Constructive Conversations - How to Talk With Your Senior

Over and again, I hear people say, "I just don't know how to talk to my mom/dad/grandparent/elderly loved one anymore."  Popular conversations with seniors center on their health concerns and physical ailments - and/or the ills of others in their circle.  Other common topics include the weather...death and dying...money and/or inheritance...feeling alone and neglected...and bowel movements. I get it!  If you rehash these same topics every week with your loved one, you may be reaching the end of your rope!

So what can we do?  One solution is to re-set the conversation pattern...to divert attention and distract with other topics that are more pleasant/interesting.  This can be done without insulting your loved one, and yes...you will have to listen to a fair amount of talk about a sore hip or how Aunt Susie can't hear a word that is said.  But you can often make some subtle shifts in the conversation topics that make the difference between a pleasant phone call/visit and one that leaves you needing a stiff drink!

When my husband's family gathers at his mother's house, the conversation runs along some pretty predictable lines.  We go through all of the grandchildren and what is happening with their schools and extracurricular activities.  We talk about any "news" from relatives who live out of state. And then, the discussion generally turns to stories about people most of us don't know, as one relative or another relates things that are happening in their own lives with their circle of friends and acquaintances.

While this conversation might be mildly interesting to my 90-year-old mother-in-law for a little bit, it doesn't hold her attention very long.  And frankly, it's not all that fair to her.  When we visit, SHE should be the center of attention.  So my husband tries to get his mother to talk about her childhood...her parents, grandparents and siblings...life on the farm in Iowa...living in a boarding house in Iowa City while attending high school...his dad's stint in the Navy...and pets they owned as kids, to name a few topics.

My mother-in-law's memory for things that happened a long time ago is fantastic.  She can recall dates and details...and it's like she is transported back in time - and takes us with her!  This is good for her...and good for us and the grandchildren and great-grands!

When my grandmother was still living and able to talk, I would call her a couple of times a week or more.  I also spent most of the day on Fridays with her going to the beauty shop, grocery shopping, and running any other errands that arose.  So there were chances for conversation by phone, in the car as we traveled, and sitting in waiting rooms at doctor's offices more. 

Generally, I would try to tell her all of the cute things that the children had said and done.  As we would travel out of town to doctor visits, Greg would ask her questions about the area, and she would point out locations that triggered a recollection, such as "I picked many a strawberry in that field," or "That's where old Uncle Matt and his family lived," or "We lived there when I was about 12, and we would walk several miles to school and "singings" at church."  She enjoyed the trip down "Memory Lane," and we learned a lot about my grandmother's childhood. Once my grandmother lost most of her ability to speak, "conversing" with her was truly a challenge. So I would try to think of "news" to share with her when we visited.  Again, cute stories about the little ones were always a hit.  I avoided talk of people she knew who might be doing fun/exciting things -like "I saw Ruby at the swimming pool last week"...and word of the ailments and infirmities of others.  On the phone, I always tried to steer clear of questions like "What's new?" or "How are you today?"  She would tell me anyway, but if I could keep the conversation going in another direction, there was less chance of the tone taking an unpleasant turn.  I tried to think of a few things to tell her - or ask - before I ever picked phone.

The thing that always seemed to be a big hit with my grandmother was my sewing.  My Mam-ma was an amazing seamstress and quilter.  So I would take the little garments I made for my nephews, nieces and cousins and show them to Mam-ma. She would finger the stitches and ruffles and smile brightly.  Her eyes would grow wide with joy and pride...and she would gesture that she remembered when SHE used to do this sort of thing.  In fact, I would say, "I don't know how you managed to make those tiny Barbie dresses for my sister and me."  And she would beam with pride.

We also talked about birds that gathered at her feeder outside the window - and birds that I had seen at our house...dishes that I had made - especially with her recipes...and Greg's latest projects.  My grandmother was always interested in what the men were doing...and this line of talk opened the door to remember my grandfather and dad and the work that they did.

My grandparents are all gone now...as are my parents. I think about the conversations we shared, and talks I have now with my mother-in-law and other elderly loved ones.  And I've come up with some thoughts and suggestions that might be helpful...

• You don't have to call EVERY DAY.  My pastor told me once that "'No!' is a complete sentence!"  He was absolutely right.  For all of my grandmother's talk that "I haven't seen a soul in days," there was a virtual "revolving door" of visitors at her house/apartment on any given day.  I saw her on Fridays - and often through the week.  There was no need to call her EVERY DAY...until the time came when we had to call each day to make sure she took her medicine.  And then, the conversation was brief and generally directed toward said question.
• Think of a few things to discuss/ask BEFORE you call or visit.  If possible, take a photo or memento to discuss when you visit.  I recently spent some time with an elderly cousin and took some pictures of my great-grandmother and her contemporaries, in hopes that she could identify those in the photographs.  This sparked a really fun conversation about "old times" and gave us something to discuss.  I also took her cookies from the recipes of my grandmother and the woman's next-door neighbor.  This was another starting point for a good conversation about recipes and cooking.
• Be prepared to listen to your loved one's litany of ailments and complaints...but set a mental time limit.  Use your pre-planned questions/activities as a way to steer the conversation in a different direction.
• Don't be afraid to simply sit in silence.  Some of my best "conversations" with my Mam-ma Polly were times we sat in silence on the front porch at her Assisted Living Facility and rocked in the sunshine.  We watched people come and go...we looked at the clouds and felt the warm breeze...and we were together...and that was all she needed.
• Don't be afraid to call and say, "I just have a minute, but I was thinking of you and wanted you to know."  Every conversation doesn't have to be lengthy...and probably shouldn't be!
• Shift your attitude.  I remember how much I dreaded the phone calls.  I knew that I would get an earful.  But once I developed a "game plan," and mentally prepared myself NOT to get frustrated or upset, everything went much better.  Yes, there were days when I hung up the phone, shook my head and laughed at some of the things that were said.  But that was better than wringing my hands and gritting my teeth! (And yes, there were still days when this happened, regardless of what I said/did.)

The bottom line is that this, too, shall pass.  And you will long for your loved one's voice - even if it is to chastise you that "you don't do enough for me," or "I haven't been to the bathroom in three days."  We never want to disrespect our elders or make them feel like their thoughts and feelings are not important.  Sometimes, we have to simply listen to them talk.  But that doesn't mean we can't at least have a plan to steer things in another direction.  The end result might just be that the phone calls and visits become more pleasant.

If you have questions or comments, I would LOVE to hear from you. Please weigh in, and let's start a conversation!

Please Take Time to Watch...

Dementia is one of the hardest things for caregivers of the elderly to understand.  "Why does Mom act this way?"  "What is wrong with Dad?"  How can they be so confused and lose focus so easily?  This video does an amazing job of examining these questions and more...and demonstrating what life may be like for a loved one with some form of dementia.  It is well worth the 8+ minutes it will take to view...8 minutes that could change your entire perspective.  I would not wish this on my worst enemy...but sadly, many people we love dearly are dealing with some level of this madness - either personally, or as a caregiver.  Please take time to watch and learn...it might make a huge difference in your life and that of someone you love.

Serving a Purpose

I know...it's been a while since my last post.  Frankly, I have wondered just what I am supposed to say here, now that my Mam-ma Polly has passed.  And yet, it seems that we are still very much in the middle of the "Sandwich Generation" as my mother-in-law nears her 9th decade of life.  Each week brings a new ailment of sorts...nothing all that significant at this point, thank goodness...but little aggravations (for her) all the same.

