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.

Older... and Wiser?

We've been celebrating quite a few birthdays lately.  My husband and two of our little ones had birthdays in May... they are now four and two - I won't share my handsome man's age!  My sister and my mother-in-law had birthdays in June, and we celebrated my birthday on July 4th with a family dinner at my mom's.  I know for certain she cooked ALL DAY in preparation... and we feasted like kings and queens at a festive table bedecked with red/white/blue table linens, candles, centerpieces and even candy favors at each place setting.  I told her I would have been totally satisfied with a sandwich supper... but she said that would never do!  Have I mentioned that cooking big family-style dinners is a Southern tradition in my family?!

We gathered for a group photo... our first since Christmas Eve.  I'm posting both so you can see how we have changed!



Christmas Eve, 2012



July 4th, 2013

My husband and I have started taking Timothy and Zola to church with us.  We pick them up, and then most Sundays we pick up Grandma "E".  While the children have Sunday school, we attend worship service... and then we all go to Burger King or McDonald's for lunch!  It seems to be a good fit for all of us, and Timothy and Zola entertain all of us royally.  They love their Grandma "E" and always are glad to see her.  We haven't tackled taking baby Nathan (almost one) along yet... wish us luck when that happens!

Ice cream at Burger King with Grandma "E"



 

Our little Nathan, almost one.

For the moment, things are going fairly smoothly in our neck of the woods.  My mom and her husband are taking Timothy on his first trip to Branson, Missouri in their motorhome.  They will attend KidsFest at Silver Dollar City, play in the pool at the resort where they park their rig, and attend a couple of shows.  Timothy is beyond excited... I hope Granny and Pap-pa Lee took their vitamins!  While they are away, Pap-pa Lee will turn 75... Granny is 74... and Timothy is 4 going on 14!  It should be interesting!

We are in the process of finding someone to remodel Grandma "E's" bathroom to make it more accessible for her.  Now age 87, she is having some issues with the bathtub, and the time has come to transition to a shower with a seat and a hand-held sprayer.  She seems to have accepted this.  Should she insist on taking a bath once in awhile, she will still have a tub in the guest bathroom that we hope can be outfitted with more grab bars to make it safer.  There are things that she still wants to do and is unwilling to relinquish (like puttering in her yard and garage and dog sitting), and for the most part, we are okay with this.  But they come with consequences... like stiff and sore joints, the risk of falls, and more.  We think we are prepared to deal with these possibilities, as well.

If I learned anything with Mam-ma Polly, it's that you have to pick and choose your battles.  I am trying to apply this theory to all age groups.  Some days are better than others.  I'm also trying to "let go and let God" - to practice what I preach.  I was not happy when my mom announced in May that she and Lee might be Workamping this summer in North Dakota... and then spending the fall in Kentucky... and we might not see them again until Christmas Eve.  But the North Dakota trip did not happen... and for the first time in YEARS, Mom was actually home for my birthday - and my sister's birthday - and we enjoyed wonderful family get-togethers for both.  (See what happens when you let God handle things?!)  I assume the fall trip is still a "go," and I am rolling with that!

My sweet husband is the best son - and uncle - in the world.  He is so patient with his mother.  Each Monday after he delivers Meals on Wheels for the local Senior Citizens Center, he picks up take-out somewhere and goes to his mother's and shares lunch with her.  He handles all of her yard work - mowing, trimming, fertilizing, weed control... and many other things around her house.  His older CPA-brother handles the finances, but my husband has offered to help his mother with her bill paying and small matters in between monthly visits from big brother.

On the "uncle" front, this man is truly hands-on.  He helps with everything from getting the children to church and back, playing in the park on a sunny day, watching one child while I bathe or change another, general playtime, meals, reading stories, bed-time kisses, and so much more.  He serves as a part-time "dad" to the children's parents... a mentor, financial advisor, and moral support.  It truly does take a village to see after all of these generations... and he's the greatest!

