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Sleepless in Reading

Thursday, February 27, 2014 

It has warmed up to a delightful 6 degrees. I canceled Petsmart last night. Made a vet appointment instead. Awoke at around 4:00 am, listening for sounds of thrashing or sounds of any kind. I heard a muffled bark. Nothing more. Val was probably dreaming. Lucy was out in the upstairs hall sleeping peacefully. I keep a magnetic mat out there and she sometimes sleeps on that, but she was coiled up on the rug instead. I stayed in bed hoping for a minute’s sleep. 

Awoke again at 7:00 am to sound of dogs pacing. Lucy and Val were up, both eager to go downstairs. I was still exhausted and foggy-headed myself, not having slept well for 3 nights. I had called our vet last night, now under the suspicion that Val had a seizure. In fact, I now recall the first one I caught. He was flailing so hard. It was very unsettling. I must have caught him at the tail end of the second one I caught yesterday morning.

So downstairs we went—except for Lucy, who barked and barked because she cannot get down, or is fearful of descending stairs, or has forgotten how to descend stairs. Val tried climbing the stairs once again to instruct Lucy. He played a bit with her then bounded down. Lucy stayed and barked. I sat on the stairs in a stupor, still craving sleep. Val tried again. I did, too. Then Val and I went down the stairs and Lucy followed. I now put one of the thick foam dog beds at the foot of the stairs to prevent injury when she lands (or when Val and I reach the bottom for that matter). The stairs in this old house are narrow, but not bad for a dog to navigate. Dogs happy to be downstairs, I carried the dog bed back to my office, then let them out the kitchen door, down onto the back porch, and out into the yard. If my podiatrist wants to know why my foot is still swollen, he should picture this trek, oh maybe, 15 times a day at very least.

 After a look online last night, I determined to feed Val less protein and less dairy, in case he has a liver shunt, which could be causing the seizures. I am eager to bring him to see the vet. This is nerve wracking, but what else can I do in the meantime. Besides, it’s unlikely we will have a verdict or an antidote today. Highly unlikely.

 Mom is still asleep. The dogs are still silent. Val is curled up on the office dog bed. Lucy is looking confused.

Time for me to get their breakfast ready, and as today is garbage day, I have to keep Val away from the living room window (aka, the two-dog window, complete with custom cushion in a fabric called Kryptonite, which is not supposed to be a match for a dog like Val. Hah!). Val hates the garbage truck, and he always awakens the rest of the household. He is usually the alarm for the rest of the household, including mom, who sometimes yells, “Shut up!” Oh insanity of insanities. But I must open the office door. I must feed the pups. I must get myself ready for this day. And then, I must see to mom, who will invariable call me when she awakens, starting my series of bathroom trips and cleanings that will end when she lies down to sleep tonight at around 8:00 pm.

Short Night

Wednesday, February 26. 2014 

It’s 3:35 am. I heard thrashing about. Wasn’t sure where or what. Turned out to be Valentino. He had been sleeping upstairs, but had apparently gone downstairs to do his turn on the Chippendale couch or his bed in my office. He was unable to get up. His back legs were failing him or he was flailing. I gave him Reiki with all my might, eventually got him outside. A bit of pacing. Soft tummy. Not sure what the problem is yet or if he fell down the stairs (which I think I might have heard). He’s walking normally, but pacing every now and again. Odd stare. 

Last night, Christine came over. She’s new with Seniors Helping Seniors. By some accident or miracle, I found a brochure in Dr. B’s office. Turned out to be an ancient one with the founder’s home phone number. Kiran actually worked with Mother Teresa, whom I invoked for Valentino just a few moments ago. We talked a bit. She told me how she started the company and now has 200 franchises across the country. On top of that, Kiran asked for my resume and wondered if I would work for her as a marketing expert. So who knows what will come of this “chance” encounter. Kiran gave me Christine’s number, and it was Christine who signed us up for respite here at home for mom. Two days a week, plus every other Tuesday when I am at Pottstown Memorial. 

During Christine’s 2-hour visit, the dogs were in and out constantly, my mother called me several times, I actually never stopped running around. I had not realized how much constant running around I did—all the while my foot being sore. (Dear Dr. C told me that my foot should not have been as swollen as it was. It was most assuredly not his excellent surgical skills, but the demands on me and my foot, both feet to be exact.) I tended to mom and the pups over and over and over, leaving Christine in the living room and then in the kitchen while she scanned papers for me. Not the meditative life, this. Not the stress-free caregiver. 

