Saturday, April 21, 2007
Up all night, sleep all day...
...last night Mom and I were party animals. About the time I began writing the previous post, Mom emerged from her bedroom, leaned over the banister into the living room and announced, "I can't sleep!"
Lately, her days have begun and ended late, anyway, so I wasn't completely surprised. We decided to make a night of it, which included hot cocoa with peppermint extract for hers, raspberry liqueur for mine, some miscellaneous chatting, a couple games of Sorry (until I got sick of being beat) and a movie, Sleepless in Seattle. She went to bed about 0430 (I'm going to try to arouse her in just a few minutes). I went to bed around 0500. A good time was had by all. My favorite thing about nights like this is that they excite in Mom a feeling of decadence that enlivens her spirit.
I'm mentioning our sojourn into the wee hours, though, to a particular purpose. I've been noticing, lately, that her memory for previously viewed shows and movies seems to be improving, which is a surprise. I can't think of why; our routine hasn't changed in quite awhile. Last night was a good example. She didn't initially retire until all the available M*A*S*H shows on TV had been watched (there's a spate of them in the evening up through 0100). During the second to the last one, which was an early episode in which a bomb must be defused, as the defusing began Mom suddenly said, "I know what comes out of that bomb. I've seen this before." She's seen all of the episodes before, of course, but most of the time she seems unaware that her viewings are all repeats. Then, much, much later, while we were watching the above mentioned movie, about a half hour into it she turned to me and said, "We've seen this before, haven't we?" We've seen it about a million times before...it's one of my favorites and I can always count on Mom thoroughly enjoying it.
I paused the movie. "Yeah," I admitted, "we have. Would you rather watch something else [which we've probably seen but which she may not remember seeing]?"
"Did I like this movie when we watched it before?"
How curious, I thought, that she'd remember seeing it but not remember whether she liked it. "Oh, yes," I responded, as enthusiastically as I could, "we both love it. You especially like the parts with the son."
"Well, then," she said, "I'm not tired, lets continue."
I was reminded of the mention, in the recent post about Kitty's Carlise, of Kitty's facility with song lyrics. My mother is good with those, too. I turn a fair number of our conversations into bits of old songs, most of which I learned from her. I usually remember only a few lines of lyrics, but she remembers them all. Her memory is particularly acute when I make up lyrics, which I do a lot to fit the circumstances at the moment. Although she enjoys my creativity, she is always careful to butt in and sing the entire "corrected" song.
I know that Ancient memory can often be frustrating for caregivers, as well as the Ancient One, but the surprising perambulations that occur can also be a source of intrigue and delight. I think, now, after our experience last night and our experiences with song lyrics, that part of the trick of negotiating these with as little frustration as possible and, maybe, some pleasure, as well, is to forgo criticism and go with the moment. It even occurred to me that the more frustrated the caregiver becomes, the more likely it is that the Ancient One will also become frustrated and caught in an irritating repetitive loop. I can't prove this, of course, and I know my experience with my mother's memory is completely dependent on her eccentric mental circumstances, which seem quite a bit kinder than those of many more severely demented Ancient Ones, but, well, it's a thought...
I hear rustling in her bedroom. Better get cracking. It'll be interesting to see how far into the evening today extends.
Lately, her days have begun and ended late, anyway, so I wasn't completely surprised. We decided to make a night of it, which included hot cocoa with peppermint extract for hers, raspberry liqueur for mine, some miscellaneous chatting, a couple games of Sorry (until I got sick of being beat) and a movie, Sleepless in Seattle. She went to bed about 0430 (I'm going to try to arouse her in just a few minutes). I went to bed around 0500. A good time was had by all. My favorite thing about nights like this is that they excite in Mom a feeling of decadence that enlivens her spirit.
