'Tis the Season

So, Christmas is nearly upon us, the CCCCenter is decorated to the rafters with trees and wreaths and lovely ornaments hanging from the ceiling. I've brought in some "extra" gifts for the staff to give to residents who don't have family, and will be scouring the house for more of the same during the next few days. Last weekend, I picked mom up from the center and we went to Tom and Julie's house for lunch. Shirley ate a banana and some sloppy joe, then I opened a tin of homemade fudge. She made us all laugh when she slapped at any hands reaching for her cache of chocolate. After lunch, we settled on the couch with blankets. One of Tom's kitties made itself at home and mommo dozed off while petting her. What an excellent visit, as she got to see her grandchildren too!

I spent a few hours with mom today and am as always taken aback by the disappearance of more of mom's skills. She is beginning to be unable to feed herself or hold a cup of milk or tea. Staff will of course help with this as needed, and I try to go at lunch time to take this on as well. She has lost a couple of pounds in the last month and refused the chocolate I offered after lunch, which worried me more than anything else! She's always been a chocolate girl! I might say that I expect this decline to continue, and might know it to be true in my heart, but that doesn't lessen the impact of actually seeing it happen and get worse and worse as Shirley continues this awful journey.

I took some Christmas cards in today hoping that mom might still be able to sign her name to them, but that that turned out to be a pipe dream. She was unable to figure out how to put the pen to card or how to make her mark, so if you have one of her cards from last year, that's the last signature you'll see. I'm going to send the cards to the relatives she has left on her behalf and will include the website for this blog for those interested in reading about her journey.

For those of you who continue to read this rambling blog, thank you. I know who you are and I hold you in the light. Merry Christmas.

Kathy

Stooge files

Learning from experience, or, the Stooge files

I just spent about 40 minutes writing a new blog. I didn't write it on my gmail blog, because I know from experience that if I do that and then press "post" or "save draft" things will often just disappear into cyberspace. So I took to writing it first as an email to myself, then sending it THEN pasting it into gmail, so I would have a copy. Well, seems like I have more to learn. I just pressed "send" on this email to myself, the icon went round and round, circled, circled, circled, then stopped. I got no email, had no draft, nothing in sent mail. Why didn't I highlight it and copy it first? Because I'm a trusting soul. Or something that rhymes with that anyway. Following is an attempt to recreate the Stooge Files blog.

So, from the time I was a little kid, my brothers and I loved watching the Three Stooges. I clearly recall seeing an episode where Curley was having his tooth pulled with a string tied to a doorknob only a half hour before the 4 of us were due at the dentist. Anyway, I have had some Stooge moments in the last few days that I want to relate. First, let me say that I have never before this fall used a leaf blower. Mom has an electric one, and my first attempt was pretty funny, even to me. Leaves were blowing everywhere, and I became convinced that there was some technique I needed to learn. The next time I used it, I figured out why men are so much better at holding a large instrument out in front of them at waist level and controlling the results. Obviously they've had lots of practice. The Stooge part of this experience was that the first couple of times the extension cord came unplugged, I would set the blower down, jog back to the cord, and plug it in, only to see it begin to snake around the yard on its own. I needed to TURN THE UNIT OFF before plugging it back in. Duh.

The same thing kind of happened right after I hooked up my H2Oral Irrigator, a water pik that attaches to your showerhead. A couple of times, I neglected to turn off the flow of the pik before turning off the shower, so that when I turned the shower on the next day, I got the benefit of having my bathroom powerwashed unintentionally. Stooge stuff.

Which brings me to the latest momstuff. Last week, on Halloween day, I put on my orange cat shirt and brought along a beautiful boa for mom, which you see here. The Crawford County Care Center dressed up most of the mobile residents and themselves as well and we all gathered in the big dining room for fun with a DJ and music. Unfortunately, the DJ wasn't really working very hard at getting folks enthused about the party, so I did the Stooge thing - I embarassed mom no end by getting up and "twisting and shouting" up and down the rows of residents, holding their hands and clapping with them and singing until the next thing I knew, some of the costumed staff joined me and the whole room began to have fun despite their best efforts not to. After I worked up a good sweat and had mom smiling we had donuts and cider and brought the day to a close. A good momday.

I'll close this blog (and Goddamn it, highlight and copy it first) by saying that as mom and I sat in the lobby of the Care Center having tea and cocoa, in came brother Mike. Mom was so glad to see him, and so was I. I so love and depend on my brothers to help me with this journey. God bless all my Stooges. More later!

Signs of the times

Time to post again, as the seasons change and life moves along too.

This morning, I saw two city trucks pull up out in front of mom's house. The guys got out and busied themselves putting a snow marker on the fire hydrant located at the end of our street. YIKES, talk about a sign of the times! Snow's a-coming, I guess, and they don't want the plows running into it and making a mess of things during the winter months.

