Mom & Me Two Archive

...and finally I guided us in. My mother was buffeted around by the wind today. Since she'd gotten up early this morning on her own and we hadn't gone out yesterday I suggested that after breakfast we take a look at the roses and consider what we might do with the rest of the day. Yes, the wind was strong but it didn't buffet me. I could feel her giving in to it, though, as I braced her. After the first blast I suggested we go in. I think it angered her to be considered so insubstantial by something as "insignificant" as the wind so she fought it and me.
    Although I carted her oxygen with us and had it on 3/lpm, it was obvious that she her muscles were working overtime to retain her dignity against the wind. When we finally went inside she was exhausted. She collapsed in her rocker and spent most of the rest of the day there or in bed.
    I'm very glad we've got a month of balance work left with the FT. It is obvious that she needs it. I think, although she doesn't consciously remember falling, all she knows is that I remember it, her body remembers going backwards, which is an extremely vulnerable way to fall, and still doesn't trust itself not to fall backwards again.
    I hadn't planned on being up so late tonight. I've been tired lately. Although I've dozed in the living room on the floor and forced myself to take a nap here and there, nothing really does the trick like a good night's sleep. I realized I'd only be able to accomplish this, though, if I took some ibuprofen. So, I'm waiting for that to kick in under the influence of some True Blueberry tea.
    I made elk chili. I threw it out before we ate it. Neither Mom nor I could get past the gamey smell. I'll try using the buffalo steaks and the venison (I think) sausage but I'm not promising anything. Beef is good enough for us I think.
    Not much else to report. I hope the wind dies down tomorrow. I think Mom needs to get out. I know I need to get out!
    Later.

...today. I'm nursing my second cup of coffee (my first cup without grounds inadvertently dumped into it), noticing the wind outside, wondering what sort of activities I can plan for today.
    Mom slept most of yesterday but was nicely alert and active when she was up. She ate well. Finally had a (non-accidental) bowel movement, which dehydrated her almost immediately. Asked, yet again, for another tuna melt at dinner. I guess she's been needing fish. I've taken note of this and I think we'll visit the fish counter at Costco on our next trip.
    I'm watching the weather. The wind is expected to continue. High 69 but I doubt it will feel more than 60 up here. Rain is predicted for tomorrow so if there's anything we need to do that involves a trip away from the house we'd better do it today.
    I found a bargain DVD copy of the movie All That Jazz tucked behind a whole bunch of more popular movies at Costco the other day. I picked it up and we watched it last night. It surprises me that she likes this movie so much. It's sardonic and dark (visually and in other ways). As usual, she didn't remember previous viewings (2 or 3) but was specific about expressing her pleasure when the movie was over. As usual, the ending surprised and delighted her. As the final number began she said, as always, "He's not going to make it, this time." Then, at the end, when the body bag closes, she always turns and beams a self-satisfied smile at me. Last night I showed her that on DVD we can access the individual song-and-dance numbers and watch just those. She was thrilled even though she's seen me access just the shark and sea turtle sequences in Finding Nemo any number of times. She's not a "Bruce" and "Crush" fan, though. Her tastes run more to "Airotica" and "Bye Bye Love". Funny, funny woman.
    Which reminds me. Mom and Men. Some nights ago Mom and I got into a discussion about her romantic (in the sense of love) life. It started when I asked Mom why she married Dad.
    My mother does not readily warm to divulging internal reasoning but she does eventually relax if it's a member of the family who's doing the questioning and she isn't in her "on" mood, in which she becomes pert and sly and coy and generally entertains the troops. She looked at me askance and said, as though it was perfectly obvious, "Because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him."
    "[Mom's sister] always told me that you were "popular with the boys". I was just wondering, why Dad? How many proposals did you receive before him?"
    Again, head cocked askance. "Oh, goodness, child, I don't know. Too many too count."
    "I remember," I prod, "the story behind Donald Stonehink. The business with the shoes, you know, his and yours were side by side on the porch and he made some remark about how he looked forward to baby shoes being there?"
    Mom snickered. "Oh, yes. I remember him."
    "Are you considering that one of your proposals, or are you only counting the formal ones?"
    "I suppose that's one, yes. There were lots of men who wanted to marry me." She said this matter-of-factly.
    "Dad wasn't a formal proposal, though, was he?"
    "Oh, I don't remember..."
    "Well, I do. You were in Pensacola, he was in Maryland and he called you and said that if you guys wanted to get your names on the housing list (for USN housing) you had to be married."
    She chuckled. "Yes. That's right."
    "So, do you think you ever broke anyone's heart?"
    She looked at me as though I was being absurd, it could only be considered a privilege to be in love with and date her. "Oh course not!"
    "Do you remember," I prompted her, "years ago when you, me and two of my sisters were at the kitchen table talking and you said that if you had been born and been of reproductive age 'now' that you would not get married but have loads of kids and raise them on your own?"
    She laughed. "No! I don't remember that!"
    "Well, think about it. How do you feel about that, now?"
    She did think about it. "I don't think I'd do that, now."
    "Would you still want to have kids?"
    She practically snorted. "Well, of course."
    "If you met Dad again, would you marry him, again?"
    She looked away from me to considere this. "Yes, I think so."
    "A long time ago, I suggested to you that Dad was more in love with you than you were with him. Do you remember that?"
    "Vaguely." She was looking through me.
    "I never really asked you what you thought about that. Do you think he was more in love with you than you were with him?"
    She looked away. Her voice was strong. "No."
    I'd love to ask my mother if she was a virgin when she married. You have to remember, although my mother was a housewife in the 50's, she was not a 50's housewife. She was 10 to 15 years older than all the mothers of all my other friends. She lived in communities, as well, where many of the wives/mothers worked. She was known in her youth to be daring, physically assertive, sometimes aggressive and rebellious. She would have been 12 - 15 during the height of the flapper era. It was during this time that she painted her bedroom black. She has a highly developed romantic (in the sense of adventurous) soul and I assume that she began developing this early by personal preference. It would surprise me if she had been a virgin when she married. However, one never knows. I don't know if I'll ever ask her. I'm sure she won't ever volunteer the information.
    I want to water the roses before full sun this morning. I hear, too, what may be a reconnaissance cough.
    Later.

