Mom & Me Five Archive

...you'll note, if you visit The Dailies, she had an active night, so I'm letting her sleep in and checking on her. I'm not sure what initiated the water shed but, obviously, it was necessary, so I'm grateful for small, mysterious favors. Keeps her off meds longer.
    I've been catching up, besides the above, at Movies, Mom & Me.
    Despite the stress free visit with MPS that seemed to satisfy both of us from a relationship standpoint, and Mom, as well, some days prior to even planning this visit, through this morning, a small, still voice will well up inside my head and whisper, "Just four days, you just need four days..."
    Don't ask me where the "four days" comes from, although it could be the amount of time I would need to feel as though I was truly alone and Mom was in truly trustworthy care so that I could shut the phone off, etc., then revel a little, then begin whatever projects come to mind with abandon, eat only what and when I want, arise and retire when I want, smell my own shit more than my mother's shit, start stuff that I probably won't be able to finish for awhile but, what the hell, that's the story of my life, right now, and I look forward to the aftermath...anyway, all that, and beginning to feel as though I welcome our companionship, again would take, I think, four days, wouldn't you think? At least my internal analyzers seem to think so. Really, people, elder care should never have been allowed to get to the place where caregivers are heard to say, "Well, at my worst, I'm still better than a nursing home."
    Just shouldn't have ever been allowed to happen.
    One of the snippets from Living Old that has been haunting me is [quoted from this interview]:

... Even within the pool of success stories, it tears people apart. It tears families apart. We've cared for lots of people whose children have divorced or separated temporarily because of the need to take care of an aging mother or father and the impact on their kids and the impact on their jobs. So the stress comes from every conceivable direction.
    I don't really know what the scope of it is, but I imagine that it's huge and that as a society we've chosen to completely ignore it, just because it's easier to ignore it and pretend that it's gone away.

In Answer to the Question:  Would you feel a failure if you had to put your parents in a nursing home?
    I wouldn't do it, no matter what it took. It's easy for me to say; my wife's not sitting here. But I think she feels the same way about her parents. I can't think of a reason in the world that they would have to go live in a nursing home. I can't think of anything in our lives now that we wouldn't sacrifice for the sake of their being able to stay with us. ... For the sake of being able to stay around and stay together, and [to] send a message to my kids, there's nothing that we wouldn't sacrifice in order to have them be with us.

In Answer to the Question:  What message would your children get from that?
    The message is, people are important. Has nothing to do with being old; has nothing to do with being Grandma and Grandpa or whatever; doesn't even have anything to do with family. It's just that people are important. And the people who need help the most are the people who are the most important. But it's a hard message to sell to kids in a society that doesn't really believe in that.

    There were other snippets which I can't locate that have been haunting me, as well, but, lately, of course, it has been primarily the mention, above of how the question of what to do about Mom and Dad tears families apart, even when something is done with Mom and Dad, even when "the right thing" is done by Mom and Dad. This seems to be acknowledged over and over. I think it comes as a surprise to all of us to whom this happens. I never expected this to happen in my born-into family and I never, never expected to become the instigator of dissension and scarily expressed frustration. Once it happened, though, I looked back and thought, oh, yeah, I get it, now, I see how I got here. That's when the real hard work, begins, though. That's when you have to figure out whether being "here" is legitimate, is worth it to you and how you want to proceed from whatever your decisions are. Considering that all relationships change over time, for instance, do you see the changes percolating in your familial relationships good, bad or neither? What are some of those changes? How do they affect your identity? The identity of the family members? Be honest. BE HONEST. BE HONEST!!!
    And, anyway, what difference does it make? So we have no goddamned idea as a society what is happening to our old...I continue, everyday, to be surprised to discover new facts about those of us who are living with our old. And, somehow or another, everyone gets taken care of, "as it should", hmmm...well, you can see the predicament.
    At any rate, I didn't foresee trouble on the Family Horizon. I didn't look at long standing relationships with an eye to how they might change; not even my very long standing relationship with my mother. I figured "we" could handle anything. And, well, the motto is, we have, in our eccentric ways as a family.
    I'd still be doing this if I had been more intro- and extraspective, I'm sure, but I might not be dancing the tightrope of family volatility, either. However, I'm now philosophical about this. And contemplative. And, continually noisy, I know. About this.
    I have no idea how today is going to shake out. I'll let you know...
    ...later.

