Saturday, April 3, 2004
Ahhh...I can finally breathe, again!
Business, business, business (meaning taxes, taxes, taxes) for the last few days. I've done all I can do to make up for my sloppy performance this year in this area. It's in the hands of The Tax Gods, now. The business of tending to an elderly temporary invalid and the business of business do not mix well for me. In my anxiety this year, instead of slogging through with one foot in each, I separated the concerns into two separate paths and chose to tread one at a time, my mother's convalescence having been my first area of concern. Probably wasn't a good idea. I hope the repercussions aren't too severe. Luckily, my mother's taxes this year are relatively easy and I found all the documentation necessary although my lack of even the simplest paper organization this last 6 months strung the procedure into three days of going through boxes and bags of every conceivable type of paper including garbage I'd packed and brought with us. Reminded me of when our family finally left the place I consider my home (above my birthplace, in which I resided only six months), Guam. When we received our goods a month or so later we discovered that the movers had carefully packed everything, including our garbage cans and their contents and ashtrays filled with butts. Shipped it all on a boat that was probably climate controlled only part of the time. That wasn't the messiest problem we had with our household goods when they arrived but it was the most fragrant.
Business has never been my strong suit by choice, not by lack of capability or skill. Working within the business world, although considering the path I chose I could be considered successful and enthusiastic, I remained ethically and morally conflicted. These high anxiety conflicts continue within me unresolved. That's why it was so easy for me to put off facing tax time regardless of the fact that I knew ahead of time that this tax season would be a relative breeze because of the restructuring of my mother's investment assets when the stock market fell. As of October of last year I was fully prepared and knew where everything was. Then, well, yeah, then. Any excuse to avoid that anxiety. I have been overwhelmed with super-intensive caretaking. Now, though, after having collected all the tax stuff, sent it and realizing how well stocked with documentation we were and how straightforward and simple my mother's taxes will be this year, I am ashamed that I refused to face it. I imagine monsters between the sheets when it comes to taxes even when I know better. There are other aspects of my mother's life in which I know I am savvy and successful, bordering on inspired in my performance, but her business is not one of them. This is not to say that I have not scored some successes but they are all late successes, often with penalties (so far minor) attached.
This year I thought that perhaps, if I could bring myself to face the figures, I should consider the financial and emotional relief of finding a business manager for my mother and me to which all business mail, etc., would be directed. We are contacted for decisions and signatures, only. I don't know how soon I'll look into the economic feasibility of this but the idea intrigues me.
It's funny, because when I lived my life on my own without having responsibility for someone else I purposely kept my life business-simple because I am so ethically and morally ambivalent toward business and have butted heads with the business community on three occasions in court over employment (and won, but it wasn't pleasant). Thus, I always kept the financial side of my business very, very, very simple, pre-Mom&Me. For the first four years of our conjoined lives her business and my business were separate, I contributed to our economy by working. She handled her stuff, I handled mine. For tax purposes we were two individuals living in the same house. Her taxes were breathtakingly complicated and required an accountant (whom we have retained). I filed mine on EZ forms and always got a refund.
As the years passed and I began to notice her neglecting aspects of her life I naturally began taking over, as it was agreed I would as we began this journey. The last part of her life that I began to manage on her behalf was her business. I'm probably better at it than she was, especially through the stock market crash, and she wasn't bad, but I am not nearly as prompt or tidy, and I was (and still am, to a degree) a very reluctant participant, much to the dismay of her CPA and stockbroker when I first began to get involved. My problem hasn't been performance but timing. Reluctance to perform. Reluctance to do business.
Handling my mother's business is a brain hyperventilating activity for me despite the fact that when I am 'financially sober' I can see that my knowledge, skill with numbers, intelligence, chutzpah and enforced performance clearly show that I have no need for a paper bag. I'm still in the torturous process of facing this down. On a daily basis I pray that my mother does not die before I get everything in order.
I sometimes wonder how common it is for a caretaker to become overwhelmed by the health circumstances of their charge and let business slip, whether or not they suffer my peculiar brand of business anxiety. Especially those caretakers who are elderly as well but high functioning. It is so easy to put those concerns off even without anxiety over them.
It's funny, too, that I willingly spend thousands of hours a year on determined, vigilant, assertive health care on my mother's behalf, sometimes even before it is necessary, without blinking an eye. I face a variety of perplexing one-on-one dynamic situations not only with vigor and confidence, but I often anticipate and prepare for them in order to be calmer and more level headed as my mother's and my relationship adjusts to the changes required in her care. Both of these are areas that many other caretakers treat much as I treat my mother's financial business. Sometimes I like to think that "two out of three ain't bad". I'm not convinced of this though, so I continue after every financial roller-coaster ride in which I construct the roller-coaster to vow, even as the cart begins another roll, that I will do better next time.