 

 

So here we are... many of us a year older... and hopefully a little bit wiser!  There are still new challenges - and I'm sure there will be setbacks - but we will weather them, with God's help.  I pray that things are well in your neck of the woods.  As always, I would love to hear your "Sandwich" stories.  Please send them to me if you are willing to share.  We can all learn a lot from each other.  What's your story?

How Do You Sum Up 100 Years...a Eulogy for My Grandmother

When I was about six or seven, my grandmother sat me down on the rock ledge of the well house in the chicken yard one day and handed me a beautiful white hen. The chicken sat on my lap, warbling softly as I stroked her feathers. Then without any warning, Mam-ma grabbed that hen by the neck and began swinging her around violently. Soon the neck snapped, and the body of the hen ran round and round the chicken yard, wings flapping. I really had no idea what was happening, but that hen became dinner!

Not long ago, I told this story in front of Mam-ma, and we asked her WHY she did this – why she sprung such a thing on an innocent small child. Her explanation was that she thought she needed to teach me a lesson. In her mind, I needed to know how to wring a chicken’s neck… and she never was one to sugar-coat things. Some might even say she had a mean streak… and I would have to agree. She saw this as an opportunity to toughen up a little “city girl.” And while she didn’t necessarily toughen me, she gave me an experience I never forgot!

In his book, All I Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, author Robert Fulghum presents a list of lessons learned in his first year of school. And as a former kindergarten teacher, I greatly appreciate these pearls of wisdom… things like take daily naps and eat cookies. But for all I learned in kindergarten, I learned even more from my grandmother

• I learned how to cook and sew.
• I learned how to catch fish – and how to fry them.
• I learned how to grow a garden and can fruits and vegetables.
• I learned how to paint a picture.
• I learned how to feed others.
• I learned how to cook teeth!
• I learned how to be a “people person.”
• I learned how to serve God.

Of course, there were a few lessons I didn’t learn so well. I kill more plants and flowers than I grow. I can NOT make peanut brittle… and I never did learn to wring a chicken’s neck.

Mam-ma Polly was known far and wide for her peanut brittle. Nearly a half inch thick, yet light and crispy, she had the touch for making candy that tasted like no other. And she NEVER pulled her candy. She let it spread on its own, unlike most other peanut brittle makers. She tried to teach me, my sister, Jasmine, and my cousin Natalie how to make peanut brittle one winter. She “instructed” while we did the work… we stirred the sugar syrup until it made the right “hair” on the end of our spoon, and then we added the peanuts and watched the candy cook them. We stirred the foamy scalding substance and added the baking soda. And just as the candy started to pour out of the pan onto a greased cookie sheet, I attempted to help it along. “NO! NO! NO! I’m gonna whip you! Don’t you dare do that!” Mam-ma screamed. Apparently it is complete sacrilege to touch the candy as it pours. What’s left in the pan is just left in the pan. And you do NOT help the candy spread on the cookie sheet. That part I did learn! I don’t know if any of the three of us can make peanut brittle, but we will all remember that day and the screams… and we’ll never help the candy out of the pan… ever again!


Mam-ma Polly and her County Extention
Service Home Economist - somewhere
around 1953 - in Mam-ma's root cellar

Anyone who knew Mam-ma Polly knew that she was “a mess.” My mother wrote a book about her Aunt Zula, and my mother-in-law said, “I think you should write a book about Polly.” Greg said, “You could call it Golly Polly!” I laughed and said, “No, I think it would need to be called Polly, Patchwork, and Peanut Brittle.” But in retrospect, I think maybe it should be titled I Tell You What! If you have spent any time at all around Polly, you know that she prefaced nearly everything she said with “I tell you what…” or maybe you have heard “Why, my land a livin’” as she imparted some words of wisdom. Or maybe you know some other of her many tried and true sayings that she loved to pepper into her conversation.

There is a lawyer who has a little infomercial on television, and in his ad, he says, “I’m gonna tell you a few things you don’t know, and some things you need to know!” Well, I’m going to tell you some things about my grandmother that you may know – and a few that I’m betting you might not know.

