Mom & Me Two Archive

    Sorry, I can't resist. I receive weekly reports of the words and phrases that are searched on those of the Mom and Me partitions that have search facilities attached. Last week, my reports tell me, someone searched Mom & Me Tests and Meds for the phrase "gays in annapolis". My mother was in the Navy. I was born in Maryland. Annapolis, being an academy, administers tests of which my mother endures many. Finally, my mother and I, being fairly sociable humans (me, usually under duress but sociable, nonetheless), likely know people who are gay. So, it makes sense that the Tests and Meds section may contain the phrase "gays in annapolis". NOT!. But now this partition does. Three times. God, I love the internet. It puts a provocative skew on humanity.
    Over the next three to four weeks I'm going to be quite busy every moment of the day and, no doubt, some moments of the night when I would prefer not to be doing anything but dreaming and reviving. My intent is to check in here as often as possible. I doubt that I'll be disgorging as much as I'd like, considering that write in here for therapeutic purposes as well as reporting purposes, which concerned me this evening while I was attending to other things. After scrubbing about for a solution I decided that when I have little time to send my mind and heart through my fingers onto the internet perhaps the best strategy would be for me to list those things I'd like to write about but can't at the moment. Maybe I'll get back to the lists. Maybe I won't. But I'll have memory ticklers recorded just in case I find time in a month or so to connect the dots.
    Tonight is a good night to begin. Tomorrow is going to be another busy, full day for us. I've just finished rewinding the dryer for the third time (today's wash contained both a down comforter and a down pillow), set up the dishwasher, still have to get the trash out... Tomorrow will start early. So, here's the list of items on which I'll hopefully, elaborate, at a later time/date/incarnation/whatever:

1. Conversation Pieces:
   1. In a long and delightful conversation my mother and I talked (yes, I took notes while she was talking, which further delighted her) yesterday about how she felt about being an Ancient One. I learned, among other things, that her biggest surprise about the state of being old is that she thought she'd "feel more settled about things" than she does.
   2. In the same conversation she revealed that "Dad [my father] would have been here..." to share old age with her "...if he could have. He didn't die willingly." Yes, she remembers that he, essentially, killed himself with alcohol and once told more than one of the rest of us in his family that it was his intention to kill himself with alcohol. I believe she is right about his better intentions, though, as, a while ago, he thanked me for taking care of his "Chick Chick".
   3. Mom and I had this conversation because the previous day we'd talked about the history of Childhood, which was provoked by watching Master and Commander Far Side of the World.
2. Over the weekend when I was channel surfing on Mom's behalf we settled on that women's channel that runs those melodramatic TV movies about relationships. We both were interested in watching some mental junk and hadn't yet tried this channel. We settled on two back-to-back movies about cheating spouses, one a woman, one a man. After wittily critiquing the movies I mustered the courage to ask Mom if she thought Dad had ever cheated on her.
       Her expression told me that she was not surprised that I asked but surprised that I would consider such a thing. Then, her words told me, "No. I'm sure he didn't."
       So am I. I've always been sure of this. He was too much in love with not only her but his image of her to cheat. As well, despite him being an alcoholic he was an honorable man to the soul. The only reason I asked is because I wondered if, being his daughter, I'd missed something in my perception.