...that our planned trip to The Valley and back today is no longer necessary. MA was able to not only complete her taxes but file them and pay the amounts due online. For her first estimated federal payment I downloaded the form from the IRS online (don't happen to have the address, at the moment), filled it in, wrote the check and got it in the mail before 0800.
    Although I was prepared for the trip and certain it would occur, when I observed my mother in bed, this morning, twisted in her usual "morning after FT" position, knowing that, for her, it was going to be a slow and uncomfortable day, my mind was racing with ideas on how to lessen what I was sure was going to be a very painful evening for her when we returned. As well, her congestion continues from the Easter trip. Although I know that our house in Mesa is not healthy for her anymore because of the mold and the dust from the house disintegrating around us, I'm becoming quickly convinced that neither is the general air there, since we didn't come within 20 miles of our house in Mesa this Easter. The sky looked blue enough, about half as blue as it was up here that day, but, you know, and I mention this to my mother every time we enter The Valley from Prescott, I can smell the city from the Route 74 exit. It is neither a pleasant nor unpleasant smell but it is a dusty desertindustrial city smell. I never notice it when I'm living there but I always notice it on approach from Prescott. Anyway, all I know is that despite the elevation and the "thinner" air, she breathes better up here and spends less time congested. I was dreading another day in the heart of The Valley at this time in her convalescence. Thanks to my mother's wondrous CPA, today is going to be a relatively easy day for my mother.
    I'll plant roses this afternoon, encourage Mom to warm up in the sun and supervise my planting, allow her to sleep almost as much as I know she'll want to and spend the morning organizing some paper work.
    My mother's CPA lost his mother last year on April 8th. We talked about that, some. He related to me that she succumbed to traveling leg clots, a condition he felt was obvious from the incredible leg pain she was having when she was released from her doctor's care prior to her death. "...the pain [in her legs] was so bad she said she'd rather die than endure it." Later in the conversation he divulged that, while he holds the medical community responsible for what to him is his mother's too early demise by about 5 years, neither it is his intention to sue. I know, I think, how he feels. Because non-alternative medical mismanagement is so common these days, well, it's hard to explain but, at least in my case, being a member of the species and of this particular culture with which I am not wholly displeased, I take a certain level of responsibility for the current predicament of institutional medicine upon my own shoulders. I am aware that this is primarily an emotional reaction which allows me to endure the complexity and confusion of negotiating the medical establishment on behalf of someone who is at the end of her life. It is a necessary reaction, though, that saves both my mother and me time and stress. Every time I alter administration of prescribed medicines, every time I refuse a procedure on her behalf, every time I look for alternatives to prescribed medications and procedures, I consciously, silently acknowledge the grave responsibility I'm taking on which includes directly affecting her mortality. In a sense, especially now, since having had my mother dismissed from a physician's care and single-handedly managing her through a health crisis anyway, this is how I take on responsibility for whatever a physician does to her. I'm fully aware, now, of how important it is for medical care to be voluntary. Every time we walk into a physician's office I consider that part of the responsibility for however that physician may treat or mistreat her lies with my decision to take her to see a physician. I am always aware that consciously recognizing and appropriating the responsibility to determine, with each health crisis, when non-alternative medical treatment is appropriate and when following my healing instincts about my mother down non-alternative paths is appropriate places me directly in the line of fire if a medical procedure or prescription fails my mother or, worse, harms her. It also, I consider, gives my mother one more chance to avoid such failures and harm. As long as she appears to be up to life and as long as I have the resources to advocate on behalf of her medical treatment I want to provide her with that added chance.
    Yep, she's sleeping in today. Good.
    Later.