My first recollections of my grandmother are of her nimbly sewing the tiniest of wedding dresses, wool suits, evening gowns, and even underwear for our Barbie dolls – almost all done by hand or on a treadle sewing machine. I also remember catching her fill our red net Christmas stockings with fruit and nuts and hang them on either side of her fireplace. When I asked about it, she said, “Well, Santa is so busy – I’m just helping him out a little.”


I remember early mornings of John Chancellor on the Today Show… Huntley and Brinkley in the evenings, and gospel music on the big radio console that stood adjacent to a wall near the dining area. I remember stopping at Foust’s Department Store on the way home for staples like coffee, flour, sugar and Crisco. Everything else came out of the “deep freeze” or the cellar. My grandparents grew everything they could for our meals, and we feasted on canned and frozen garden vegetables and fruits – and black angus cattle raised in the pastures behind the house.

The "crew" at Young's Department Store

My grandmother worked in factories from Texas to Indiana. She worked at Young’s Department Store and the Glove Factory. She drove a school bus route for eleven years. She was a chairside dental assistant for eighteen years, and in her starched white “nurse’s uniform, white hose and shoes,” I thought she was as much a nurse as any RN at the hospital. She worked for Dr. Joe Robbins, and in those days, the dentist made his own dentures. I still can see the cabinet with the trays of molars and canines and the little table with a strong light and impressions set alongside the work-in-progress that would become someone’s dentures. Dr. Joe would “set” the teeth, and then Mam-ma would take them home in the afternoons to “cook” in a big pressure pot on her cookstove… sometimes alongside a pot of beans.

Mam-ma worked briefly for Dr. Leon Wilson – another dentist – as his receptionist, and she served as a “foster grandparent,” first at Heber Springs Elementary School, and then for several years at the Community School of Cleburne County.
 
I still recall the look on my grandmother’s face when she walked in the room to view my dad’s body after he died. Her knees buckled, and her companion, Deb Caviness, my cousin Eddie, and Greg scrambled to catch her so she wouldn’t sink to the floor. I still remember how blank and devastated she looked when I first saw her after the house she had inhabited since 1953 – and virtually all of her earthly possessions within it - burned to the ground on December 20, 1981.

I still hear the trepidation and sadness in her voice as she told me of losing her firstborn baby… being so sick and out of it from the drugs given during her delivery that she was not even able to attend his burial. She was a 20-year-old bride. She worried so when Jasmine was pregnant with Timmy, reminding me more than once that “you know, I lost my first baby.”

I still hear the bitterness in her voice as she spoke of her daddy, who abandoned his family when Mam-ma was about 12 to move to another state with another woman and start a new family. Mam-ma only saw him once ever again – when my daddy was about 10. She said Grandpa drove up in the yard and wanted to pretend nothing had ever happened. A few pictures were made of him and Daddy, but only one included my grandmother. As she would tell us in recent years, “We had a good life until Poppa left. Babe and I played with dolls and did all the things kids do. But when Poppa left, we had to go to the fields and go to work.” And work became her mantra for the rest of her life.

Mam-ma Polly loved nothing more than for people to sit and visit with her… and to make her the center of attention…and you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to see that she never overcame her feelings of abandonment, even after almost 90 years. She had a way of cutting to the chase – telling you if you needed to lose a few pounds or “dry it up” – or offering marital advice. Once, she told a widow who had remarried, “Well, you already killed one husband, and now you’re workin’ on another!” And she told me often, in one way or another – and once outright – you don’t do enough for me… you could do more! She also told me that what was wrong with our churches is that we have gotten away from shaped notes, gospel singing and the King James version of the Bible.

Mam-ma Polly would be the first to tell you, “I’ve worked hard all my life” – and she did. But she would also be the first person on the scene if you needed her. I’ve seen her bake wedding cakes for brides who couldn’t afford to buy one – and then hand the bride a new nightgown from her own dresser on the way out the door with a quick, “Here, you’ll need this.” I’ve seen her bake countless cakes, pies, pans of hot rolls and more for those who were sick or grieving… or to celebrate even the most mundane of occasions. I’ve seen my grandmother ask month after month, year after year, “Did you send my tithe to the church?” In the years 2007-2009, she must have made close to 20 baby blankets and quilts for cousins, nieces, nephews, and her great-great-grandson, Timothy.

