Tuesday, March 3, 2015

 

On Sunday, mom complained of feeling ill, nauseated to be exact. She also indicated some chest pain, which is nothing to fool around with. So I called Barb, who came over immediately to minister to mom while I dealt with the EMTs. Mom becomes frightened easily when she is not feeling well and reacts rather dramatically. She did vomit and she did hold her chest, which I suspect was put to the test with her vomiting.

The EMTs were wonderful and adept at driving on ice and snow. I rode in front with the female driver who claimed to love snow so much, she wants to move to Alaska. I knew I would have to spend the night at the hospital as no one would go out on such a night to pick me up. I was prepared with a book (one of Jon Katz’s dog books), my filtered water, and my phone. Mom felt much better when we arrived at the hospital and demanded to go home. Nonetheless, we stayed in the ER until around 3:30 am, when we were finally given a room. Everyone was extremely solicitous, even at that hour. No sour face in the place. In the ER, I was offered a recliner, as I was in the room on the second floor. I decided, however, to sleep on a bench by the window and had a mild sense of how it might be to be homeless. The major difference being that I was sheltered and I was warm. (I slept in my parka.) I thought of my uncle who slept on the floor of a hotel in Tokyo among strangers during the last major earthquake. Now that must truly have been trying.

Mom was fine. She slept through most of the night, except when she was wheeled down to imaging for a CT scan or an ultrasound. All in all, she is fine. Mitral valve prolapse was the most significant finding, but not much can be done about that at her age. I understood from her exceptional nurse Kate that she was quite comfortable and was made to sit out by the nurses’ station, where she had company and where the nurses could keep an eye on her. Today, she was sitting out there, reading a magazine and talking to whoever walked by. Mom said she had a wonderful time and would be happy to come back.

Later in the car, she asked what I did during the holiday. When I asked which holiday, she responded as follows:

I know

You know what, mom?

Well, we did too.

Mom, what are you talking about? Which holiday?

It’s cold out.

Which holiday are you talking about, mom?

Did you go out? Be careful it’s cold.

Mom, you asked which holiday.

Oh

Which holiday? Christmas?

Oh yeah

Well, you were with me on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

Oh yeah. It’s so cold out.

 

Mom is back in the kitchen and fretting about the “cat.” He must be cold. I feel sorry for him.

Don’t worry about the cat, mom. He doesn’t even exist.

Who owns him?

This, I could truthfully answer: No one, mom.

Oh 

We are back in full swing. Mom is concerned about the cat (who doesn’t exit), her shoes (which she left at home), her cane (which she never uses), and the lights (which are too expensive to run and should be turned off—or “turned out” as she puts it).

Mom is back. Valentino is subdued. All is well with the world and mom had a wonderful time.

 

Thursday, February 26, 2015 

It’s 5:00 am. Just finished poop patrol. Have thrown the soiled diaper bag down the basement along with the soiled slipper socks. Been struggling with sending mom to an assisted-living facility while I am away. But I see clearly that I have no choice. No amount of daycare will spare Rob the morning mess or the morning calls. Mom has already called me at the top of her considerable lungs twice this morning. The first time to assist with her bowel movement, the second to find her toothbrush, which was on her night table all along. I gave mom a shower douche and cleaned the bathroom floor, toilet, sink, and tub. Will go down the basement is dispose of the diaper bag. Her slipper socks are already in the sink for washing.

I am sure Rob is awake, but I know he will fall back asleep again. He is late to going to bed and sometimes also a late riser. I hope he can get back to sleep.

As for me, I was impatient this morning. I have so little patience when mom delves into the diaper to inspect it with her usual How did that happen? Yesterday, I explained that because she is 98 years old, she no longer feels anything “down there.” Today, I lost my battle for patience. Dealing with poop and heavy detergents will do that at this hour. Well, perhaps that’s my excuse du matin. So be it. I am going back upstairs for an hour before I go off to work.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Yesterday, I printed out the words to mom’s favorite Italian songs. We had a blast singing. I played the music on the computer from YouTube: Carlo Buti, Perry Como, Dean Martin, Lou Monti…

Today, mom has been reading the words and asking me incessantly, Did you write these?