...the Medicating Rhythm essay with a second and final addendum incorporating today's medication highlights.
    I'm tired tonight. I'm waiting for the dryer to cycle out so I can start it one more time. Only one load today but I got to it late. I've been moving slow although not painfully. Despite being up and moving, I feel as though it has been a day of rest.
    I took Mom's blood pressure tonight, the first time in a few nights. Her systolic remains high at 136. Her diastolic was very good, though, 72. This was after a relaxing leg rub from which she practically purred and a cigarette free half hour. As she moves around more I may start slipping her another 5 mg lisinopril in the evening. We'll see. I don't want her diastolic to drop below 60. It was right at 60 a couple of nights ago and her systolic was, I believe, 127. I can definitely see a need for regular blood pressure readings.
    I'm also beginning to understand that, at the moment, the problem isn't her heart or her kidneys, it's her lungs. Her heart is blessedly strong but it is an 86 year old heart with a leaky mitral valve and it is having to pump harder than it may have expected to get enough oxygen circulating throughout her body. This can contribute to slow organ failure and a host of other problems. It's something to work on.
    The FT and I compared 'mother notes'. Over the Easter weekend she traveled and tended to her mother. The FT feels that her mother, at 79, does not have the recuperative ability of my mother. Now that I think of it, I wish I'd had the presence of mind to mention that you never know. A year ago this time and two years ago, as well, I would not have put money on the possibility of my mother being alive the following year. Sometimes the will to live blows back through and catches everyone by surprise.
    The FT did mention that through practicing FT on her mother she had increased her height above her own. She asked how tall Mom used to be and I responded, "5'4"." She thinks Mom might recover some of her lost height through some of the exercises included in the balance work. I am, well, guardedly optimistic but I can certainly see gentle yet marked improvements just within the last month. I like goal oriented treatment. It has the ability to take the "chronic" out of "chronic dis-ease".
    I mention in the second addendum to the essay on how I manage my mother's medication something about asking for standing lab orders. I haven't done this yet but I've thought about it and the possibility becomes more practical the more I come to grips with the fact that we will be living in Prescott and receiving my mother's so called (not meant derogatorily) Primary Health Care through her physician in Mesa. I have often wished that it were possible to do in home tests for iron & TIBC, hemoglobin and hematocrit, and maybe BUN. A mini chem panel. Is this a possibility? Is it in the works?
    Well, I'm not sure where tomorrow will lead except that we'll be going to The Valley. I expect Mom to be in good spirits. I expect to feel a little intimidated and anxious but I'm thanking ahead (from the coward in me) and trying to anticipate, well, hmmm, an optimistic outcome to our trip.
    Later.

    The FT appointment: Very good. Although I wasn't aware of it (which the FT told me, later, she does on purpose) today was evaluation day for the five goals she'd set for Mom within a specific time frame. Mom met all but one. The goals were, as follows:

1. Back pain to decrease to the point of being strictly circumstantial, i.e., the back pain caused by riding in the car for two episodes of 2.5 hours each in one day.
2. Strength to return to right side.
3. Able to move from sit to stand and back easily.
4. Able to rise with minimal assistance from a supine position.
5. Able to walk 100 yards confidently balanced.