The children have come to understand that on any given Sunday, "Grandma E" may not be able to attend church with us.  At first, this upset Timothy...and he was very concerned about "Grandma E" (who is very much a beloved "great-grandmother" to these children)and why she didn't come with us.  But as time has passed, he has seemed to accept that there are good Sundays - and those that are not so good - and he and Zola appear to be more readily accepting of the latter.

At the same time, one of our sisters-in-law, Laney, is dealing with the challenges of her 95-year-old mother's placement in a skilled care nursing facility (3+ hours away in another city) after she suffered a stroke and a fall.  One evening shortly before Christmas, Laney e-mailed me to describe what she felt was a very disturbing incident.  Laney's mother cannot see, but she persuaded someone at the facility to call her daughter.  When Laney answered, her mother went on a rampage...she could not stay at this facility any longer...she could most certainly not be there for Christmas...she just would not have any of this...Laney absolutely HAD to do something.  Laney mostly listened...and when she hung up, she was totally rattled and upset by the call.

As I read the message and heard what Laney's mother had said, a sense of familiarity washed over me.  I quickly replied to my sister-in-law and told her, "I am no doctor, but I am fairly certain that you have just described a TIA (mini-stroke).  I am betting that things will be totally different tomorrow...and your mom might not even remember that she called you. At the very least, I'm betting she will be subdued...and possibly even very tired.  Mam-ma Polly did this same thing SEVERAL times."  I offered some advice about how to respond to these rants...and I shared with her some wonderful advice that a dear elderly friend of mine once gave my mother..."One day, all of the 'bad stuff' will fade away, and you will be left with only good memories."  I also told Laney that I miss my grandmother terribly...that I would even settle for one of her rants - just to hear her voice again.  Quite literally...this, too, shall pass.

Laney responded quickly and thanked me.  She expressed how much it helped to hear from someone who had "been there, done that".  She had not considered a TIA, but once I mentioned it, she felt I was probably right...and knowledge is power.  Understanding that this might be the culprit helped to answer her question of "Why would Mother do this?" - and that seemed to set everything in the proper perspective...and prepare her for any future "surprise" phone calls.  And just as predicted, her mother has not mentioned the phone call at all.

It felt good to help...to share what I had learned in a positive way...and to reassure someone else that "you are not alone in this." And while Greg was with me every step of the way in my journey with Mam-ma Polly, there have been times recently when I have reminded him of incidents in connection to situations with his own mother.  We have found it helpful - and somewhat comforting - to remember these things and say, "Oh, yeah...that's not so unique after all.  It may be screwy and frustrating - but not so unusual!"

Today, I spent some time talking with one of our dearest friends, whose mother is rapidly declining and in need of skilled care of some sort. We have known and loved this person since childhood.  So he feels comfortable sharing his concerns and frustrations with us about his mom's situation. 

My heart breaks for anyone going through these tough experiences.  But at the same time, I am glad that I am able to offer some encouragement - and maybe a helpful piece or two of advice.  If sharing anything that we experienced with Mam-ma Polly or my maternal grandparents during their nursing home stay and decline can be helpful to someone else, it somehow makes me feel like all of that serves some sort of purpose.

Choosing a facility for your parents/grandparents IS a daunting task.  Navigating their phone calls and confusion and frustration is highly stressful and frustrating to the caregiver.  Dealing with administrators, government agencies, banks, lawyers, doctors, and realtors is daunting and can make one's head spin!  Having someone who can say, "This is what I did" or "Here's how we handled that...and why" or "My mom did the same thing" can be so helpful. 

I cannot "fix" any of these situations.  Try as I might, I could not fix my grandmother's issues...and I knew all along that I was not supposed to.  I did the best I could, which is all anyone can expect.  But sometimes, we don't even know what THAT is, on our own.  The helpful support and encouragement of a friend who has walked this road can be incredibly comforting.  Or at least I hope it is. 

So I feel like I am serving a purpose...and reaping SOMETHING good from all that we have experienced already.  I told our friend who called that our situation felt crazy at times, but in the scheme of things, it was not that troublesome.  Mam-ma Polly was healthy and relatively well until about 36 hours before she died.  She never became combative or violent, as some do.  She had her "moments"...but it could have been so much worse.  And I thank God for this grace and mercy!

I would like to think that as my mother-in-law and my own mother age, and possibly decline, I would handle these situations with calm and confidence.  But I know better.  There is nothing fun or easy about watching your parents age and decline...much less dealing with the issues that often accompany this.  But as I told our friend, we are not alone.  We're all in this together.  And hopefully that counts for something!

If you wish to share your own situation and circumstances...or to "vent"...feel free to contact me via this blog.  We ARE all in this together...and you DO have people in your corner.

Happy Birthday in Heaven...

One year ago today, Greg and I greeted the dawn in my Mam-ma Polly's apartment, where we had spent the night trying to soothe her as she struggled to breathe.  Her Assisted Living Facility staff had been unable to rouse her the previous morning, and the Hospice nurse determined that she had most likely had a serious stroke.  She slept all of that day, as we watched and waited.  I administered morphine and Ativan drops to her every two hours, as instructed by the Hospice nurse.  As we settled in for the night, Mam-ma began what I refer to as the "death rattle"...that raspy, gurgling that sounds like someone is strangling with every breath.  It got so loud that the facility staff could hear her as they sat at a dining table down the hall, where they were rolling silverware for the morning breakfast.

Greg had gone home for the evening, but he called to check on me about 11:00 p.m., and I tearfully told him how Mam-ma seemed to be struggling, and he said, "I'll be right there."  And he was.  Mam-ma's dear friend and fellow resident, Bessie, came and sat with us for much of the night...insisting that "I don't sleep much at night anyway."

The aides did all they could to suction Mam-ma's lungs, but the senior aide finally said, "I'm stumped.  I don't know what to do next."  So we called Hospice, and my dear nurse friend, Ginger, came to our aid.  She worked and worked to do the things that she could, medically, and then she said, "I think she knows I'm here...and that I'm messing with her.  I'm going to step out, and I want you to soothe her and talk softly to her and see if she will settle down."  So I did.  I crawled into her bed and talked to my grandmother...stroked her hair and whispered to her...just as she did for me as a child.  And soon, she settled down.  The whole ordeal lasted a few hours...but after that, my Mam-ma Polly never really stirred again.

For the whole day on March 8th, we sat...Greg and I and my mother.  I spent a good deal of the day lying in bed with Mam-ma, cradling her and singing or talking to her.  I read to her the scriptures she had marked in her Bible.  Family members and friends dropped by to see us and say "Good-bye" to Mam-ma.  Residents and staff members came in to offer one last greeting.  Some who came to visit stood over the bed and prayed for Mam-ma and us...others merely kissed her cheeks and tearfully told her they would see her in heaven.

It was a long, tiring, but bittersweet day.  I knew from previous experiences that for every agonizing minute of that time, I would wish for a hundred more later on.  So I tried to just "be" in the moment... to trust that God was allowing us these last few minutes with my grandmother before she was truly gone...to see that He was giving us time to adjust to the idea.  And then, when she took her last soft breath, I held her hand and let her go.  Relief...and overwhelming sadness flooded me.  Little did I realize just how much my life would change.