But, anyway, the coaster is slowing dramatically now and I'm trying to figure out how to dismantle this thing before next year.
I have some stuff to report on my mother's physical therapy appointment, some stuff on my acupuncture appointment, and some general stuff...and caretaking calls. No anxiety over choosing caretaking over reporting.
Later.
Oh. Yeah. And what Mom said about living alone. Blew me away. Mentioning it as a reminder to me. And as much of the "Mother and Men" conversation as I can accurately remember. Good stuff. Later.
Business has never been my strong suit by choice, not by lack of capability or skill. Working within the business world, although considering the path I chose I could be considered successful and enthusiastic, I remained ethically and morally conflicted. These high anxiety conflicts continue within me unresolved. That's why it was so easy for me to put off facing tax time regardless of the fact that I knew ahead of time that this tax season would be a relative breeze because of the restructuring of my mother's investment assets when the stock market fell. As of October of last year I was fully prepared and knew where everything was. Then, well, yeah, then. Any excuse to avoid that anxiety. I have been overwhelmed with super-intensive caretaking. Now, though, after having collected all the tax stuff, sent it and realizing how well stocked with documentation we were and how straightforward and simple my mother's taxes will be this year, I am ashamed that I refused to face it. I imagine monsters between the sheets when it comes to taxes even when I know better. There are other aspects of my mother's life in which I know I am savvy and successful, bordering on inspired in my performance, but her business is not one of them. This is not to say that I have not scored some successes but they are all late successes, often with penalties (so far minor) attached.
This year I thought that perhaps, if I could bring myself to face the figures, I should consider the financial and emotional relief of finding a business manager for my mother and me to which all business mail, etc., would be directed. We are contacted for decisions and signatures, only. I don't know how soon I'll look into the economic feasibility of this but the idea intrigues me.
It's funny, because when I lived my life on my own without having responsibility for someone else I purposely kept my life business-simple because I am so ethically and morally ambivalent toward business and have butted heads with the business community on three occasions in court over employment (and won, but it wasn't pleasant). Thus, I always kept the financial side of my business very, very, very simple, pre-Mom&Me. For the first four years of our conjoined lives her business and my business were separate, I contributed to our economy by working. She handled her stuff, I handled mine. For tax purposes we were two individuals living in the same house. Her taxes were breathtakingly complicated and required an accountant (whom we have retained). I filed mine on EZ forms and always got a refund.
As the years passed and I began to notice her neglecting aspects of her life I naturally began taking over, as it was agreed I would as we began this journey. The last part of her life that I began to manage on her behalf was her business. I'm probably better at it than she was, especially through the stock market crash, and she wasn't bad, but I am not nearly as prompt or tidy, and I was (and still am, to a degree) a very reluctant participant, much to the dismay of her CPA and stockbroker when I first began to get involved. My problem hasn't been performance but timing. Reluctance to perform. Reluctance to do business.
Handling my mother's business is a brain hyperventilating activity for me despite the fact that when I am 'financially sober' I can see that my knowledge, skill with numbers, intelligence, chutzpah and enforced performance clearly show that I have no need for a paper bag. I'm still in the torturous process of facing this down. On a daily basis I pray that my mother does not die before I get everything in order.
I sometimes wonder how common it is for a caretaker to become overwhelmed by the health circumstances of their charge and let business slip, whether or not they suffer my peculiar brand of business anxiety. Especially those caretakers who are elderly as well but high functioning. It is so easy to put those concerns off even without anxiety over them.
It's funny, too, that I willingly spend thousands of hours a year on determined, vigilant, assertive health care on my mother's behalf, sometimes even before it is necessary, without blinking an eye. I face a variety of perplexing one-on-one dynamic situations not only with vigor and confidence, but I often anticipate and prepare for them in order to be calmer and more level headed as my mother's and my relationship adjusts to the changes required in her care. Both of these are areas that many other caretakers treat much as I treat my mother's financial business. Sometimes I like to think that "two out of three ain't bad". I'm not convinced of this though, so I continue after every financial roller-coaster ride in which I construct the roller-coaster to vow, even as the cart begins another roll, that I will do better next time.
But, anyway, the coaster is slowing dramatically now and I'm trying to figure out how to dismantle this thing before next year.
