Thursday, October 23, 2014 

Rained this morning, but I walked Valentino before I left for market. I clean up his messes with an inverted plastic bag, a sort of glove. We keep a metal bucket for the bags and dispose of them on garbage pickup days. Today was one such day. So I was able to toss the poop bag into the bin. Evidence gone.

I had to run off to market where I helped out at the wine shop before mom awoke, so I wasn’t able to put her in the shower or help her through her ablutions. In a single day, I might go through 10 to 30 latex gloves for this task. But I was spared—at least early in the day.

I returned from market just in time to put up the soup for Rob’s supper. He picked up the organic produce at Rodale, and I prepared the soup from some of the bounty. Today, I made a Swiss chard soup with potato, onion, and garlic in a chicken stock. (Am having some of it now in my cup instead of evening tea. Delicious!) My purple rubber gloves from Williams Sonoma serve me well as I do the dishes.

Immediately after market and after putting on the soup, I drove off to meet my dear friend Carol. We meet at a local restaurant weekly to catch up on the news at market and share news of our families and to share pizza or a hoagie or better—ravioli or baked ziti. It was still drizzling tonight, and I was glad to be home before it rained heavily. Even though I wear latex or rubber gloves so much of the day, my hands felt rough. I was glad to be going home to get some hand lotion.

Rob met me in the kitchen to alert me that mom had had a bowel movement. He had already cleaned the bathroom and was washing the towels that mom had soiled. Mom herself was my responsibility. She was dozing in bed and watching “Family Feud”—none other. So I awoke her and told her that I needed to be sure she was clean. After donning my latex gloves, I tried wiping her clean with Baby Wipes. The wipes were not up to this task. So I put her in the shower and had to do a more thorough job of it with soap and paper towels. (I might have mentioned that I don’t use washcloths any more. They require handwashing in bleach, which quickly does them in, and then machine-washing separately in Lysol concentrate.) After quite a few minutes, all the while hoping that my latex gloves will hold up, mom was finally clean enough. A change of Depends and pajamas and mom was ready for bed again.

I peeled the latex gloves in proper fashion—putting one gloved finger under the cuff of the other and turning them inside out. Then I had to don the rubber gloves to wash the tub. I have learned that after washing mom, Clorox or some other heavy-duty cleaner and disinfectant is required to clean the tub and shower area.

I wash everything—except mom—in the hottest water. Even after I remove the gloves, my hands feel dry and rough. If it were not for my stash of lotions and ointments and creams (especially calendula), I don’t know what I would do. I need to purchase more latex gloves to prepare for what tomorrow will surely bring.

Sunday, October 19, 2014 

I always hated living with my mother. This is the woman who would tear up my math homework because she didn’t think it was neat enough. This is the woman who would ask you to take a dust rag with you when you went downstairs so that you could dust the banister. This is the same woman who never appreciated anything you accomplished—piano, languages, you name it—unless it had something to do with cleaning.

This morning, I lost it completely with hardly any provocation. Mom called several times. Several times, I lied about the time, but she eventually got up anyhow. She was brushing her teeth in the bathroom when I walked in.

Look at this mirror. It’s all dirty.

It isn’t dirty. It’s streaked and I cannot clean it now. The sun is shining on it.

Here, let me clean it. (Mom used her dirty napkin.)

No! Give me that damned thing. It’s dirty.

It is not!

Yes, it is. You cannot clean a mirror in the sun! (I took the mirror off the wall and brought it into the kitchen. End of problem.)

I gave her a shower, using sturdy paper towels and clean dog towels. I am through with putting good towels in bleach to clean them and ruin them in the process. Mom is now sharing the towels I keep for Valentino. I wash them separately and fold them neatly. It’s the best I can do.

But today, mom is on a cleaning kick. I fed her breakfast. Usually, she sits quietly afterward. Today, she decided to wash her dish. Fine. She wiped off the counter with a sponge and dried it. I will rewash the dish later. Declining coffee and toast, she repaired to her bedroom to watch television, where she asked when Rob would make her bed. I told her he was still sleeping and would get to it later, but she insisted upon making the bed now. So she did and I helped her.

Mom is now watching “Family Feud” as she does every single day. I turn the sound off and she doesn’t seem to notice the difference. She mainly watches the screen and the answers as they come up on the board. One of my definitions of hell: a place where you would be subjected to hearing “SURVEY SAYS…” for eternity!

Maybe the lack of sleep from the night before has shortened my patience even more! I may not be making a scad of money at the winery, but at least I am out of the house 3 days a week. Am off to church in a bit. Trust me, I don’t feel I belong there today after how I acted this morning. But I did get the mirror clean, I did shower mom and feed her cereal, I did help her make her bed. I just have to be careful that I don’t react too wildly to the buttons she pushes.

I will leave her to Steve Harvey and “Family Feud” this windy Sunday morning and keep my distance until I cool down.

Saturday, October 18, 2014 

Friday was tough. Second day at the Farmer’s Market wine shop and word of and editing job came in from a client via email. It won’t be in for another week, thank goodness. At the end of the day, I was mighty tired, but had to drive to Pottstown to see EW, my patient’s son, for dinner. We talked about organist Virgil Fox and his amazing virtuosity. We talked about the stock market, in which I am no longer a participant, having lost everything I ever invested. The market is neither for the faint of heart nor those without plenty to spare (and thus, plenty to lose). I was exhausted when I returned home and promptly went to bed.

Two-thirty in the morning: click (a light switch), bang (uh oh). I ran downstairs to see mom leaning against the wall in her bedroom.

She was in here.

Who was in here, mom?

She was here. And I asked her to get into the bed with me.

No one was in here, mom.

You don’t understand. I asked her… And she was in here.

No one was here.

My shoulder hurts.

Let me check your shoulder.

Leave me alone. You don’t understand. She was standing there and she was here.

You’ll be OK, mom. It was just a dream. 

Of course, one can never be sure. Dream, vision, visitation? Who’s to say? I know only one thing for sure: I didn’t fall back to sleep again. Mom did, almost immediately. She fell asleep on her right shoulder, the one she complained about. So I wasn’t too worried. Today, she had no pain and also no recollection of the morning. 

Back to the Farmer’s Market for the third day. Lots of new things to learn at the wine shop: the order of wines from dry to sweet, the 6 s’s (see, swirl, smell, sip, swallow, and savor—I would add swish in there after sip), the computer, filling the bins, serving samples, locating the wines, making recommendations… All this on a few hours of sleep. Deb and Sue made it all bearable, as did the many visits from friends and neighbors.

I missed Valentino and worried about him a little, but a call home to Rob and I was assured all was well. Mom was doing her word search puzzles. A call to Nancy after work brought more disturbing news. Eric is hanging on by a thread in a medical system unwilling to provide more care for him. The social workers want him out of the hospital, but seizures and strokes keep him there longer. I see little hope, but then… Who am I to say? We are both grateful we were never given a glimpse of the future. It would have been far too much to bear.

I am going to take advantage of the moment: Valentino is outside, and I need to finish vacuuming!