Saturday, May 10, 2014 

Been catching up on editing work. Picked up my friend Mike early this morning so that he could do his laundry here. He doesn’t like to use public machines and does not trust some of the product they use out there. While he’s here, Mike catches up on his email. He uses computers over at Albright College nearby. Went there with Barb on Thursday for a lecture on C.S. Lewis. Am now back to re-reading some of my C.S. Lewis collection—starting with “A Grief Observed”—and have ordered still more books. I wish I had a mind like Lewis’s. He could remember everything he ever read. I am lucky if at times I even remember reading a book. I often don’t remember endings, just parts of books. I do recall, however, sitting for the French proficiency exam at NYU. We were required to have facility in reading 5 languages for a Masters/Doctorate in Musicology: German, Dutch, Latin, Italian, and French. French is last for a very good reason. The flowerly explanations given in their so-called musicological journals were often useless—lovely, but useless, and hardly scientific. Whereas Musik in der Geschischte und Gegenwart was the ultimate research took. During the exam, we were given a page to translate. It was from a novel by Gide, I believe. Funny thing was, I remembered the passage verbatim. I was one of two students who passed the test. I had been a French Lit major and so my friends were not impressed with my victory. They had all failed. Another epiphany dismissed. Heck, I thought it was great fun! 

Drove Mike back home with his laundry, stopped off at Sam’s Club for gas and to buy more tissues and cranberry juice for mom. When I arrived home, I saw that ProFlowers had left a box on our front stoop. My brother John had sent flowers. These were surely the flowers. They also included some chocolates in the package. Nice pink vase, but it wasn’t wide enough to hold the flowers nicely. So I divided the flowers into another vase. I added the floral vitamins, trimmed them as directed, and filled the vases with lukewarm water. 

Look mom. John sent you flowers for Mother’s Day.
Oh these are beautiful. You should add water.
I did add water.
OK. Where did you get them?
John sent them.
Oh. Sandy, you should add water.
They are already in water, and I trimmed them, too.
Yeah. These are nice. Where did you get them?
John sent them. Your son, John. For Mother’s Day.
Oh yeah?… 

Good morning, all!

 Later—

Was supposed to go to a church luncheon today. Got caught up in my work and worked through the luncheon instead. My loss! I called Barb to apologize, but she understood.

Was also supposed to go to the farm today. Made it and found a crew working on getting the place ready for the wedding next weekend. I am the unofficial “Wedding Coordinator”—a sort of last-minute helper. The wedding will be held in Westchester, and someone needs to be at the farm in Virginville to direct the caterers, be sure the band is plugged in, see to it that there is sufficient ice and sufficient wine, and that the electricity is A-OK. Will be a very long day after a long day at market substituting for Mark. Hoping we get sunshine for Brian’s big day! Alas, Rob will be left alone with mom and the pups.

Mom did her usual routine of bathroom trips—one every 40 seconds—and her calling for tissues and something to drink. She has no clue when she has eaten or what she has eaten or what she might have eaten. She remembers nothing. Short-term memory completely kaput. But she wants company. The only thing left for her to do is to repeat the same questions again and again. Ooh, is it raining? Where were you? Is it cold? Did you wear a sweater? Wear is your coat? Where were you? What are you doing? Will you sit with me? Where were you? And as much as I understand on an intellectual level that this is as much as she is capable of saying, I resent it. I resent having to get up every few seconds to take her to the bathroom. I resent hearing her say Ooh, it’s cold out. Wear your coat, when it’s 75 degrees outside and humid. She is kind and sweet, gracious even and thankful. But there is a wicked part of me that says I don’t want another minute of this. Still, the objective (is this an objective exercise?) might be to do a graceful job of it despite and in spite of these feelings, these resentments. I am no Mother Theresa or Saint Teresa. I am often put upon, but at the same time very sad. My mother is gone. This woman tells me she cannot remember her own mother, because that was such a long time ago. And then, maybe there is an element of fear in me. Will I wind up not knowing anything or anyone? Will I wind up asking my caregiver (if ever I have one) for tissues or water or juice, or to sit with me or sleep with me? This woman is lonely, but does she even remember when I do sit with her? Is she aware on some level that her existence is extremely lonely, totally isolated from reality, from the moment, from the moment that just passed?

