Sunday, September 7, 2014

When mom got into the kitchen this morning, she started her usual banter about “The Cat.”

Look at that. That cat is still there. I don’t know how it gets up there. 

I had finally had it. So I asked her to walk over to the sink. Of course, closer to the source, it was clear—or should have been—that there is no cat.

Oh where did it go?

Well, those two bolts and the fan motor look like a cat to you. But there is no cat up there, mom.

Oh.

No cat could live that long up there.

Oh, I see (resignedly, or so I thought). But look at that cat. I don’t know how it got up there. Rob, that’s not a cat up there? (She won’t take my word for it anymore.) 

Oh well, like Rose, the cat will always be perched on the ceiling fan out on the porch—no matter the weather. He is there night and day, day and night—at least to mom’s mind. He never goes for a walk and never eats. He’s a magic cat. But at least he has mom’s attention and Rose is gone for the nonce.

 

Saturday, September 6, 2014 

Bad Day at Black Rock! Hot out there. And the mosquitoes and gnats are making a feast of me. I have type O blood, the kind that attracts the hungriest among them. Betty and I took the dogs on a short walk then made a beeline (mosquito-line?) onto the back porch.

Apart from the heat and the mosquitoes, there was the shadow of Aunt Rose! Mom awoke and called for her sister: Why doesn’t Rose ever come into my room to see me? Well, I decided that today she should speak with her sister. Of course, the memory of the can of worms such a phone call opened last time had dissipated.

I made the call. You couldn’t make out much of the babble because Rose cried and talked while she cried and babbled some more. Then in the clearest voice she asked me where her money and jewelry are! Holy Somolians! Ann, mom and Rose’s former caregiver (God bless her), donated $5.00 worth of pennies so that mom and Rose could play BINGO for money. Rose still talks about how we are enjoying “her” money, and now, her jewelry. If you count poppit beads and the gaudy necklaces you get at Mardi Gras or they used to get at casinos in Atlantic City, Rose did not have much in the way of jewelry. In fact, one of my cousins is holding her only two pieces: a ring to be given to another cousin and Rose’s dime-store wristwatch.

At any rate, mom spoke with Rose. Promised her she would visit. That was a few hours ago. Mom is still in the kitchen, fugue-ing about the entire thing. 

Give me Pat’s phone number. I’ll call her and she can take me to see my sister Rose.

No, mom. Pat lives 2.5 hours away in north Jersey. And Rose is 2.5 hours away. in another part of New Jersey. I said I will take you there in 2 weeks when the weather cools down.

Let me call Pat.

No, mom. I will take you myself.

Rob, get me Pat’s telephone number.

No, Sandy will take you there. 

After an hour of this, I called my cousin Lois and told her what was going on. We arranged for her to tell mom that she would take her to see Aunt Rose.

 

Two minutes later:

Let me call Pat.

No, mom. I will take you myself.

Rob, get me Pat’s telephone number.

No, Sandy will take you there.

I want to talk to her doctor and see if he can move her closer to me.

Mom, that’s not possible. She’s on Medicaid. She cannot be moved.

I don’t understand why she can’t be moved. Let me talk to her doctor.

Mom, Aunt Rose can’t walk.

They can help people to walk again. I don’t understand why she can’t walk. Bring her here. I’ll take care of her.

Mom, you can’t take care of yourself. 

 

Mom is calling me from the kitchen even as I write. It’s going to be a tough day. She’s driving me nuts!

 

Take me to see Rose today.

Not today. It’s too hot.

Is she OK?

Yes, you spoke to her just a few moments ago.

No I didn’t.

Yes, you did.

Well, can we see her today?

No, it’s too hot.

What about tomorrow? Lois said tomorrow.

No she didn’t! She said next week.

Well, then tomorrow?

No. Next week. It’s too hot right now.

Can’t we move her closer to us?

No, she’s on Medicaid in New Jersey. She cannot be moved.

Why can’t we move her closer? I don’t understand. Let me call the doctor.

You cannot call the doctor. We will see her in a week.

Why can’t we go today?

It’s too hot.

Then we can go tomorrow?

No. It will still be too hot.

Let me talk to the doctor…

 

Oh, how I am hoping she will forget all of this very soon. Now, she’s in the kitchen directing Rob to kill bugs. I don’t like to kill anything in my house. She might be after a few fruit flies this time. Hard to catch them. Poor little things. Their lives are short enough! Well, at least it has distracted her from her moanings about her sister Rose!

