school journal and for student friends. Through my work at the tutor center I began to realize the gap in writing skills between high school and college. 

I found that new college students rarely understood the techniques of writing for audience and discourse. Their ability to go beyond a four page research essay was limited and frustrating. My professors discussed this issue with me every time I brought it up. How can we fix this? Should it begin at the high school level? This began my desire to help high school students develop their writing skills to make the transition from high school to college writing more effective. 

I started keeping lesson plans before I really knew I would someday teach. I developed class outlines about writing for discourse, writing what the teacher wants to hear, and creating subject specific essays. This was the year [2011] before I opened my business “Traylor Writing Services Center & Bookstore” in Columbus, Indiana.

While I did offer fee based classes, I also volunteered to assist young writers free guidance in story writing. The Columbus Signature Academy brought a class of 15 year old students to my business and we worked together to create self-published children books they wrote using an online platform. One of the students went on to offer her multilingual book to an African church mission [2012].

I have continued on my path of teaching high school by supporting students in the community by tutoring, creating a college scholarship supported by donated funds, and continuing to work on my lesson plans for a pre-college writing class that does not exist…yet. My students at our local high school often send me their writing to review for other classes because I return it to them quickly with edit suggestions. I learned quickly that “contract hours” for teaching is a fantasy. I never worked so many hours unpaid in my life than I have in the last 2 years. I have a hard time saying no to helping kids who genuinely want to succeed. Just a month ago, I spent 4 hours on a zoom meeting with a 7th grader who has a passion to become a writer. We looked at her writing, discussed goals, practices, and the importance of reading in the genre she wants to write. Her enthusiasm was infectious. It was a joy.

Recently [2021], I passed my core subject testing and secondary education testing enabling me to apply for a career specialist permit. The schooling after work took a year to complete at the local community university. Unfortunately, I now have to ask people from my past to help me document professional work and dedication to my subject equaling 4000 hours over the last five years. Realizing that I have not kept track of dates and names of the volunteer hours, nor kept track of those people I have helped, it seems a daunting task. I never thought that I would be required to recount so many dates and names in order to prove to a state licensing system that I am dedicated to my profession. The realization that all I have devoted my time to over the last ten years could be derailed by one person at a desk who does not know me. However, I do not give up, I get up. If I have to do so, I will find another way…until I succeed.