    The only one she didn't quite make is the last. Although she did, with studied attention, walk the prescribed walk, I see her listing a lot at home despite the fact that she moves about the house frequently and without concern. I've braced her a couple of times. The FT knows this. So she is going to recommend one more month of balance work. She also recommends looking at a variety of walkers, renting them for short periods of time to see what suits Mom and getting one. Medicare, it seems, pays for either a walker, a wheelchair or a cane by prescription. We have a wheelchair free and clear so it makes sense to look into walkers. Ever since I saw that one on the sidewalk along Granite Park that adjusts and operates like a stroller I've thought it's possible to enthuse Mom about one.
    It was interesting for me to watch the FT evaluate Mom, especially since I didn't know that's what she was doing. It came as a pleasant surprise to me when, out of nowhere, the FT announced, "Well, I think we've achieved all our goals. Except one. The balance." I was very pleased and it seemed more than serendipitous. I noticed this mornin, while washing Mom's back that her to-the-right list is realigning.
    For Mom's "last" appointment of this series, the FT gave Mom a taste of what balance work would be like. Hip rocking. Spine curling. Weight shifting. Explicit talk designed to lead Mom to notice the increments and paths of movement throughout her body. "The leg bone connected to the knee bone..." kind of talk. Very interesting. I sat on the floor and couldn't help but follow the exercises, and even got one wrong.
    The FT also spent some time, while rocking Mom to allow her to sense her balance points, alternately "opening" up her chest and back, accompanied with eyes sweeping up and down on a flexible neck.
    The FT mentioned that there are other therapists in the area who specialize in balance work and I briefly considered asking around but I am surprised and gratified by the working relationship Mom has with this FT. After witnessing a preview of balance work and how Mom responds to it (it's rather, the FT pointed out, like learning to hula, which is right up Mom's alley, oops, did you catch that?!?, well, you know what I mean) I think we'll stick with this therapist. We left with an appointment scheduled for next week. The therapist will be taking a vacation from May 2nd to May 16th, which will work in perfectly with MCS&BIL's visit. It will break the proposed month of further balance work up and allow Mom some inspiration and extra support to practice her redeveloping balancing act.
    This therapy was and is marvelous for Mom.
    I haven't heard anything about our income tax. Phone call or not I'm sure we'll be driving down tomorrow to at least find out where we stand. I'm nervous but controlled. I have been explaining to Mom that any problems we have because of taxes are my fault this year as I got our stuff in so late. I'm not sure she understands but I'll continue to repeat it.
    After discussing the impending trip with the FT I've decided to pre-dose Mom with two Extra Strength Tylenol before we commence. I'm a little nervous, as I don't believe she's moved her bowels in about 48 hours. But we'll take it as it comes. She hasn't been eating that much either. I just need to be careful what I feed her tonight.
    She's drinking coffee now sitting at the dinette table, enjoying the dappling of sunlight across the front rooms, reading her gossip magazines, waiting for the Eukanuba Dog Show to begin.
    Later.

    1430. It will also be The Full Treatment Hair Day. I am wondering if the physical preparation of doing Mom's hair will have any kind of a noticeable effect on how well the FT and Mom communicate, today; how much work they are able to accomplish.
    As well, I need to confirm that we will be picking up my mother's 2003 income taxes tomorrow, involving a quick day trip to The Valley. I'm experiencing a certain amount of very uncomfortable anxiety over this, but no physical problems.
    Thank ahead. Thank ahead. Thank ahead. Remember, above all, Gail, to Thank ahead.
    A trip to Costco is becoming urgent. One way or another, with or without Mom, I'll probably try to work it into my schedule today. I'd like to get another couple of roses planted, too. I've got three staked out for an area that should be an easy dig. Maybe I can do those this afternoon. The first two we planted took an hour and a half total, including watering and after-task admiration.
    Already there's been some reconnaissance coughing. I have medication to pick up today, too. Better get started.
    Later.

...Medicating Rhythm today. I guessed wrong on what her blood sugar would be this morning. I'm not going to bother to anchor the addendum. It's toward the end (obviously).