As a pianist and an editor, I prefer being alone. It’s part of the world I chose. But will there come a time that I will crave company other than the company of a well-behaved pup? (Valentino is challenge enough at times and not always welcome company.) How different our lives have been. Mom has always required the company of her sisters. She spent all of her free time with them and greatly preferred spending time with them than with her own husband. She resented the trips to Italy to visit family. She resented having to leave New Jersey. Her life was narrow, her loves were few and limited to her sisters and her son. How do you celebrate the loss of this? How do you celebrate the life of a woman who was so different and about whom people said, “How can you be her daughter? You are so different.” How do you celebrate a life you never comprehended on any level and in fact you did not like. How many weekends were you condemned to spend shopping with her sisters? You came from a family of two. She came from a family of ten! How different were your lives. You studied music. She had no real appreciation of music. She was the woman who shouted as you leaned and lingered on a beautiful note and change of key in a Chopin nocturne, Ooh, she hit a wrong note! It wasn’t. It was a beautiful note and she ruined that moment, much the same way she cheapened my graduation recital by hurrying me from the hall, where people lined up to congratulate me. I had to hurry home because graduation was in four hours! Four hours! Town was only three miles long. How long could it take to get from one end of town to the other?

We were at odds, and I am left being the only one who remembers this. How to let go? Her favorite child, her son, calls to say hello. And she remembers him. But I am variously Rose and Sandy and in the beginning even Ann. I am the one she looks blankly at when I talk about Daddy and to whom she remarks You mean my husband. And in the next breath, How did he die? I tell her over and over again. But there is no mechanism for remembering.

How dangerous it is for me to remember! How sad to be the only one left who knew what had happened yet have no way of dealing with it. There is no one I can go to for answers about grandma or Aunt V or Aunt M. She is no longer there. If after death we exist in the memories of others, no one exists in my mother’s memories. How can I learn to be sympathetic to this woman? What or to whom am I lending my sympathy?

Or is this all an exercise put before me by God Almighty, who says I know. I see. I hear. I am, whether you know me or acknowledge me. Whether you trust me or hate me. Whether you accuse me or honor me. I am and I see.

OK. I give up. I am not doing it. I can’t do it. I leave it in Your hands because mine are clearly too small and too useless and too unwilling.

Mom’s third trip to the bathroom in 5 minutes.
Did you see Rob?
Do you remember when you last saw him?
When? Last week? (Why am I taunting her.)
Yeah. I saw him.
This is nothing more than idle conversation. Something to fill in the quiet for her because she clearly knows nothing now.
She goes to her room. Gets in bed.
Sandy!
Yes mother.
Close the windows for me.
Yes. (I close the shutters.)
What are you going to do.
Nothing. (Is this what I would have answered when I was a child.)
Yeah. (She says this after everything I say, because she cannot hear and does not understand.)

I point to the flowers my brother sent. Aren’t these beautiful.
Who sent them.
Johnny Boy.
There are some people she will never forget or ever confuse.

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Beautiful day, but my roses are far from ready to bloom. We are weeks behind because of the cold weather. Walked and fed the pups. Then went for a walk in the mall with Barb. First time walking the mall. There really are mall-walkers! And they all know the distances. We saw Dick, our neighbor, there too. He was sitting with a bunch of other men. Chewing the fat and having coffee. Nice for him to have companionship. He just lost his wife a few months ago. Quite a shocker, that one! You just never know. 

Managed to get my banking done. Mom is still asleep. Have already called the plumber. Far too many napkins and paper towels going down the toilet. This is no house to fool with when it comes to plumbing. In fact, I need to buy copper sulfate to kill the tree roots. My basement might be neat and clean, but the drains down there are problematic. The township had to come and saw tree roots away two summers ago, while Rob worked the ShopVac and suctioned sewage water out of the basement. (Wasn’t too bad. Mostly a neighbor’s laundry water.) Nonetheless, don’t want that scenario again! Rob has actually fished mom’s paper towels and napkins from the toilet. (We use surgical gloves!) Oh, there go the drains again. Bubbling away. This isn’t good. Going to have to watch mom like a hawk today! 

Speaking of surgical gloves, taking care of mom requires all kinds of supplies in the way of sanitation, vitamins, desserts, drinks, supportive devices, bathroom articles, you name it. And I thought having dogs was demanding. 

Uh oh. Just showered mom. (Bad night for her.) Tub is backing up. Sewage pipe is clogged. The plumbers can’t get here soon enough, and they are slated for late tonight. I tried telling mom not to go to the bathroom alone today. She will need constant supervision. We might wind up using the potty chair. It’s still outside, where it’s been since I brought it here from Bayonne. Will have to clean it and use it as backup. (Backup! Watch that word!) Going to be a long day. Our old sewage pipes are a bit too sensitive for the likes of mom and her collection of paper products! Like an alcoholic, she hides napkins, paper towels, and tissues in the most unusual places, including around the room and in her diapers. As one person pointed out, they are her only valued possessions. Apparently, paper products become very important to the elderly.