If anyone thinks that death is the end, they are totally mistaken.  And I am not just talking in a spiritual sense.  There has been endless paperwork...even for someone whose "affairs" were tremendously simple and - for the most part - cut and dried already.  I am still waiting on at least one bill.

More importantly, there have been countless days - and ways - that I have missed Mam-ma.  A dear friend whose grandmother passed about 5 years ago told me several times how much she missed her.  I thought "Yeah... but Mam-ma is so ready for heaven...so I am ready."  I was so wrong.  I head to the phone to call her...even though I had not spoken to her by phone in probably close to a year prior to her death, because she could no longer speak.  I finish a sewing project and think, "I'll take that next time I go to see Mam-ma."  Some topic of conversation triggers me to think, "I'll have to ask Mam-ma about that... she will know!" Or, "I have to be sure and show this picture to Mam-ma and tell her what Zola, Timothy or Nathan did!"  And during our most recent ice storm, for just a second, I thought about how at least Mam-ma was safe and secure at the Assisted Living Facility and I didn't have to worry.  Then I remembered... she's not there any more.

I've been back to the facility a few times to visit...but I'll admit that it is hard to go there.  Everyone wants to talk about Polly, which is bittersweet.  And I do find that I am doing many of the things that my grandmother once did.  I don't mean the crazy, quirky ones (although some might disagree on this point!).  I'm talking about things like how Greg and I keep our birds fed, especially during icy weather.  That was so important to Mam-ma.  I made Valentines cookies for Timothy, Zola and Nathan.  I still remember a February 14th a few years after we graduated from college, when our mailbox contained a giant heart-shaped cookie from Mam-ma...at least it ONCE was heart-shaped.  Now it was in a dozen or more crackled pieces!

I think of how Mam-ma encouraged others...especially family members...and became something of a "go-to" person.  I see that happening... especially with a few younger cousins who often reach out to me for advice or encouragement.  I think of how Mam-ma sewed many of the garments my sister and I wore...how she could look through the catalogs and make us "one of each"...in similar colors and fabrics - and often better than the originals!  I am now doing this for my nieces and cousins.

 

I look in the mirror and see the white hair that is quickly overtaking my head, and I think of Mam-ma's beautiful white crown of glory.  Everyone talked about how pretty her hair was...and it looks like mine is on track to be very much the same.

If I can grow old as my grandmother did...with friends, grace, beauty - and even a little spunk...I'll take it.  I am determined not to be sad today.  I want to remember her with love and joy...to be so grateful for the lessons she taught me...to celebrate her generous spirit...to laugh at her antics and to love her in spite of the way she often made me the object of her frustration, anger and tirades in later years.  Through it all, she was my mentor, my friend, my confidant, and grandmother extraordinaire!  I love her...I miss her...and I carry her spirit with me every day.  Sometimes, a little even sneaks through, and I have to say, "My 'Mam-ma Polly' is showing."  And that's not necessarily a bad thing...not a bad thing at all.

 

Happy First Birthday in Heaven to my Mam-ma Polly... Willie Dove "Polly" Thrasher Chandler.  We love you, we miss you...and we will all see you again one of these days.

Make Mine a "Club"... One Woman's Experience with the Sandwich Generation

Recently, Lauren e-mailed me to describe her experience with the Sandwich Generation.  She wrote...

"I have had several servings of "club" sandwiches over the past 25 years. I had my  2 and 3-year-old and a 92 and 90-year-old in my home at the same time (my grandmother and her brother).  We had them for 6 years.  Plus, my mother down the street at 70. 

Then I had my mother at 80 in my house and my husband's grandmother at 91.  Plus, my son boomeranged back with his 2-year-old son. We are empty nesters now... for a short time...anticipating the next set of elderly coming, probably next spring (his dad and step-mom). Even though I work full-time, I find myself depressed now that my youngest is gone." 

Lauren, I would like to suggest that you are not so much depressed because your youngest left home... you are EXHAUSTED!  Like many in this situation, you have become so accustomed to functioning in chaos and stress that you feel lost without it.  I encourage you to get some rest during this respite... to take some time for Lauren... and to give yourself a break.  I, for one, am in awe of your generosity and your fortitude!

I do somewhat understand where you are coming from... when our little ones have stayed with us for even a 24-hour time frame, there is that period after they leave that we sort of wander around and feel like, "Now what?"  All of a sudden, the house is quiet... there is no one to watch over intently and no feeling of trepidation if you even rush to the bathroom for five minutes.  It takes a while to adjust to the "emptiness" of the house again.  And I'll admit... it sometimes leaves me feeling momentarily sad.

I have also found myself experiencing some mild depression lately that I believe is due in part to the passing of my grandmother last March.  I truly miss her. It's not that I have a whole lot of extra time on my hands that I don't know how to fill... that was never an issue - and other people and projects filled in that void quite quickly and completely.  It's the little things... like thinking, "Oh, I must tell Mam-ma about that"... or "I'll have to ask Mam-ma what she thinks"... or "Mam-ma will love that!" 

For me, sewing has probably been the hardest adjustment.  I love to sew... and Mam-ma taught me how when I was little.  In the last two years, I took everything I made to the Assisted Living Facility to show my Mam-ma.  She would run her fingers across every garment or project.  She would examine the stitches and grin... and gesture for others to have a look at my handiwork.  Even though she couldn't talk, I knew she was pleased... and proud.  And sometimes she would shake her head, and I knew she was wishing that SHE could still sew... but she took great delight in my projects as her progeny.

Now, I don't have anyone to share my completed garments with... not in the way that I shared them with my grandmother.  And this has been hard.  Before my Mam-ma died, a friend who had lost her grandmother (who happened to be Mam-ma's back-door neighbor) told me how sad she was... how much she missed her grandmother... how hard it had been for her.  I thought, "That won't be me.  Mam-ma is SO ready to go to heaven... and I have made my peace with this.  I will miss her, but it won't be so terribly hard."  Well ya know what?  It IS terribly hard some days!  And that's just a fact!

So give yourself a little slack, Lauren.  Take some time for yourself and your husband in these next few months between "sandwiches"...and God bless you - for your dedication and your perseverance!  Every "sandwich" is different... but my goodness, it sounds like you've had a whole deli all by yourself!

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If you would like to share YOUR story, please contact me using the contact button on the top left-hand side of this blog.  We're all in this together... and you are not alone!  Sharing your story might be just the help that someone else needs, so please let me hear from you!

Moving Someone into an ALF or Nursing Home...It's Just Not That Simple

A childhood friend of mine is moving her mother into the Assisted Living Facility (ALF) where my Mam-ma Polly lived.  She messaged me to ask how I labeled Mam-ma's clothes.  I responded:

"Use a Sharpie® marker for most things... even socks (I labeled the toes). They make one that is for laundry, but I've found that all Sharpies® are pretty laundry-proof. For darks, I got a white paint pen in the craft section at Wal-Mart that worked on fabrics. I tried to put her name on labels wherever possible... but on undies, etc., I usually did the waistband.

Remember to label all of her toiletries, too... shampoos, cosmetics, etc. It will save you trouble down the line when she says, "Someone stole so-and-so!" I even labeled Mam-ma's towels & linens... don't think I did her bed sheets, but I should have... we ended up with a whole bunch in the closet that were not ours. Label her laundry hamper... EVERYTHING!  I know this is mind-boggling."

