Friday, December 10, 2004
This is the message I left...
...on our voice mail yesterday:
Today was a good day for both Mom and me. Just a few marginal incidents that blew me out of line for awhile. It didn't bother me that Mom was so hard to get going this morning. I decided to start working on her at 1000, assuming that I'd be able to get her up around 1030. She wasn't having any, though, and I didn't feel like whupping her up so I chored the morning away and checked back on her every 15 minutes until I finally got her to give me her hand for blood sugar testing just before 1145.
She was in a good mood and I worked to get her enthused about accompanying me on a few short errands. Again, she wasn't having any even though the sun was bright and it wasn't that cold outside. I was able to get her to stay up for the hour I was gone with the movie Chocolat, which is clearly a winner. I bought it on a hunch yesterday, since it was on sale. My hunch paid off. She loved it last night and asked for it (as "that movie about chocolate") this morning when I asked her what she wanted to do while I was gone, no napping allowed. I also bought the two volumes of Pee Wee's Playhouse on another successful hunch. At the store I deliberated between those and seasons of M.A.S.H., which she loves, but since she can view that on TV at least twice a day every day for two to fours hours I figured Pee Wee's Playhouse was a better value. I was right. She and I are both transfixed and entertained by that program and she loves to talk about teaching kids while we're watching it and expound on why the various characters and scenarios in the episodes are "perfect for kids". I'm transported into pure joy by the program. Then, of course, we watched Chocolat in the evening and she was transported.
It was with a light heart that I headed out on errands. They weren't terribly successful but an incident at the feed store where I bought cat food through me for a short loop. Curled up sleeping on the counter was a medium-long haired white-based calico that looked like The Big Girl minus The Big Girl's brown nose. She brought tears to my eyes. The women minding the store were sympathetic and generous and we swapped stories about The Big Girl and their Barn Cat (I buy cat food at a local agricultural feed store in part because of the prices, in part because of the atmosphere and in part because I love the employees and the clientele). So, I felt cleansed when I left.
Soon after I arrived home a Fed-Ex truck backed into our driveway. I hadn't seen our delivery woman for a couple of months and was anxious to catch up on how her mother and father were doing. They are 85 and 87 (this is the man whom I previously thought was in his 90s) respectively. Her mother was diagnosed as a type II diabetic a couple of years ago. Both parents live with her and her husband, both of whom work and she and I, when she was regularly delivering the breathing meds my mother no longer needs, would discuss our parents' conditions and methods of caring for them. We were both excited to be able to compare notes again.
They, also, have decided to eschew the metformin that had been prescribed for her mother and are controlling her blood sugar through diet and life-style. We had a lot to talk about.
Her parents are slowing down but remain 'normally' alert (only slight signs of dementia) and are exhibiting typical age related challenges, especially her mother: Loss of appetite, lack of awareness of thirst, more than occasional constipation. Neither of them is anemic. At one point she told me that her parents were "coming home" tonight.
"Where did they go?"
"My sister and brother-in-law in Florida took them for the month of November to give us a rest before the Christmas holidays, all that activity with family and friends, you know."
I lost control and started sobbing.
She didn't ask me why. She knew. "You need a vacation," she said.
I sniffed back my tears and told her that I took a sort of vacation during the month of November, explaining to her what I did.
She laughed. "You didn't take a vacation," she said, "you talked yourself into thinking you were taking a vacation!"
Despite the fact that she was grimly right I couldn't help but laugh, too. "Yeah," I said. "It felt good while I was doing it, though, most of the time."
"But it didn't work," she said, handing me a tissue.
"No, I guess it didn't. Oh well, I'm taking it light on the holidays this year. Very light. I'm pretending they aren't happening."
She startled me by climbing down out of her truck and hugging me. "Good for you," she said. "Do what you need to do. You're mom will be fine. You take good care of her."
"Yeah," I said, starting to cry again, "I know. I just wish I didn't have to make these bizarre choices, I wish I had more energy..."
"Honey, you've got more energy than anyone I know. If you need a break, take it however you can. Forget what everyone else thinks. You're the not letting your mom down. She'll be fine."
Several months ago in this journal I wrote about my conversations with the Fed Ex delivery woman and, as I recall (although I haven't looked up the reference), I mentioned that she's my inadvertent local support group. She still is. I'm settled about the my decision on how to do the holidays this year, now.
Later.
"I'm not answering the phone for the holidays, don't have the phone ringer on. I am checking caller ID every once in a while, I am checking messages that are left.I know, pretty brazen, but I don't feel like enduring anyone trying to talk me into holiday cheer. I've been feeling better since I left it, although very few people have called since. No one has left messages.
"For business messages of an urgent nature, I will return them and handle the business as necessary. If they're not urgent they'll wait until after the year is over.