I have some stuff to report on my mother's physical therapy appointment, some stuff on my acupuncture appointment, and some general stuff...and caretaking calls. No anxiety over choosing caretaking over reporting.
Later.
Oh. Yeah. And what Mom said about living alone. Blew me away. Mentioning it as a reminder to me. And as much of the "Mother and Men" conversation as I can accurately remember. Good stuff. Later.
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
It finally occurred to me this morning...
...that, perhaps the reason my mother was annoyed with life yesterday is that over the weekend we were expecting company and company didn't come. The first cancellation was my doing. I wasn't sure that Mom would be mobile enough to really enjoy company, to allow them to lift her from out of her discomfort. The second group of company promised themselves on Friday afternoon and cancelled Saturday afternoon. When they cancelled my mother heaved a sigh of relief, which is unusual for her when there is the promise of company. I think, though, this may have been a habitual response and that she was actually disappointed that no one showed this weekend.
This afternoon is an acupuncture appointment. As much as I think my mother could use the gentle ministrations of an acupunctural tune-up, today I think my body needs it worse so I'm going. Tonight is a book club meeting. I'm hoping we will be going. I haven't read the book but I believe both my mother and I could use the trip "out" and it will be wonderful to see my book club friends again. I'm going to force-awaken her this morning earlier than usual and try to engineer an entire "normal" day so that she'll have been fed, watered, adequately napped and ready for a three hour visit this evening.
Although she now tends to avoid "doings at night" she has always been and remains a person who likes the idea of heading out into the world as the sun sets. I think this is why she's still in the habit of checking her watch frequently. A couple of years ago I began teasing her every time she looked at her watch, "Do you have a date?" She always answers yes. Although my mother has the history of a quietly (except in the Navy) proud woman who has been admired for both her inherited and put-together appearance, I'm beginning to think that the important aspect of "going out at night" for my mother is not who takes her but getting to the place where the night comes alive.
Well, we'll see how today unfolds. I'm not looking forward to the extra nurturing involved in getting my mother out the door this evening, which will begin as soon as I awaken her. Last night I was considering forgetting about the book club meeting because I didn't think I could face extending even closer attention to my mother. I guess, all I needed was some rest. I feel up to it this morning. I'm looking forward to my mother saying tonight, as she always does when we return from the book club, "You know, that's a good bunch of women. I always enjoy the book club meetings." That'll top off the day like ancho chili sauce on a slab of pot roast.
Later.
This afternoon is an acupuncture appointment. As much as I think my mother could use the gentle ministrations of an acupunctural tune-up, today I think my body needs it worse so I'm going. Tonight is a book club meeting. I'm hoping we will be going. I haven't read the book but I believe both my mother and I could use the trip "out" and it will be wonderful to see my book club friends again. I'm going to force-awaken her this morning earlier than usual and try to engineer an entire "normal" day so that she'll have been fed, watered, adequately napped and ready for a three hour visit this evening.
Although she now tends to avoid "doings at night" she has always been and remains a person who likes the idea of heading out into the world as the sun sets. I think this is why she's still in the habit of checking her watch frequently. A couple of years ago I began teasing her every time she looked at her watch, "Do you have a date?" She always answers yes. Although my mother has the history of a quietly (except in the Navy) proud woman who has been admired for both her inherited and put-together appearance, I'm beginning to think that the important aspect of "going out at night" for my mother is not who takes her but getting to the place where the night comes alive.
Well, we'll see how today unfolds. I'm not looking forward to the extra nurturing involved in getting my mother out the door this evening, which will begin as soon as I awaken her. Last night I was considering forgetting about the book club meeting because I didn't think I could face extending even closer attention to my mother. I guess, all I needed was some rest. I feel up to it this morning. I'm looking forward to my mother saying tonight, as she always does when we return from the book club, "You know, that's a good bunch of women. I always enjoy the book club meetings." That'll top off the day like ancho chili sauce on a slab of pot roast.
Later.
Sunday, March 28, 2004
I never know...
...when I insist on getting her out against her will whether she'll appreciate it. Most of the time she does. Occasionally she doesn't. I need to pay more attention to the signals that will tell me when she isn't going to appreciate the trip once it's over. I could have used those signals today.
We made it to Costco although we may as well not have gone. The day was milder than I expected so I thought the weather, at least, would be in our favor. The chairs I wanted my mother to see and approve were displayed up front just inside the door. I was pleased, considering that Mom, although having thought last night that this trip would be a good idea, felt exactly the opposite this morning and it was only through several hours of pleading, cajoling, working her up with a hot game of Sorry and promising that she could ride in the wheelchair the entire trip if she wanted (she did, though, use it as a walker) that I managed to get us both out the door around 1400. She'd awakened on time, for her, which is usually a good indication that a particular day is going to be an active day. She hadn't slogged through bathing and breakfast, in fact she ate in record time, about which both of us commented. So, I thought, at the end of the day she'd be glad I harassed her into getting out.