Other signs of time moving on for me include my making a couple of life decisions this month - to do some things that have needed doing for a while now. On October 2nd, I stopped smoking - for the second time this year. I tried in May, got to 20 days and picked up again. This time, I used the Chantix again, but to reinforce the decision, I made an appointment for a Lifestyle Lift. My 40-year smoking habit coupled with my desire to spend time in the sun without sunscreen protection had made a real mess of my face, so now that I had time and inclination, I decided to fix that. The procedure was incredibly painful and pretty expensive. I don't think I'll need much more motivation than that to avoid tobacco in the future, and I think once my bruises and swelling subside, I'm going to be pretty pleased with the results. I'd really like to enjoy the next 20 or so years looking and feeling really wonderful, and maybe I'll get blessed to find a life partner to spend them with too.

The down side of the lift is that I haven't seen mommo since last Wednesday, when we got together out at the Care Center with a few of our friends. This is Carolyn, one of the women who was so close to mom for so long. She is one of the smartest and most loyal of friends mom has. I'm so fortunate that Carolyn and her husband insist on being part of my life now too. It's amazing how the people mom has touched throughout her life have rippled back to touch mine.

I think I might be healed enough by tomorrow to go see mommo and not scare her to death. Once things settle, I'll post a before and after for you all to chuckle at. Thanks for reading and for thinking of us, I am thinking of all my friends too. Take care!

Busy beautiful fall

So, the last month has flown by, not sure what all has kept me so busy, still clearing things out of the house. Nice days find me outside reclaiming the house from the surrounding woods and weeds, not so nice days I'm inside with one chore or another. The basement is still in need of lots of time and attention, but as long as the sun shines, I'd rather be out wielding my new Black and Decker tree loppers!

I see mom about every other day. A few weeks ago I took her out of the Care Center for the first time, and we drove over to Tom's house. He made grilled cheese sandwiches for us and we visited for an hour or so before mom was ready to go. The next time we went was on a weekend, and she got to see her grandkids. It was a good visit.

Yesterday, however, my visit was not as easy or pleasant as they had been. The weather had taken a turn for the worse, rainy and cold all day long. Mom has long been affected by whatever bad weather turns up (she's been talking about the snow coming since June). Her mood was dark and she was obviously depressed. I did my best to entertain her, we left the unit and walked around the rest of the residence, stopping in the cozy alcoves to rest and check out the animals in the birdfeeders. When it came time for me to go, though, she sort of fell apart and began to sob. Of course, that made me cry too, and the guilt crept right back in - in spite of the fact that I know in my heart that we made a good decision to get her this care and I am sure that she is in a great place and being cared for by wonderful people.

I know from experience that she was probably fine 5 minutes after I left, but the coming winter is likely to take its toll on her and on me and the brothers as well. No matter, I am committed to making sure that mom is NOT left abandoned by her family, as too many of the residents at the CCCC seem to have been. She needs us - but more, I need her in my life.

I hope this finds my friends in good health and happy times. Stay warm, here it comes!

Still learning life's lessons

No pictures today, just thoughts. I had such a good day yesterday, worked hard and filled up the trash bin for pickup this morning. Uncovered some parts of the basement that hadn't seen the light of day in years. And there is so much more to do! Anyway, I quit about 3 p.m. and took my book outside to sit with Butterball. It was a really nice day and the breeze was blowing through my woods and I was feeling grateful - and also feeling guilty! How is it that I am afforded such a wonderful life? Not working a regular job, having so many things to be grateful for, roof over my head, car that runs, food in the fridge, kitty to love, mom getting great care and on and on! And then, this morning, I got a life lesson.

As I sat in the sunroom with my coffee, something suddenly hit the window beside me - and hit it HARD! Butterball jumped into action, ran outside, and came back in bearing a little sparrow of some sort. She brought it to me and dropped it at my feet. Its little eyes were closed and it lay motionless in my hand, neck obviously broken. Alive and flying high one minute, gone the next.

So, here's what I decided. I am not going to sit and feel unworthy of the things that have been given me again. I can't get that time back, but I can choose how to spend my time and my thoughts. Today I'm going to live life as best I can. I'll stay busy, get some things into the car for a trip to the Salvation Army, stop by the custard stand before they close for the season, go by to visit mom, and later, if the weather holds, I'll go out with my book and my Butterball and be grateful. Not guilty.

A Prize in Every Box

I think it was Cracker Jack that promised a prize in every box, and I've come to think of mom's house as one big Cracker Jack box. Every cupboard, every drawer, every closet, under every bed, and not to mention the basement and the attic are as full of prizes as the ones you see here. Some of the prizes have been forced in so hard that the back of the cabinets have come unglued. My challenge is not to look at the big picture, but to focus instead on one "prize box" at a time. I've spent the last couple of weeks doing just that. I started with the immediate living spaces, the bedroom, living room, bathroom (where I threw away at least a dozen bottles of iodine) and sunroom. I'm still working on the kitchen drawers, which are full of old dirty tools and the everyday stuff that had nowhere else to go. It's a good challenge, and I'm able to feel a sense of accomplishment when I get things cleared and cleaned, walls washed and carpets shampooed. I have all winter to continue unearthing prizes and deciding whether they are keepers or destined for the Salvation Army or the Goodwill store.