...from everyone's point of view, I think. MPS was enchanted with the "winter" weather up here. Snow was threatened for this morning. A little fell. Now it's gone. Thoroughly disappointing for me. Awe inspiring for her. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm always surprised and grateful when I see our property through the eyes of others. Paradise is, indeed, just as easy to get used to as any other place.
    MPS was surprised that my mother was "delighted" to see her. We talked a little about this. I joked that, because people don't see Mom that often, everyone thinks she's become that old lady that all family dramas contain. No chance, nor any such luck.
    Since the storm was coming in yesterday afternoon, even though it didn't amount to much, it kept the atmospheric pressure bouncing, which it continues today. Thus, although Mom was, indeed, "delighted" and even more, that MPS was here, she also kept up with her "I'm feeling old" sleep schedule. She is doing the same today. MPS and I debated whether she should awaken Mom to say good-bye. We both decided against it. After a quick peek in on her, I didn't think she'd even register an attempted good-bye.
    She mentioned the MPBIL is concerned about making sure he sees Mom "before she dies". I understand this, although, frankly, I can't remember ever feeling toward any of my relatives that I have a need to seem them between "now" and "when they die". I'm very familiar with others having this feeling, though, and some in connection with Mom. I often wonder what these visits accomplish for the one needing the visit, and, of course, if they accomplish anything for the one whose presence is sought. What do you say to someone you knew many years ago but don't know anymore?
    Despite the consequences, whatever they were, I don't recall being raised around much of a "see 'em before they die" attitude toward relatives, even though our relationships with all our relatives were woven of distance and intrigue. You know the type:

• Did you hear about the cousin, yes, that's right, not a niece, a cousin of hers who plays hill billy music on the guitar and whose parents are classically trained master musicians?
• You remember those cousins from Guam who don't know anything about school spirit? The hippies?
• Did you hear about her cousin's twin? That's right, died a few days after birth. Makes you wonder...

    All I remember is being terribly curious about the relatives, hearing stories about them and accepting either the chance to visit or the inability to launch visits. When extended relatives died, the shock was that I wasn't sure who it was who'd just expired. I think I assumed, since we didn't have more than a few clues about who are relatives were, we accepted their deaths, if necessary, with the same remove as the death of a school classmate of whom you know but whose path through the school you never crossed. It never occurred to me that the same circumstance would surround once immediate relatives to whom has been passed the shroud of old age. I always find it amusing when any of our extended relatives make observations or ask questions that reveal that they expected Mom to be someone else and to think of them as someone else, probably a stranger. I know this is true of some cases of dementia, often those cases nodded into being as Alzheimer's. But, not all dementias are progressive and not every Demented One loses her identity before she dies. We would know this if we knew our elders better.
    The Mom's up. Gotta go.
    More...
    ...later.

...and figure out how to manipulate widget/skin templates. I've launched a new site to an offhanded purpose, offhanded to this site, actually. The gods only know how far I'll get with it. It has to do with surveying news on aging, picking out odd stories, linking to them and commenting on them.
    Vacation, for me, implies starting a project, learning something new, so, since I'm on vacation, this was perfect. I'm pleased (just a tick from being very pleased) with what I've done with the template. Anyway, that'll be coming up soon.
    And, we will be having company, either beginning tomorrow night, late, or early Thursday morning. Very laid back company. I'm not going to even worry about cleaning any more than I usually do. Well, maybe I'll clean a little more. It'll be nice. Company will be leaving on our predicted Rain/Snow day. Good day for transitions.
    Mom has slept a lot today. I haven't stood in her way. I've wondered, out loud, if I should be standing in her way but she says, "No, I'm just taaard." We've had periods like this, before. Although I expect it will be during one of these probably extended "taaard" period that she will die, I don't think it'll be this one. Her lethargy has fit in well with my vacationing.
    We read each other well. We make good companions, if companions we must have.
    Later.

