Sanitizing

Sunday, January 10, 2015

Your first trip to the bathroom in the morning requires work. Before you relieve yourself, there is a checklist you must first follow. Pull several Lysol wipes from the container and get to work cleaning the:

  • toilet seat
  • toilet handle
  • floor around the toilet
  • stainless toilet paper cover, which I bought to eliminate soiling the TP, but which ended up being something else to clean
  • sink and lavatory
  • faucet
  • soap dispenser
  • ledge of the tub, where mom holds onto when she rises from the toilet
  • towel rack
  • light switch plate
  • walls and woodwork on mom’s path to and from the bathroom

Later, I wash the handle of mom’s cane, check her nightgown, and replace her face towel. If there is hair in the sink, I clean it out and sanitize the cabinet and cabinet knob where her brush is stored. We keep our toilet paper in the cabinet beneath the sink and in a plastic bag so that mom won’t identify it too easily. One night mom apparently used up all of her TP and searched for something to use. She tore (literally) into my cotton face pads and contaminated the lot. She since learned that we store our TP under the sink and has torn into it from time to time. So now, we keep it wrapped in a plastic bag, hoping to thwart her using it.

Nothing is easy any more. But mom remains cheerful. She can afford to be: she’s the princess and all of her demands are catered to. Alas, she has no friends, no one to talk to–except Rob and me. And we are often too busy working, cleaning, shopping, taking care of Valentino to spend much time with her. Besides, a normal conversation is not possible. “The woman” told her to get up this morning. “The man in the tree” waved to her all night. “The people on the TV” wave to her and know her. “The cat” watches her eat breakfast. Entering this world is not advisable. You cannot add characters. You cannot describe them. They are hers and hers alone. And so, she remains alone.

They Know Me!

Saturday, January 10, 2015

 Rob, Sandy, come here!

What mom?

I want you to see this. They wave at me all the time and I wave back. They know me!

Who knows you mom?

They do. Mom points to the television. Apparently at the end of the news, the newsreaders wave to their listeners. Mom thinks they can see her and are waving directly at her. Sigh!

The Idiocy of Life

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Three adults, one unworkable bathroom. Both toilet and sink are clogged. Some weird substance (maybe the plastic beads from the lining of a diaper?) keep bubbling up to the top. I have no idea what it is, but I do have a call in to the plumber. I tried the plunger to no avail. This is worse than a usual clog. It will be interesting to learn what happened and what rogue piece of whatever is doing the damage.

Fortunately, Valentino has the great outdoors as his toilet. Unfortunately, it’s currently 9 degrees outside (warming right up there). Heaven knows what the wind chill is. But he is learning to do his business in a hurry.

Later—

Mom is awake now and wearing a new pair of Depends. She explained how she washed her dirty diaper in the bathroom sink, where the absorption beads clogged up the sink. She flung the remaining beads into the toilet and the tub and hung up what remained of the soiled diaper on the shower rack. Rob and I tried to explain how the diaper should be disposed of. It was a trial and ended up being a battle. The woman doesn’t listen, never listened. Some things never change. Rob finally brought up the Depends box and had her read where it said to dispose of the Depends in a waste can. Undaunted and determined, she explained how she cleaned everything so carefully. Actually, she left sanitizing the shower, the bathroom floor, the sink, the toilet to me. Mom is now explaining to Rob once again how she cleaned everything and did a good job.

We shall leave unclogging the sink to the plumber! I am not feeling charitable at this moment. Not one bit.

Later—

I asked mom tonight what she would do if she soiled her diaper. She said she always washes them. So I put a sign above the washbasin in the bathroom. It’s a bit like living in a restaurant, where employees are urged to wash their hands before serving.

DO NOT WASH DIAPERS
THROW THEM AWAY!

Anna, my Amish friend from market, laughed when I told her the story. She apologized and said she didn’t mean to make light of my situation, but sometimes you just have to laugh at the idiocy of life. Well spoken, Anna. Well spoken. Someday I surely will laugh.

Sleepus Interruptus

Wednesday, January 7, 2015 

Last night, she asked why Rose wouldn’t sleep with her. I assured her Rose had passed and was no longer available.

Well, who’s the other one?

What other one, mom? The only people who live here are you, me, Rob, and Valentino. Would you like Valentino to sleep with you?

No, who’s the other one? You know.

No, I don’t. And you’re going to sleep alone tonight. You’ll be fine.

Oh, OK. 

Mom has been sleeping fairly well, but she does sometimes sing at night. Sometimes she just hums. Other times she fakes her way through some Italian words. At least she is capable of entertaining herself. Thus far, she only gets up at night to use the bathroom. We keep a chain lock high on doors she should not attempt to open. Thus far, no problem with wandering.

I have taken to closing my bedroom door at night to soften the sound of her calling and waking me. Most of the time mom doesn’t recall why she called me or even that she called me. Her continued demands for tissues, inquiries about the man in the tree, and pleas to join her in bed or to tell now-deceased Rose to get in her bed have severely limited my sleep.