    I'm not sure how to approach this. Hmmmm...I suppose it would be safe to start with the subject of language. Specialized language. The specialized language of acupuncture. No. Here's where I'll start:

"It's been a dynamic week, acupuncturally speaking," I told the acupuncturist when she entered my treatment room. Her assistant had put me in what I call The Green Room, what another client calls The Fairy Room.
    The acupuncturist snort-laughed. Stick with me, here, I find her laugh one of her more endearing qualities.
    At this point you need to understand that while non-alternative medicine has a nodding, begrudging acquaintance with the spirituality of healing, acupuncture is dependent upon the recognition of the spiritual aspect of healing. Thus, the vocabulary, in order to emphasize this focus, is specialized. The two words I want to address are "allergy" and "clear". If you are familiar with Dianetics divest yourself of any connection to the concept of clearing in that discipline. Acupuncturally (used in honor of my acupuncturist's delight with this word), to be "cleared" of an "allergy"...let me think about this a minute so as to be as precise and obvious as possible...involves unraveling both its physical manifestations, which are often not obvious to a Westerner, and as well opening the client to spiritual areas connected to the physical manifestation so that, through this awareness, the entire problem can be addressed.
    In my mother's case her conscious, "headlight" awareness was not necessary to promote multi-level healing. It probably would have helped although, as I am learning from observation with her FT, it's possible that on a subconscious level my mother is taking an enthusiastic part in her healing.
    Anyway, once I understood the above concepts I was able to begin consciously participating in my acupunctural healing throughout the weeks between appointments. Specifically: I was able to pinpoint the allergies on which I needed to focus with acupunctural help and which I was brave enough to approach from a spiritual level and take an active role in clearing. Over the last few weeks the acupuncturist and I have taken a zig-zag approach toward a point that I finally reached on my own last Friday and with which I solicited her help today.
    As I list the spiritual aspect of the "allergies" we've been addressing, keep in mind that each of these allergies have been manifesting as sometimes debilitating, always baffling physical pain in the tops of my feet, the outer base of my thumbs, the outer base of my forefingers, down the outside of my left leg from knee to ankle and in my right shoulder. As the acupuncturist and I have connected specific spiritual "allergies" with specific physical pains, the acupuncturist has stimulated the connection between their physical manifestation and their spiritual irritation. Then, I've "worked" on these areas, spiritually and physically, between appointments. Throughout the treatment period each of these specific pains has gone through ups and downs and eventually begun to subside. Throughout my very intense treatments the following connections have been made:

• thumb and index finger joint pain = allergic reactions to finances/control
• foot pain, left outer leg pain = allergic reactions to self appreciation and self prioritizing (I disagreed with the first and argued with the second until I understood these two in connection with taking care of my mother)
• shoulder pain = (this, so far, is my own interpretation) allergic reactions to taking care of my mother/concern that I will not be able to lift the increasing load
• general physical lack of resistance/readiness of body to being hurt = (also, so far, my own interpretation) allergic reactions to mother and allergic reactions to making money from products of creativity

    Before I create an uproar with the announcement that I suggested to the acupuncturist today that I am "allergic" to my mother and to taking care of my mother, it is important that I stress that I am not suggesting, as well, that I do not love my mother, nor that I do not have the tenderest of feelings for her, nor that I do not continue to be awed by the personal value this experience of taking care of my mother as An Ancient One has for me, nor that I do not wish to continue to be her caregiver. It's rather like: Over-exposure to something can cause irritation. Long time residents of the Phoenix Metroplex are very aware of how the Valley, far from any longer being beneficial for asthma sufferers, can "cause" one to develop allergies if one doesn't already have them. It should not be a surprise to anyone who reflects a moment on the experience of caregiving that the intensity is bound to create some spiritual, thus physical, irritation. I suggested to the acupuncturist that my mother may also have developed allergies to me over the last 10 years, especially lately, as her sense of independence along with her physical mobility have improved. The acupuncturist promised to check her for this as soon as Mom came in for a tune-up, which will probably be week after next. I'm taking next week.
    When done well (I confirmed this perception with the acupuncturist) acupuncture not only asks for and rewards the client's internal work pursued between treatments. As treatments progress the client is able to utilize the treatments more skillfully and consciously. When I mentioned this to the acupuncturist she explained that the reason this is so: The body becomes used to being treated acupuncturally and "learns" how to best incorporate the bio-electrical (or, if you prefer, geo-magnetic) dynamics that are directed through application of the needles (or acupressure).
    I was wrong that today's treatment would be The Lavender Web. It was The Red Sting. At one point the application of one needle caused an intense stinging at another unpunctured site. When I mentioned it, thinking that the stinging was an insert point, the acupuncturist told me that, no, she hadn't needled me "there" but the stinging meant that "a meridian had opened up"...I believe she said. That specific sting traveled vertically on a radius of about 2 and a half inches and took about 30 seconds to subside. Although it would be hard for me to explain what 'opening a meridian' means I can tell you that from how it felt this choice of words makes sense to me.
    I explained to the acupuncturist today that the reason the particular issues mentioned above were the ones I was choosing to address at this time is that (I was more detailed with her) is that I have recently become aware that I need more physical and spiritual strength for the rest of this journey. I'm also beginning to look ahead to the journey I'll be taking that will be initiated by my mother's death. There are certain circumstances pre-caretaking that I do not want to repeat and certain circumstances that I want to bring into my life after my mother dies.