I was absolutely wrong. She nixed the chairs immediately. She gave no good reason so I know she was nixing the entire trip. Once she'd decided against the chairs (a decision I will reverse) I suggested that she might want to prowl for samples.
"Do you have something else to get here?" she demanded.
"No, I just thought you might want to check out the samples. How about lunch?"
"I'm not hungry. I believe I'm about ready to go home."
So the extent of our trip was riding to Costco, walking the wheelchair just inside the Costco entrance, walking the wheelchair back out the entrance to Costco to the car and riding home.
Within a half hour of arriving home she was in bed. She slept until just after 1800, awakening on her own. After this morning there was no way I was going to interfere any more in her assertion of her needs today. She was up for dinner (she had only two meals today), some intense TV watching and went to bed about a half hour ago. I let her retire regardless of the amount of sleep in which she indulged today. I figure when I am as unsuccessful as I was today at jostling her into movement her body must know better than me.
Sometimes I feel as though I am torturing my mother when I back off and let her sleep almost as much as she'd like. Sometimes I feel as though I am torturing her when I don't let her sleep as much as she'd like and don't give her a choice about whether she's going to get out of the house on a particular day. When I think about how I would feel having someone order my days the way I order my mother's, well, I realize I'm talking about a state in which I can't imagine myself. Thus, being at my 'disposal', as it were, is probably a state in which my mother probably never imagined herself. I am also thinking that because she has done Ordering of the Days type of nurturing raising her children it is probably easier to accept being the object of it knowing, intimately, that at times human beings really aren't capable of knowing what the hell is good for them. I hope that the experience of having delivered this kind of care to my mother will make it easy for me to accept it if I am ever in a position of needing it. I hope, too, whomever delivers it is at least as deft and as flexible at it as I am with my mother.
Some tips for my future caregiver: Even when caring for someone who will not remember what you say, let alone understand it, when you are handling someone's life it doesn't help to keep secrets either accidentally or by design. It doesn't help to make decisions without discussing issues with them. It doesn't help to deny a conflict of opinion or interest when one crops up.
Hmmm...interesting perspective on what I'm doing: Tips for My Future Caregiver. I'll have to remember to muse and write from that perspective more often. It might change some of my ways of doing things for my mother if I look at it from the perspective of my future as a ward.
We made it to Costco although we may as well not have gone. The day was milder than I expected so I thought the weather, at least, would be in our favor. The chairs I wanted my mother to see and approve were displayed up front just inside the door. I was pleased, considering that Mom, although having thought last night that this trip would be a good idea, felt exactly the opposite this morning and it was only through several hours of pleading, cajoling, working her up with a hot game of Sorry and promising that she could ride in the wheelchair the entire trip if she wanted (she did, though, use it as a walker) that I managed to get us both out the door around 1400. She'd awakened on time, for her, which is usually a good indication that a particular day is going to be an active day. She hadn't slogged through bathing and breakfast, in fact she ate in record time, about which both of us commented. So, I thought, at the end of the day she'd be glad I harassed her into getting out.
I was absolutely wrong. She nixed the chairs immediately. She gave no good reason so I know she was nixing the entire trip. Once she'd decided against the chairs (a decision I will reverse) I suggested that she might want to prowl for samples.
"Do you have something else to get here?" she demanded.
"No, I just thought you might want to check out the samples. How about lunch?"
"I'm not hungry. I believe I'm about ready to go home."
So the extent of our trip was riding to Costco, walking the wheelchair just inside the Costco entrance, walking the wheelchair back out the entrance to Costco to the car and riding home.
Within a half hour of arriving home she was in bed. She slept until just after 1800, awakening on her own. After this morning there was no way I was going to interfere any more in her assertion of her needs today. She was up for dinner (she had only two meals today), some intense TV watching and went to bed about a half hour ago. I let her retire regardless of the amount of sleep in which she indulged today. I figure when I am as unsuccessful as I was today at jostling her into movement her body must know better than me.