As for mom, it seems that Tom and I made a very good decision to have her placed at the Crawford County Care Center. She is surrounded by loving. helpful, cheerful, wonderful people every day. Mom has been flirting with all the male nurses and aids, blonde Shane is one of her favorites, and darker Joe knows mom, as she was his guidance counselor in high school. She teases Rose and Lindsee and anyone else who crosses her path. And they all obviously enjoy her sense of humor and they respond in kind with hugs and laughter. Mom thinks of the Center as "her house" and when we go out to the courtyard, she talks about the "help" who mow her lawn and keep the bushes trimmed. The center recently got a new kitty to join their current pet residents (birds, fish, couple or 3 doggies, and at least one other kitty). This one is Charlie, and when you stop to pet him, he rolls over on his back for more. I've met a wonderful woman whose father is a resident there, and she and I often run into one another. We trade emails and she says her dad has sort of taken to looking after mom. What a blessing Jen and her dad are.

Mom's friend Ed and I talk frequently, and he has been to see her often. Yesterday he said he was going to take her out of the center for the first time since she was admitted. I'm looking forward to talking with him to see how that went. I know mom has been wanting to "go for a ride" for some time now. Tuesday I am meeting one of mom's close friends there for lunch.

So, in closing, I have to say that while her physical world has shrunk to a couple of long hallways and a lovely circular courtyard, her social world has opened up so wide that I don't think she notices that she is not in her dark and lonely house anymore. Now she lives in a world of light and laughter and round-the-clock care, and for those things I am so grateful. Thanks to everyone who sends good thoughts our way. I'm sending them right back.

Kathy

A new chapter for us all

I'm compelled to write this morning, though I know that my thoughts have yet to settle enough to be able to express what I'm feeling today.  Yesterday, Tom and I worked tirelessly all day to move forward with mom's placement.  We had some trouble getting her doctor to fax the orders to the care facility, as the doctor's office has notoriously been unhelpful, and even seemed at times to want to punish us for needing help.  In the end, Tom drove to the doctor's office and waited for the orders to be placed in his hands so that we could meet the director of the care center at 3 p.m.

The time before then was spent in a variety of tasks.  I got mommy cleaned up first thing, then again a couple of hours later.  We shared a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch, though my stomach was in knots.  I was afraid of the task in front of me, and Tom shared my concerns.  I took the picture above as we got ready, mom and Tom out back on the bench.  Brother Mike asked not to be included in the day's activities, so we were left to help mom transition ourselves.  I packed a bag for mom, a couple of changes of clothes, Depends, socks, toothbrush, meds.  At 12:30 I gave mom an anti-anxiety pill, and at 1:30 another.  And an hour later, off we went.

The events leading up to the eventual placement were nerve-wracking, mom and I stopped at the local dairy isle and I got her a chocolate cone in a cup, which she relished as she always does.  We needed to give Tom time to go get the orders from the doctor, then meet us at the care facility.  Once there, mom got out of the car calmly enough, refused to sit in a wheelchair, and instead accompanied me inside.  I had told her I was there to see MY doctor, and asked her to come in with me.  We were lead to room 405, and we sat on the bed in a very cheerful room, beautiful pink blanket, birdfeeders right outside the window.  After a few minutes, one of the admissions staff came in with a fuzzy little pomeranian (sp) pup.  While mom's attention was on the pup, the admissions director came in to say my doctor would see me now.  And I left.  I got as far as around the corner with Denette, who is the most compassionate and capable and caring person I've ever met in my life, before I stopped stock-sill and the tears flowed.  I couldn't speak.  Denette took me in hand and urged me to continue down the hall until we reached a conference room.  Tom went outside to get mom's bag, then joined us for about an hour's worth of paperwork.  And that was that.  I went to Tom's afterward and helped him make dinner for the kids, then came home, all in kind of a stupor. 

Butterball and I sat on the front step for a couple of hours just thinking (well, Butter was chasing lightning bugs and eating grass).  At about 9, my across-the-street neighbor Kim came over and handed me a belated birthday present - a book called The Dash.  If you've not read it, you should.  It's about the time between your date of birth and date of death - represented by a dash on your tombstone.  And Kim provided more than birthday wishes, but also a hug and a shoulder and support until I felt like I was ready to head upstairs for a much needed rest.  Butter and I slept like little logs.  This morning has me feeling like my whole life has changed.  I'm far from done with mommy.  In fact, I think now that the biggest struggles are over for us, we'll have a much better relationship.  Mommy is with people now in a social situation.  There are experienced staffers who are free with smiles and hugs for her, and who will see that she transitions well.  I'm going to call later to see how her first night went, and I join with Tom in being optomistic that she will adapt well.

OK, enough for now, but I'll keep you up to date as we progress.  I leave you with mommy and her chocolate ice cream.  Thanks friends for reading and for loving me.