3. For the last few nights Mom's feet have been the tiniest bit swollen at bed time. Could be because she's been on them a lot (for her) lately. It could also, I reasoned yesterday, be because she was constipated for a few days, although I'm not sure why. She finally had a bowel movement today, a fecal accident, (luckily we were at home when it happened). I thought that would take care of the foot problem, but her feet were swollen again to the same extent tonight. Maybe I've been hydrating her too well. Could be.
4. I forgot to pick up Mom's lisinopril refill yesterday so she didn't have her 5 mg dose this morning. She was also livelier today than usual. I'm wondering if there is a connection. If I'd been taking her blood pressure regularly, as I vowed to do a month or so ago but keep forgetting to do, I'd probably know the answer to this one.
5. I reviewed the most recent list of medications Mom's PCP keeps on her and discovered that in the last year or so I've taken her off about half of the medications and he hasn't yet recorded this. I need to send him a letter of correction and update his list of the supplements she takes.
6. Iron-wise, I'm giving her a pill about every other day now. She looks good, feels good, still doesn't move an awful lot but moves significantly more than she did.
7. She continues holding her own mentally in her creative way.
8. In case I find that I didn't mention this earlier: Last week the FT mentioned that Mom, "expends a tremendous amount of energy just breathing." Oh, God, I know, I am so aware of this that I find myself 'breathing for her' subconsciously. There is much about breathing and breath and my own breathing experiences that her labored breathing continually evokes within me.
9. The personal funk I mentioned a few days ago continues, although less severely when I remember to eat. I'm getting better with eating but I believe, now, the funk is connected to another issue and forgetting to eat simply makes it worse.
10. Finally took a friend's year old advice to "carry music with you when you can afford to tune out the world". I began downloading said music a few days ago onto a discontinued version of the iPod that was offered as a bonus when I bought this computer. It seems to be helping. Could be because the very first two songs I downloaded were the Glenn Miller classics, Little Brown Jug and String of Pearls, both of which can turn the mood tide within me every time. The third download was Vanessa Carlton's Ordinary Day. I can't get enough of the way that piece is written, arranged and performed. Fourth was Will It Go Round in Circles By Billy Preston. All four are permanent play-over-and-overs. They've helped, although I still can't get used to blocking out environmental sound so I'm not using it when I walk. I used it in the car today on some personal errands and almost forgot to turn the car off when I arrived at my destination because it's sound and vibration were overwhelmed by the music ringing in my ears. I felt disoriented. It reminded me of when I was much younger and much more involved with music than I am now (but no less involved with sound than I am now) and was first exposed to the question, "If you had to give up either your sight or your hearing which would you choose to live without?" My sight, of course. At that time I couldn't imagine living without my hearing but I felt I could certainly adjust to blindness. I'm relieved and grateful, especially after my recent few years' bout of not being able to listen to music without extreme discomfort, to discover that I continue to feel this way. Sight has always seemed an elaborate illusion to me, even though I have an extraordinary graphic memory, but sound is a force. It isn't an illusion, it's another being, enveloping and caressing me, from inside out and outside in. Interestingly, my mother feels exactly the opposite. She'd probably trade her hearing for a Hershey's Symphony chocolate bar. She's felt this way as long as I can remember, as she told me many years ago. Still does, as I asked her today; although when I inserted the buds into her ears and queued up Little Brown Jug she grinned and performed a seated jig in her rocker.
11. I don't think anyone of us in the family has ever asked Mom about Mom's menarche. I want to remember to ask her about her experience of her first period. I hope she remembers. I hope I remember.