I'm mentioning our sojourn into the wee hours, though, to a particular purpose. I've been noticing, lately, that her memory for previously viewed shows and movies seems to be improving, which is a surprise. I can't think of why; our routine hasn't changed in quite awhile. Last night was a good example. She didn't initially retire until all the available M*A*S*H shows on TV had been watched (there's a spate of them in the evening up through 0100). During the second to the last one, which was an early episode in which a bomb must be defused, as the defusing began Mom suddenly said, "I know what comes out of that bomb. I've seen this before." She's seen all of the episodes before, of course, but most of the time she seems unaware that her viewings are all repeats. Then, much, much later, while we were watching the above mentioned movie, about a half hour into it she turned to me and said, "We've seen this before, haven't we?" We've seen it about a million times before...it's one of my favorites and I can always count on Mom thoroughly enjoying it.
I paused the movie. "Yeah," I admitted, "we have. Would you rather watch something else [which we've probably seen but which she may not remember seeing]?"
"Did I like this movie when we watched it before?"
How curious, I thought, that she'd remember seeing it but not remember whether she liked it. "Oh, yes," I responded, as enthusiastically as I could, "we both love it. You especially like the parts with the son."
"Well, then," she said, "I'm not tired, lets continue."
I was reminded of the mention, in the recent post about Kitty's Carlise, of Kitty's facility with song lyrics. My mother is good with those, too. I turn a fair number of our conversations into bits of old songs, most of which I learned from her. I usually remember only a few lines of lyrics, but she remembers them all. Her memory is particularly acute when I make up lyrics, which I do a lot to fit the circumstances at the moment. Although she enjoys my creativity, she is always careful to butt in and sing the entire "corrected" song.
I know that Ancient memory can often be frustrating for caregivers, as well as the Ancient One, but the surprising perambulations that occur can also be a source of intrigue and delight. I think, now, after our experience last night and our experiences with song lyrics, that part of the trick of negotiating these with as little frustration as possible and, maybe, some pleasure, as well, is to forgo criticism and go with the moment. It even occurred to me that the more frustrated the caregiver becomes, the more likely it is that the Ancient One will also become frustrated and caught in an irritating repetitive loop. I can't prove this, of course, and I know my experience with my mother's memory is completely dependent on her eccentric mental circumstances, which seem quite a bit kinder than those of many more severely demented Ancient Ones, but, well, it's a thought...
I hear rustling in her bedroom. Better get cracking. It'll be interesting to see how far into the evening today extends.
Sort of a shameless plug...
...I guess. Partly for myself, partly for the area in which I live, Prescott, AZ, partly for Coyote Community Radio Theater. If you're a fairly regular reader you know that every once in awhile I go into my site stats to see what search terms (there are still a lot of Oedipal men out there, by the way; I wish I knew how search bots figure that this site is what they're looking for) and unfamiliar off site links lead people here.
Yesterday I noticed an unfamiliar link, clicked into it and was treated to a very, very pleasant surprise. I'm listed on Coyote Radio Theater's Local Blogging page.
I have a vague memory of applying to be linked some time ago, after having stumbled across the "station's" site through Granny J's Walking Prescott journal, which is among my outgoing links in its own section. Once I applied, I got busy (as usual) and forgot about it. Yesterday, though, I clicked in and, there's my mom, in all her my-favorite-picture-of-her splendor, and a write-up that made me feel so proud I'm still bursting. Who ever checked out my blog before writing it up thinks Mom's and my story is "compelling"!
Prescott, per population, isn't actually a small town, anymore, like it was when we lived here in 1973 and when my maternal grandparents lived here. They're probably rolling over in their neat little graves in the cemetery just north of Yavapai Medical Center because of the astonishing growth, especially within the last 10 years, and, as well, because of what eventually became of their cottage-house, surrounded, at one time, by huge, sturdy shade trees, at 119 Garden Street. Prescott very much retains a small town feel, though, which is why I love it. If you find small towns fascinating, you might want to check out some of the other journals listed on that page, especially the political ones. You haven't lived until you've experienced politics in a small town, especially when it involves a small town newspaper, over which both political journals obsess, which is pure delight for me. One of them, Courier Watch, even notes how many words the Prescott Courier cuts out of articles reprinted from other sources! I find this intriguing because when I used to regularly read Sunday papers from all over the country, the Courier's marked talent for doing this used to irritate me, especially since I also used to subscribe to Casper, Wyoming's, (I have this "thing" for Casper, Wyoming, even though I've never lived there, so, please, don't ask) Star Tribune and they rarely cut reprinted, syndicated articles.