Who's that baby? Or, Poop DeVille.

Do you remember the titles for the Rocky and Bullwinkle shows?  It always amazed me that I got the sarcasm and innuendo of that show even when I was a pretty little kid.  It wasn't really a kid show, if you know what I mean.  Anyway, let the title of the blog speak for itself today.

Mom has lost more ground in the last 10 days of so.  Not only bowel/bladder control, but she has begun speaking to someone who isn't there, both asking and answering questions, sometimes for hours on end.  I can sit and listen to her soliloquy for long periods, even move around the house, do dishes or fix lunch or scrub the commode, and she is transfixed by whomever it is in front of her.  She talks with the person about the little girl or baby who has appeared in her life and won't go home.  This girl somehow has attached herself to mom, and mom doesn't know how to send her away.  The girl is tied to Ed and to the person who gave her up.  I've been trying to figure out if there might be some thread of truth in this fantasy, but have been unable to connect any dots as yet.

I'm still convinced that mom should be placed, and the sooner the better.  I've told the brothers that I am not going to take any more afternoon shifts, as I can't face the sundowning and the crying jags that accompany it.  I'm happy to take any and all morning shifts, as it's a cakewalk compared to evening.  I'd like to write more about what's happening, but have concerns about what's going on in a legal sense.  Let me just say that what's going on now isn't what I want to happen.  Mommy needs 24/7 care, and I'm going to move ahead as quickly as I can to see that she gets it.

Those of you who are still reading, thanks for that.  I hold you all in the light, and I'm hoping you're holding me there too, but in candlelight please, as not much else would flatter the fatigue I'm showing today.  Be well, maybe I'll post some more tomorrow.

 

The balance is shifting

I can't say I wasn't warned that things would get pretty evil before this journey ends. I heard it from friends and I learned it doing my research. The reality is, you just aren't ever really prepared to come in and find a pile of feces on the kitchen floor. Or urine in the kitchen garbage can. You just can't believe that you actually have to position mommy so that you can wash her behind and put diaper ointment on a rash. Well, actually, you only have to do those things once to become a believer.

Yesterday, mom talked non-stop about her friend Ed. She's become convinced that somehow they got married this week and that they have an infant. She claimed that she didn't get any choice in the matter, that Ed just took it into his own hands to marry her and now feels free to just order her around and make her do whatever he wants to do. I'm convinced that she has been confusing Ed with Mike for some time now, and is not happy that when Mike does his "drive by visits", he simply tells her they are going for a ride and that she doesn't have any choice in the matter. That's sort of what hd does. Then he feeds her some fast food and drops her off after a couple of hours. It confuses her and makes her angry and agitated. On top of that, when I got there, she didn't have any underpants of any kind on, which tells me that Mike is not doing the things that need done if he is going to be part of this team. We'll address those things this weekend.

Anyway, the balance between good times and bad times is definitely shifting toward many more bad times than good. I spoke with Mike this morning for the first time since he left. I apologized for the harsh words I had said, and he told me there was no need to do so. Well, there was, on my part at least. We need to become better organized as a family if we're going to make any decisions together. After I spoke with Mike, I called Tom, because I couldn't remember what my shift was today. He said that we were all three of us suffering from Sometimer's Disease. Sometimes we can't remember our shifts, sometimes we can. That made me laugh, which is something none of us are doing much of anymore.

I guess I can end this post on one of the better times. While mom and I were driving to the downtown mall last week, I saw that she was fumbling in her purse and that she had fished out some sunglasses. When I glanced over at her, this is what I saw, and had to take a picture when she got out of the car. More later friends.

If I agreed with you, we'd both be wrong, or, the week from hell.

Hello friends, I thought I'd share some of the latest happenings from Momville. Brother Mike and I exchanged some really harsh words on Saturday before he left for a job in Alaska on Sunday. He had not said anything to me in advance of accepting this month- or six-week-long project, so I was more than a little unhappy.  My harsh words were "Why wait till tomorrow, why don't you get a flight out tonight and don't ever come back?" His were "You're blowing this situation way out of proportaion. Just hire somebody to take my place while I'm gone." Anyway, he is gone and Tom and I are going to have to keep things together until he gets back. Then we're going to move forward for placement for Shirley.

On Tuesday, I finally introduced the Depends line of underwear. Mom was pretty unhappy, but she finally agreed to wear them, and just in time, as she has begun to lost both bladder and bowel control. It embarasses her no end, but it is what it is.   

Wednesday, Tom arrived to find her lying sideways in her bed and in excruciating pain. She was crying that her back hurt, couldn't sit up or roll over without shrieking "It hurts, it hurts!" so we did the only thing we could do. We called 911 and the paramedics transported her to the local ER. 4 hours and several painful ex-rays later, the doctor said nothing was wrong with her, wrote her a prescription for high caliber Ibuprofen, and sent her home. In order to be sure that it didn't happen again, I decided to spend the night at her house. Talk about nightmare on Elm Street.