    Well, shit. Listing doesn't work all that well for me, does it. Here I am, cutting into my sleep time, just writing a list, the items of which expand into non-list explanations. This wasn't what I intended. I intended short sentences and abbreviated items, one per number.
    Time to get the garbage out.
    Later. Not sure when, but later.
    I know, I know. Doctors and Patience. It's done. I just haven't had the time to code a page for it.
    I know.
    Later.

    I forgot to take the trash out.
    You're going to be a mess in the morning, young lady.
    I know. I'm going to bed now.
    That's not what it looks like.
    This is what it looks like when I go to bed.

...we talked, yesterday, about how long she was expected to live. I merrily 'confronted' her with my characterization of her, in the website and with friends and relatives, as someone who has not yet faced her mortality and my belief that she remains alive largely because she doesn't believe she is going to die. Interesting reactions from her to this.
    God damnit, Gail, I said, go to bed! Now, get in there. No bathroom stops, no water breaks, no ashtrays on shoulders, no turkey stoppers in ears, no wedding cakes on heads, NO PLAY-YING!
    Okay! I'm going! See?
    Later.

...I suggested we watch my copy of the DVD of American Splendor. I've had it since the DVD hit the sales stands and I've watched it a couple of times but always when Mom was asleep or otherwise engaged. I didn't think she'd enjoy the movie mainly because if one is not familiar with the comic book series it takes a bit of concentration in the beginning to catch the movie's wave.
    My interest in American Splendor began in 1985 when I became involved with a strange and delightful man who followed comics and graphic novels written for adults (not necessarily "Adult X-rated" but, certainly, the category includes material for these audiences). He introduced me to the incredibly fertile area of graphic literature and American Splendor became my favorite. My mother was introduced to American Splendor when I moved in with her in 1994 and she and I were unpacking my stuff. She noticed the one comic book I'd been able to retain from our collection "Our" meaning MDL's and my American Splendor. collection, which was with him during a separation we were enduring for a month or so before his eventual suicide while he was a self-admitted patient in a mental hospital. After his suicide his natal family confiscated all his possessions and threw everything away, being a fundamentalist Christian family and deciding that everything he owned was "devil inspired". I was left with only one issue I'd bought during his hospital stay which I had intended to add to our collection. My mother thought it was a holdover from when I was a child (although I didn't read comic books when I was a child) and thumbed through it. I remember her realizing that it wasn't what she thought and saying, "Well, that's very nice, but there doesn't seem to be a point." I wasn't surprised that she saw no point to the series. Thus, over a decade later when the series had morphed into a movie and I'd bought the DVD, I didn't expect that she'd appreciate watching it.
    This weekend I had a hankering to watch the movie. Mom, however, spent a great deal of time (for her) awake and I wasn't interested in accidentally neglecting her (which I assumed I'd have to do if I watched the movie while she was awake) so I put off watching it until yesterday the urge became so strong that I decided to try watching it with her, internally vowing that I'd turn it off when she became distracted or said something which would be distracting to me, such as, "I wonder why that movie was made," or "I don't see the sense to this."
    She was riveted, from the menu presentation on. Her attention to the film actually broadened my appreciation for it. When, for instance, the menu came up and I moved to enter Play Mode, she stopped me.
    "Wait," she said. "I want to see where he's going."
    "He doesn't go anywhere, Mom, he's just walking."
    "Well I want to see."
    So we followed Harvey down the street. When the music skipped to the beginning and the Bar reappeared, Mom laughed and said, "You're right! He's not going anywhere, he's just walking!"
    I realized that this is one of the small moments in the film presentation that weaves its structure so unusually tight: Throughout Mr. Pekar's life as portrayed in the series and highlighted in the movie, he struggles (as, I guess, we all do), with the question of whether his life is "going anywhere", and whether it 'should'.
    She also chose this showing of this movie to decide she wanted to examine a DVD. She scrutinized the picture on the top and noticed something I hadn't: The file Harvey is holding has "DECEASED" typed on it. We both found this provocative, especially in connection with the scene in which Harvey drops a load of "DECEASED" files and discovers the file of a man whose life appeared to be as despressingly small as he sometimes imagines his life to be.
    She especially liked Mr. Boats and the sequence wherein Harvey and Joyce become accidental parents. Since she's a David Letterman fan (which she is loathe to admit) she also enjoyed Mr. Pekar's appearances on the show. She expressed disappointment in Letterman over his final inability to "handle" (Mom's word) Harvey.
    At least a couple of times a month I continue to underestimate and mis-assume my mother's ability to concentrate on and become involved in a variety of activities, even after all these years I've been with her. Weekends like this last are a significant, welcome reminder to me that negotiating another's Ancient One status is tricky business and requires advanced vigilance. How often do we caretakers inadvertently neglect our Ancient Ones by forgetting that we cannot make assumptions about them in the same way we make assumptions about humans who haven't reached Ancient One status? One moment our Ancient One may be traveling the track of befuddlement, the next they may switch to a curve of attention and perception that outclasses any level anyone of us who aren't Ancient are able to achieve. Nothing is predictable because we simply haven't been where they are. As well, if and when we arrive at Ancienthood there isn't anyone around who's been through it come out the other side and can advise or correct us. It is not, despite our entrenched beliefs to the contrary, anything like Childhood, but it is often traveled in the company of people who are understandably incapable of grasping this and who unwittingly (and unsuccessfully, always unsuccessfully) try to waylay the Ancients we are accompanying. It is, truly, the most solitary journey any of us who remain here long enough to take it will ever endure.
    I'm still struggling with this. It's hard to 'go with the flow' of Ancienthood, when one isn't the Ancient in question. The trick, I think, is to have no expectations, to be open to everything. I have not yet mastered this trick. With each of her track switches I either celebrate a development or mourn a devolvement and project each switch into the future based on what I know about life. The catch is, I know nothing about being an Ancient and it's anybody's guess whether I ever will. But I continue trying. I sometimes wonder if it is as wobbly for her to keep track of me as it is for me to keep track of her. Somehow, though, through exercising vigilance and patience with one another we stay on track; or perhaps it is more accurate to say, at this point, we stay on the tracks. Although I retain my Lower Level (as compared to Ancient One Status) expectations and these often frustrate my efforts to protect and guide her life, I think, finally, in fits and starts, I'm beginning to appreciate The Eccentric Journey of the Old. It is the most confusing journey on which I've ever been a passenger, especially since it took awhile for me to realize I was, indeed, a passenger and not a co-engineer. It is also the most wondrous.