Coyote Radio Theater's Podcasts are howling (pun intended) comedy productions. And, there's a link to a panoramic view of Prescott's courtyard square, which is largely responsible for Prescott's eccentric atmosphere. When I talk about Mom and me walking at the courtyard square downtown, visiting the shops around the square, that's where we are. The view was taken in winter, so the trees are bare, which is moderately unfortunate, as the area is in it's glory when the trees are in leaf, but if they were you wouldn't be able to see the shopping area which includes the (in)famous Whiskey Row on Montezuma Street. The square is also where the ubiquitous weekend craft fairs take place late spring through early fall.
Anyway, although it may seem like a small thing, being linked to a small town, local site, I gotta tell ya, it's the best write-up this site has ever gotten and I love the company I'm in over there. That's Prescott, folks, and, as well, that's Mom & Me in Prescott.
Yesterday I noticed an unfamiliar link, clicked into it and was treated to a very, very pleasant surprise. I'm listed on Coyote Radio Theater's Local Blogging page.
I have a vague memory of applying to be linked some time ago, after having stumbled across the "station's" site through Granny J's Walking Prescott journal, which is among my outgoing links in its own section. Once I applied, I got busy (as usual) and forgot about it. Yesterday, though, I clicked in and, there's my mom, in all her my-favorite-picture-of-her splendor, and a write-up that made me feel so proud I'm still bursting. Who ever checked out my blog before writing it up thinks Mom's and my story is "compelling"!
Prescott, per population, isn't actually a small town, anymore, like it was when we lived here in 1973 and when my maternal grandparents lived here. They're probably rolling over in their neat little graves in the cemetery just north of Yavapai Medical Center because of the astonishing growth, especially within the last 10 years, and, as well, because of what eventually became of their cottage-house, surrounded, at one time, by huge, sturdy shade trees, at 119 Garden Street. Prescott very much retains a small town feel, though, which is why I love it. If you find small towns fascinating, you might want to check out some of the other journals listed on that page, especially the political ones. You haven't lived until you've experienced politics in a small town, especially when it involves a small town newspaper, over which both political journals obsess, which is pure delight for me. One of them, Courier Watch, even notes how many words the Prescott Courier cuts out of articles reprinted from other sources! I find this intriguing because when I used to regularly read Sunday papers from all over the country, the Courier's marked talent for doing this used to irritate me, especially since I also used to subscribe to Casper, Wyoming's, (I have this "thing" for Casper, Wyoming, even though I've never lived there, so, please, don't ask) Star Tribune and they rarely cut reprinted, syndicated articles.
Coyote Radio Theater's Podcasts are howling (pun intended) comedy productions. And, there's a link to a panoramic view of Prescott's courtyard square, which is largely responsible for Prescott's eccentric atmosphere. When I talk about Mom and me walking at the courtyard square downtown, visiting the shops around the square, that's where we are. The view was taken in winter, so the trees are bare, which is moderately unfortunate, as the area is in it's glory when the trees are in leaf, but if they were you wouldn't be able to see the shopping area which includes the (in)famous Whiskey Row on Montezuma Street. The square is also where the ubiquitous weekend craft fairs take place late spring through early fall.
Anyway, although it may seem like a small thing, being linked to a small town, local site, I gotta tell ya, it's the best write-up this site has ever gotten and I love the company I'm in over there. That's Prescott, folks, and, as well, that's Mom & Me in Prescott.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Not to offset the Virginia Tech massacre, but...
...Kitty Carlisle died on Tuesday. She was 96. She died, at home, after after a battle with pneumonia which began in late December, 2006.
Strange, but her death caught my heart, probably because of my memory of the immediately previous link which goes to a post, written over a year ago, in which I talked about Ms. Carlisle's extraordinary continuance of her life and career. The name of the one woman show mentioned in that post was apparently changed to "Here's to Life", much more appropriate, I think.
