Monday, August 30, 2004
We had our first mother-initiated conversation about cigarettes, today.
She and I were playing Sorry and she started rummaging over the table.
"What are you looking for?" I asked.
"Cigarettes," she said.
"Mom, you don't smoke, anymore."
Her head swiveled in my direction, her eyebrows shot into her forehead and her eyes darkened. "What do you mean!?!" she demanded.
"You haven't had a cigarette in over a month, now."
"You're joking!"
"Nope. You quit."
"When did I do that?!?" She sounded like she needed to be reminded of some crazy behavior which she would never again repeat.
"I stopped you from smoking about a week before you went into the hospital on August 1st because you were so weak and every time you had a cigarette you became visibly weaker and you needed to be on oxygen 24 hours a day. Then you spent three weeks in the hospital and the SNF and they didn't allow you to smoke."
"I'm sure I smoked in the hospital (she refers to both the hospital and the SNF as "the hospital")."
"Nope. Not a one. You've only missed them once since then and that was my fault." I reminded her of the incident a while back when I tried to put a ball of cat hair in an absent ash tray in front of her.
"Well, I miss them now."
"Okay, twice then. Mom, if I were to give you a cigarette I'd have to go out and buy some. There aren't any here. And, you know what? I don't want to. Trust me on this, Mom. Your health is so much improved you can't imagine what a difference it's made. You rarely use oxygen, your energy level is way up there, you can smell again, you can taste again, all your body functions are falling back into line and quitting has been painless. It's just not a good idea for you to smoke anymore."
She looked as though she was beginning to listen to me but she had a reservation, "Not even one?"
"Mom, I can't buy just one, and, no, not even one. Best that we let that sleeping dog lie. You're much better off that way."
"Well, I just can't believe it."
"Believe it, Mom. You've stayed the course and now you're a winner."
"I guess so."
That was the end of the conversation. Nothing has been mentioned since and she hasn't continued her aborted search for cigarettes. I think we are definitely over that hump. I'm not even worried about her being around other smokers. We hardly know any other smokers and those we do are extremely respectful of the fact that she's quit.
When her sister was dwindling for a couple of years prior to her death her family had stopped her smoking, although her sister never missed cigarettes. They hadn't stopped her because of health problems connected with smoking. They'd stopped her because she couldn't remember what to do with a lit cigarette and was dangerous when she was trying to manage one. Whenever my mother visited her sister, whether at her home or later in the nursing home, she'd take her outside to the patios affixed to both places and offer her a cigarette. Soon after her sister entered the nursing home though she no longer understood what a cigarette was or what to do with it. At this point my mother had to admit to herself that her sister was definitely in major decline and probably wouldn't be recovering. It was heartbreaking when she told me the story that day of how her sister didn't recognize a cigarette and what Mom understood from this.
I'm now thinking that maybe some of Mom's prior refusal to give up smoking was tied to her realization that her sister's refusal of cigarettes was a signal of the beginning of the end. I think Mom has clung to her cigarette habit in part because of this emotional link, fearing that no longer wanting or recognizing a cigarette would mean that there was no longer any hope for her. I also think that not smoking means exactly the opposite in Mom's case and surmising this for her relieved her fear. As soon as she registered what I was saying it was as though her mind settled on the issue of what cigarettes mean for her, despite what they meant for her sister. I expect in the months to come there will be repeats of what happened today over Sorry but I don't think the outcome will be any different. All she'll need is a few more reminders and I believe she'll be fine and free.
I decided to read her my new essay at Essaying the Situation. I wanted to hear what she thought of it. I cried as I read the last paragraph. I warned her that I would. She agreed with everything I'd written, especially the parts about no one being truly qualified to give an Ancient One advice and that unless the caregiver is a peer the caregiving situation is always that of a child caring for an adult, not vice versa. She also asked me why I referred to people "of a certain age", as she put it, as "Ancient Ones".
"I like the connotations," I said. "'Elder' has no connotations, 'senior citizen' has certain negative connotations, 'elderly' sounds like an excuse...'Ancient One' has an air of occult wisdom about it."
"Is that 'Air' or 'error'?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.
"Yes," I said, grinning back at her. We both nodded, satisfied.
When I attempted to rouse her between 1030 and 1100 she was not interested. My first urge was to cajole and argue and whup her out of bed but I reconsidered. Even I, at times prior to the last 5 - 7 years, have wanted and successfully sought days where all I desired was to lounge around, nap every couple of hours and eat lightly, usually after a long, strenuous period. I think this is what Mom needs today so I left her alone. Finally, about noon, I heard her flushing the toilet and our day began. I asked her point blank "Do you just want to lounge around, today?"
"That sounds good."
"Okay. You can sleep as much as you want. I'll give you a day off from exercises and walkering (which she hasn't had since she was released from the facility) and we'll just do pleasant things like fixing your hair, doing your nails, making fun of programs on TV If you only end up having two meals I think that's fine..."
"I'm glad we're not going to Mesa, today."
"So am I. This way, we'll be completely rested and we can get an early start, tomorrow."
"I'm for that."
"So. How about I beat your pants off in Sorry?"
"I don't think you can."
"Aha! A challenge. Belt 'em up tight, Mom. I'm on the the opposing side of the board!"
You know the rest. She's napping, now.
As I was proofing this, I heard her in the bathroom dropping curlers on the floor from having her hair set before napping. She's up now. I've noticed something very interesting. Just a few minutes ago she was rummaging around, again for something. I asked her what she was looking for and she responded immediately, "A comb. For my hair."
That's twice today that she'd rummaged and not only known but retained the knowledge of what she was looking for. That's a record. This hasn't happened in ages. Prior to August 1st she rarely remembered, once she began her search, why she was searching.