 

Another family friend recently moved his brother's widow into a nursing home.  He lives in North Carolina... several states away from Arkansas.  Still, he must make all sorts of decisions, including what to do with his brother's home and all of the personal belongings.  Last summer, I assisted friends who were trying to decide how to dispose of their parents' belongings.  The family members had all gotten what they wanted, and the house needed to be sold... but what would they do with all of the furnishings and bric-a-brac?  In the end, I advised them to have an auction.  Making money was not the concern, and I pointed out that it would all be over with in a day... and everything would be hauled away.  No carrying leftovers from an estate sale to a thrift store...no working hard for days/weeks to price every item and set up the sale.  Pay the auctioneer a percentage of the sales and let him/her do the work!  From all I saw and heard, this couple was pleasantly surprised with the end results.

A childhood friend of my brother's passed away last week, and we attended her funeral.  While visiting with a sister-in-law, she shared that she had lost her mother two months ago, and now she is trying to determine what to do with her 89-year-old father.  He has macular degeneration and cannot live alone.  As we talked, I realized that this woman is a member of the Sandwich Generation, also.  She has two nearly-grown children, but one just graduated from college, and the other is a university sophomore.  So while she figures out what to do with her dad, balances the daily challenges of a job and a marriage, she also must be a mom to her two children.  Sandwiches do indeed come in all sizes and shapes!

At the end of the day, none of this is easy.  One of my HOSPICE nurse friends asked me if I had noticed a big gap of extra time now that Mam-ma is gone.  My reply?  "Not really."  She nodded... "That's how it goes... things just seem to fill in."  And she's right!  Between my little ones, now ages 4, 2 and 1, and my 87-year-old mother-in-law, my own marriage, responsibilities and more, the time seems to fly!  All of this underscores the point that we do what we have to do when faced with the challenges of caring for our loved ones... regardless of their age.

So my friend will get everything labeled, and the other will figure out how to manage his sister-in-law and her estate long distance.  The classmate's wife will figure out what is best for her dad - and something will come along to make my life even busier again!  None of it is "simple" - but it's what we do!  And I guess that's what makes life interesting... and every  "sandwich" unique!

Same Sandwich... Different "Bread!"

My grandmother is buried in a rural family cemetery.  A week or so ago, my husband took a motorcycle ride and stopped by the cemetery to check on things.  He observed that the once-beautiful floral sprays that were heaped atop Mam-ma's grave were now dried, brown and ugly.  So tonight, we drove out and gathered everything in garbage bags and cleaned up the graves of my grandparents, my dad and my brother.  I would say this is one of the last remaining tasks... but there seem to be "loose ends" to tie pretty much every week yet.  My grandmother's funeral was seven weeks ago today... maybe that's to be expected.


My mother (known as "Granny")
and Timothy - Christmas Eve 2012

I never really thought that I would discontinue this blog when Mam-ma was gone... and now I am sure of it.  As we pay the last bill and write the last thank-you to summarize her earthly life, our own mothers are both telling us that they "feel old."  My mother just celebrated her 74th birthday, which I consider "young."  However, she has several health issues, including COPD and diabetes... and she is beginning to develop some neuropathy in her hands and feet.  My husband's mother will be 87 in June, and in recent months she suffered a mini-stroke... and that just about correlates with her comment that "...in the last six months, I've suddenly felt old."

 

My husband's mother (known to the children as
"Granda E")... with Nathan - Christmas Eve 2012

So I don't know what turns the next stage of our journey will take.  But I have learned that we are a lot stronger than we think... and we'll be fine.  I also hope that some of you will share your own stories with me, so that I can demonstrate by example that we truly are not alone.  Two of our dearest friends have just placed his parents in an Assisted Living Facility, and now they are anticipating the arrival of their first grandchild in October.  Now there's a "sandwich" in the making! 

 

My niece and I had a yard sale this weekend, and a lady purchased a sleeper sofa from me, explaining that "we're downsizing."  As her husband and teenaged son placed the sofa on their trailer, she asked if I happened to have a twin bed for sale.  She said, "We've just moved my grandparents into our home.  My grandfather is in a hospital bed, and we want to keep them together.  There isn't room for more than a twin bed for my grandmother, so we are hoping to find one."  If only I could have manufactured one on the spot, I would have given it to her!  I felt an instant bond with this woman...I can't imagine what her "sandwich" must be like on any given day, but I know she faces big challenges!

So we will move and grow and change with the circumstances.  I figure we will be the "filling" in a sandwich of sorts for several years (hopefully).  We'll just have some variations in the "bread."  I know that we can handle this, with God's help, and the support of each other.  After all, we're all in this together at The Deli!

The More Things Change...

... the more they stay the same!  This thought "came home to roost" with me recently.  After 251 days, we finally got to see our little nephew Timothy again.  His grandparents went to Texas to visit after Timmy's new baby brother, Nathan, arrived.  They brought Timmy home to visit for a couple of weeks, before we return him to Texas.  We were thrilled to see our little guy - and amazed at how he has grown and what all he can do now.

At the same time, I was struck by the similarities between him and my grandmother.  The only difference is the scale.  Timmy is now potty trained.  He uses a little "Thomas the Train" adaptor seat that perches atop the regular toilet seat - much like the "potty chair" apparatus that sits over Mam-ma's toilet and provides her with a higher perch and arm rails.  Timothy still has trouble understanding a few things - and often there is no reasoning with him... just as it is with Mam-ma.

You can tell Timothy to stop doing something, and in his little 3-year-old mind, it doesn't compute.  You can tell Mam-ma to stop hollering or rattling her bed rails, and she just looks at you with a glazed look, then starts to holler and rattle.  Timmy spits out foods he doesn't like... so does Mam-ma.  Timmy frequently asks "Why?"  Mam-ma does, too... as in, "I don't know WHY I can't walk."

We took Timothy to see Mam-ma... I think it confused her, although she seemed happy to see him.  All she could say was, "I tell you what!" and once she said, "He's so cute."  Finally, Timmy raised his hands as if he were confused and said, "TELL ME what, Mam-ma!" She didn't get it.  I suggested that Greg take Timmy to see the fish tank in the dining room, and he did.  Thankfully he was with me... it would have been a real challenge to manage Timmy and Mam-ma by myself!

In the seventeen days that Timothy visited, I saw even more similarities, as Mam-ma expressed herself in 3-year-old fashion. More than once, when she was upset about something, she began to heave her shoulders and "cry" and sob... with nary a tear... a behavior I had seen from Timothy several times.  I wanted to say, "Use your words," as I do with him... but it didn't seem appropriate.  So instead, I would tell her, "That is not helping.  You need to tell me what is wrong." 

Honestly, I don't feel I have been nearly as patient with my grandmother in recent weeks as I should... and maybe that was due in part to the stress of caring for her AND my nephew.  I think moreso, it's the culmination of weeks and months and years of continual stress and "wrinkles" and challenges.  We are all just a tad weary - and none of us more than my grandmother.

I didn't take Timothy back to visit Mam-ma Polly while he was here.  She never asked about him again, and he did not indicate he wanted to return.  They saw each other, we snapped a photo or two, and we can say we've "been there, done that."  If she wakes up someday and says she wishes she could see him, we can remind her that he did visit.