"For personal messages, I appreciate everybody calling. I'm just not in the mood to talk, not in the mood to do holidays this year except for my way and you guys all know how I feel about the holidays.
"We are not doing any visiting this year.
"We are not hosting any events this year.
[Heavy sigh]
"I may feel like returning calls later, I don't know, just, you know, if you want to leave a message, that's fine.
"For those of you who enjoy the holidays, Happy Holidays. For those of you who feel like me, hang in there, we'll get through 'em, they're almost over."
Today was a good day for both Mom and me. Just a few marginal incidents that blew me out of line for awhile. It didn't bother me that Mom was so hard to get going this morning. I decided to start working on her at 1000, assuming that I'd be able to get her up around 1030. She wasn't having any, though, and I didn't feel like whupping her up so I chored the morning away and checked back on her every 15 minutes until I finally got her to give me her hand for blood sugar testing just before 1145.
She was in a good mood and I worked to get her enthused about accompanying me on a few short errands. Again, she wasn't having any even though the sun was bright and it wasn't that cold outside. I was able to get her to stay up for the hour I was gone with the movie Chocolat, which is clearly a winner. I bought it on a hunch yesterday, since it was on sale. My hunch paid off. She loved it last night and asked for it (as "that movie about chocolate") this morning when I asked her what she wanted to do while I was gone, no napping allowed. I also bought the two volumes of Pee Wee's Playhouse on another successful hunch. At the store I deliberated between those and seasons of M.A.S.H., which she loves, but since she can view that on TV at least twice a day every day for two to fours hours I figured Pee Wee's Playhouse was a better value. I was right. She and I are both transfixed and entertained by that program and she loves to talk about teaching kids while we're watching it and expound on why the various characters and scenarios in the episodes are "perfect for kids". I'm transported into pure joy by the program. Then, of course, we watched Chocolat in the evening and she was transported.
It was with a light heart that I headed out on errands. They weren't terribly successful but an incident at the feed store where I bought cat food through me for a short loop. Curled up sleeping on the counter was a medium-long haired white-based calico that looked like The Big Girl minus The Big Girl's brown nose. She brought tears to my eyes. The women minding the store were sympathetic and generous and we swapped stories about The Big Girl and their Barn Cat (I buy cat food at a local agricultural feed store in part because of the prices, in part because of the atmosphere and in part because I love the employees and the clientele). So, I felt cleansed when I left.
Soon after I arrived home a Fed-Ex truck backed into our driveway. I hadn't seen our delivery woman for a couple of months and was anxious to catch up on how her mother and father were doing. They are 85 and 87 (this is the man whom I previously thought was in his 90s) respectively. Her mother was diagnosed as a type II diabetic a couple of years ago. Both parents live with her and her husband, both of whom work and she and I, when she was regularly delivering the breathing meds my mother no longer needs, would discuss our parents' conditions and methods of caring for them. We were both excited to be able to compare notes again.
They, also, have decided to eschew the metformin that had been prescribed for her mother and are controlling her blood sugar through diet and life-style. We had a lot to talk about.
Her parents are slowing down but remain 'normally' alert (only slight signs of dementia) and are exhibiting typical age related challenges, especially her mother: Loss of appetite, lack of awareness of thirst, more than occasional constipation. Neither of them is anemic. At one point she told me that her parents were "coming home" tonight.
"Where did they go?"
"My sister and brother-in-law in Florida took them for the month of November to give us a rest before the Christmas holidays, all that activity with family and friends, you know."
I lost control and started sobbing.
She didn't ask me why. She knew. "You need a vacation," she said.
I sniffed back my tears and told her that I took a sort of vacation during the month of November, explaining to her what I did.
She laughed. "You didn't take a vacation," she said, "you talked yourself into thinking you were taking a vacation!"
Despite the fact that she was grimly right I couldn't help but laugh, too. "Yeah," I said. "It felt good while I was doing it, though, most of the time."
"But it didn't work," she said, handing me a tissue.
"No, I guess it didn't. Oh well, I'm taking it light on the holidays this year. Very light. I'm pretending they aren't happening."
She startled me by climbing down out of her truck and hugging me. "Good for you," she said. "Do what you need to do. You're mom will be fine. You take good care of her."
"Yeah," I said, starting to cry again, "I know. I just wish I didn't have to make these bizarre choices, I wish I had more energy..."
"Honey, you've got more energy than anyone I know. If you need a break, take it however you can. Forget what everyone else thinks. You're the not letting your mom down. She'll be fine."
Several months ago in this journal I wrote about my conversations with the Fed Ex delivery woman and, as I recall (although I haven't looked up the reference), I mentioned that she's my inadvertent local support group. She still is. I'm settled about the my decision on how to do the holidays this year, now.
Later.