...over at The Dailies. I try to cover one week per day, usually packing it under my belt in "the morning". It is becoming fairly rote but the publication time lag remains annoying. Certainly, after having gotten as far as I have, I have no [more, anyway] delusions about it being of particular interest to anyone but me. I would like to think my sisters peek in on it but without even familiarizing myself with the stats, I'm sure they don't, unless directed.
    So, as I meant to say, my days, lately, have enjoyed a systematic approach. Mom seems to enjoy it, too. I'm not getting her moving as much as I'd like, but she's up and alert more than I expect, and probably will be through the end of this week and the beginning of next, as we catch up on The L Word, counting down to the new season. I noticed, last night, she continues to be riveted by this show. She does not flinch during the sex scenes. She doesn't flinch during anything else, either, although the breast cancer story line from last season became tiresome for her. Me, too, for that matter. And, it seems, unnecessarily harsh, according to recent statistics.
    Hold on, let me check on The Mom.
    Ah. No. Whatever that was, it wasn't Mom shuffling. Maybe a wood squirrel running around through our interior insulation. I'm sure they've all moved in, by now. The cats spend lots of time, especially in the evening, listening to or walls, sometimes weeping.
    So, I've had a very systematic day, today. I'm considering another cup of coffee. I haven't decided what to do about awakening Mom. Officially, I should do this at 1245. But, I don't know. I just checked in on her. She's wound up in her covers breathing deeply. I'm still feeling a little like I'm on vacation. In fact, I actually have opened the blinds to allow some of the magnificently warming sun on my face and I'm typing a little blind. Sun glasses. Hold On.
    Better. Sort of.
    We have movies to watch and, while I'm in the mood for movies, we also must do Mom's hair and, for some reason, I've been avoiding it. When I first cut her hair short(er), we washed and set it every day, experimenting. I finally came up with a combination of products and a jaunty, cemented hairstyle that she likes, it makes her think, from the front, that she's wearing her hair back in a french twist, it's very easy for me to do, she isn't allergic to the cement, and, anyway, we can, and did, wash it every day, which helps, immensely. My mother has what I guess I'd have to call "old scalp syndrome": Easily irritated, itchy, a lot, takes on a peculiar odor, not pleasant but not unpleasant, but can become, well, ripe, to say the least, after a couple of days of non-attendance. So, we've got the routine down to about an hour and a half and I was performing it flawlessly, then vacation set in and we haven't done it in a few days. Maybe three. Definitely needs to be done today. But, I haven't wanted to touch her for that long, that intently and with that much attention. I'm feeling so removed. The odor, today, will probably drive me to do it, anyway, but, well, there you have it.
    Ah! Rain and Snow (our area will be snow) showers for Friday. I hope these don't evaporate. Perhaps I will be vacationing, with modifications, through Friday.
    Mom is so enjoying herself she seems drunk, most of the time. No, she's not mini-stroking out. She's just thrilled to be allowed to stay up, sleep, eat and move when she wants without me hounding her, at all. As well, when I'm in vacation mood I'm an excellent movie companion and she gets lots of popcorn, always with extra butter. I've discovered, not at all to my chagrin, to my delight, in fact, and with some relief, that, left to her own devices, she doesn't sleep more than she does when I'm harassing her. She eats a well-balanced diet, on her own terms. Her BG regulates itself well based on her (silently coached) choices and habits. I still think she could stand to move more, but we do Sittercize at least three times a week and I see to it that every effort to move on her part is followed and closely monitored, making it into a mini-exercise session. I am concerned that her legs are weakening. Interesting, two, I noted this to her the other night when rubbing down her legs and asked her if it bothered her.
    "No," she said.
    "Do you mind," I asked her, "if I encourage movement a little more than you'd like, just because I definitely mind you becoming less mobile?"
    "No," she said, again. "Just keep it within reason." She cocked her head and gave me the Sherlock Holmes eye.
    Which goes to say, if I can get her moving, fine. If not without driving us both insane, well, we'll deal with that when we come to it.
    A business trip I need to make: The library construction is finished. I need to go there, renew our cards, etc., and ask about their story hours and Mom's participation in them. I went into their website and it looks like all their imagined programs are up and running. We haven't been to the library in over two years, mostly because of the uncertainty of the satellite libraries while construction continued in earnest over at the main library. Mom likes to go to the library, though, and I think she'd enjoy story hours. I'd certainly enjoy being let loose in the library, unless I find the "Family Storytime" interesting. I can always find something to do in a library. Mom likes to people watch in libraries.
    We still have our tree up. I turn it on every night. We're both conscious of it, comment on it, watch it. Every year we have new ornaments. This year's are two cloisonne hummingbirds. Even when I don't keep up with the feeder, we get lots of hummingbirds up here spring through fall. Then, the hardier dunce birds (my name) and scrub sparrows come in for the winter kill.
    I feel like I'm letting something slip away. I hope it's not something I'll need...
    ...later.