We have returned Timmy to his family in Texas.  Saying "Good-bye" again was heartbreaking for all of us.  I am hoping and praying that it won't be another 250+ days before we see them again.  Meanwhile, I am regrouping, resting a sore knee that wasn't  up to the rigors of a 32-lb. three-year-old who liked to be cuddled and carried.  I am already focusing on the newest development with my grandmother... a speech therapist who has indicated interest in working on the expressive aphasia. If she is willing to do the paperwork to see if Mam-ma qualifies, I am willing to consider this.

So life continues... with all of its similarities - AND changes...and so do we!

All She Needs is a Tin Cup!

I've done some serious "textile therapy" in the last week, so I have only visited my grandmother a couple of times.  My mom has visited a few times, too - and my sister still works 3 weekend nights - so it's not like Mam-ma has not had visits from her family.  When my mom visits, she often reports that Mam-ma "had trouble holding her eyes open," so Mom ends up pulling up a chair and just sitting at her bedside for a while.  I find it interesting that I can go the very next day - or even the same day - and Mam-ma has no trouble staying awake.  I'm wondering if this "pretending to nap or be sleepy" is for Mom's benefit.  Mom thought that Mam-ma was mad at the world the last time she visited, and this was why she closed her eyes and literally shut everyone out!  We'll probably never know for sure.

I found things pretty well on Sunday when I visited.  I took more sewing to show Mam-ma, though she never even raised up in bed.  She looked it all over - twice - and declared, in a rather long sentence for her... "I said to myself, 'She's a havin' the time of her life with this sewing.'"  I heard this several times over the course of ten or 15 minutes.  My husband and I were attending the funeral visitation for a dear friend that evening, so I didn't stay long.  But I thought all was well... until I talked with my sister on Tuesday.

It seems that Mam-ma continues to holler, though she has not done so while I am there in about two weeks.  But at night and much of the daytime, if she is in her bed or recliner, she is hollering for any and every aide who passes her door.  And my sister said when she is on duty, she will hear "Suzaaaaaaaaaaannnnne!"  Worse still, when the aides to not respond as quickly as Mam-ma thinks they should... she has begun to rattle her bed rails!  I told Suzanne that maybe we should get her a tin cup, like you see the prisoners scrape across the bars of a jail cell in the movies.  She replied, "Don't you dare!"  I would never do this, and it's not funny... but I can just see my grandmother.

So on one hand, we feel like maybe she cannot help the fact that she hollers.  But when you know enough to call the aides by name and rattle your bed rails... it's hard to believe you are clueless.

I am assured that there are others who do this sort of thing... and worse.  But they are not my grandmother.  And they don't have a loved one working there.  It's a dilemma... but my sister insists that she wants Mam-ma kept in this facility - that she is managing just fine.  So we remind Ma-mma often that she must not holler... that it doesn't make the aides come any faster or more frequently to check on her.  And I'm waiting for the day the administrator calls to tell me her bedrails have been removed.

My grandmother has come so far in the last two months... farther than I ever dreamed she would when we left the hospital in early May.  Still, she is declining, in many ways.  I am prepared for the possibility that she might continue to improve enough that she no longer qualifies for Hospice care at this time.  But I feel like the far more likely scenario will be that she falls...develops an infection of some sort... or overheats sitting outside on the porch.  Every day is different.  Meanwhile, we all agree that we should keep objects that can be clanged against the bedrails at a hefty distance.  If Mam-ma figures out how to make noise with one of those, we're sunk!

Waiting for "The Next Big Thing"

I don't have a whole lot to report this week, except to say that my grandmother seems to be in a "holding pattern."  She was doing fairly well when I visited her on Sunday - having lunch at her regular table with her friend, Evelyn.  She could not communicate, and she ate like a bird, but that is nothing new on either front these days.

Monday, my mom visited and found Mam-ma sitting in the dining hall, listening to gospel music by a couple from our community who come regularly to sing for the residents.  Mom said Mam-ma was doing well... singing the hymns along with the others, and apparently pain-free.  She was dressed in one of her new house dresses - a sleeveless number the aide had put on OVER her cardigan sweater!  Mom questioned the aides about how long Mam-ma had been up, and several rushed to her side right away to assure her that they were not letting my grandmother get overly tired... that she wanted to be up and out.

One aide in particular - one of my favorites - told Mom that Mam-ma had insisted on getting up and out one day the week before, and this aide had taken her to the garden to survey the peppers, squash and tomatoes growing there.  She said the planned to take her again that day, but Mom told her she thought Mam-ma had had enough activity.  She had been to breakfast, lunch, and now the singing.

I really don't know if Mam-ma went to the garden or not, but the next morning when I arrived, she had done a total 180-degree turn.  She was curled up in a fetal position in bed, moaning... and both she and her aides told me she had serious diarrhea and had required a shower just to get her cleaned up well.  The aides appeared in Mam-ma's room to tell me about Mam-ma's morning. One of them confessed that he did not know how the sleeveless dress worked - over or under the sweater. I told him under, and he apologized, despite my insistence it was okay. He began to tell me how he worked hard to smooth Mam-ma's frizzy bed-hair before taking her out of the room... and he asked if I would bring some mousse, so that he could do a better job.

I was touched by his care and concern... and later, the nurse told me that this particular aide goes to great lengths to make sure Mam-ma is presentable each day before taking her to meals.The Hospice social worker had requested a visit with me, so when she arrived, we moved outside on the porch to visit.  It was an unseasonably nice summer morning, so we sat in rocking chairs and talked about my grandmother and her care.

The social worker talked to me about moving Mam-ma to a skilled care nursing facility across the street from the ALF.  I quickly said "No!"  This has been the suggestion of several ... and I did back-pedal enough to allow the social worker to outline her reasons for this suggestion. At the forefront was, "I can tell from your conversation - and from what the nurses have told me - that you are frustrated... that you feel some of the ALF staff are not listening to you and your wishes.  You deserve to be heard."  I listened to all she had to say, and then I told her that I felt that a move at this point would be disruptive and upsetting to Mam-ma.

My mom and I had talked on Monday after her visit to the ALF.  Mom said... and I agree... "Your Mam-ma is driving them crazy.  She will not stay in bed or in her room, and they don't know what else to do except get her up and take her out for a while."  My sister confirmed that - at least on weekend nights when she is working - Mam-ma "sits" on her buzzer continually.  The "favorite" aide told Mom that whenever anyone passes Mam-ma's room, she hollers for them.  I have experienced this myself... if Mam-ma senses movement past her open door, she yells, "Hey!" until someone comes to see what she wants.  Often, she can't tell them when they arrive.  I know... it's frustrating for everyone!

So I told the Hospice social worker that I would reserve the option to change my mind, but for now, I am just riding this pony!  I fully expect that there will be a "Next Big Thing"... Mam-ma will try to get out of bed - or stand and fall... she will develop another skin tear, pressure wound, or infection like the UTI... or her overall decline will catch up with her as she eats less and less and continues to have diarrhea almost daily.  When the "Next Big Thing" happens, we will deal with it.  I know the administrator at the skilled care facility, and if it should become apparent that Mam-ma needs to move, I will

I also told the Hospice social worker that *I* have to own the frustration... that a lot of it is on me.  I have to learn to let some of this go and move forward.  These staff members dearly love my grandmother.  They are doing what they feel is best for her, based on their daily relationship with her, my input, and my grandmother's requests and demands.  I have to trust God to take care of these situations... and to give me the strength and capacity to handle whatever happens next.  After all, something will happen eventually.  My grandmother will not live forever, and something has to facilitate her demise at some point.  And the entire family - and Mam-ma - are all okay with this!

