Tuesday, May 27, 2014

What a morning! I was in the bathroom, when Valentino started to vomit. So I ran and threw the only towel available onto the Oriental runner in the hallway. It was a white towel, naturally. And his vomit was bright yellow. He vomited again outside on the stone patio. No problem there, except that when Lucy peed on the carpet on the porch, I had planned to hose the carpet down and lay it there. No matter. Hose the stones. 

After we walked the pups, Betty and I moved the carpet outside bearing yesterday’s scent. I washed it down with vinegar water, soap, and baking soda, then we laid it over the picnic table to dry. 

Back into the house, and my day was off to an early start. There was mom. In the bathroom already, and it’s only 0800. After she brushed her teeth (a 5-minute ritual), I sent her back to bed. I am off to shower and go to the hospital to give Reiki to oncology patients, and then off to NJ to have my tooth checked. I might have chipped a filling with an unpopped piece of popcorn two weeks ago. 

Long day ahead of me, and Val is already upset because we left him yesterday. (Of course, Aunt Betty was here twice to let them out and check up on them. We were only gone for 5 hours, but that’s a long time in dog-hours!) And mom will be left here with Rob. Oh, tomorrow! Longwood Gardens. I need to find a sitter for mom, or Rob will have two very long days to deal with. On to the phones! 

Later— 

Schedule revised. Stayed home from the hospital. Not feeling well. Canceled the trip to NJ to the dentist. Rain forecast and my tooth is OK. (The filling appears to be intact.) And Mary is unable to go to Longwood Gardens tomorrow. She has some knee damage and must undergo surgery. Is this Mercury in Retrograde? 

Never mind. I am home and can relax and recuperate. Was also available for a conference call and am now revising a 195-page document that was FINAL, but will now be MORE FINAL!  

While I was at it this morning, I cleaned the back porch; hosed down the area rug that Lucy soiled; vacuumed; steamed the tiles; replaced the chair mats (they were getting old) with brighter, more summery ones; and cleaned the patio somewhat (could not put out weed killer because of impending rain). Two weeks from the wedding shower. Need to get things in order. Each time I went back into the house, mom would ask Is it cold out? Windows are opened, breeze is pleasant, and she asks, Is it cold out? I was able to keep her bedroom windows wide open until the storm. 

Storm was violent. Branches down, as usual. Cable out: thus, no email, television, or phones. Sorry I went with the cable company for the phones. But at least I have my cell phone. Mom is in bed, having been to the bathroom around 5 or 6 times in one hour. What else is there for her to do? She has asked me several times to Fix that, meaning the television. But she is happy. Her windows are closed and she is back in darkness and warmth, covered by her down comforter. It’s a bit too early for bed, so I imagine she will be up all night. I hope Rob will get some sleep. She is wont to call and he usually hears her. 

Memorial Day, May 26, 2014 

Have had flags for years. Today, I am flying one of the big ones. Need to go to Loews to buy a clip for it. We are headed for Pottstown, where Captain B. will have his flag flying high and always at the ready. 

Mom says she knows where Pottstown is. It isn’t far from here, is it?

No, mom. It’s 30 minute away.
Pottown is nice. I remember always seeing the sign for Pottstown.
So, you remembering seeing the sign when you drove?
Yeah (weak smile).
Mom, you never drove near Pottstown at all.
Oh yeah. What are you doing?
Making lemon squares.
Oh yeah?
Yes, do you remember when you used to bake?
Oh yeah (weaksmile—always a dead giveaway).
Sure, mom. You never baked a cookie in your entire life. 

Rob started to laugh so hard, I followed, with tears streaming down my face. He said we should record our “conversations” and send them to Fire Sign Theater. I couldn’t do the judgin’ cause I didn’t know the Latin! 

Well, at least mom is showered and has had her cereal. All we have to do is load her into the car later, as she regales us with, I remember this, all the way down. If only she did. 

Rob started laughing as he recalled an incident with his father, who complained to his brother (Rob’s uncle) that we had gotten his towels wet. The response was priceless and delivered only as Ken could deliver it: But Crawford, that’s what they’re for!”

I reminded Rob that his father wasn’t demented. No, he said, irascible!
Curmudgeonly!
Cantankerous!
Contumacious!

We were halted by mom, who asked, Where did you buy this? Referring to a small container of Lancôme face cream, which I left on the kitchen counter for her.