...although, as soon as I became conscious of it, I realized I've been doing this, just below awareness, for some days.
    Mom and I were watching a program this evening, what doesn't matter, but, if you must know, it was the replaying of the last season of The L Word, to review before the new season begins next Sunday, I think. As I was watching two of the characters interact I watched the more noticeable character's face dissolve before me into what the actor playing the character will look like in her 70's, maybe 80's, depending. As I continued to watch the program I snuck up on myself for purposes of observation and noticed that I am unfailingly doing this with every character. If the character/actors are already old, I dissolve them into what they looked like before they accomplished advanced aging. Despite the transformation, I noticed, as well, I was viewing all the stages at the same time; sort of a multi-dimensional video.
    It was strange to notice myself doing something like that. It made me gasp. As I thought about this activity, I wondered how, and when, I started it. I successfully remember having put my mother through these types of observational phasings, especially when she is reminiscing about a particular period of her life. My mind will transform what I see of her into who she was at the time of the incident. I'm not sure how long I've been doing this with my mother. I know I haven't been doing it with other people all that long. Maybe a few of months.
    It's not really disturbing to me that I'm doing this. What is vaguely disturbing is the accompanying overwhelming sense of the ephemerality of life.
    Ah, well. I'm still on vacation, by the way.
    Later.

I feel as though I am alone in the house when Mom's sleeping and when she awakens I am startled that she's hear and I must put aside whatever I'm doing. I'm not yet having an unpleasant reaction to these disturbances. I must say, though, it is as though I am having hours-long periods of returning to Normal Time. It's refreshing.
    Yet another indication; when I am begrudgingly taking time, I usually end up doing nothing of consequence because I am afraid to start anything, for fear it will be interrupted. On deep cover vacation, though, I notice that I am full of ideas and beginnings and continuances and endings. Their interrupted/interruptive status is beside the point and barely noticed.
    I would like to figure out how to incorporate this "deep cover vacation" status into my habitual living patterns as my mother's companion. Maybe I already have and I just haven't taken much advantage of the ability.