And here I am, sitting up with Valentino. He is slated for Pet Smart tomorrow at 4:00, but if he isn’t 100%, grooming will be out of the question. Meantime, little sleep for me. As it was, I had a few chocolate-covered coconuts from Nuts.com last night. Should have refrained, but it was all too tempting. Will attempt to go back to sleep after I am sure Val is OK. In the morning, it will be an effort to get Lucy down stairs. (I leave a dog bed at the foot of the stairs now to protect her. Sometimes, she falls toward the end. But she’s too big to carry down.) After Lucy finally makes her descent, it’s in and out, breakfast time for pups, kitchen cleanup, my breakfast, bathroom cleanup (from the night before when I am not there to tend to mom), and then mom’s ablutions and her breakfast. I am exhausted and a bit sick to my stomach right now. Was so worried, am still worried about Val. I will be listening for him all night if I go back to bed. As it is, I only got 2 hours of sleep.

 

How Did Ann Do It?

Monday, February 24, 2014 

Dogs have been outside and have eaten their breakfast. Mom has been up and is back in bed. But at least I got to her before she could make a mess. Call from a patient’s daughter last night. She is seeking suppositories for her mother. Made the rounds of calls with the CNAs involved, assured her that everything would be OK. I understand the edge in the daughter’s voice. I sometimes hear it in mine, too.  And she gets far less sleep than I do. Her mother does not often sleep through the night and screams loudly. Hard to sleep through that. 

My mom does sleep peacefully—but not always through the night. She gets up once or twice for a bathroom break, but at least here she sleeps well. In Bayonne, mom was totally exhausted. She would often slur her words and slump over the kitchen table. She complained of being so tired. Her sister, who shared her bed, often hallucinated at night and sometimes vomited and evacuated her bowels on the bed. But Rose is in a nursing home now and getting good care and safe from harm. Their caregiver Ann was fantastic. I don’t know how she did it, but I do know that she sacrificed her own health to care for the two women, one of them most assuredly quite ill. Ann did laundry constantly, cleaned the apartment, bought food, cooked, cleaned the women, and called for medical help when she saw the need. She even entertained them and bought them crafts and coloring books. Played BINGO with them. And she sang and danced with mom. It was a 24/7 job. No one should ever have to do that. I now understand why she did. I just don’t understand how she did it. 

  

Words

Sunday, February 23, 2014

Tough morning. Alas, all good resolves dissolved. Betty and I walked the pups in beautiful weather. Of course, we are anticipating another onslaught of storms. But these shall be the last of them.

I had intended to arrive home, feed the pups, get ready for church, awaken my mother and give her breakfast, and get going. Everything was fine until I awoke mom. She was a mess again. Second day in a row. And we had just finished another round of antibiotics for the most recent UTI. How can we prevent these if I am not there through the night to clean her and prevent another infection? There seems to be no way.

Anyhow, I was harsh. She even remarked that I yell at her all the time. I apologized, but I had not been kind. She stands so far back in the shower that I often cannot reach her, and leaning forward with the handheld showerhead is tough on my back. So I curtly asked her to move closer. And I was upset about the dirty Depends. They were soiled inside and out this time. This also meant another load of laundry. And I had not counted on having to give her another shower before I left for church.

Today’s sermon was on words—those we speak and should not have. It’s not always words with me, but tone of voice and impatience. Mom is still so very sweet and I am not always up to the latest crisis or the latest call. Hearing her call my name grates on me when I am working. But whom can she call, if not me? She does call for Rob, but even his name is a distraction when I am working.

I apologized once again. At times, I do not honor my mother.

 

 

Loss and Losing It

Saturday, February 22, 2014 

Been editing. Swamiji sent me his latest book The Hip Guru’s Guide—The Stress-Free College Student. Good stuff. He included a story I read only yesterday: His parents were killed in a car crash while he was a counselor at summer camp. Later that day, he had to give the horrible news to his younger brother. Gives me chills to think about it and brings tears to my eyes. I cannot imagine such pain, such loss. He was only 18; his brother was 14. I could not imagine a trauma that would rip your parents from you at a young, vulnerable age. But then, at what age would you not be vulnerable? Former students of mine lost their parents in a small airplane crash 13 years ago. They were grown and married, but traumatic loss is traumatic loss. Still, a boy away at camp? Hard to imagine. I didn’t know. This is the third book I am editing for Swamiji. As I read his story, all I could think about was that I still have my mother, and here I am, keeping a diary to help me cope with caring for her.