So we agreed to let this go for the moment... to try to relax and take deep breaths... and wait for "The Next Big Thing."  I don't know if Mam-ma overdid it on Monday and the result was her diarrhea and inability to get out of bed the next day - or if it was just "one of those days."  But on Wednesday and every subsequent day this week, she was up, dressed, going to meals, and she appeared to be pain-free.  Maybe the antibiotics and the new time-released medicine are working.  Maybe she just had a string of good days.  Maybe she will actually rally for a few weeks/months - and even try to walk again.  I really cannot say, and it doesn't matter.  We are taking this one day at a time... until the "Next Big Thing."

As part of my attempt to chill out and not over-manage things, I stayed home a couple of days this week and did not visit the ALF.  I sewed... made darling dresses and shorts for some little friends... I worked out, wrote, and read.  My husband and I actually went out of town to attend the wedding of our dear friends' daughter.  And the sky did not fall!  I took the outfits I had made to show Mam-ma one day - and she smiled a GREAT BIG smile and gave me several "I tell you whats!"  A week earlier I had taken sewing, and she looked at it blankly and didn't respond.  So I count this as a good week...and I will take it!

As I have said before, I'm learning to find God's goodness, grace and mercy in the little ordinary things of the day... like time to work out, a few hours to sew or write... and time spent with my husband.  In truth, these are not little ordinary things at all, but rather, wonderful gifts we take for granted.  I know one thing is for certain... in all of this "Sandwich journey," I have received far bigger lessons than anyone... and I'm still learning!

I Think I'll Try the "Sink or Swim" Method

I know it's been a few weeks since my last post... and I have no other excuse except to say that I've been busy!  My 88-year-old cousin who was dying was laid to rest on March 21st, so I spent much of that week with cousins and other family members.  This was a bittersweet time... we will miss my cousin, but he is at peace and died as he lived - on his terms, and with dignity.  I got to visit with cousins I have not seen in years... and some old connections were re-established, hopefully.  At the same time, this was one more reminder for my grandmother that her day is coming... and that somebody else got to go before she did.
Some of the cousins did spend quite a bit of time visiting with my grandmother, and she thoroughly enjoyed listening to their stories.  Since she can hardly get out a sentence these days, she likes for us to gather and visit in her presence.  She can soak in what we are saying... and every once in a while, she gestures, smiles, or interjects a word or two.  But mostly, she sits and smiles and enjoys our company.

Lately, my visits to see Mam-ma have centered around rearranging her closet and taking my latest sewing project to share with her.  The latter seems to be the one thing that truly energizes her these days... the "common thread" (no pun intended) that we can share and enjoy.  My grandmother was an amazing seamstress, and I still marvel at her tailoring skills and the ability to create tiny clothes for our Barbies - by hand!  But she is impressed with the work I am doing, and she obviously takes great pride in my accomplishment.

Five pair of shorts, two onesies and matching pants,
one dress, one appliqued tank, and a burp pad... all in
coordinating prints of Groovy Guitars, Urban Zoologie, and more!

Darling Diva outfit created from ladies cardigan sweater
in animal print.  Note the beading detail on the pants hem
and the little jacket pocket!  This was really fun to create!

Orange dream created from ladies beaded knit top.

Baby bolero jacket created from vintage embroidered
dresser scarf with crochet lace trim.  I love repurposing old linens!

Our little friend Ada Jane models her fake fur zebra print
bolero shrug jacket!  Is she a darling diva or what?!

Sewing has taken up much of my spare time in recent weeks. It keeps my mind off of how much we miss Timothy and gives me a positive focus. I've made dresses, shorts, burp pads, appliqued onesies, and even a fake fur jacket for the little friends, nieces, nephews and cousins in our family. I've even made matching clothes for an American Girl doll! The children all enjoy their one-of-a-kind clothes, and the moms are beyond thrilled. I know that the day will come soon enough when these little ones are teens who wouldn't be caught dead in one of my creations. But for now, they love their new duds... and I get such a kick out of creating them!

A couple of weeks ago, my husband's brother and sister-in-law visited for the day. Over lunch, my sister-in-law reported the latest news about her 95-year-old mother, who fell in November and broke her arm in two places. She required surgery, a lengthy hospital stay, and rehab at a local skilled care nursing facility. Each week since mid-November, my brother-in-law and his wife have traveled some 3+ hours to spend several days attending to the needs and business of this woman. Usually they would go on Thursday and return home on Sunday. Some weeks, my sister-in-law has stayed longer, as needed.

March 31st signaled the end of Medicare coverage for my sister-in-law's mother. She had the choice to continue her stay at the skilled care nursing facility and pay out-of-pocket. She could also move to an assisted living facility. Or she could go home and have continual care. Of course, she opted for Door #3. My sister-in-law had toured a local ALF and loved it. She hoped her mom would, also. She did not. She found all sorts of reasons to derail a move there... she had to take her own furniture (not a problem, she was assured). She would have to change therapists (also not a problem - she won't have therapists at home!) People would not come to visit her as often (the visits have already dropped to a trickle).

Every excuse she thought of was readily addressed, but she still insisted she wanted to go home. Weary of the argument, my sister-in-law told her, "Fine... then make it work." She left her mother to her own devices. Her mother arranged for part-time in-home care. She has severe macular degeneration and cannot see, but she refused Meals on Wheels, insisting she will cook for herself. Doctors and therapists determined that she was better walking unassisted than trying to use a walker, because she could not see to maneuver it... and her arm, weakened from the fall and surgery, would not adequately support her weight.

A few days before she was to leave the nursing home rehab, this woman fell in her room and sprained her ankle. My sister-in-law thought this might get the wheels back on the bus for going to an ALF. It did not. So this weekend, she and my brother-in-law moved her mother home... and then they returned to their home. In essence, my sister-in-law has said, "Sink or swim."

While I cringe at the thought of this, I get it. I remember the week before my grandmother moved into her apartment at the ALF and we argued over a folded envelope she had wedged behind a wireless doorbell apparatus plugged into the wall receptacle. She insisted it was not a fire hazard... I insisted it was. In frustration, I finally said, "Fine... if you burn yourself and this house down before you move next week, so be it!" Then when she was not looking, I removed the envelope. I don't know if my sister-in-law will get the opportunity for such an action or not... but I know she will take it if she has a chance.

We do this often with our children... we try to protect them as much as possible... tell them "don't touch that hot object" ... or "you won't like the taste of that!" But sometimes, they have to discover these things for themselves. The tricky part is allowing them to sometimes sink a little...without drowning! This is an extremely slippery slope with both age groups, and often we have to pray hard and trust God to protect our "little ones" of all ages.

My grandmother and I have come a long way on this journey, but we still have some "sink or swim" moments. She fell again recently... hit her neck on the edge of her night-stand. She admits she stood too quickly and lost her balance... and her walker was across the room. She explains that she uses the night stand and her bed as braces as she inches along the floor toward her walker, which she leaves parked across the room beside her television. Efforts to get her to pull her walker over beside her chair are futile.