I'm very encouraged. If you are close to my mother you should be, too.
Later.
"What are you looking for?" I asked.
"Cigarettes," she said.
"Mom, you don't smoke, anymore."
Her head swiveled in my direction, her eyebrows shot into her forehead and her eyes darkened. "What do you mean!?!" she demanded.
"You haven't had a cigarette in over a month, now."
"You're joking!"
"Nope. You quit."
"When did I do that?!?" She sounded like she needed to be reminded of some crazy behavior which she would never again repeat.
"I stopped you from smoking about a week before you went into the hospital on August 1st because you were so weak and every time you had a cigarette you became visibly weaker and you needed to be on oxygen 24 hours a day. Then you spent three weeks in the hospital and the SNF and they didn't allow you to smoke."
"I'm sure I smoked in the hospital (she refers to both the hospital and the SNF as "the hospital")."
"Nope. Not a one. You've only missed them once since then and that was my fault." I reminded her of the incident a while back when I tried to put a ball of cat hair in an absent ash tray in front of her.
"Well, I miss them now."
"Okay, twice then. Mom, if I were to give you a cigarette I'd have to go out and buy some. There aren't any here. And, you know what? I don't want to. Trust me on this, Mom. Your health is so much improved you can't imagine what a difference it's made. You rarely use oxygen, your energy level is way up there, you can smell again, you can taste again, all your body functions are falling back into line and quitting has been painless. It's just not a good idea for you to smoke anymore."
She looked as though she was beginning to listen to me but she had a reservation, "Not even one?"
"Mom, I can't buy just one, and, no, not even one. Best that we let that sleeping dog lie. You're much better off that way."
"Well, I just can't believe it."
"Believe it, Mom. You've stayed the course and now you're a winner."
"I guess so."
That was the end of the conversation. Nothing has been mentioned since and she hasn't continued her aborted search for cigarettes. I think we are definitely over that hump. I'm not even worried about her being around other smokers. We hardly know any other smokers and those we do are extremely respectful of the fact that she's quit.
When her sister was dwindling for a couple of years prior to her death her family had stopped her smoking, although her sister never missed cigarettes. They hadn't stopped her because of health problems connected with smoking. They'd stopped her because she couldn't remember what to do with a lit cigarette and was dangerous when she was trying to manage one. Whenever my mother visited her sister, whether at her home or later in the nursing home, she'd take her outside to the patios affixed to both places and offer her a cigarette. Soon after her sister entered the nursing home though she no longer understood what a cigarette was or what to do with it. At this point my mother had to admit to herself that her sister was definitely in major decline and probably wouldn't be recovering. It was heartbreaking when she told me the story that day of how her sister didn't recognize a cigarette and what Mom understood from this.
I'm now thinking that maybe some of Mom's prior refusal to give up smoking was tied to her realization that her sister's refusal of cigarettes was a signal of the beginning of the end. I think Mom has clung to her cigarette habit in part because of this emotional link, fearing that no longer wanting or recognizing a cigarette would mean that there was no longer any hope for her. I also think that not smoking means exactly the opposite in Mom's case and surmising this for her relieved her fear. As soon as she registered what I was saying it was as though her mind settled on the issue of what cigarettes mean for her, despite what they meant for her sister. I expect in the months to come there will be repeats of what happened today over Sorry but I don't think the outcome will be any different. All she'll need is a few more reminders and I believe she'll be fine and free.
I decided to read her my new essay at Essaying the Situation. I wanted to hear what she thought of it. I cried as I read the last paragraph. I warned her that I would. She agreed with everything I'd written, especially the parts about no one being truly qualified to give an Ancient One advice and that unless the caregiver is a peer the caregiving situation is always that of a child caring for an adult, not vice versa. She also asked me why I referred to people "of a certain age", as she put it, as "Ancient Ones".
"I like the connotations," I said. "'Elder' has no connotations, 'senior citizen' has certain negative connotations, 'elderly' sounds like an excuse...'Ancient One' has an air of occult wisdom about it."
"Is that 'Air' or 'error'?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.
"Yes," I said, grinning back at her. We both nodded, satisfied.
When I attempted to rouse her between 1030 and 1100 she was not interested. My first urge was to cajole and argue and whup her out of bed but I reconsidered. Even I, at times prior to the last 5 - 7 years, have wanted and successfully sought days where all I desired was to lounge around, nap every couple of hours and eat lightly, usually after a long, strenuous period. I think this is what Mom needs today so I left her alone. Finally, about noon, I heard her flushing the toilet and our day began. I asked her point blank "Do you just want to lounge around, today?"
"That sounds good."
"Okay. You can sleep as much as you want. I'll give you a day off from exercises and walkering (which she hasn't had since she was released from the facility) and we'll just do pleasant things like fixing your hair, doing your nails, making fun of programs on TV If you only end up having two meals I think that's fine..."
"I'm glad we're not going to Mesa, today."
"So am I. This way, we'll be completely rested and we can get an early start, tomorrow."
"I'm for that."
"So. How about I beat your pants off in Sorry?"
"I don't think you can."
"Aha! A challenge. Belt 'em up tight, Mom. I'm on the the opposing side of the board!"
You know the rest. She's napping, now.
As I was proofing this, I heard her in the bathroom dropping curlers on the floor from having her hair set before napping. She's up now. I've noticed something very interesting. Just a few minutes ago she was rummaging around, again for something. I asked her what she was looking for and she responded immediately, "A comb. For my hair."
That's twice today that she'd rummaged and not only known but retained the knowledge of what she was looking for. That's a record. This hasn't happened in ages. Prior to August 1st she rarely remembered, once she began her search, why she was searching.
I'm very encouraged. If you are close to my mother you should be, too.
Later.