The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?

Swamiji’s loss does not soften the task of cleaning the bathroom and washing towels and nightgowns by hand to rid them of feces or make it any easier for me, but it does give me pause. I can still serve my mother and what my heart says while I clean up after her or answer her call for the tenth time that morning or afternoon or evening is most important. I have a feeling that Mother Teresa and Saint Teresa and Dad and Margie and whatever troops are out there listening to me and watching me fumble gracelessly through the day are working overtime to coax me onto the right path. I am given the chance to love my mother and serve her at a challenging time—the end of her life. But, most important, I am given the chance.

Thank God for Rob! I could not care for mom without him. For those who toil alone, the task of caregiving is more than doubled. I could not continue to work or go on errands or meet with my friends on Thursday nights for our weekly meal and to chatter were it not for Rob. I am grateful for Rob and hope I can provide some joy and comfort in his life, too. He has dysphagia. No one knows the reason, but it is getting progressively worse. Parkinson’s and ALS have been ruled out. Next, we must determine what the problem is and if it can be helped. In the meantime, I make him puréed soups filled with vegetables and all good things. Last summer, I sprang for a Vitamix. It was loads of fun. We had fruit smoothies several times a day to beat the heat. No fruit or veggie went forgotten or wasted. For winter, I rely on my stick stirrer! I blend the hot soups right in the pot. Just throw in some wonderful vegetables, stock, and herbs—fortunately, I still have some live herbs in pots on the back porch—boil, stir, and eat! I thicken my winter soups with Russet or Yukon gold potatoes.

Mom has had a profound hearing loss ever since she was a child. She almost died from diphtheria when she was a year and a half and emerged with impaired hearing. She compensated lo these many years by asking questions and never waiting for the answer. It was her way of engaging in conversation, but a fairly one-way communication. Her remarks were often nonsequiturs. I recall a woman in a shop asking me why my mother asks so many questions yet does not reply to the responses nor does she even wait for the responses.

I didn’t know then how profound her hearing loss was. And yet, mom will not wear a hearing aid. I recently had her hearing tested, only to learn that she has 90% loss in one ear and 50% loss in the other. Not much to go by. On one hand, it compounds communication and you have to repeat nearly everything. If you say something too loudly, she takes offense and accuses you of shouting at her. Her sister Rose always shouted at mom. When mom accused her of same, Rose would defend herself by saying she had no choice. It does get vexing.

Mom just called. She’s up. It’s the end of my quiet morning. I managed to get a load of clothes into the washer, including one of the dog bed covers. Lucy, dear pup, dropped a small poopie on her dog bed. Old age is taking its toll on her, too. The dogs have been fed and let out—twice. No walks again this morning. Icy spots here and there.

I haven’t had my breakfast yet and don’t often sit with mom. Still tough hearing her slurp her cereal like soup and clank her spoon on the dish to assiduously arrange her Cheerios. But I think I will miss this when she is gone. How then do I manage a cheerful countenance while she is here? I forgive Lucy her occasional mishaps. So must I do for mom.

Today was another shower day and laundry day. Mom’s nightgown and towel are soiled yet again. When I show her, she says, “That isn’t bad. Leave it.” The mom I knew would never have tolerated such a mess. Mom has already asked three times, “Where is Rob?” So why is it so difficult to hear the same question over and over and over again. Children ask questions repeatedly, but at least their chains of questions vary. Is it easier to hear, “Why is the moon so large? Why is the sky blue? Why is the grass green?” than it is to hear,

Where’s Rob? (I answer)
Two minutes later: Where’s Rob? (I answer)
Two minutes later: Where’s Rob? (I answer)

Or is it more difficult to hear this from your mother who used to answer the previous questions with some sagacity or perhaps even duplicity.

Mom is in the kitchen eating her cereal now. And I am in my office, typing and then eating my cereal between sentences. I will go keep her company and make some tea.