    Acupuncture is the healing technique that most easily addresses my own perception of my multi-leveled health. It very closely mimics how I heal myself (both physically and spiritually) and invites my thoughtful participation. Without being asked, as the acupuncture treatments allowed me to open up to a more conscious awareness of all the connections involved in healing, between appointments I spent a lot of thought time reasoning and feeling out the connections and, as well, a lot of physical time taking advantage of the ceasing of pain to retrain my muscles to work flexibly and with integrity and assurance. Both of these techniques continue to cross-translate into calmer spiritual perspectives and approaches as well as less painful, more productive and efficient physical movement.
    I have no doubt that if my acupuncturist were to read this she would probably correct a few of the explanations of the perceptions I have but I think that, overall, she would agree that this is a fair description of the scope of acupunctural treatment.
    I should mention, in case you're wondering. Yes, I have a completed essay entitled Doctors and Patience and it is ready to go. The thing is, it is in it's 3rd or 4th incarnation, I'm not sure which. The more thoughtful I become about this issue, the more careful I become about explicitness and the more I change things, rearrange things. Then, I become vengeful again and go back to the original, brilliantly snide draft, so, give me a little while longer. I want this essay to be more than just a rant.
    Speaking of which, the following is one aspect of acupuncture that I consider extremely enlightened. At one point early in my cumulative treatments when the acupuncturist and I were working to establish the spiritual issues that were mangling my connective tissues and weakening the ability of my muscles to work, I spewed possibilities forth for mutual consideration. Most of them were dismissed, especially one important one that will give you, the reader, an idea of the complexity of acupuncture's approach to the eccentricity of the individual. One of the things I orally "listed" was that I was "actively and consciously hating someone, had been for awhile and had every intention of continuing for some time to come." I added that although I didn't think this was an issue that needed acupunctural attention, I was willing to consider it, although I might, I continued, chose to live with the physical consequences of continuing to hate this person instead of healing. The acupuncturist responded by seriously considering what I'd told her and said, "No, that's not it." Acupuncture allows an extraordinary latitude of personal choice in what one chooses to consider a dis-ease. This is a relief to me, as I sense that my journey of hate is an important and valuable one.
    No, I do not hate my mother. Nor is it anyone in my family related by blood or marriage. There are many, many people in my life who are not The Hated. Don't even try to guess. You will be incorrect.
    Another satisfying day.
    Later.

...a new extemporaneous essay, Medicating Rhythm. The circumstances of the writing of the essay are explained in the first paragraph. One other circumstance, that today has been a relaxing day for me, a body easing and mind clearing day, contributed heavily to its writing.
    The superficialities of Mom's day today are covered in the above essay. Her mood was good, mellow. When I invited her to a couple of rounds of after-breakfast Sorry she declined, admitting that all she wanted to do was stare out our windows and think about nothing. A reasonable request. We watched the weather, I cleaned fans, did the usual chores, picked up here and there. She moved into the living room, we turned off the TV and chatted about the rest of the week. We planned a short-notice, serendipitous All Mom's Ascendant Mothers and Her Mother's Day Celebration which may not come to pass but we think it's a terrific idea and there's a possibility of it happening this year. We talked about the roses. I started one hole and hit bedrock so decided to give up. When Mom headed in for a nap today I followed her by about two hours and slept for a good, hard two and a half hours.
    Tomorrow, today, rather, we have appointments, plans, calls to make, a week to approach. But today's been a good day. I have high hopes for the rest of the week, even though last night Mom was saying that she didn't want to extend our impending pick-up-taxes trip.
    Later.

