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.

Tuesday, September 30, 2014 

Mom has a new habit. She now pulls herself up from the toilet by holding onto the glass shower doors. The doors can easily come loose from their tracks if a person pulls hard enough. I tried explaining that she can injure herself. I demonstrated how dangerous this was and showed her where to place her hands on the tub.

All I got was a heads down and away. She won’t listen. Never does this. Says only, I never do that. 

What does one do? I imagine the horror of finding mom bleeding in the bathroom, the shower door in pieces, the EMTs coming into the house to see mom seriously injured from broken glass, the hospital social worked questioning me about my treatment of mom.

My bathroom is too small to do away with a shower door. Everything would get wet. And there is no chance that I can train mom. She won’t be corrected. She denies ever having done anything wrong or dangerous. Constant supervision throughout the day and night is as impossible here as it would be in a nursing home. I recall having to handwash the nightgown covered in feces after she stayed the weekend at a local assisted-living facility. The aids made no attempt to clean up the mess. They merely stuck her filthy nightgown in a plastic bag and sent it home to me. Of course, I can only imagine the state of the bathroom and the white towels as mom left them at that facility. I am sure this is why they are no longer eager to have mom come and stay. They increased the price on us and told us it took too long for mom to acclimate—code for Don’t bring her back here!

Nope. Mom is solely our worry now.

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Still not recuperated. And I am here alone with mom. Rob is taking a course at a local college on Excel. I need one of those courses, too. I know precious little about creating Excel files, but oh well.

Made mom her breakfast and tried talking with her this morning, but it’s a bit frustrating. First, I turned her bench seat. It’s bentwood and Rob and I turn the seat so she won’t sit on the edge and break it. As usual, I turned the seat before she sat on it.

I don’t need that.

Why not? I don’t want you to sit on the curved edge.

I know how to sit down. Here, let me show you.

And of course, she attempted to sit on the bent edge.

 

Later, I made her breakfast.

Would you like coffee, mom?

Are you having any?

No, I don’t drink coffee. Do you want any?

OK.

Getting her to say she wants something is always a chore.

 

Then I tried to make conversation. Who’s crazy here?

Rob is taking a 2-day course at a local community college.

Oh.

Did you hear me?

Yes, I heard you.

Then where’s Rob.

He’s at the barber shop?

No. He’s taking a course.

I heard you!

No you didn’t. He’s taking a 2-day course at the community college. Did you hear me?

He’s at the barber shop?

No, he’s at the local college.

Oh.

Did you hear me?

Yes

What did I say?

What?

What did I say?

When?

What I said about Rob.

Oh, where is he?

At the local community college

The barber?

No!

AARRGH!!!!!!!!!

I have retreated to my office. Mom is sitting at the kitchen counter. There’s no point in trying to talk with her or be with her. She only repeats the same question until you can’t take it anymore or responds with an Oh to your comment. Hers must be a lonely world, but this has been going on for decades—long before dementia kicked in. I remember a woman in our hometown who asked me why my mother asks questions but doesn’t wait for the answers. It was mom’s way of being present. I do not say communicating, because she was not capable of doing so on any large scale or even one-on-one. Mom still asks the same series of questions and is still incapable of hearing the answers. One might ask why we don’t get her a hearing aid. Don’t even go there! That battle was lost a long time ago. Enough said.

 

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Am under the weather big time. Can’t stop coughing. A new bug for our deteriorating country. Rob thinks part of the problem is grief over Lucy’s death. I am sure that’s a big part of it.

Mom is on her bathroom kicks. Lost count as to how many trips she took today. Betty called while I was in the bathroom with her to tell me to look at the sunset. Spectacular! We get so many gorgeous sunsets around here. I decided to show mom, too. I took her to the window for a look.

What are you doing?

I want you to see something. Look! Look at the sky!

I see. I see. Now close this window. I don’t want it open. Close it! 

Mom is alive, but is missing out on a vital part of life—enjoyment, wonder, awe, and joy! Lucy’s last day was more packed with life than mom’s every day. Lucy bounded down the stairs that day. She had treats and enjoyed her extra dollop of yogurt. She barked at Sammy and lunged to play. Then she left us. Way to go, Lucy. I will always love you. Lucy died with her boots on. Mom is barefoot.

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Mom

I no longer accompany my mother to the toilet in the evening. She makes anywhere between 8 and 10 trips. A trip every 2 minutes just about. She doesn’t remember that she just went to the bathroom. Sometimes she doesn’t remember that she just flushed the toilet and flushes more than once. Each visit is heralded with, Sandy (or Rob), I’m going in the bathroom. Her vernacular is from the hometown. She never used prepositions correctly.

I cannot accompany her to the bathroom each time. I cannot don the gloves. I cannot do the required stream of ablutions. I cannot stand the constant interruptions. I still worry about bladder infections and kidney infections. I still worry about sepsis. Her toileting habits are awful. But I cannot be awake at all hours of the night either to accommodate her need. There is little I can do to protect my mother from herself every minute of the day and night. Little.

Lucy

I am still grieving my dearest Lucy, of course, and will be for a long time to come. There is no one who can stop the gnawing pain in my heart. But I felt her soft body relax into my arms. It was my reward for loving her that I was able to hold her so closely and to be there for her when she left her failing body. My little sweetheart. Beautiful to the end.

Val

Linda was here today. She brought two of her Belgian sheep dogs for Val to play with. He nipped and got nipped at. He met his match—two times over. They ran and ran. The yard was their play land. Then the kid on the skateboard—who as it turns out dropped out of school two years ago—came out to play too. On his skateboard, no less. I had fantasies of hitting him on the head with the damned thing. Can’t you see that Val is upset? Val spent much of the afternoon barking after Linda and her canine gang left. I kept Val on leash and close to me to prevent him from becoming too upset. He is still walking around with the leash dragging behind him. But he does pay attention. He does stop barking when I get him away from the window. He can be controlled. Val has come a long way from the little lunatic he was when he first moved here 6.5 years ago. Seems a lot longer than that. A lot longer.

Sunday, September 21, 2014

 

Something went wrong with the cable box attached to the television in mom’s room. So Rob and I took the box to Comcast and exchanged it for a new one. Upon arriving home, I found mom sitting in front of the blank screen and looking out toward the windows.

What are you doing, mom?

Watching TV.

What are you watching?

I don’t remember. But there’s nothing on.

 

We then called the number we were instructed to call for hookup, but it did not occur. We were left with a blank screen, even after exchanging cable wires with the television from upstairs. All the while Rob was on the phone with the cable guy, mom interrupted him.

Rob, what if you plugged that in?

Please be quiet. I am on the phone.

Rob, what’s that wire for? Oh, something’s coming on now.

No, please be quiet.

Rob, why don’t you try…

No, please be quiet. I am on the phone now.

Well, I see something, and there’s that wire over there…

 

Mom is now entertaining herself by watching the still screen: “ONE MOMENT PLEASE. This channel should be available shortly. Code: XXXXX.” I guess you can entertain yourself with anything, if indeed anything does come to mind. I made the mistake of trying to turn the TV off.

Mom protested, I’m watching that. Don’t turn it off.

I’m sorry, mom. Enjoy!

 

Doesn’t take much to entertain mom!