Mom went to bed at 8 and insisted I do the same. I was warned not to be bringing any men into the house and not to be going out anywhere. So I retired to my room with a book. A short time later, I began to hear her talking and crying to herself and to God. It seems she thought she had done something to cause her friend Ed to leave her. She was begging God to please let her have one more chance, that she would do anything if she could see him again. I could only take it for so long before I went and got her up. We sat on the couch wrapped in an afghan, she had some warm milk and I got her calmed and reassured that Ed would certainly be back.

At 11, I awoke to hear her shouting my name and coming down the hall toward my room. I got up, calmed her again, got her toileted and back in bed. At 3, we repeated that scenario. At 4, I awoke to hear her talking out loud again, and she was saying, "God, how am I going to get that woman out of my house? I am going to have to call the police! I want her GONE NOW!" What can I say? I got up, got dressed, gave her a hug and came home to fall into my own bed with Butterball. I won't be spending the night with her again any time soon.

So to end this whiny post, all I can say is that when Power of Attorney Mike returns from his working vacation, we will be finding mom a new home in a place that can offer better care than I can give her.  She deserves the best.  That's all for now, my best to you all.  I'll leave you with a picture of my parents in a far-away time . . .

 

 

Mom-isms

"I'm not as old as I used to be."  This mom-ism was uttered a couple of weeks ago as we sat on the swing out back.  Mom was lamenting the fact that she is unable to do some of the things she used to do.  As I usually do at these moments, I gave her a minute to think about what she'd said.  Sure enough,  10 seconds later, she said, "That's not what I meant."  But the more I thought about it, the more I came to see how true it is.  She isn't as old as she was a few years ago, at least not physically, emotionally, or mentally.  Her steps are increasingly unsteady, her language becoming garbled, her hearing, never the best, is almost totally gone.  She is beginning to live in an imaginary world where "those guys out back" are still coming in at night to rearrange her belongings or steal from her.  She will latch on to an idea and be unable to let it go.  Yesterday, as I came in, she and brother Mike were sitting together, and suddenly she was convinced that Mike had just purchased her home.  Her eyes filled with tears and she simply could not believe that she had signed away her treasured house to him.  It took some time to mover her on from this one.  This tells us, though, that she is aware enough of her tenuous hold on life to know that there will be changes coming.  It's a scary thing for all of us.

This picture was taken on May 21st, when we celebrated all of our May birthdays.  Mom was 78 on May 22nd, brother Mike and niece Michala and sister-in-law Julie also had birthdays in May.  The weather cooperated enough so that we were able to burn stuff on brother Tom's grill, and here you see mom receiving some presents.  The wind chime and the flowering plant were from Michael.  She got a few other things from family too, and as I sat there and enjoyed my family, I thought to myself that I hadn't gotten her anything except washed and dressed that day.  But it was as much remembered by mom as any of her other presents, I'm betting.

As the days and months roll by, I know that we, mom's family, are approaching a hard decision.  I've made the decision that I won't be moving in to live with mom.  My own sanity has always been a bit tenuous, and I think trying to take on full-time care would tip me over the edge.  Just recognizing that and letting my family know is a huge weight off my shoulders.  At best, me and mom living together would be temporary, as she is too heavy for me to lift, and a fall is pretty likely to occur at some point.  While I can still convince her to wash up with a washcloth and change her clothes regularly, she is unable to lift her legs high enough to step into the bathtub anymore.  Mommo has a doctor's appointment tomorrow to follow up on her last one 6 months ago, and I'm sure Dr. Miller will see the marked changes since then. 

For now, I think this will do for a June post.  I will try to do better, but I think living so closely with this situation sometimes makes it hard to write about.  I'll leave you with this mom-ism though.  As we were taking our little walk (shuffle) the other day, I suggested that mom unbutton her sweater.  Her response?  "I just buttered it a minute ago!" 

Thanks for reading friends!

Holding hands and holding on

OK, then, my friends are beginning to let me know that I've been slacking off on my blog.  I really appreciate the fact that they take the time to read it and leave comments and show that they care.  So, speaking of caring, I was thinking yesterday as mommo and I got out of my car to go into the grocery store how natural it's become for me to reach out and for her to reach back so that we are holding hands.  Moms and their little kids have done it for all time, it's just one of those instinctual things.  Not ever having had kids myself, it's funny to feel that instinct kick in for me and my mom.  It gives us both a feeling of connection and security.  Now if only I could get her to hold on to me or to the cart when we go to Walmart - she can disappear in less than 3 seconds if I'm not paying attention!

The picture above was taken at Easter time.  The man holding mommo's hand is the other half of the caregiving team, my brother Tom.  I see the instinct has kicked in for him as well. Tom has been such an important part of this journey for me and for mom.  We both depend on him to keep our spirits up. Tom and his wife Julie and I took a tour of a lovely assisted living facility in Conneautville called Rolling Fields last week.  Just like a cruise ship except it's anchored in a lovely rural setting.  Beautiful gardens and walkways and ponds outside, and birds and fish and 2 cats and a big Saint Bernard named Cooper inside.  Friendly staff, cheerful surroundings, and the dining room smells like Sunday dinner.  At about $200/night, it would be a lot cheaper to live on a cruise ship, but the cost didn't surprise or dismay us at all.  Mommo should be in surroundings like that with 24-hour care.  It's just that hurdle we have yet to jump with her.  And we know it's coming.