Also fruitless was my attempt to get her to remember to count to five before taking a step. I reminded her that this was "the doctor's order." When she stood, I chided, "Count to five... count to five... Mam-ma, STOP and count to five!" Three or four steps later, she stopped and stared at me like I was from Mars. I realized I had just wasted my breath... and I've not reminded her again to "count to five." I know she will probably stand again, take off without letting her blood pressure regulate, and fall. And I am prepared to deal with any resulting injuries. She will either sink or swim... and I probably won't be there to rescue her if something goes wrong. Making peace with this has also been a journey... and a huge lesson in patience, surrender... and faith.

I applaud the determination of the human spirit to become independent - as with children... and to keep that independence when we age. The challenge for those of us in the middle is to learn to handle the bumps, bruises, and disasters that ensue. For this, I pray for strength and courage for each of us.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

What's happening with your "sandwich" these days?  Do you have a story to share... insights or success stories?  What's bugging you?  Can we offer you some possible solutions or encouragement?   Please leave your comments, or e-mail me directly using the link on the sidebar.

It's All Part of the Sandwich!

Give me a week, and everything can change!  I visited my grandmother last Friday (if you are counting, that was five days ago), and she seemed so-so.  Of course, I'm sure the death of her friend Geraldine - "MawMac", my Birthday Buddy - impacted her and made her sad.  But overall, she seemed a little more frail and subdued in general.  Her associate pastor and his wife had been there for lunch, hosting all of the ladies from Mam-ma's church who live at Southridge for a meal in the parlor.  I asked her if she planned to nap in the afternoon, and she said she really didn't know what was planned.  Then she added, "Gladys thinks she's having a birthday party, but it's not her birthday!"

In the meantime, she casually mentioned that the doctor had been there that morning - her first visit with him since we switched and made him the primary care physician.  I asked, "And what did you think?"  She replied, "Well... I don't know.  He changed my medicine all up."  I questioned her further, and she said he had discontinued her lasix and reduced her B-12 dosage.  I looked down at her very swollen ankles and said, "I need to talk to the nurse about this."  I found the nurse, who confirmed that yes, the doctor had discontinued lasix, potassium, and he had decreased her B-12 shots from one every 2 weeks to once a month.  She told me the doctor and his nurse were still in the building... did I want to see them?  Yes, of course!  So she sent him to Mam-ma's room.

The doctor came in and explained that Mam-ma had told him she thought she had had a stroke during the week... and her speech was difficult and slow - as were her thoughts.  She wagged her bony finger at me and said, "You know this... I've been a tellin' you that I can't get my words together to talk right."  I agreed... but I reminded her that this had been going on for at least a couple of weeks - maybe longer.  She insisted it was since our trip to the ER the week before.  I told the doctor how she would not stay inside out of the heat, and the nurse piped up and said, "Oh, believe me, I know... I chased her halfway around the building this morning to get her back inside out of the heat."  I explained to them that Mam-ma doesn't believe she is overheating, because she doesn't feel warm, and she doesn't perspire.  They said they understood.

Still, the doctor said he wanted to temporarily make these changes, do some lab work to test blood counts and her thyroid, and see if the dizziness subsided.  He said if she felt like she was having a stroke - or might have just had one - she was to tell a nurse, who would administer an aspirin and call an ambulance to transport her to the ER for a CT-scan.  This would tell him whether to prescribe something stronger, like Plavix.  I am still not sure that I understand all of this for a nearly 99-year-old woman, but he did mention preventing a fall... and if the medication will do this or prevent a stroke that leaves her in a vegetative state, I am all for that.  It's just a gamble, in my book, to change anything at this point.  But this doctor is supposed to be a specialist in geriatrics, so we will trust his judgment... after all, I have signed for him to handle Mam-ma's medical care!

I did mention that we discovered at the ER that somewhere in the last 5 years, Mam-ma has had a documentable stroke on the right side.  The doctor confirmed this.  We had never been told this before... and it is not a TIA... one of those mini-strokes Mam-ma has felt like she experienced a few times.  This was a bonafide, measurable stroke... and one the ER doc said was common in older folks.  So she is prone to more of them, given her history and her age.  So we agreed to discontinue the meds and do the tests... and to monitor Mam-ma's blood pressure and overall condition for at least a week and see what happens.  The doctor shook my hand and went on his way.

Soon, there was a knock at the door, and Gladys' daughter-in-law, Margaret, appeared.  "Do you want to play Chicken Foot with Gladys and the other ladies this afternoon?" she asked Mam-ma.  "It's Gladys' birthday, and your Sunday School teacher and friends are coming to play dominoes."  "Of course she wants to play!" I interjected.  Mam-ma sorta shrugged.  I looked at her and asked, "You want to play dominoes, don't you?"  "Well, I guess," she replied.

Margaret explained that dominoes began at 2:00 p.m., followed by sandwiches and birthday cake at 5:00.  A former nursing home R.N., Margaret is a "take-charge" type, and she had already notified the kitchen that these ladies would be dining elsewhere that evening.  She said she would be back to help Mam-ma to the parlor and left.

I had taken a new bird feeder to replace Mam-ma's old one, which broke, and she was very tickled to have fresh birdseed and the new feeder. She also sent home a couple of items of clothing for me to launder.

I helped Mam-ma change her sweater, comb her hair, and she put in lipstick and some rhinestone earrings that matched her blouse.  I then walked her to the parlor for dominoes and the party.  Margaret gathered the rest of the ladies, and I greeted those who had arrived from their individual homes in town as they came through the door, including Mam-ma's dear friend, Ruby.  It looked like a lot of work had gone into planning these events, and I'm sure the ladies all had a great time that afternoon.  I was thankful Mam-ma had so much to do to occupy her for the rest of the day and evening.

Later, Mam-ma phoned me to say she was "home," and that she had had a really good time, but she was too tired to return to tea. She said Gladys went back to her apartment at 6:00 p.m., because she goes to bed early but that... "Some of the rest of us stayed until 6:30!"   The next day, Mam-ma phoned me again, with some excuse for calling that didn't make any sense.  Basically, she just wanted to talk.  And if I remember right, she did that again on Sunday, too.  It was fine... I certainly didn't mind... but all of a sudden, she became more needy for several days.

Saturday afternoon, I picked up Timothy at my sister's.  Our plan was to take him to church Sunday morning, and keep him Monday while my sister worked, then take him to daycare for the day on Tuesday.  My sister would pick him up there after she finished working.  That was the plan.  When I picked up Timothy at my sister's, his nose looked a little runny.  I questioned her, and she said, "It was running "green" when I picked him up at daycare on Thursday, but he's been fine since."  Honestly, I didn't notice a runny nose again that evening, but he did seem to have a slight cough.  I turned on the vaporizer, hoping to help with any possible congestion when he laid down for the night.

In the middle of the night, Timothy awoke - just before 3:00 a.m., pressed his little nose and said, "Nose!"  He was stuffed up and coughing.  We were awake 2 hours, watching Jack's Big Music Show, before he was able to settle in and get back to sleep at 5:00.  He slept until nearly 8:30 - there would be no getting to church by 9:30!