Later—

Symphony tonight. Finally! And no snow or ice. Temps are moderate, at long last. Finally went for a walk (our second this week) with Betty and the dogs. Was good to get out. Had to wear sunglasses.

Snapshot—

So what am I doing now? I am listening to Jeanne Robertson on YouTube, imprisoning crazed Valentino in my office (the kid across the street is out with his skateboard and Val gets wild!), and answering mom (What’s going on? What are you doing?). Meantime, Val gets out and goes crazy on the window seat again. I coax him back into the office, fix the couch cover (protection against poodles), make a quick bathroom run, and return to the office. So here I am again. This is why I keep a water purifier in my office. It’s for emergencies. You never know when you will be trapped in here with a crazed poodle. But I have to leave now and prepare the kids’ supper and see if mom wants something to drink. This was one moment in the life of a poodle-mother caregiver. Never a dull moment. Never a quiet moment. I am looking forward to the symphony, where I might even nod off.

 

Needs—

My mother needs very few things. Every now and again, she will ask for juice or cookies. But if she has nothing in her hands, she will always ask for a “Kleenex,” and always by brand name. They were never tissues to her, but Kleenex. She collects them and stuffs them up her sleeves, in her pants pockets, in her coat pockets, under her pillow, and almost everywhere she sits. When I picked her up from Hearthstone, where she stayed for 10 days after I had my foot surgery, the attendants gave me a huge sack of tissues, napkins, and paper towels she had amassed during her stay. With the stash, I could have held a picnic for 140 people and given each one of them enough tissues and napkins to get them through a 2-day Maryland crab festival. You just never know.

 

Worries—

Just returned from a night at the Reading Symphony. Heard Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Strings in C, the Rota trombone concerto (quite nice), and Beethoven’s Symphony No. 2 in D. But it was one of those nights. I worried about mom, the pups, the car on the corner as we turned onto Stoudts Ferry Bridge Rd—Who were those people? When paranoia and worry set in, there is no stopping me. On top of that, Rob commented that he hoped my mother was OK. Still, I knew everything was fine. I prayed hard enough during the concert. And mom is fine. She is asleep and looking quite comfortable. I turned the television off when we arrived home. Pups are fine, too, and went for their evening turn in the yard. It’s good to be home again.

 

Sun!

Thursday, February 20, 2014 

Awoke to sunny skies this morning. Valentino and Lucia were still sleeping—Val at the foot of the second bed, Lucia in the hall on the magnetized mat, advertised as good for hips or whatever. She still seems full of vim and vinegar!

The trip downstairs didn’t take all that long. Not too much coaxing. Val bounded down and after a bit of barking, so did Lucy. We are currently holed up in my office, where Val is less likely to make too much noise. I am hoping mom slept well last night. Was worried with her report of dizziness. I gave her a cup of my soup with the antibiotic last night in the hopes that she would sleep better and might avoid a reaction. It should be taken with food, but as she eats so little at night, it’s tough. The cup of soup works well. It’s pureed and light and should not interfere with sleep. 

I have checked email. Now off to feed the pups!

 

Sleeping Through the Night

Wednesday, February 19, 2014 

Morning was good for the pups. But just after I let them out into the yard to do their business, icy rain and sleet fell, making it impossible for another trip to the yard any time soon. Betty called to warn me not to go out. Her neighbor already slipped on the ice. Fortunately, it warmed up later in the day, which meant that Rob would go out again to finish clearing the front walk and the mounds of ice and snow. 

Checked my email. My bid for Richard’s creamer was accepted. It will be in the mail to us soon! 

Mom was not herself today. It was worrisome. She complained of being light-headed. I think it might have been a side effect of the nitrofurantoin, but her back pain presages a serious infection. She must take at least one more hit until I can call the doctor in the morning. He was out when I called this evening. You don’t want to miss anything. You don’t want your mother to suffer. You don’t want to make a bad call. But sometimes these things are beyond you. 

Am working on new plans for business. Might start a new med program. Might also become a 501(c)3. Much to do and think about, particularly finding more work to support this household. 

Am going to spend more time sitting with mom. She was up last night and called Rob at 3:00 am to tell him that someone was using her toothbrush. She asked him to move it into the bedroom, which he dutifully did. I am hoping she will sleep through the night tonight.  