Kitty Carlisle had?, has?, which would be correct?, her own website. I found it while I was searching for her last interview, just to see if it was filled with that same "gosh, gee whiz" quality that seems representative of her style of living. Although the link to that interview, which was published by the St. Louis Dispatch, is no longer available, her website also directs visitors to another article published at the beginning of last year, an enjoyable review of her stage show, her career and her life, with a touch of interview thrown in. The eighth paragraph into the article begins with this intriguing statement, "By her own airy admission, Hart can't remember names anymore, even those of her own grandchildren. But song lyrics, even new ones, still stick in her head." Once again, I can't help but remark, what is dementia, and, as well, what differences does it make? Depends on the person, I guess. Depends on the life.
When I pointed out Ms. Carlisle's obituary to my mother today and spot read parts of it to her she said something peculiar, "She was ninety-six, hmmm? Well, that's fine."
Ninety-six, I guess, is a respectable age to die.
It's funny because, this afternoon, my mother experienced a light and unusual dizzy spell, so, a couple hours after her breakfast she went right back to bed, and I let her. I'm worried, of course, although she's not. I even asked her if she thought she might be planning on dying.
She glared back at me. "Not yet," she said, full of consternation that I would even think such a thing. Chances are, whatever is causing the dizziness will pass, although we'll see. If not, we'll take a trip to the Valley, or, if necessary, to Urgent Care or the hospital up here. At her age, it's hard for me to remember that she's allowed bad days and ambiguous, fleeting symptoms, just as am I.
So, anyway, Kitty, this is my standing ovation to you. Your son mentions in the article I read about you today that, "We're working on a terrific memorial." I can imagine, where ever it takes place, you commandeering the sky into one of your luminous, infectious, inviting smiles. Bravo, Kitty! Magnificent run! Thank you for gracing us with, well, with you.
Strange, but her death caught my heart, probably because of my memory of the immediately previous link which goes to a post, written over a year ago, in which I talked about Ms. Carlisle's extraordinary continuance of her life and career. The name of the one woman show mentioned in that post was apparently changed to "Here's to Life", much more appropriate, I think.
Kitty Carlisle had?, has?, which would be correct?, her own website. I found it while I was searching for her last interview, just to see if it was filled with that same "gosh, gee whiz" quality that seems representative of her style of living. Although the link to that interview, which was published by the St. Louis Dispatch, is no longer available, her website also directs visitors to another article published at the beginning of last year, an enjoyable review of her stage show, her career and her life, with a touch of interview thrown in. The eighth paragraph into the article begins with this intriguing statement, "By her own airy admission, Hart can't remember names anymore, even those of her own grandchildren. But song lyrics, even new ones, still stick in her head." Once again, I can't help but remark, what is dementia, and, as well, what differences does it make? Depends on the person, I guess. Depends on the life.
When I pointed out Ms. Carlisle's obituary to my mother today and spot read parts of it to her she said something peculiar, "She was ninety-six, hmmm? Well, that's fine."
Ninety-six, I guess, is a respectable age to die.
It's funny because, this afternoon, my mother experienced a light and unusual dizzy spell, so, a couple hours after her breakfast she went right back to bed, and I let her. I'm worried, of course, although she's not. I even asked her if she thought she might be planning on dying.
She glared back at me. "Not yet," she said, full of consternation that I would even think such a thing. Chances are, whatever is causing the dizziness will pass, although we'll see. If not, we'll take a trip to the Valley, or, if necessary, to Urgent Care or the hospital up here. At her age, it's hard for me to remember that she's allowed bad days and ambiguous, fleeting symptoms, just as am I.
So, anyway, Kitty, this is my standing ovation to you. Your son mentions in the article I read about you today that, "We're working on a terrific memorial." I can imagine, where ever it takes place, you commandeering the sky into one of your luminous, infectious, inviting smiles. Bravo, Kitty! Magnificent run! Thank you for gracing us with, well, with you.
Monday, April 16, 2007
I'm doing a little maintenance today...
...although, no, I'm not yet catching up on previously promised posts. I'm hoping to get some of that in later today and tomorrow.