Sometimes I feel as though I am torturing my mother when I back off and let her sleep almost as much as she'd like. Sometimes I feel as though I am torturing her when I don't let her sleep as much as she'd like and don't give her a choice about whether she's going to get out of the house on a particular day. When I think about how I would feel having someone order my days the way I order my mother's, well, I realize I'm talking about a state in which I can't imagine myself. Thus, being at my 'disposal', as it were, is probably a state in which my mother probably never imagined herself. I am also thinking that because she has done Ordering of the Days type of nurturing raising her children it is probably easier to accept being the object of it knowing, intimately, that at times human beings really aren't capable of knowing what the hell is good for them. I hope that the experience of having delivered this kind of care to my mother will make it easy for me to accept it if I am ever in a position of needing it. I hope, too, whomever delivers it is at least as deft and as flexible at it as I am with my mother.
Some tips for my future caregiver: Even when caring for someone who will not remember what you say, let alone understand it, when you are handling someone's life it doesn't help to keep secrets either accidentally or by design. It doesn't help to make decisions without discussing issues with them. It doesn't help to deny a conflict of opinion or interest when one crops up.
Hmmm...interesting perspective on what I'm doing: Tips for My Future Caregiver. I'll have to remember to muse and write from that perspective more often. It might change some of my ways of doing things for my mother if I look at it from the perspective of my future as a ward.
The plan is...
...that we are going to Costco sometime today so Mom can take a look at the "Tandem Sport" chairs for use in our backyard. The chairs we have now, those plastic (in our case, white), molded, warehouse-home-improvement-section-store chairs, are a bit too high and not really sturdy enough for her, especially when she readjusts her ass. The chairs wiggle and I'm afraid, one of these days, one of them is going to wiggle her to the ground. The "Tandem Sport" chairs are weatherproof, very sturdy, are joined with a table between containing liquid holders (although I will not allow her to use an ashtray on this set) and is a neighborly place for anyone to sit and talk to Mom while she's supervising garden work or any kind of yard doings.
We discussed the chair set last night and a Sunday trip to check it out. I told her that it would work best if she walked using the wheelchair as a walker. She seemed enthusiastic about this. She anticipated that there would be samples, and we could get lunch there. Considering that I'm not yet in a hurry to get her up, lunch may occur at 1500 or so.
She spent a fair amount of time being cleaned from the inside out yesterday so she should have a fair amount of energy today. She'll probably awaken on her own earlier than usual. I'm keeping a close watch on her.
Last night I considered continuing the nightly 2 mg Detrol, but decided to wait. I have to weigh giving her Detrol against the likelihood that on Detrol she'll awaken when she needs to urinate, take off the oxygen when she goes to the bathroom, won't remember to put it back on and spend half a night without oxygen. Up to recently it's been more important for her to get the oxygen all night than it has been for her to go to the bathroom rather than stew in her own urine for a few hours.
Her aerobic activity is improving though. It would seem amazing except that at our first appointment with the PT, during one of the manipulations she performed on my mother's back, she mentioned that this stretching would help her breathe more deeply. Maybe it's working. She doesn't pant nearly as much even when she's off oxygen.
I notice it's going to be on the cool, windy side, today...high of 69/70, fair skies, light wind. The parking lot at Costco is a wind pit and our home is typically 5 to 10 degrees below the predicted temperature. If she's willing, I'll bundle her up and we'll hit the road this afternoon.
We discussed the chair set last night and a Sunday trip to check it out. I told her that it would work best if she walked using the wheelchair as a walker. She seemed enthusiastic about this. She anticipated that there would be samples, and we could get lunch there. Considering that I'm not yet in a hurry to get her up, lunch may occur at 1500 or so.
She spent a fair amount of time being cleaned from the inside out yesterday so she should have a fair amount of energy today. She'll probably awaken on her own earlier than usual. I'm keeping a close watch on her.
Last night I considered continuing the nightly 2 mg Detrol, but decided to wait. I have to weigh giving her Detrol against the likelihood that on Detrol she'll awaken when she needs to urinate, take off the oxygen when she goes to the bathroom, won't remember to put it back on and spend half a night without oxygen. Up to recently it's been more important for her to get the oxygen all night than it has been for her to go to the bathroom rather than stew in her own urine for a few hours.
Her aerobic activity is improving though. It would seem amazing except that at our first appointment with the PT, during one of the manipulations she performed on my mother's back, she mentioned that this stretching would help her breathe more deeply. Maybe it's working. She doesn't pant nearly as much even when she's off oxygen.
I notice it's going to be on the cool, windy side, today...high of 69/70, fair skies, light wind. The parking lot at Costco is a wind pit and our home is typically 5 to 10 degrees below the predicted temperature. If she's willing, I'll bundle her up and we'll hit the road this afternoon.