At the store.
Really? How much did you pay for it? (That’s another favorite question for which she rarely seeks an answer.)
A lot.
Oh yeah?

Sigh! Went to Loews for the grommets. The American flag is now flying high—well, sort of. It’s over by the fence, but I still have the mounting bracket and will someday have someone mount it onto the house for me! God bless America and all the men and women who fought for us.

Sunday, May 25, 2014 

Allergies posing problems this week. I think the hailstorms stirred up the already plentiful tree pollen and mold. Still, I managed to do some gardening. I try to do everything before mom wakes up. Planted the new daylilies from White Flower Farm. Will have golden orange petals, 5” wide, with a chartreuse throat. Can’t wait. Tried to move an azalea. No luck. Moved one of the Strawberry Vanilla hydrangeas. (I love the name. Good enough to eat!) Cut back the cherry laurel than threatened to hinder view of the windowbox. And potted some begonias formerly destined for same windowbox. Mulched the limelight hydrangea tree than is threatening to return to bush form. Tough winter for hydrangeas. Mine have survived but all had to be drastically cut back. Am still mourning the loss of my hostas. Am hoping they will grow quickly and resume their lovely forms.

Valentino is barking again. Someone passing by—man, woman, dog, child, cat. He’s a challenge. It’s either Val or mom. He barks. She calls. Distractions aplenty in this household.

Apparently, mom woke Rob last night at 0430. He said she called me, but when he went to her room, she was asleep. And she, of course, has no memory of the incident. Rob is a saint. He is often the first to hear mom and usually the first to respond. We keep a supply of juices for mom—cranberry and grape. Rob makes sure her glass is full. When I asked mom if she would like cranberry juice—which we have been giving her for nearly a year now—she said, I’ve never had that before. Everything is new to her. Everyday is an adventure into the unknown. I wonder if after a while it does become frightening. I am told people with dementia and Alzheimer’s actually do retain pockets of memory, which, though often unaccessible, can be accessed from time to time, but only briefly. I see little evidence of mom accessing memories. She holds on to the questions she knows and practices them daily. Questions—her mainstay and her link to others. She can ask, but the answers you give will not make sense, nor will she listen to them, even if she can hear them. It’s a one-sided existence. Her point of view, her ever-contracting view.

Mom is not interested in many things. When she asked where Rob was, I told her that he was outside mowing the lawn and led her to the window. But she said, That’s OK. I don’t want to look. I directed her attention to the flowering fringe tree. Do you see the tree with the white flowers? Her response: Oh yeah. It’s nice. Let’s go. It’s almost as if she is trapped and afraid I might ask her a question that will reveal her inability to see and understand a flowering tree or to see Rob mowing the lawn and understand that he is actually mowing a lawn. If she did see Rob, she would only ask, Is that Rob? What’s he doing? I would explain that he is mowing the lawn, and she would give me her usual response, Oh yeah?

There is little that captures her attention. No sunset, however beautiful (and we do have some doozies here), no storm, however powerful (she missed the hail storms entirely). Last year, she was enamored of the large lavender-colored dahlias. I wonder if they will excite her this year, or if we will mourn the loss of yet another point of interest. The hospital where I work gave me a huge pointsettia at Christmastime. Mom’s sole interest was in my throwing the plant away. She reminded me frequently, When are you getting rid of that? For Mother’s Day, my brother sent her 2 dozen pink roses. I had to put them in two vases. Quite lovely. But again, Throw these away or Rob, move these. Put them someplace else.

I am a purger, but my mother is ruthless. She is no lover of flowers, plants, shrubs, the earth. She remains terrified of bugs. She would never countenance a trip to the farm to buy grass-fed beef or organic raw milk or plants for the garden. We were always extremely different. So far as she was concerned, I lived on a different planet. But my planet was one I greatly preferred. Mom’s very narrow world has closed in even tighter. Perhaps having less to lose is an advantage. I myself would rather have known and lost, than never have known at all.

Saturday, May 24, 2014

Long morning: walked and fed the pups; did some laundry; picked up my buddy Mike, who did his laundry here; drove Mike to market and to Boscov’s and past Hampden Heights; went to the bank; and had my headlamp replaced at the car dealer. All this before noon. Also completed the sorrowful task of cutting back the hydrangeas (Mike helped with the big one), which did not fare well over the bitter temps this winter, and the gorgeous hostas, which got hit hard during the hail storm two days ago. But as one homeowner, who lost his tile roof and a few windows in his home, pointed out: No lives were lost. Family is fine. Pups are fine. Insurance companies, not so good! 