This first maintenance task is adding clickable asterisks to the outgoing links listed in Honorable Caregiver Blogs and Honorable Alzheimer's Blogs, to the right. These links will take you to the my introductions to these blogs, in case you want to know what they're about before heading over to the sites.
I notice that there are two blogs listed in these sections which I neglected to introduce. One of them, My Mother's Journey, was completed on the day that would have been Bailey's mother's next birthday, which occurred a few days after her mother died. This journal is an unflinching account of Bailey's in-home journey with her mother up to the time of her mother's death. There is some particularly good stuff in the latter posts about the realities of hospice care. Aside from being well written (as these journals always are), it is complete, a good source for anyone who wonders not only how the journey begins, but how it ends.
I can't imagine why I never wrote an introduction to that one. Maybe I did but I just can't find it. The other one to which I never wrote an introduction is The Unforgettable Fund Blog. I know why I never wrote an intro to this one. Mentioning it has become so ubiquitous here that I felt as though I had. This blog is sort of an all in one effort. It is, first, the official blog of The Unforgettable Fund, a home-grown charity which collects for donations for Alzheimer's research. It includes updates on collection of funds, updates on research, posts regarding the originator's experiences as she helped care for her father, who had Alzheimer's, posts designed to help solicit funds for research, guest hosts, the kitchen sink...oops, no, not that, but, you get the idea. The author, Patty McNally Doherty, is also a frequent and loquacious commenter on several of the other blogs listed in my links sections. Much can be learned from searching for her comments, which are usually published under her complete name.
A couple of the blog authors for Dementia Blues and The Yellow Wallpaper, are posting infrequently, now, since their mothers have entered facility care. Their latest posts would be interesting to readers who are considering or have established facility care for someone with Alzheimer's. One blog, Alzheimer's - The Carer's View seems to be on a long hiatus. Nonetheless, regardless of whether and how often the authors are writing, these blogs remain online and are valuable sources for information.
Anyway, within the next several minutes (probably several, several minutes, considering how long it takes to publish template changes here), those asterisks will be available to my readers, as well as an explanation of what will happen if you link into them.
This first maintenance task is adding clickable asterisks to the outgoing links listed in Honorable Caregiver Blogs and Honorable Alzheimer's Blogs, to the right. These links will take you to the my introductions to these blogs, in case you want to know what they're about before heading over to the sites.
I notice that there are two blogs listed in these sections which I neglected to introduce. One of them, My Mother's Journey, was completed on the day that would have been Bailey's mother's next birthday, which occurred a few days after her mother died. This journal is an unflinching account of Bailey's in-home journey with her mother up to the time of her mother's death. There is some particularly good stuff in the latter posts about the realities of hospice care. Aside from being well written (as these journals always are), it is complete, a good source for anyone who wonders not only how the journey begins, but how it ends.
I can't imagine why I never wrote an introduction to that one. Maybe I did but I just can't find it. The other one to which I never wrote an introduction is The Unforgettable Fund Blog. I know why I never wrote an intro to this one. Mentioning it has become so ubiquitous here that I felt as though I had. This blog is sort of an all in one effort. It is, first, the official blog of The Unforgettable Fund, a home-grown charity which collects for donations for Alzheimer's research. It includes updates on collection of funds, updates on research, posts regarding the originator's experiences as she helped care for her father, who had Alzheimer's, posts designed to help solicit funds for research, guest hosts, the kitchen sink...oops, no, not that, but, you get the idea. The author, Patty McNally Doherty, is also a frequent and loquacious commenter on several of the other blogs listed in my links sections. Much can be learned from searching for her comments, which are usually published under her complete name.
A couple of the blog authors for Dementia Blues and The Yellow Wallpaper, are posting infrequently, now, since their mothers have entered facility care. Their latest posts would be interesting to readers who are considering or have established facility care for someone with Alzheimer's. One blog, Alzheimer's - The Carer's View seems to be on a long hiatus. Nonetheless, regardless of whether and how often the authors are writing, these blogs remain online and are valuable sources for information.
Anyway, within the next several minutes (probably several, several minutes, considering how long it takes to publish template changes here), those asterisks will be available to my readers, as well as an explanation of what will happen if you link into them.