 

 

More Snow

Tuesday, February 18, 2014 

Awoke to a new snowfall. Was supposed to drive to Pottstown this morning to provide Reiki for the cancer patients, but I am not sure what the roads will be like. Don’t like driving on slippery roads. It’s 26 degrees right now. Pretty warm, considering what we’ve had to face recently. 

Valentino paces alongside my bed each morning. My signal to get up. Last night he slept at the foot of the bed on one of Polly’s gorgeous dog beds. Lucy slept at the foot of the other bed, also on one of Polly’s beds. Rob said if Valentino had been in the Olympics, four little boys would have been commissioned to carry him on his Chippendale dog bed (our couch) during the opening ceremonies. 

I pet them each for a while and give them massages when I can. Lucy barked for help navigating the stairs down, but she is downstairs now. Time to let the pups out. 

Rob and I watch to see who is doing what while the pups are out. From my office window, I can see that Val is waiting for Aunty Betty and Lucy is staring at the porch door, willing it to open and let her in. Rob is going out now. He got up early to see if I needed shoveling out to get to Pottstown. Still not sure if I should attempt the drive. 

He is out shoveling now. The dogs were pacing for breakfast, and mom awoke. Val is extra exuberant these mornings because he is getting no exercise. Apparently, mom felt the thumps of him jumping in my office! 

Am now filling the breakfast bowls, heating up the dog’s beef, getting mom settled in the bathroom, hiding the TP so she won’t attempt to wipe herself, giving the dogs their breakfast yogurt, assuring mom I will be right there, all at once, like Julia Child orchestrating a meal. Mom is back in bed now, the dogs are temporarily satisfied. Might see if I can get ready for the drive to Pottstown then give mom her meds. 

Went into the bathroom, dogs paced again. So I left my ablutions, let them out. Back to the bathroom. Dogs are barking. Too cold. Need to let the dogs back in. Must give mom her meds. 

Gave mom her meds. Her usual question, What’s this for? My usual answer, It’s your medication for the infection. 

Am wiping the floor for fallen pieces of snow. (Val went for a long walk in the deep snow.)

Sandy
What mom!
Sandy
What mom! (I know, I know, get up and go see what she wants!)
Sandy, wake me up when you’re read to eat.
OK mom, I always do. Don’t worry. 

I am still not ready. Still have not eaten anything. Rob just came in and gave the report: two to three inches, but the roads appear to be OK. I will be off to Pottstown.

 

 

Barking and Vacuuming

Monday, February 17, 2014

This morning, as ever, I worked to get Lucy down the stairs. She is so fearful, being partially blind, that she does not bound down any more. I stand at the bottom of the stairs to coax her. I go up again to pet her and assure her that everything will be fine. Valentino does his usual—up, down, up, down—trying to get Lucy to move from the top step and begin the descent. I often let him out the kitchen door first in the hopes that she will hear the door and will follow. Alas, her hearing is going, too.

Post Doggie Breakfast—

They have had their breakfast and Lucy is beside me in the office. Val is guarding the house against intruders, passers-by, squirrels, other dogs, and school buses from the living room window seat. Every now and again, he lets out a grunt and often breaks into a full bark when the occasion calls for it. This gets me running in to shush him. An invitation to join me in the office brings him running. Little sweetheart is so obedient. Doesn’t he remember that I will close the office door and keep him with me until mom wakes up? He’s no dummy. He knows. He likes being with Lucy and me.

The boy across the street, however, is a dummy. The night before last past midnight, he was outside, as he often is. But this time, he was barking, trying to enrage Valentino. Fortunately, Valentino was asleep upstairs and missed the ruckus. Rob and I were the only ones who heard him. This boy is the neighborhood skateboarder. A real nuisance. While I once applauded his exercising and taking up a sport instead of sitting at a computer all day (where I am now), I abhor his skateboarding in front of the house. Valentino hates the sound of the skateboard. We have tried desensitizing him, but Val is stubborn. I begin to see that it might not be the skateboard, but the boy (going on 18 at least, possibly in his 20s and not very productive from what I see) himself. I think his bravado in the wee hours of the morning was uncalled for. I feel I am back in Trenton at time, with horns blaring and people shouting at 3:00 am with no regard for anyone else. So it goes. At least here, it’s not that often. I do long, however, for the day this boy moves away or grows up. Preferably both. (At least he cannot awaken my mother with his calls. In fact, I can vacuum in her room without disturbing her.)