...and she was a magnanimous Mistress (sometimes closer to Mystress). She was gently and continually feted all day by this one or that one as attentions passed from person to person. She was so much a part of the family of each family she visited that when she was hailed from the periphery of other visits and events she'd wander comfortably on her own, more than trusting, knowing that she was surrounded by a safety net.
    She (and I), had such a good time visiting our South Chandler Long Time Chosen Family that we stayed and stayed and everyone delayed their Blood Family plans. When I finally, reluctantly suggested we depart in order to give ourselves some visiting time with MPS and her family Mom smiled cockily, waved me toward the door and said, "You go. I'll stay here," as she leaned across the table toward MCF.
    Just prior to the time she went offline in her favorite rocker at MPS's house she announced that, "...it's about time for us to be going home." She's so funny that way. Knowing what she was really saying was, "I need a nap and I can't remember if I can nap comfortably here." I reminded her that dinner was a couple of hours away...
    ...to which she reared back and replied, "Dinner!?! Then what was all this?!?"
    MPS had loaded her table with savory, healthy appetizers, even made a bowl of black-bean corn pico de gallo without cilantro for me, at which Mom settled immediately upon arrival and lunched out. I medicated her judiciously without disturbing the routine to stab and number her. I gave her a few iron pills. Her back bothered her although it didn't keep her from moving. I gave her acetaminophen yesterday. I've continually forgotten to use acetaminophen with her. I didn't want to give her more aspirin yesterday nor ibuprofen. Luckily, MPS had acetaminophen. That stuff doesn't work well on me but it banished Mom's back ache so MPS sent me home with a bag full of it to tide us over until I remember to put it on a grocery list.
    It may seem curious that our homes were not equipped with acetaminophen. This was strictly my doing. I don't react to it and am plagued with an hour or two of irritating cotton mouth besides. Mom responds so well to any pain reliever and takes pain relievers of any type so rarely that before intestinal tract irritation became something to avoid in case it was to blame, in part, for her recurring anemia, I'd just grab the nearest analgesic, which was either aspirin or ibuprofen.
    She is now, I think, thank god/God/all, properly medicated, neither under nor over, although it is apparent to me that there should be more benign options for Type 2 diabetics who are non-insulin dependent and not likely to become so. I've been scolded for what has been described as my "cavalier" attitude toward medications but what I'm doing works and what every non-alternative physician has recommended has not. And, I've done the research.
    I was well blessed by my families yesterday, as everyone recalled my complaining about chocolate and fecal accidents. Mom consumed only one piece of chocolate, didn't miss the lack of more and didn't ask for another. Our Chosen Family couldn't resist adding two chocolate bunnies to our baskets but I don't consider those an offense. As well, an arm of their family hunts. When MCF and I became involved in an intense discussion about how we are now eating significantly more red meat, especially beef, she produced some buffalo steaks and ground elk for us to take home, even higher sources of the most effective iron a human can receive. And some pork sausage. My mother followed this conversation and is game (oooh, not intended, sorry) to try the meat. MCF gave me some tips on cooking it. I think we're going to make a pot of elk chili, maybe also have some burgers. The cube steaks, she says, make excellent chicken friend steak which Mom loves (not my favorite but I just won't bread my piece).
    By default, Mom ate primarily vegetarian yesterday because she ate so many snacks she wasn't that interested in meals. I tried to get her to eat a little more of the succulent pork roast and was only moderately successful. She honed in on her salad and potato, though, so I must be doing something right at home.
    She forgot to smoke at MPS's house. I was thrilled. She got in enough social smoking at MCS's house to awaken the late 1930's early 1940's sassy, not so innocent, not so harmless ingenue. That was fun the entire day. At one point in the evening Mom, MCS and I did a riff on Mom's suggestion, "Why don't I take you (MCS) up to Prescott and leave her (me) here? You're more fun," expressing her displeasure at me monitoring everything down to her underwear while trying to be unobtrusive about it. Later, continuing the riff in the car, Mom decided MCS would allow her more chocolate (MCS's enforced, as much as possible, absence of chocolate was so far in the background as to be unnoticeable to Mom), would not constantly be hounding her about her underwear or going to the bathroom, and, I added, would probably just be more fun in general. Mom agreed. We laughed all the way up the mountain.
    By the time we reached home Mom's back was bothering her significantly. She was wiggling in the seat, took off her jacket at one point which didn't help, etc. She accepted toast and two extra strength acetaminophen. I told her I'd let her sleep in this morning, probably not past noon, maybe not past 1100. That was agreeable to her. Even though she still has to be to be consciously reminded to move, her body, thanks to the FT, has become aware of its need for movement and she is much less likely to stay in bed after her first reconnaissance cough.
    I have no idea what's in store for us today except a few more rose bush holes. Since these will be planted out back in the former garden areas where the soil is richer and less rocky, I should be able to get most of them planted. I'll be putting two on the former greenhouse platform up in the forested section just for fun. It has occurred to me that animals may nibble on them but, well, if necessary, I'll protect them with short fences and netting. That area was developed at one time. I'd like to take advantage of its all day full sun positioning and rich soil. I've decided to allow the climber to wander over the wooden thick wooden posts implanted in the ground to keep people from falling into the wash culvert. People won't be tempted to sit on the posts. The soil there and in the former garden bed is rich, should go deep and be easy to dig.
    Yesterday, which was, by the way, a perfect day, upper 70's at it's height, seductively windy, unusually blue sky, as Mom and I were driving from MCF's house to MPS's house she initiated a shared reverie about how different it was to drive around the Phoenix Metroplex and how nice it is to have the contrast to Prescott available to us. How lucky for us, she continued, that we had reasons to revisit the Valley desert. We enthusiastically discussed that we'll have to take another trip down there in a couple of days to pick up our taxes. We planned activities around that goal...eating lunch out, picking up the wheelbarrow at the house down there, maybe checking out Lowe's to see if they carry arbors or jointed screen trellises at a reasonable price. Last night, though, upon remembering the planned trip (she was unusually sharp yesterday for a variety of reasons, most of which I am aware and will try to remember to enumerate) she said, dreadfully, "How long do we have to be down there?"
    I understood. "Mom, we can just pick up the packet and head back up the mountain, if you want."
    "Do I have to go?"
    "Yes. You have to go." If for no other reason than to keep her in face contact with her personal business. A name with a face.
    "Well, let's not skip lunch before we come back home." Good sign.
    I think if I'm sensitive to her acetaminophen intake throughout that day she should fare better physically. We'll take the sedan. We'll postpone the trip until the last day, April 15th. That way she'll have some time to recuperate and an FT appointment before the trip.
    Sometimes I look at her and think, "I wouldn't be surprised if she died tonight." At other times I wonder, "Is she really immortal?" I've generously experienced both within the last 24 hours.
    I hear a cough. I'd better see what's happening.
    Happy Easter.
    Yes.
    Later.