    Change of Topic:  I was directed, by Patty Doherty, to an article published recently (just yesterday, I guess) in the NYT. As I quickly read the article to a purpose, I noticed that the article mentions that there are approximately 15,000,000 adults in the U.S. attempting to render some form of in-home care to their elder relatives. I quickly did the math: That's about 4%. Compared with the statistic from some years ago at Caregiver.com that 54,000,000 of us are caregivers to the elderly and infirm, I assume the 4% statistic is only those of us who are attempting to keep our elders "at home". That sounds about right to me. That would be about 28% of all caregivers in the U.S. who would be intensely involved with in-home care of a related Ancient One.
    Still, where are these caregivers? They aren't on the net. Why not? Plainly, we're too god damned busy. Why am I not too busy to keep me off the Net? Well, I have a facility for the Net, for one. And for web publishing. Secondly, I consider this part of the work of taking care of my mother and extending her legacy, so I make time for it. That time comes from what others would consider "personal time". In essence, keeping up with what I'm doing with my mother and how she's doing as she lives through her last years extends her personal legacy and brilliantly plays into some of my own personal interests. I consider it a damn good use of my "personal time".
    The article's intention was, rather, to highlight the financial plight of the elderly and their children as they attend to their parents. The story is chiefly from the baby boomer perspective: What are we going to do when we get old after we bankrupt ourselves tending to our parents? The current tragedy is that we are still struggling for inclusive solutions, which will eventually involve social policy, which will also be outdated when we become elderly. The thing is, Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid worked fine for our parents' parents. They are working marginally, with generous supplements for our parents...okay, in some cases, okay, many cases, clearly failing our parents. It's possible that none of these programs will be in existence when you and I get old. It is also possible that the boomer generation may be the first in a long time that doesn't outlive its parents, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is social health policy and the failing health institution in this country.
    And, that's another thing. We need to stop calling everything vaguely connected with aging an "epidemic". We need to calm down, drop the hysteria. Believe me, that's not going to help. One faith I have is that humans do seem to have the gift of dealing, both through and with, situations. Somehow, many of us boomers will live through old age and discover whether our parents' experiences were of any use to us, at all.

    It's almost 1400. I am debating whether to awaken Mom. Her light went out twice last night, the first time recorded over at The Dailies as "0120". She arose, though with the half hour, went to the bathroom, then turned on her bed lamp and proceeded to read until about 1430, I think it was. I was in bed before she turned off her lamp. The sudden hall darkness awoke me and I looked at the clock.
    I'll be roasting bone in ribs, today. We'll probably eat late tonight. Potato salad won over because I don't see me making it to the grocery, even though I understand they're open.

    The first day of a new year always seems, is, I guess, such a quiet period for me. As though mufflers have been applied to it, or, maybe, accumulated white noise from the previous years stripped away so that, for a day, at least, true silence, pregnant silence, reigns.
    I'll let her sleep in. For awhile, anyway. Maybe today will be a serendipitous day.
    Later.

    At 2355 we were both surprised to find that Mom was still up. That's when I realized what day is was and that we had a golden opportunity to "rabbit rabbit" in the new year.
    We ended up not having a special dinner tonight. Well, I should say, Mom had a special dinner. I showed her the curious, chocolately/creamy mousse type dessert I picked up and she opted for that for dinner. Her BG looked fine so I could see no reason not to serve it up for her. Slicing into it, though, on her behalf, was too much for me. I offered her an eye-popping piece, ate some cheese and crackers and surreptitiously threw the rest of the dessert away. She'll never remember it, except that she thought it was "luscious" and "the perfect dinner". She's easy when it comes to sweets, though.
    She kind of sort of collapsed this afternoon in her bedroom after her nap. Since I didn't hear a thump, when I saw her on the floor, from the way she was sitting I got the impression she sort of faded to the floor. She was alert, not hurt. I brought in a chair for her to use to steady herself as we brought her up, after a short, oxygen infused rest. Actually, she insisted on doing the entire upsy-daisy thing herself. It was slow, but not painful to watch. I offered support here and there but she did it. I was surprised. The Old Gray Mare Is Better Than I Thought She Was is the name of that song, I guess.
    Anyway, this evening she got involved in musicals on one of the cable channels, the recent ones about Bobby Darin and Cole Porter, the second one, especially, excellent, both of which are in our collection and we watch fairly often. Anyway, her eyes started to droop during the Cole Porter one, so I reminded her that we own it and promised to cue it up for her "soon".
    On that note, she headed for bed.
    I'm not really worried about the collapse in her bedroom. I realize it is a signal that I need to be ever more watchful, but, at least, she relaxes when she falls. That's to her and my credit. She might be a little sore tomorrow, but wasn't at all tonight.
    So, anyway, we're doing another year, which we've informally decided to call Mom's Ninetieth Year, since she is living out her Ninetieth as I type. Tonight we agreed that, somehow, Ninety sounds younger than Eighty-nine.
    Hmmm. Well. I'm tired. It's a good tired.
    Later.