My Neighbor—

My neighbor B had a shock on Saturday. Her mother, now at Rittenhouse, had what was thought a seizure or a stroke. Turned out to be hypertension. Arlene is a year younger than my mother, but not of good cheer. Was terribly difficult for B and so was the decision to put her into a nursing home after 13 years. But now B has a life, still a life of service to many, but one without the constraints and demands of a woman who never loved her. Hard to imagine not loving your only daughter, especially one as loving and as selfless as B.

 

 

Mike, Soup, and Cold Dogs

Sunday, February 16, 2014

Went to church this morning, but had to get mom up first and give her breakfast. Fortunately, Rob took care of the coffee and juice. And I remembered to give her the turmeric. I knew Mike would ask about it, so I didn’t want to say I had forgotten. Anyhow, I told her that today Mike would be coming over to do his laundry. Normally, she would ask who he was. But she seemed to remember a bit. Than after church, I told her I was going to pick up someone who had to do his laundry here. I asked her if she remembered who. Mom hesitated for a second, but then said, “Mike.” Of course, we are only into a full week with the turmeric, but I would say this is quite a turnabout.

Mom sleeps well here, in part because Aunt Rose is no longer sharing her bed. Rose was quite ill there for a while and would awaken vomiting and coughing in her own vomit. She would also evacuate her bowels and bladder in bed. So nights were tough for mom for quite a while. The worst that happens here is that a dog will bark early in the morning, eliciting a Shut up from mom. Fortunately, the dogs’ feelings are not easily hurt. 

Call from my friend Richard B. tonight. I placed a bid for him on eBay—my first bid ever. This is for a Johnson Brothers Victorian creamer. Hope he gets it. It’s quite beautiful. Nice that he wants to complete the set and keep things intact. Says something for him, his memories, appreciation of lovely things, his past. Richard is in his early 80s. Life was and has been good to him. He still cares. His lovely wife is long gone, but Richard will leave precious things to his boys, his wife’s sons. I hope they appreciate his efforts. Family, memories, a set of china—intact. How wonderful is that!

Speaking of memories, I showed mom some photos that Ann sent. She recognized her son and her sister Rose. And this time, she did not call me Rose. This time, she did not point to that ancient face and say, That’s you, Rose. This time, she spared me. 

Still soup weather. It’s a balmy 24 degrees right now, but will go down to single digits tonight. The snow is piled high and promises to get higher with more snow coming this week and the week after next. Who knows? Weather’s a crapshoot. But soup—well, soup is a necessity. I am making broccoli cheddar soup with organic broccoli, sautéed onions, potatoes, and cheddar cheese and sprinkling it with Himalayan pink salt and freshly ground pepper (is there any other kind?). We keep the big pots of soup out on the porch, where they practically freeze overnight. It’s nice to have an extra place to keep the foods that must be kept cold. Mom says she doesn’t like soup, but usually finishes it right up. I serve hers in a cup so she won’t be any the wiser. She loves my soups. 

Dog Run

Dogs must go out into the cold once more. They have only a small spot in which to do their business—at least until we shovel out a bigger place. Val can run the yard, but Lucy cannot. Still, she manages. Yesterday, I caught Val eating poopsicles. So I ran outside to stop him and slipped in the snow. Am planning to call Dr. B, best chiropractor in town, to undo any damage. Doesn’t pay to get crazy over what the dogs do. Had to burn candles (found a few of the soy variety) to overcome the smells Val was venting thanks to his overly rich snack. Oy! Candles do help.

Must call Dr. S tomorrow. I think mom has a bladder infection. Her urine is rank and she is experiencing frequency—unbeknownst to her. If you tell mom she has just been to the bathroom, she will deny it. Or she will cover up her ignorance by saying, But I didn’t go. I just sat here. Of course, you know she went, and you wiped her butt. Wonder how long it will take the turmeric to really kick in. Wonder if it will. Am willing to give it a chance and will keep giving it to mom. You never know. Also need to look into D-mannose to prevent bladder infections. It’s good to be vigilant, but caregiving never gets easier. Caregiving has its endless routines, but it is never routine.