Hmm. Turns out there were no bugs in the kitchen. I had some potatoes on the kitchen counter and apparently some of the potato dust appeared to be moving. Probably no less or no more than the cat on the ceiling fan or the dog’s tail at the back gate. Mom is at least one case where having cataract surgery did little to abate her dementia.

As Rob said, some days with mom are like a water torture—steady, constant, never-ending, but instead of drop by drop, it’s word by word!

P.S. At the end of the evening, mom asked where Rose was. I told her she went shopping and would return soon. Seemed to placate her for the night. Won’t be mentioning or calling Rose any time soon! Here’s hoping tomorrow will be a Rose-less day!

 

 

September 1, 2014

We are on our way to Cheryl’s house in Pottstown. Mom is in the living room, waiting to be walked to the car. She spent the morning asking for the usual things: tissue, juice, and for me to comb her hair. Yes, I washed her hair again this morning. She hates having her hair washed. But why not today? Valentino just got groomed. The whole family will be spic and span, with the exception of Lucia, who will be groomed on Wednesday.

And, yes, mom asked for her fuzzy jacket (a lightweight Polartec). It’s August and it’s 86 degrees in the shade, mind you. The humidity is horrible and the bugs are biting. And, yes, mom asked me if I had my coat, too. No, I am not carrying my coat. It’s hot out there. Shades of my youth. I had to carry a coat or a sweater for half my life (OK, for one-third of my life) nearly everywhere I went. I would rather freeze than carry another item. I don’t even carry a purse any more. I carried stuff, lots of stuff, while I was living at home. I’m an adult now, having lived on my own lo these many years. And I don’t want to carry anything! Got it!

Well, today is one of those days. The mold count is high. The mosquitoes have had their lunch break on me yet again. (I swear the government is out to see if they can cut down on the population by reintroducing yellow fever and malaria!) But I remember mosquitoes being far worse at the outdoor theater. Those days were wild. The pics didn’t work against the mosquitoes, and their offspring are still out to show that our meager attempts at keeping them at bay remain useless.

 

 

Friday, August 29, 2014

Awoke a little after 5:00. Mom makes quite a racket when she goes to the bathroom. Thumps cane loudly, slams doors shut, slams windows shut. Ah the symphony that is my mother. Later, she will add her other instrument: the spoons!

I decided to run some errands after she went back to bed: Farmer’s Market, where I had tea with RB and shopped for cheese, milk, and organic veggies; PetSmart for dog food; the bank; and the post office. I am back home and ready to sit down and begin working on an edit for a foreign client.

Mom is in the kitchen clanking away at her cereal. She asked about her husband again.

What did he die of?

Heart disease.

Oh.

Do you know who my father was?

I forget.

Do you remember who your husband was?

I forget.

I showed mom a photo of dad and herself.

Who’s this?

My husband.

Well, he was also my father.

I know.

Pointing to her, I asked, Who is this?”

His wife.

Mom, that’s you.

I know. That’s me. 

The mind is a very strange thing. We can compartmentalize things to such a degree that it makes very little sense in the real world. Or is what we are experiencing the real world, indeed?

And now, another mind might be laying to rest. Nancy’s husband is unresponsive. Very low blood pressure and was taken to the ER from Kessler early this morning. Nancy and Eric were slated to return home on Tuesday. All bets might be off at this point for his returning as soon. Here was a brilliant and successful man, only in his late 60s. He was an avid tennis player and in otherwise excellent shape, still contributing to society. And now…

And then there’s my mother. Some of life makes very little sense. Don’t get me wrong, I am happy that my mother is still alive, but very little of who she was survived with her physical body.

 

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

 

This morning, I am Rose, maybe.

Where’s Sandy?

I don’t know. (I am Sandy, but I’m tired and not feeling playful. I woke up exasperated!)

Are you Rose?

No, who am I?

I don’t know. Are you Rose?

No.

Are you Sandy?

Do you think I am?

I don’t know.

 Not an auspicious start of the day.

I showered mom and filled her cereal bowl. She is now in the kitchen beating the hell out of the Cheerios. It’s a wonder my cereal bowls aren’t all chipped by now! This is one of those days for me. Not a good one. I need to go out onto the porch and escape whatever madness awaits me.