Better Believe it!

January 6, 2015 

Mom’s most uttered phrase is, I can’t believe it!

It’s snowing lightly today. Mom looks out the window, I can’t believe it!

It’s 7:00 am, I can’t believe it!

Rob is still sleeping, I can’t believe it!

There is nothing I can think of that will not elicit an I can’t believe it! from my mother. This is not anything new, of course. It’s been a lifelong habit. How in the middle of winter can a snowfall be so unusual as to be unbelievable? How can 7:00 am in the morning be such an unbelievable time? Why is it so unbelievable that Rob is sleep at 7:00 am, when he goes to bed late each night. Mom herself usually rallies around 10:00 am. But mom was up and ate her breakfast at an unusually early 7:45 am. She kept calling me and the only way to prevent her waking Rob was to get her up. Alas, she is back in bed. Believe me.

Later, mom was watching TV as the news about school closings scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

Sandy!

What mom?

Why are all the schools closing?

It’s snowing, mom.

I can’t believe it.

Well, it is snowing.

I know, but why are they closing the schools?

It’s too slippery for the school buses and the children.

Oh. I can’t believe it.

Sometimes neither can I.

A Bauble-y Happy New Year

January 1, 2015 

I was determined to finish reading a novel I had started, and I did. Before that, however, I walked Val in subfreezing weather. It was too cold for Betty and me to walk, but she called and recounted her visit with mom the day before. Mom told her that she loved company, but that she is “not wanted” here. When I asked mom about this today, she denied having said it, or at least couldn’t recall it. She did, however, ask again for her jewelry. So I gathered up what I could find and brought it to her. She has been wearing the watch I gave her. It was one she gave me years ago, and it never made it out of my jewelry box until mom asked for it. She didn’t seem particularly interested in any of the things I showed her. The earrings were too long or too fancy. But she is now wearing her mother’s gold chain and the medallion of the Virgin Mary. Mom gave this to me ages ago. I am happy that seeing it makes her happy. She tried to wear the cocktail ring that dad might have given her, but it’s a bit too large to wear for everyday. The ring sports a gold flower (which I don’t think is real gold). The stamens in the petals end in tiny diamond chips. It’s not likely that anyone will wear this creation any time soon. But it’s in mom’s possession once again. She is remembering things she lost or gave up. Marcy has her wedding ring already, and mom has been asking for it. I might ask Marcy to give it up for a while so that mom can wear it again. We’ll see if mom asks for it again.

Off to make my pork and sauerkraut, a Berks County tradition on New Year’s Day. I only got into it last year. Takes some getting used to. I still prefer ravioli!

Happy New Year to all!

True Confessions

Tuesday, December 30, 2014 

I am not in a loving mood this morning. The night before last, I awoke at 3:15 am. This morning, I awoke at 2:00 am. I finally fell back to sleep at 6 am only to hear the voice of doom: SANDY! I went downstairs, loaded for bear.

What do you want?

I don’t feel well.

You’ll be fine. Go back to sleep.

 

She did. I didn’t. Of course I felt guilty. So I went back downstairs for the rest of the story.

What’s wrong, mom?

I don’t feel well.

What’s wrong?

My mouth is dry. And I have been using that stuff (Biotene).

You need water. Wait a minute.

I brought her the water, but mom has never been able to drink more than a sip.

Here, I don’t like it.

Well, then go back to sleep. You’ll be fine.

 

Later—

I have already walked Val and fed him. And mom is now up at a record 8:15 am. She brushed her teeth, and I made her sit on the toilet.

I already went.

No, you didn’t.

I went last night.

You need to go now.

I don’t have to go.

Yes you do!

 

She sat. She “went.”

You don’t like me, do you?

As a matter of fact, I don’t.

So there you have it, gang. Don’t trifle with me when I am exhausted. This is one of those days. I hope tomorrow is not. My father had a temper, but he was patient. I have his temper, but I am not patient, at least not with my mother and at least not today.

Time for a review of the Reiki rules:

  1. Just for today, I will not be angry.
  2. Just for today, I will not worry.
  3. Just for today, I will be grateful.
  4. Just for today, I will do my work honestly.
  5. Just for today, I will be kind to every living thing.

Frankly, I usually have few problems with Reiki rules 2 through 5 (with the exception of stinkbugs, which are prolific in this area, as we are one block from a soybean field. They tend to hang around for the harvest. If I am in a good mood, I carry them outside. If I am not, it’s down the toilet. Maybe they will reincarnate into something good and beautiful.)

It’s that first rule that trips me up, particularly when I am tired. I am tired of cleaning up poop from the shower wall. I am tired of cleaning the toilet handle and the toilet seat, the floor around the toilet, the faucets and the light switch plates, the doorknobs, the woodwork, mom’s chair. I especially don’t like cleaning up the ring of poop around the soap pump bottle on the bathroom sink. I am tired of the smell of feces. It sometimes stays in my nostrils all day. And don’t mention the smell of bleach or Lysol (for which I am eternally grateful).