So, about mom.  She is still losing ground daily.  Some mornings she is so discouraged and confused that we find her in tears.  It takes a lot of love and effort to get her out of that particular groove and into the next thing, and we're getting good at it.  I think that once the weather improves a little more, it will be a better time for us all, as we'll be getting outside to walk a bit or sit on the swing in the back yard.  I know, though, that we won't get through another winter like this past one without making some big changes.  I'll keep you posted on what sorts of decisions we come to.  And I'll also keep holding all of you in the light.  Till next time.

all about perspective i guess

So if you've been reading this blog, you know that last fall, in October, my bff Nina had me out to her home along with a couple of women I hadn't met before.  One was a wounded bird that I took an immediate liking to, the other a Quaker lady who Nina thought I might not mesh with.  As it turned out, we all got along famously and had such fun.  We laughed and cooked and walked beaches and just had great girl fun.  Here's the perspective part.  One of the girls has just discovered that she might/probably has terminal pancreatic and liver cancer.  You know, just when you think life has handed you some shit, you get a reminder that someone else is fighting a harder battle.  And this is one that I don't know how to handle.  What does one say to a friend of distance who is going to row through a river of hell to find peace? I really would like to talk to her - but again, what do I say? 

We all have our crosses to bear, but the diagnosis and the accompanying struggles to find some sort of plan and some sort of peace must be mind boggling.  I am such a coward, if/when I get that diagnosis (and mine will likely be Alzheimer's) what does a girl do?  The coward part of me says that I don't want any pain for me or my family.  No tubes.  No respirators.  No surgeries that will only prolong things.  Give me medical marijuana.  Morphine, and the button needs to be in my hand please.  For the record, as I haven't gotten around to making a will, I'd like Michala to take care of Butterball.  I'd like to be creamated and scattered on a beach under a full moon.  If there is any money to be had, please let it go to Tom and his family.  Talk to George Doherty of ING.  Cripes, this is almost enough for me to remember that I'm a primary careviver to my terminal Alzheimer's mommo and that's going to be a rough journey for her and for all of us as well.

OK time to put this to bed.  I need to try to gain some perspective and try to find a way to talk with Carole about the mountains she has to climb.  With luck, I can help.  Love you all.

Chocolate chip cat food

So, last week as I went up the front steps to mom's house, the neighborhood cat (who lives down the street but wanders around from house to house looking for handouts) was sitting on her front stoop.  He had one ear back and was giving me what I considered a dirty look.  As I got closer, I saw what the problem was.  Mom had filled his dish with chocolate chips instead of meow mix!  Yikes, no wonder the dirty look!  Anyway, I swapped out the feed and he was happy.  Just another in a long line of new events . . .

Speaking of cats, mom has a favorite cat that she often thinks is real.  She talks with it and sleeps with it and pets and loves it.  This item was a gift from my former husband to me.  Upon receiving it, I had to tell him that I really didn't want him to buy me any more gifts that were made of real fur (in this case, probably rabbit or skunk), but thanked him just the same.  Mom pulled it out of former's house when my brother bought the property and was clearing it out.  Now this kitty lives and sleeps with her. 

I've been noticing lately that mom is really tired.  Yesterday she was still in bed when Tom got there at 9:15.  I arrived at 10:30 to find her still asleep and very reluctant to wake.  Much cajoling finally got her out of bed, face washed, pill taken, tea and toast for breakfast.  When her date arrived at 12:30, she was finally showing some signs of life.  And mom isn't the only one who is tired.  Tom has been sick, Mike is back in town and sick too.  That leaves the bulk of care to me this week, and I'm tired too.  I have trouble believing that this could actually go on for another 20 years, but it could.  I won't last that long though.

Well, time to gird my loins, get in the car, and go do a double shift.  I will have to squeeze the rubber chicken especially hard, I think, to get some laughter started.  Till next time friends!

Turning corners

I had a little scare with mombat yesterday.  On nice sunny days, she likes to get out and walk down her street a ways.  It's sort of a downhill slope to the stop sign, then we turn around and come back, and it's never been a problem before.  Yesterday, though, before we were halfway back to her house, she started leaning WAY forward, and breathing hard.  I got her to stop and put my arms around her, and she sagged against me with almost her full weight.  We went a little farther, and ran into a neighbor who got us a lawn chair.  She rested, and we made it home, but this is definitely a turning point, as she was taking that walk twice a day last fall without a problem.  She has an appointment with her doctor tomorrow, and I hope that we can come to some conclusions together about how best to work with mom and keep her motivating.  If she becomes immobile, I know we won't be able to continue to care for her at home.  She is too heavy for me to lift alone, and there are stairs to navigate at her house that won't be possible for us to use.