This morning, mom asked a most amusing question: How are you and Rob related?
I laughed.
Oh c’mon. Don’t laugh, said she.
Well, mom, Rob is my husband.
Oh yeah?
And you were at the wedding with Daddy, Johnny, Aunt Margaret, and Uncle Eddie.
Oh yeah? When was that?
Thirty-four years ago.
Gee, San, you remember everything! 

Well, not exactly, but if you compare my memory to someone who has none, I am doing pretty well!

Friday, May 23, 2014 

Had to help out at market yesterday. Before I left, I looked longingly at one of my plants—a glorious azalea-like orange flower with a scent that never ends. Short-lived flower, but what a life. I wanted to take a photo to send to my uncle but thought I had time. Off to market. Photos tomorrow. 

The market building has a flat roof. I would swear it was tin. When it rains, it’s quite the experience. But yesterday, we had two hail storms, resulting in cracked windshields, destroyed car bodies, flash floods, downed trees, and damaged plants. I turned my head up to the heavens and said, “My garden! Oh Lord, not my garden.” But of course, my garden was the least of it all. It survived, rosebuds and all. Quite the mess out there, of course, but the flowers will return. I wait a year for the show and to miss it is more than I can bear. How many more years do I have on earth to watch the spring unfolding. Will I have 20 shows, 25 more shows? If I reach my mother’s age in 30 more years, will I even know there is a show? Will I understand what a flower is? Will I ask that the vase of flowers be thrown away—something my mother does regularly. She always thought flowers were dirty and messy. We rarely saw eye-to-eye on anything. She still screams when bugs or flies get into the house. She demands their immediate demise. Rob and I carry them out to safety and away from her murderous hands and weapon of choice.

Mom has been to the bathroom twice this morning for serious work. She had taken up her sister Rose’s chant: I can’t go. Help me. Get me out of here? I ask her what could possibly be so wrong. I tell her to sit there. Relax. Read a book. Stop complaining. But she doesn’t understand what’s going on. She doesn’t understand bodily processes any more. She doesn’t know that she has only sat for 2 or 3 minutes. To her, it is a lifetime. To her, she is abandoned and will never find her way back to her room, wherever that is. 

I change the topic and tell her that today she will have her hair done, but she is not happy. Nothing can change the mode of the moment. She is on the toilet and worried. She tells me that she doesn’t want to go today, but I know she will change her mind later. I hope she will.

 Later—

Mom has had her hair done, but that didn’t stop her from asking Rob when I was going to take her to get her hair done. But there she was in her room, straightening her clothing, hanging her jacket in the closet, folding her slacks. Ever the neat woman. 

Just now, she insisted again that I go to the bank in Jersey City to get her money to pay for her haircut. I argued. It’s what I do best. I said, Mom, (1) there is no bank account in Jersey City; (2) Jersey City is 2.5 hours away; (3) I write checks when I need cash. But then, it hit me: What am I doing? She has no clue. So I calmed down and said, I’ll be right back. I’m going to bank right now to get the money. She was delighted: Oh will you. I feel so much better.

So, I am off to market. I will pretend that I went to the bank and withdrew her money. I will assure her that I reimbursed myself for her haircut. I must get it into my head that I cannot teach her. I cannot retrain her. I cannot help her focus her mind on anything. It will be so much easier if I continue to do this for her—and for me. Pretending and reassuring.

Wednesday, Mary 21, 2014 

One-year anniversary of my sister-in-law’s untimely death to the heinous glioblastoma. Sent an e-card to my brother and the girls. No day to talk with them. Mom asked to speak with my son, Johnny Boy. Bad idea. She would forget about it anyhow. She would be sure to ask the usual questions: How is Margie? Is she working? Does she take good care of you? Does she cook for you? Followed by the predictable, Oh how nice or the Oh yeah? No day for my brother to hear mom go on and on about Margie. He visited the cemetery today. I am sure Margie was with him. Margie didn’t make it to 65. Mom is still kicking at 97. There’s no telling why or how—ever!

 I am still exploring buying a doll for mom. Tough to admit the terrible downturn. Spoke with cousin Marje. I asked her what motivated her to buy a doll for her mother. She said that the nurses at the nursing home actually gave her mom the doll. We talked for a bit today about mom, Rose, Margie.