No mom, I did not write them. I printed them from my computer. They are from old Italian songs. And you have been singing them since before I was born.

Oh. Did you sing from the window?

No, mom. Those are lyrics from the old song.

Who sang from the window?

No one, mom. Those are words to a song.

Oh. Did you write these?

No mom, I printed them out from my computer. I did not write them. You know those words. You sing them all the time.

Oh. Who sang at the window? 

This has been going on all morning. I expect it to go on for a while today. I might have to take the lyrics away. Seems a shame to do so.

I walked Val and just before I left, mom asked about the weather.

Is it warm out? It feels good right here.

Well, you are inside, mom. It’s very cold outside. It’s below zero.

Oh. Why did you put a coat on him [Valentino]? Does he need to wear a coat?

Yes, I told you. It’s cold out there.

Why are you wearing a hat? Don’t wear a hat. [Mom and her sisters wore kerchiefs. God help me!]

See you later.

[To Rob as I walked out] Where is she going? Why is the dog wearing a coat… 

My chiropractor wised up. He and his siblings were going to take turns taking care of their mother. Good intentions. Terrible idea. He said that in two weeks, he clocked about 10 hours of sleep. His mother would get dressed at night and sit on the couch, waiting to return home. So they finally did it. She is back home with two full-time caregivers. I wish I could have done the same for my mother. I wish we had not sold her home and had instead rented the upstairs to help pay the mortgage and the taxes. But taxes were out of sight in New Jersey. More than $13,000. Probably would not have had enough left for the caregiver. So sad. Mom still asks about her “things,” in particular, her rugs. Long gone.

In the background as I write:

Rob, it says “that sweet melody as I sing by the window.” Is that Sandy? Is she singing by the window?

No!

And it will go on and on and on and on!

Sunday, February 22, 2015 

Cold and snowy. Snowy and cold. Icy and cold. Cold and icy. Snowy and icy and cold. The permutations are few, yet some still speak of spring. It’s all about hope. Still, if I catch that troublesome groundhog, there will be real trouble!

Valentino refuses to go out and if he does, he stands there looking for direction from me, as I hover on the back porch. I got little sleep last night. He needed to go out and didn’t want to be there alone. I understand. I empathize. Nonetheless, after I let him out, he needs to make his own decisions about where and when to do his business.

I am grateful that we have indoor plumbing and that mom can waltz to the bathroom a half dozen times at night. She has been doing it relatively noiselessly, unless she calls, which she does nearly every night. Or at least, I hear her calling me every night. She never recalls having called me. So there’s no way to know whether I am dreaming or if she is interrupting my sleep. Still, dreams rarely awaken me. Mom usually does.

She has been singing quite a bit lately. Vicino al’mare mainly, but she doesn’t remember all the words. This hasn’t stopped her from going on for an hour or more. The other night, she nearly drove Rob crazy while I slept. He stays at the computer to do Sudoku, but her incessant singing proved a distraction.

This morning, she awoke early but is still in bed, calling every few minutes.

Sandy!

What mom?

What time is it?

It’s 7:00 am.

Oh, wake me later. Where’s Rob? (Laughing) Is he still sleeping?

Yes, mom. It’s only 7:00 am.

Wake me later, will you, because I love you. I really do. Where did you get that shirt?

Betty bought it for me.

I really like it. Wake me later, will you?

 

Seconds later:

Humming, then, Sandy!

What mom? (“Swiffering” the furniture and shutters as I go)

Why is that always moving (she points to the shutters)?

Nothing is moving, mom. It’s your eyes.

The others don’t move. Just that one.

Go back to sleep mom. It’s not moving.

Why are you always cleaning?

Because I was raised by a crazy woman and her crazy sister Vera. All they ever did was clean. And now, I’m crazy, too. Just like my cousin Karen.

Oh

It won’t be long before she calls again and before I put her in the shower, while she complains bitterly that she has already had her shower. Still, once mom gets under the warm water, she says that it feels so good.