Sunday, May 4, 2014

Mom awoke early this morning, but I coaxed her back in bed. She’s up now and eating breakfast, after having asked the usual questions: What time is it? Where is Rob? Is he still sleeping?

I have showered her, cleaned the bathroom, dressed her, and prepared her bowl of cereal. She is ready for the day, such as it is: word search puzzles and television. I wish I could move her onto the porch but she refuses. Mom is in the kitchen now, beating her Cheerios to death. Rob once jokingly said she thinks they are little people and has to club them before she eats them. It actually sounds as though she is cutting them into little pieces. Her eyesight is good enough for the puzzles; so that cannot be the problem.

But at least mom is showered and I am airing her room. If she were aware that her bedroom windows were wide opened, she would protest mightily. Mom has always been a windows-closed, shades-down kind of woman: no air, no light. The love of darkness and airlessness does not pertain in this household, much to mother’s dismay.

(Mom is calling. Just a minute.)
Where were you? Were you in your office again?
Yes, mom. What do you need?
I don’t even have a Kleenex.
(I gave mom a napkin.)
Thanks, Sandy. Are you going in your office again?
Yes, mom.

Of course, I feel guilty even sitting here and typing this. Mom wants company. Is that too much to ask? But mom wants company all day long. Yesterday, I spent half the day cleaning out the garden beds, digging, and moving and planting the heartier plants. I have a garden, work, a household, a life, and a mother who needs full-time attention. More than anything, she wants someone to sleep with her. She is afraid of the nighttime. I left the light on the other night at her request, but she turned it off during the night.

Those Cheerios are surely all dead by now!

Friday, May 2, 2014 

Inauspicious start of the day. I walked the pups, after having checked out “dense breasts” on the Internet. My mammogram usually comes back with “heterogeneously dense breasts.” Always been, but of course, now studies are linking this to ca in younger women. I have always had dense breasts, but reading about the studies was nonetheless upsetting. Betty and I laughed about it on the walk with the kids. She has large “fatty breasts,” something we figure I will never achieve. I am a low achiever on the fat score!

Well, Valentino had the runs. Mild case. It’s spring and his renewed diet of long grass is taking its usual toll on him. Upon returning home, I worked on loading the Elfa system into the car for Barb. She’s going to use it to store her scrapbook materials. I am delighted to give it away to someone who is equally delighted to have it and who will use it well. As I was loading the car, mom called. A bit early for her. I didn’t hurry to her bedside, figuring she had heard the garage door and would return to sleep. But she called again. When I reached her, she was obviously distressed. She said, “I think I’m dying.” I assured her we all were, but that her time had not yet come. But she reiterated her fear. I sat and cried with her for a minute or two. The thought of losing my mother was too hard to bear.

I was unaware that she had awakened Rob during the night and told him there was a man in her room. She claimed to have trouble breathing. So I sat her up and called Barb, who is a retired LPN. We sat and talked with mom for a bit. Mom complained of back pain for which I applied heat. I thought caffeine might help, figuring she was suffering from the extraordinarily high pollen counts, as I was. The coffee seemed to do the trick, as did the heating pad.

Rob stayed with mom, while Barb and I went to the gym. By the time I returned home, mom was happily watching television. I showered her and brought her to the breakfast table, where she is now eating her cereal and English muffins. Rob is entertaining her as I write, and she is sounding stronger. I think the heat from the shower and the heating pad helped.

Let’s see what the rest of this day has in store for us!

Well, just now, the doorbell rang. After I settled the chorus of dogs, I opened the door to find a man standing there. He offered to reseal my drive. This was an easy decision. As much as the drive needs it, I don’t have the money for it. So the answer was no. In the kitchen, Rob asked my mother if she would buy me a new driveway. Mom said, “I’ll go half with her. It’s her house, not mine.” Rob concluded that she was feeling just fine thank you! We had a good laugh. Was good to have my mother back!

Later—

Let’s see: On the same day my mother announced that she is dying, Valentino had a set-to with the Skateboarder! This dog did not come out ahead. He is breathlessly pacing my office and crying. Quite a mess! He was drinking too much water in the kitchen. Had to put a stop to that. And he’s already had the runs in the yard. I love Val, but he is the most reactive dog I have ever known! Unfortunately, the Skateboarder knows this, too. Of course, it’s only 7:58 pm, so I doubt he’s drunk yet. Kind of early for a 17-year-old Skateboarder to be drinking. Then again, when I found him last time, it was 6:00 am. Oh deliver us! Better still, deliver him!