 Glad that it rained all day. The negative ions soothed the day somewhat. Didn’t do much for the pups who were just groomed, but they managed. Went to Loews and bought some more vibrant New Guinea impatiens for the hosta corner in preparation for the wedding shower coming up. Want the gardens to look wonderful. Always much to do. Hydrangeas are lagging very far behind. Have cut some back. Hoping we have more leaves and even some blooms in a few weeks. Things do begin to move quickly when the days warm up. Still, it’s been quite cool. Mom, still playing mother, cautions me to wear a coat or a sweater or to put on shoes when I go out onto the back porch. I listen, but I don’t obey. I walk out onto the back porch with bare feet wishing I had listened. The tiles are cold, but I will be damned if I am going to put shoes on because my mother is asking me to. I tell her I will be fine, and I grin and bear it.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014 

Lucy is at the groomer. Val is much relieved. And I am back editing files. 

Oh, Sleeper’s Awake! Mom called. She asked again about who gave me my lightweight Polartec jacket. For the hundreth time, I said, Betty. Betty, who comes over every day, twice a day, to walk the pups with me. Mom knows her by name; yet this morning, she asked Do you ever see her anymore? Yes, mom. Every day. 

I go into the kitchen to turn the bentwood stool. Mom would sit right on the edge and has done so before. Am trying to preserve what I can. Must prepare her cereal and coffee and toast. Her earlier shouts woke Rob, who is now back in bed, trying to get more ZZZ’s. 

I showered mom, made her cereal, and told her that Rob would make her coffee. They share a cup. Mom drinks very little. I decided I should sit with her as she ate her cereal. Started a Mozart Divertimento first to soften the sounds. Sitting with mom during breakfast is something I assiduously avoid, as she makes so much noise—mild slurping as if drinking hot soup and the incessant clanking of her spoon against the cereal bowl as she lines up and submerges all the little Cheerios equally. She talked about the cat on the ceiling being up there all day and night and how cold he must be. (Mom has determined somehow that he is a male cat!) She asked no less than 5 to 10 times about where Rob was, commenting each time that he likes to sleep. She asked why he sleeps so late, and I reminded her that she is the one who usually sleeps late, but that Rob goes to bed very late, being a night owl. Explanations are virtually useless. She either does not hear them, does not understand them, or dismisses them summarily. 

Mozart still playing beautifully. Will wash some dishes and get back to work and hope that mom will not disturb me too many times.

Monday, May 19, 2014 

Valentino’s turn at the groomer. Lucy goes tomorrow. Then work all day. Had 12 files to review and get back to a client by the end of the day. While Val was gone, it was peaceful and quiet. The energy of the place was bearable. The minute I picked him up and brought him home (looking gorgeous, of course), the place livened up. A not-so-welcome change when there is work to do.

With mom and Val calling while I worked, it became almost intolerable. I couldn’t yell at my mother, but I lost it with Val, who skulked upstairs, tail down. Of course I was remorseful, but I had to truck on with my work.

I worked late into the night. While mom was watching TV and Val was napping, I heard what I thought was the beginning of a yawn. But it stretched on and on and on and grew louder and louder. At first, I thought it was my mother, but it was too drawn out and too well supported to be anything that came from her. I realized then that Val was having a bad dream. The only other time I had heard a sound like that was when Lorenzo was emerging from anesthesia. Of course I gave Val a bunch of hugs and kisses and massaged his leg to reassure him that everything was OK.

I am not conveying, of course, the tension in this house as I attempted to get the files out to the client at the end of the day. There were questions and phone calls back and forth. Mixed up files. In some cases, they sent me earlier iterations of files that did not have my corrections. So I had to do some scouting. Problem was that so many of the files were closely named, but for a number at the end of the lengthy title. This meant opening a slew of files and checking to see if my comments were there.

By 10:30, the work was in and mom and Val and Lucy were asleep. We roused the pups briefly for their last trip outside for the night. Then off to wind down and watch a horror flick with Rob: “Invasion of the Body Snatchers.” I think Washington has already been taken over!

Sunday, May 18, 2014 

The Duckster came for breakfast. We sat out on the back porch and ate and chatted up a storm. Donald is into everything and adored by all the women in his church. He does this, that, and the other thing related to amputees, being one himself. Good man. Went from dissolute to absolutely wonderful. But we joke that God had to take his legs to do it! After breakfast, he started his drive back to South Carolina with a bag of Nuts.com organic trail mix (hard to part with these treats) and some water. 

