Monday, October 13, 2014

 

Yesterday and today were true trials. And I must admit, I failed both days. Mom has the runs, but no knowledge of this problem. I am showering her several times a day, and each time, she emerges with no understanding of why she required multiple showers. I clean the bathroom and do laundry endlessly. My water bill will probably be the highest in the neighborhood, the Commonwealth maybe. Between showering mom, washing her clothing and bedding, washing the bathroom and every fixture, door knob, faucet, and piece of woodwork in the house. I am the bane of eco-nuts everywhere, using more water and product than any of their stingy souls would countenance. The house reeks of Lysol (I used the concentrate). I also use a prodigious amount of paper towels, too. I have given up on using washcloths. I now limit myself to the disposable kind, sparing my washing machine and dryer in the process. Immodium, god of many names, do your stuff.

Mom is in the bathroom now. I have lost count as to how many trips she made today. I took all the paper out of the room, including paper towels. (She is not averse to using them in a pinch and stuffing the toilet.) I told her to stay there for 5 minutes. Just 5 minutes. OK, she says. I am using up gloves and Depends faster than it takes the guys in a pit stop change a tire. I go for brief walks just to clear my head and my nostrils and my lungs.

This morning, I led two tours through the farmhouse in Virginville—second oldest working farm in the county. The last member of the family, a distant cousin, lived there until 2005. No plumbing, little heat. By the time he died, Jacob was quite disabled and unable to take care of himself. Evidence of his incontinence was everywhere. Vestiges of it still emerge pungently when you bring in buckets of hot water to clean the furniture. A sad ending to any life, indeed. In mother’s case, it is even more poignant, because cleanliness was important to her. That side of her character died an untimely death.

You might well ask about the role my organic specialties might have played in this purging. Pumpkin soup, however, should have had an ameliorative effect. It did not. This morning, I allowed only toast (flourless Ezekiel bread) and black tea. This afternoon, I gave mom organic macaroni and cheese (Amy’s brand), and then I made my own with roasted butternut squash. I thought the mac and cheese would help a bit. Thus far, it did not.

Yesterday morning, mom was speaking gibberish—clue #1 for dehydration. We gave her juice; mom will not drink water. Initially, I suspected the juice was part of the problem, but it should have worked its way out of her system by now. Sleuth work continues.

As mom makes her evening novena of trips to the bathroom, I am at the ready with gloves, wipes, and Depends, plus the shower, if the wipes are insufficient. Don’t complain, dear reader, that this is too graphic for you. Be assured, I have spared you the full picture of the cleanup detail.

Friday, October 10, 2014

Betty and I took Val for his walk. Then I repaired home to make the squash soup with a little onion. I am adding sherry and cream. Can hardly wait. If mom doesn’t want any, I am sure I will find enough room.

Off to take Valentino on our 1.5-mile hike. I think he looks for Lucy while we’re out there. He stops and looks to the right and then the left. Maybe we shouldn’t anthropomorphize our animals, but I would like to think that Val loved Lucy and that he misses her as much as I do.

My friend Mia suggested I put the pineapple light back in mom’s room. Just keep trying, she said. I did, and she was right. Ah, much-needed wisdom from a friend.

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Busy morning: Walked Valentino, fed him, prepared mom’s breakfast dish, then dashed off to bring my car in for an oil change and inspection. Stopped off at the bank on the way home, finished a project, washed the fence where I had cut the roses back, took Val on a 1.5-mile hike, then dashed off again—this time to pick up my organic food order at Rodale: more kale, more beets, more onions, loads more potatoes and peppers, winter squash, and apples. I think that’s about it. So before I dashed for a third time to meet Carol and Carol at the local pizzeria (our Thursday night haunt), I did some food prep: cleaned kale, made applesauce, roasted beets, and baked the winter squash. Fourth dash—walked Valentino. Then off to meet Carol and Carol. Had a great night—we were joined by Mark and Martha. Then back home to finish the kale and potato soup and peel and slice the beets. Also sautéed beet greens with onion and garlic. The rest will have to wait till morning.

Before I left to meet Carol and Carol, I fed mom my organic roasted pumpkin soup. Took a while to roast the pumpkin. Pureed it with herbs from the garden, sautéed onions (have to use them up before they go bad) and added a little cream. It went like this:

I’ve never had this before.

It’s delicious, mom. You’ll love it.

I can’t eat it all. It’s too much. Here, you have some.

Mom, you didn’t even taste it. Try it. I roasted the pumpkin myself.

Oh. It’s too hot.

Well, wait a bit.

Here have some.

No, mom. Try it yourself. You’ll love it. I know you will. (Mom took a spoonful.)

It’s good, but it’s too much.

Well, just eat what you can. I am off to meet Carol and Carol. 

And so it went and so it goes. Tomorrow, I will finish the cooking!

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

The pineapple light doesn’t work. I found it in my office yesterday morning, the cord neatly wrapped around its base. I figured Rob had put it there. Indeed he had. Mom had protested that she didn’t want the lamp in her room and made him “get rid of it”—so much for my valiant effort to help her overcome fear of the dark. Apparently, lights also spook mom. There’s no telling.

Mom and I have a chiropractic appointment at 2:00 with Dr. B. So when mom got up this morning, I showered and dressed her immediately. No protest this time. I don’t use washcloths anymore; I now use paper towels. They are soft enough when wet and laden with liquid soap, and I don’t have to worry about disinfecting the life out of them.

After her shower, mom brushed her hair, which falls out prodigiously. When I went in to inspect why the water was running full tilt, I found that she was cleaning her brush out in the sink and washing the hair down the drain, possibly accounting for the foul smell I have been getting from the sink. I use drain cleaner and white vinegar often enough, but now I will have to keep my eye on her brush-cleaning tactics. She assured me there were only 2 hairs on the brush. Uh huh. Drain cleaner at the ready.

Well, at least mom is washed, has eaten breakfast, and is ready to go. This windy fall day looms ahead. Who knows what other surprises will be dropped at my feet.