God alone knows what the night will bring. Will mom see another “man” in the room? Will she awaken to thoughts of dying? Will she become frightened in the dark? Frankly, I think the pollen count is the real culprit. I myself had trouble sleeping and had to take a Manuka honey lozenge. Had trouble with postnasal drip. Gave mom some homeopathic remedy for sinus problems. Hope it helps some. Can hardly expect her to use a neti pot. Oh my. The day was more complicated that it might have been.

Thursday, May 1, 2104 

Business as usual. Betty and I walked the pups. I fed them, and cleaned their bowls. Then off to pick up Rob at Precision Auto, where Bluto will undergo diagnostic testing! Rearranged my schedule once again to accommodate work—blessed work! Will be taking LW to the oral surgeon next week instead of today. Chapter due in client’s inbox EOD today.

Doing a virus scan on my iMac. Received an invitation to join a friend’s Facebook, but we are already friends. Someone hacked her Facebook. So annoying. I don’t keep personal information on my Facebook and have closed the account down several times. Too intrusive.

Sun is almost out. Redbud is doing its best. Pups are asleep. Spoke with G yesterday about removing a tree. Too late. It’s too big. So we will keep it pruned. As for all the replacement trees I bought for it over the past 4 years when G did not come to remove the offending tree, I need to figure out a garden plan so that they are not peppered all over my yard in helter-skelter fashion.

Mom is in the kitchen with Rob. I am in my office. She will ask several times where I am, having no clue where my office is. (It’s next to her bedroom.) Mom is doing her word search puzzles. Her current puzzle is a doozie! Chockablock full of acronyms of radio and television stations all beginning with K! But she is doing a creditable job.

Back to work for me. Chapter 4 is due tonight. Don’t know if I will be able to escape to an early dinner with Carol, but I will try.

Wednesday, April 30, 2014 

Torrential rains today. Yet, I ran errands. Part of needing to get out and into the fresh/moist air. Work did not come in today, which freed me up for the more mundane tasks that needed to accomplish. 

It is early evening now, and mom had begun her serial trips to the bathroom. Thus far, I have counted two in as many minutes. Later the number of trips and time between them will accelerate and shorten. 

I am now listening to The Cathedral Singers doing Catholic Latin classics. First download from Amazon. Normally, I just download onto my iTunes. Quite nice. Also ordered the CD for use in my car and on the CD player. I am brought back to why I wanted to enter the convent. There is no more healing or uplifting music. I can almost smell the incense.

Tuesday, April 29, 2014 

Canceled our trip to Longwood Gardens today. Mary, Kathy, and I were to go. (They are long-time friends of my sister-in-law. Now they are also my friends–one of the best gifts my sister-in-law ever gave me!) Heavy rains predicted. Our trip will be postponed, and we will look forward to yet another time together. 

Plants out there are screaming for warmth and sun. I might have lost my large Endless Summer hydrangea—the one by the back porch. I have about 13 or 15 different hydrangeas. All suffered through this harsh winter. If the beautiful bloomer by the back porch doesn’t make it, I will be working hard to dig it out and then replace it—with another hydrangea, of course. I cut back quite a few of the hydrangeas nearly down to the ground. There are signs of growth with some of them. The heartiest appear to be Strawberry Vanilla and Quick Fire, accounting for 6 of my hydrangeas. Itea Little Henry also suffered. We wait. We’ll see. 

Have walked the pups and fed them. Fortunate to have been able to go out before the rain. Mom is still asleep. She craves attention so much, but when I am working, I need quiet, uninterrupted quiet. It’s so hard not to get angry when she calls for some miniscule reason. But then, to her, it is not miniscule. It is earth shattering, upsetting, a call for companionship, a call for help, a call for solace. She is a child now, no longer able to do for herself what she was able to do for years. Perhaps she no longer recalls having done things for herself. Perhaps she is unaware of the loss. I don’t know. She sometimes does say, “What would I do without you?” I know she is grateful, but she is also lonely and too often afraid.

Later—

Particularly heavy workload today, and mom has been to the bathroom around 7 times in the past 5 minutes. She doesn’t recall going, and says she hasn’t been to the bathroom all day. The constant interruptions lengthened the course of my work. I had to keep going over it to be sure I had not missed anything. And yet, I feel terrible for being upset with her. Thought occurred that she might have a bladder infection, yet again. Then again, she might just not be emptying properly. She sits for only a second or two. I made her stand and sit again, thinking it might shift her bladder just a bit. All to no avail. 

It’s getting late and I still have work to get out. Here’s hoping I can do it with minimal interruptions. (But this is my mother, who might not even be here tomorrow! How can I be so… I don’t even know what it is I am being anymore!)