Rob and I then made our way to the farm. The boxes for the luminaries were still in my car. So we made our way down the lane to pick them up and load the boxes into the barn. We also wound up helping to put tables away and undo some of the lovely decorations. I sure hope someone sends me photos. The bride and groom were there, too. They will be off to Hawaii tomorrow. A most memorable wedding and a most beautiful couple. 

We spent about 2.5 hours at the farm, and left mom at the kitchen counter, where she was doing her word search puzzles. But they seem to be getting more difficult for her. Either that or she is getting bored with them or maybe just having a tough day. At night, she asked if she could sleep with me again. I was firm and said no. Then she asked if there were anybody who would sleep with her. We went through a list of neighbors, all of whom were married and lived at home with their spouses. My brother suggested we get her a stuffed animal. My friend Nancy suggested a baby doll for her to take care of. Actually breaks my heart to see mom go down this road. My mother is really gone in a very large sense. Oh sure, there are aspects of her here and there, but she has lost her independence and her strength—among other things. As I have loads of stuffed animals in the basement, I will bring up a suitable candidate for her. Perhaps it will help. “Big” Aunt Marge had a baby doll to care for at the end. I found that bizarre, but we are now in the same position: mother, a little girl and descending.

Saturday, May 17, 2014

Tough start to the morning. Mom was uncomfortable, but eventually worked things out after three trips to the bathroom. I showered her after the last trip. Today is wedding day for Brian and Liz. I am to pick up the mylar balloons to mark the entrance to the farm and start getting things set up down there. The bulk of the work is done. Still, I have a 2-page, single-spaced list to follow. But at least mom is OK now. Difficult morning, but the worst is over.

Rained heartily yesterday, but today is gorgeous—clear, sunny, breezy, and cool. Will be colder down at the farm. Tough trying to figure out what to wear as “wedding coordinator” for a farm reception. Black jeans, black shirt, Hotter waterproof shoes, a black and white jacket, and minimal jewelry. After all, I am a worker bee, not a wedding guest. But I think the outfit is fine for the occasion. My work might entail going into the cow barn or the house cold cellar to check on the electricity. So I must be prepared for every eventuality.

Mom is feeling better now and back to her old self.

I wonder if that cat up there is cold.
I wouldn’t worry about it, mom. You’re the only one who even knows he’s up there.
Where’s Rob?
He just went upstairs.
I haven’t seen him all day.
He was just in the kitchen and gave you cereal 

Rob is back in the kitchen giving mom a piece of Betty’s applesauce cake.

Who made that Rob?
Betty did.
Did she? 

This is mom’s third piece of cake and at least as many times as she asked Who made that? Her other favorite question is Where did you get that? She often asks this when you are wearing something she admires. (I like that. Where did you get it?)

Betty is off to the casino with Chas. So Rob and mom will be left to deal with the day alone. I will be at the farm until late tonight. A very long day ahead of me! Will report later.

Later—

What a day! Rob and I went to Party City to pick up the balloons. I chose mint green, white, and silver mylar varieties (hearts, circles, and stars). Twelve in all. At the farm, I had a little challenge with the wind, but I prayed for help, and lo, the wind stopped. It was that sudden!

Nate appeared just as I was tying down the balloons. I asked him to make sure they were secure, and we both figured they were. The rest of the morning was spent in putting out tables for hors d’oeuvres, wine and beer, and caterers; setting out the platform wagon for the musicians near the utility barn; setting up chairs for guests to watch the bride and groom dance their first dance; plugging in electric and turning on the magical lights in the barn. Later, opening the white tent; putting out the ice; checking to be sure the tables in the white tent were OK; cutting wild flowers for the head tables; putting out the cookies and the wines and the lemonade and iced tea; greeting Keith Breitzenhoff (the square dance caller) and showing him where to go; setting out the ice cream and toppings for the dessert section of the barn; and setting up the luminaries down the 1/4 mile drive! (We did the latter twice, as we forgot the cars would be going out through the field. And oh it was magical!)

The bride and groom and company arrived on a wagon being driven by their uncle Eric. The bridesmaids were gorgeous in mint and wearing cowboy boots for the evening’s festivities. The groomsmen had changed their white shirts for ice-cream colored plaid shirts. Such fun! And the festivities began.

Of course, Rob has been alone with mom all day. Apparently, she had him call “her son” three times, but they called the house phone and not his cell. So they never connected. This made mom quite nervous. Things were not as happy here as they were at the farm!