I think that mom is beginning to see that her situation is becoming precarious.  More and more often, she talks about "getting old".  Yesterday morning when I arrived, she had been talking with Tom about how she should "split things up", meaning who of the 4 of us should get what when the time comes.  We eventually convinced her that none of us needed anything, and that we should just leave things as they are.  I clearly recall about 20 years ago that she had her will drawn up, naming her executor and dividing equally her assets among the four of us.  It reminds me that I need to do the same thing.  I don't have much, but I know which of my brothers will get Butterball.

That being said, I am off to start my day and see that things go smoothly for mom today.  Bless you, friends, for reading and for thinking of me.  I may not be able to communicate with each of you on a regular basis, but I hope you know how much I appreciate your thoughts and prayers.  Right back atcha, friends!

Relaxing into the situation

Well, it's been a month since my last post, and for good reason.  This has been the longest coldest most frustrating winter for me and my mom and my brother Tom that we have ever known.  I am just now beginning to see some light at the end of my tunnel.  I noted something green trying to grow at the side of my house yesterday.  Weeds, no doubt, but I'll take any sign of spring I can get.

Lately, I've been evaluating some things and trying to make sense of my thoughts on them.  Mom, demented though she is, is still so independent and so insistent on staying in her home, that the thought of moving her or moving in with her puts everyone into a stressful tailspin.  So, on the one hand is her happiness - letting her stay alone in her house as she so badly wants - versus me moving in or moving her to a facility - which would mean what?  She would become upset, unhappy, angry, frustrated, and likely die in 6 months.  At this point in time, I've decided to relax into the situation and let things be.  If she should fall or become ill, as will eventually happen, then that event will lead us into a facility.  If not, she stays happy in her home.

Of course, none of this negates the fact that I need to spend a bunch of time with her every day.  And it's mostly good time, though sometimes makes for a long day for me.  Today, I was there at 10 a.m.  We had a pill and a cup of tea.  My tea was made in a clear cup, and she commented that it looked more like pee than tea.  And that set off a case of the giggles that lasted for most of an hour.  "Shut up and drink your pee!" 

After we finished our pee, I got her to succumb to washing her hair in the sink.  We then moved to the bathroom for what has become known to me as the "top and tail" cleaning.  I turn on the little heater, and bring in a clean bra and clean shirt.  She will take off the old ones and wash with a warm washcloth and will put deodorant on.  Then I help her get the top dressed.  Then I stand her up and she sheds jeans and underpants.  Today, as she handed me her panties, she looked me straight in the eye and said, "You might just want to burn these."  Then we both laughed hard.  She can still get onto the toilet herself, but I think the skill of wiping has gone south.  Not that big a deal as far as I'm concerned.  It took me a couple of times just to figure out that I needed to start the process on top and finish on the bottom so she wasn't washing her face with the same cloth she used on her hoo hoo.

So, the fact that I've come to terms with some of these things has made for a better day for me and for her, and a good sleep and a good conscience too.  Everything is as it should be today.

Thanks for all your support, friends, and you know who you are.  Offer me advice if you like, but remember that you aren't walking in Shirley's shoes today.  Or mine either.

Is it Spring yet?

It's been a while since I've posted, and a couple of friends have sent email to see if I still live and breathe.  I do.  Last post involved the caregiver we were trying to integrate.  Well, the one who was in the accident is still recovering.  We met a new woman, Linda, and it's been quite a trial getting her on board with mom.  Linda is kind and considerate and I think once she gets her feet under her she'll be really capable.  It turns out that Senior Helpers doesn't really do any "training" for their employees.  They learn as they go.  So, anyway, Tom and I have been persistent, and Linda is now coming 3 days a week for 2 hours in the afternoons.  This leaves me and Tom each a day off during the week, maybe two for Tom, since he also works and has a family.  Even the promise of one full day mom-free is a wonderful thing for me though, and I treasure those days.

I had the opportunity to leave town for 5 days at the end of January, and went to Orlando to hang out with Nina.  We had a great condo with a pool and game room and hot tub.  We drove to Daytona one day, went to Animal Kingdom one day, got a bit of color.  I kicked her butt in Wii bowling and she KO'd me in boxing several times.  We ate an entire gallon of chocolate ice cream in those five days, and devoured at least one pizza and a whole fried chicken among other things.  The day I got back, I came down with bronchitis, so was sick for a week and trying to deal with that and with mom was sort of a trial for me.  But we're through the worst now.

Mike, the wayward brother is due back in a couple of weeks.  Talk about keeping our expectations low.  I almost wish he'd just stay gone.  But, once he shows up, we're all going to sit down and make a decision.  That means that I want to place the mom in a facility so that we know she is cared for and safe 24/7.  There aren't going to be any ifs, ands, or buts.  It has to be for the peace of mind of all of us.