Sunday afternoon, Timmy laid down for a nap, and after sleeping for an hour, I heard him crying.  I went to check on him, and he was drenched... clothes, hair was literally dripping wet... bed linens were soaked.  I put him in our bed under a fan and cooled him down... and he slept another 2 hours.  When he awoke, his cough seemed to increase gradually. We played outside for just a bit late Sunday afternoon. A front had come through bringing cooler temperatures and a breeze, and Timmy enjoyed playing on the driveway with toy trucks - and running in the grass in our front yard.  It's been so hot in Arkansas for weeks that we have not had many chances to play outside.  When it only "cools" to a humid 85 at night, that's not much fun for outdoor play.

I figured Timmy would be up half the night after his 3-hour nap, but he went to bed around 10:00 p.m. with no fanfare. I ran the vaporizer again... just in case he had trouble with congestion in the night. He slept fitfully - was all over the bed - but he didn't wake up until almost 7:00 a.m.  He sat up in bed, pointed at the TV, and said, "Jack!"  I turned on the TV, and he said, "Milk!"  I went to the kitchen to get him a cup of milk, and before I could return, I heard him coughing... and wheezing... then gasping for air.  I got him up and started trying to prepare a steamy washcloth with eucalyptus oil... something I have done in the past for him.  I put a few drops on a steamy hot washcloth and held it to his face for him to inhale. He would have none of that!

By this time, my husband had come to see about us.  He had been in his office upstairs, and he said he heard the wheezing from there.  He said, "That sounds like asthma!"  I agreed, and we both felt Timmy needed instant medical attention.  We threw on clothes and loaded Timothy into the car and headed for the hospital, which is only about 2 minutes away from our house.  Once there, Timmy was quickly admitted.  Then the fun began...

Everything went fine for the first temperature check and when the nurse put the pulse-ox clip on his finger.  But when that device was too large, she had to switch to a band-aid style device, and he was not having it on his finger.  She tried the band on his toe, with mixed results.  Then the nurse added the BP cuff... and when it tightened on Timmy's arm, he started to scream.  It was downhill from there.

Timmy was in hysterics, and nothing we did could console him.  Both Greg and I tried to reassure him, but he was having none of it.  The ER doc was great... and very patient.  But he could not hear anything in his stethoscope when he listened to Timmy's lungs except screaming and my hand patting his back to soothe him.  He almost never got the device into Timothy's ears to have a look.  The one thing that went well was looking into his throat.  With all of the screaming, there was a clear shot well past his tonsils!

The doctor ordered a breathing treatment for the respiratory distress.  A very nice therapist arrived with a mask that sported a cute little dragon face.  She tried to show Timmy how the mask would make smoke.  It took three of us to hold him down to put the mask on... no, near... his face.  The treatment was supposed to last 5 minutes... we might have made it 2 minutes before calling it quits.  But it was enough to greatly decrease the wheezing and gasping.

The doctor wanted to rule out pneumonia... and the only way to do this was with a chest x-ray.  He said, "I do not want to draw labs unless I absolutely have to... so hopefully the x-ray will tell us what we need to know."  The x-ray tech, a woman who attends our church, arrived.  Timmy was still in hysterics.  She said he would have to sit on the end of the table, but that I could hold the film between him and me and hold him.  We tried to accomplish this, but Timmy would not let me put the film between us.  The tech clearly got exasperated and irritated, and at one point, she quipped, "Where are the parents?"  "They're in Texas," I shot back, equally irritated - with her!  This was not the time to explain family dynamics and who we were and why we were there with this child!

The tech said, "I think you two are going to have to leave the room, and we'll call in nurses to hold him."  Now, this sent me spinning.  I asked if there was any other way... could we not just get some medicine and leave?  The nurses said there was no way the doctor would prescribe anything without at least a chest x-ray.  The nurse and respiratory therapist arrived and assured me they would hold him and not let anything happen to him.  Reluctantly we walked out, and I told Greg, "I'm giving her 2 minutes!"

Almost instantly, Greg saw the light come on signaling that one x-ray had been accomplished.  The screaming subsided... but only slightly.  I was in tears, and now Greg had TWO babies to console!  Poor man!  The door opened, and the tech asked me to come back in and help hold up Timothy's arms for a profile shot.  I tried... as he protested... and we got an x-ray of arms - I think mine, the respiratory tech's and the nurse's... perhaps the baby's!  They decided to roll with the one good x-ray, which the doctor gave me the "thumbs up" on and declared all clear - no pneumonia.

So the doctor determined this was probably allergies or viral... but he ordered a workup at Timothy's pediatric office to rule out asthma.  He wrote an optional prescription for a steroid syrup for the wheezing... and he recommended an OTC antihistamine to control the symptoms and the cough, plus children's acetaminophen for the fever.  Greg and I loaded our exhausted, sweaty little boy into the car and drove home.  We started him on children's Zyrtec, and he seemed to improve throughout the day... although he took another 3-hour nap.

Tuesday, Timothy was out of sorts from whatever ailed him, plus the medications.  He was a typical 2-year-old for much of the day and had a fairly short fuse. I did not send him to daycare, because he was irritable and may have still had a slight fever. He slept three hours again in the afternoon.  Today, his grandparents took him to the pediatrician, who says this is allergies, not asthma.  He gave them an inhaler and said to keep using the OTC antihistamine.

To say I am somewhat drained is an understatement.  I am trying to take these things all in stride, but it's been a crazy two weeks.  I have made two trips to the ER, been to two funerals for dear friends, and tried to console a 99-year-old and a 2-year-old... all while trying to continue to have some semblance of a life!  I know from previous experience that this is really small potatoes in the scheme of things... and no big deal compared to what others are dealing with!  But I, like many others, have been thrust into circumstances I never expected... this "sandwich" life... and momentarily, it can throw me for a loop!

In an attempt to cope, I am reading the book Boundaries... When to Say Yes... How to Say No by Henry Cloud and John Townsend.  I have also downloaded a couple onto my Kindle... one recommended by a dear friend and young mother of 2... Shepherding a Child's Heart by Ted Tripp... and another that looked good... Don't Make Me Count to Three by Ginger Plowman.  I have learned a lot from the Boundaries book already and even found a matching workbook at a yard sale last weekend, so I plan to really study it in-depth (did I mention I have issues with boundaries?!).  I will be sure to report and give a review of the other two when I finish.  I also did a Google search about 2-year-old tantrums and found some great links...

• http://www.nasponline.org/resources/behavior/tantrums_ho.aspx
• http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/tantrum/HQ01622
• http://www.babycenter.com/0_tantrums-why-they-happen-and-what-to-do-about-them_63649.bc
• http://www.askdrsears.com/content/how-handle-2-year-olds-tantrums

Finally, I have to say that I'm looking for ways to cherish every moment with both my grandmother - and Timothy.  Honestly, I don't know how long we will have Mam-ma with us... and Timothy's visit is supposed to be short-term.  So I want to treasure this time with both of them.

When I took Mam-ma to the ER, I had grabbed my Kindle as I went out the door.  I had downloaded a really great short story written by my friend, John Sykes, called Shirley Takes the Shot.  It's about a hog killing in the South.  I knew my grandmother would love it, so while we waited for labs to be processed, I read the story to her.  She laughed and chuckled... and she recalled a hog killing or two from her past.  It was a good time... one of those really neat, precious moments that we don't have often enough these days... and one that will be treasured for a long time.

When you can find a way to make lemons out of lemonade even while sitting in an ER exam room, things can't possibly be all that bad.  I hope you are finding treasured moments of your own these days.