Today, I will pay especial attention to Reiki rules #1 and #2. Thus far, however, shinsetsu ja nai, I have not been kind.

Oh My!

Sunday, December 28, 2014 

Oh my! Those were Rob’s words when I showed him the shower wall. Last night, I had quickly showered mom out of necessity. I usually shower her in the morning and then bleach the shower and hop in myself for my ablutions. Last night was the exception. I thought I could leave things till the morning. I was wrong.

The white wall of the shower—I discovered a few moments ago—was flecked with feces. My tactic: spray bleach, bleach, bleach everywhere and on everything, including the shampoo bottles in the corner niche. Before her next shower, I will empty the shower of everything to prevent contamination. My next serious step will be to replace the wooden cabinets with white cabinets. Fortunately, I can see stains on the white Corian sink countertop in there, but that’s not enough. We do not share towels (I keep ours hidden) or toilet paper (ditto), but she sometimes invades our stash, contaminating everything.

Mom’s demeanor is delightful. She smiles and is pleasant, if not excessively needy and often demanding. The one serious sore spot is hygiene. She is more difficult to tend to than Valentino (The Black Dog). I plug in her room ionizer daily now to rid her room of the smell of diapers. Works fine. At least the house doesn’t smell like a nursing home.

Mom’s 98th Birthday

Wednesday, December 24, 2014 

Last night, I sent emails to my cousins, reminding them about mom’s birthday and urging them to give her a call. They did. All of them. It was a wonderful barrage of calls. Unfortunately, mom didn’t remember one of them. I could see by the caller ID who had called and I reminded mom. She looked perplexed—and I know it’s not good to challenge her—so I let it go. She was dressed and had insisted earlier to Rob that her son was coming to take her out. When I returned home from market, I reminded her that John had been here on Monday. I should have said that we had had lunch with John on Monday. Her response was to cry because she thought she had missed seeing him. Well, in a sense she did miss him. We had lunch together, but she has no memory of it. I called him and she told him how much she missed him.

This was an early day for all of us. I awoke at 3:33 and then at 5:30. Mom needed help and was rummaging through the bathroom looking for a change of “panties,” as she calls them. There we were again: Mom, me, Rob, and Valentino. I chastised Rob; told him to go back to bed. We don’t need two people to find a pair of Depends. Before I left for market, I gave mom a quick shower so that she would spend at least part of the day fresh.

This evening, I spoke with cousins Carol and Jeri, two of the birthday callers. Was nice to hear their voices and catch up a bit. Then off to church, where we had a lovely candlelight vigil, with the master of lights. Our pastor is our neighbor and his house is highly illuminated. Such fun! This year, I limited my decorating to the back porch, where the tree is. It’s easier to clear it all out then, too. Mom has not seen the tree yet and probably doesn’t even know it’s Christmas.

The other day, she received a lovely package from Seniors Helping Seniors. Some smart items. These people know what older folks like to munch on. Instead of being happy about the gift, mom fretted for hours.

We need to go to the bank. I have to buy them a gift.

No, mom. You don’t. This was just a nice Christmas basket. They don’t expect a gift in return.

Oh. Well, when can we go to the bank later?

We don’t need to go to the bank. I have loads of money right here.

But I need to buy them something. What should I buy them? Will you buy them something?

Yes, I will buy them something.

You need money. I’ll go to the bank and get you money.

OK, mom. You can go to the bank and get me money. Tomorrow 

Of course, moments later, she started anew. It just doesn’t end. I promised I would take her to the bank in the morning. And of course, in the morning, she forgot about it entirely. Her faulty memory is one thing you can bank on.

And today, she is 98 years old. But mom does not remember a thing.

Do you know how old you are, Mom?

92?

Nope. A little older.

You’re kidding me.

No, you’re 98 years old.

Oh my God.

And you’re still pretty.

70?

No, 98.

Oh my God.

There you have it. The answer to every woman’s vanity. Aging actually makes you think you’re younger!

Quartet

Saturday, 12/13/14 (Some date!)

After a day at the winery, I returned home to a glass of port, fine chocolates, and biscotti. Some of the pleasures still left to me. I then repaired upstairs to watch my latest acquisition, Quartet, a film starring the incomparable Maggie Smith and a fabulous cast. The film is set in a home for retired musicians, all of whom are in various stages of the long (or short) downhill. It was breathtaking in many ways. I watched as a caregiver for my mother who is failing in a spectacular way. I watched as a former musician—although I am told that musicians are never “former.” I watched as an aging woman, who still has considerable energy and who still seeks to live and be engaged in life in many ways—not unlike many of the characters in the film.

All through the film, I sobbed. First out of sadness for the losses the musicians were experiencing—not only in health, but also in ability. In the end, it was about second chances, even in advanced age. It was about continued love and continued celebration of God-given talents. And it was about compassion.

You are never too old to learn more about compassion, forgiveness, and love.