Let me leave you with a picture of Nina and me sitting with Walt Disney.  Bless you friends.  I hold you all in the light.

Keeping my expectations very very low

This has been pretty much a horrible week for mom and for Tom and me.  The caregiver we had hoped to bring in was sick last Wednesday, and we were notified by the company.  On Friday, mom and I watied for her to show up as scheduled, but no one came and no one called.  The company had received a doctor's excuse for the caregiver saying she wasn't to report to work on Friday, but the company (Senior Helpers, if you ever need to know) failed to notify us of that.  They were "so sorry" for the oversight.  On Monday morning, I got a call from Senior Helpers saying that the caregiver wouldn't be able to make it that day as scheduled, as she was needed to cover for another client.  She came Tuesday instead.  She was unable to come again until Friday.  On Friday morning, Senior Helpers called to say that our caregiver had been involved in a car accident and would need a few weeks to recover.  Is this God's way of saying something to us?  What?  That we shouldn't be looking for paid help?  That this particular woman wasn't the right one?  That we need to get Shirley into a facility? 

Personally, I think the latter is the one we need to think about.  Shirley is almost gone mentally.  She repeats and repeats and repeats, and she obsesses and obsesses and obsesses.  She doesn't want to be alone but she won't let anyone move in to help full-time.  She always says that if we put her in a home she will run away.  When I leave her in the afternoon, she often begs me to stay, but I'm not ready to start doing this without being able to bring Butterball into her house, and she won't have it.  Maybe it seems selfish that I'm putting my kitty ahead of my mom.  I just know that Butter has been my muse and my mews and pretty much the only comfort I get after 5 or 6 hours with the demented mombat.

I'm holding on daily, as is Tom.  I couldn't do this without the support and love of that brother.  I do have two other brothers.  One has seceeded from the family, the other has run away to take a job in California for a few months. 

I learned from my former husband (aka, the "ex-hole") that I need to keep my expectations low where other people are concerned, and that way I would never be disappointed.  Well, he certainly lived up to my low expectations.  And so has Senior Helpers.  And a couple of brothers who just aren't stepping up to the plate.  I sure hope that in time, I'll be able to raise those expectations for the people around me.  There are a very few, and you know who you are, who are already clearing the bar with lots of distance to spare.  Thanks very much to you. 

I'm back in my little house now after 6 hours with mom, my kitty is on my lap and my coffee is set up to go off at 7 a.m. and my electric blanket is on.  What more could a person ask? 

showers and screaming chickens

Wednesday, this week, I got to have lunch with my dad and stepmom.  We met at Perkins and piled into my car for a shopping trip at the big Salvation Army on the hill first, then lunched at the new Chop House.  We had a successful shopping trip, a great lunch, and a wonderful visit.  I love seeing them and they provide much needed mental support for me and Tom as we give care to mom.

Tom had morning shift with mom, and because our new caregiver called in sick, I told him I would be there by 3 to help mom get ready for date night.  First, let me say that our attempt to hire a caregiver for a couple hours every other day so far hasn't been much of a success with mom.  She resents the stranger in her house and insists that she is FINE WITHOUT HER.  Tom and I plan to perservere though, because it will eventually allow both him and me to get an occasional full day off.

So, I got there at around 2 to the usual "Where have you been?" query.  And then things settled into what has become a pretty ok routine.  I reminded mom that Ed was coming by at 5 and that it would be a good idea if she would let me help her pick out some clean clothes and get her washed up.  Surprisingly, she was pretty docile about getting into the shower, and then we put the hot rollers into her hair and got her dressed in her new Christmas sweater.  We made a cup of tea and she allowed me to set up the camera for a shot of us before Ed arrived for her date.  She looks great, doesn't she?

Those of you who have been or know caregivers also know that laughter is one of the ways that we survive this horrific disease.  So, today, Tom had the day off and he and I planned a trip to Erie to the Milcreek Mall so he could return some Levi's jeans.  I stopped by mom's, asked her if she wanted to join us, and after some deliberation (it's so COLD out there, and snowing too!) made her some lunch and told her I'd be back in a few hours.  The decision to stay home where it was warm and familiar and comfortable versus coming out in the cold and being with people was hard for her.  In the end, she decided on staying home. 

Tom and I did the jeans exchange, then wandered through the mall.  I hadn't been there for some time, and we had a good time looking around, having lunch in the food court, swinging out once or twice for a smoke.  The best part of the trip was when we stopped at Spencer Gifts and I found this "Screaming Rubber Chicken".  From the first squeeze till just a few minutes ago, I have not laughed so much or so hard since I can't remember when.  This thing lets out a bloodcurdling scream that had me choking as we walked through the mall, and had Tom walking on the opposite side of the hallways.  I've decided my chicken is going to live in my car and that just before I go into mom's house every time, I will squeeze all his air out and let him scream me into uncontrollable laughter.  I know, I'm a sick puppy.  But we do what we have to do, no?

Blessings to all my friends.  Holding you in the light.  Hold me there too, please.