...of an Easter today. Mmmmm...mm. I'm not sure how much of it I'll record here; the satisfaction of the day is lolling me to sleep. It began early, 0430 for me, 0600 for Mom. I'm not sure whether she simply sleepwalks at that hour through early mornings and that makes it easy or if it is that she knows that Early Mornings beget Important Days. Could be the latter. Anyway, she was a trooper this morning. I had penciled in Walking Out the Door for 0800. As we were headed that way, on time, she realized she had to shit and there was no way I was going to discourage this. We actually backed out of our drivewayat 0845. Arrived in South Chandler just after 1100. Arrived home at 2057.
    Mom went offline once during the day late in the afternoon for about an hour just previous to a 1700 dinner. Other than that she was alert, feisty, funny and engaged. She was very tired this evening but satisfied.
    I have some funny (both ha-ha and peculiar) things to mention...I'm tired, though. I think I'll rewind the dryer and hit the sack. I'm still planting roses but that's another story. Oh what a weekend.
    I told Mom I'd let her sleep in tomorrow within reason. Maybe as late as noon, although I doubt it. She may be up on her own before then. Who knows. She's been down for about an hour. I just checked on her. She was breathing so softly and the oxygen concentrator seemed so loud that I laid my hand on her back to see if I could feel her chest move. A flash of a thought: If she seems as peaceful in death as she does in sleep tonight, I won't be sorry when she dies. She will have gone easily and well, just as she approached life. I felt the pressure of her chest against my hand and was equally glad. I wondered if she was aware at some level that I was touching her and what I was thinking about her, if she was aware of things I wasn't, like, for instance, my body stance, how my head was bowed. I decided that subconsciously and unconsciously, she was. I further decided that on a spiritual level she was sparklingly aware of this moment of profound, nurturant touch...that, at some level, she and I are both the comforter and the comforted; to be profane, a feeling of touching oneself and feeling it as though someone is touching you.
    A profoundly pleasurable thought.
    On that note...
        ...later.