On her 95th birthday in 2007, I asked about 100 people who knew and loved Mam-ma Polly to write down their memories and send them to be added to a special “memory box.” To Mam-ma’s credit, dozens responded, and she treasured her memories for years afterward. I would like to read a few of them that capture the essence of who Mam-ma Polly was.

From Evelyn Robbins Irwin… “You have always been a part of our family. I’m glad you were always at Daddy’s office to hold my hand.”

From Nevin Robbins…”I want to share two memories with you. The first is about peanut brittle, of course. You probably taught every person in Cleburne County to judge the quality of peanut brittle against what you make. It is so good! I remember the first time I ever saw you make it. My father took me out to your farm. I was delighted to see your place. You explained to me that the trick to making good peanut brittle was having the right combination of ingredients, cooking time, and temperature… and WEATHER! If it all fit together just right, the candy would be great. Somehow you were able to fix it just right, and we have enjoyed the benefits for years.”

The second memory is really a collection of memories back at the old dental office. I learned very quickly who was really in charge. You were always able to keep the office and people in it on the right track. Sometimes it was your smile or laugh that eased the situation. Sometimes it was your saying, “Now, Dr. Joe…” It was always your joy in life that touched us all. For all these things, I love you and thank you. I am so glad you are a part of my life.

Polly and Deb, her companion for
7 years after my grandfather died.

He was like a second grandfather to us.

From Donald Payton… The first time Charlene and I visited the Chandlers in Heber Springs, we were planning a Saturday night activity and told Polly she was welcome to go with us, “but it probably won’t be over before 10:00.” She replied, “Nope, me and Deb are goin’ dancin’… and we’ll hardly be started by then.”

Many years ago, long before we knew Polly, I wrote a song, recorded by Porter Wagoner, which was entitled “Plantin’ Beans and Turnip Greens and Thinkin’ Dear of You.” Now, whenever I recall that song, I think of Polly. Invariably, when I speak with her over the phone, I ask if she’s had any beans and turnip greens lately, and she’ll say, “I had a mess of ‘em yesterday. Picked ‘em myself right out of the garden, and fixed ‘em with cornbread. They sure were good. I just wish you and Charlene were here to eat ‘em with me.”

From Charlene Payton…Nobody in this world makes peanut brittle that tastes half as good as Polly’s. One day we asked her how she breaks it into “eatable” pieces. Polly replied, “I put it in a sack, carry the sack to the back porch, and keep throwing it on the floor till it breaks into pieces!”

One day, several of us women, including Polly, were in a Branson theater awaiting the start of a show. Just as the houselights dimmed and the crowd hushed, Polly said, “Charlene, if something happens to Donald, you should start dating as soon as possible.”

From Rufo Martin… Polly was working at Young’s Department Store and helping a young lady that was trying on blue jeans. It seems the young lady left, and Polly went into the dressing room to pick up the 2 new pair of jeans she had tried on. There were no jeans in sight, so I confronted the young lady outside the store, and Polly went with her to the dressing room to have her remove the 2 new pair of blue jeans she had on under her old jeans.

From Natalie Fall Norton… My favorite baby gift was the quilt you made for Olivia. It is beautiful. I love knowing that it was made by someone who loved Olivia before she even made her grand entrance. At first, it hung on the wall, because I didn’t want her to get anything on it. Now, I cover her up with it when she takes a nap. Not one time have I covered her up that I didn’t thank God for you and what you have given our family. I’m not talking about gifts. I’m talking about love and a sense of what true family is all about.

From Carla Lou Huson… My grandmother, Nonnie, was not as good of a cook as Aunt Polly (and that is being kind). Nonnie was, however, competitive with Aunt Polly. Aunt Polly would come into town and bring us cookies, and Aunt Polly’s cookies were out-of-this-world delicious. The minute Nonnie saw the cookies from Aunt Polly, she would start baking. Nonnies cookies were barely edible. Regardless, Mother would make all of us choke them down so Nonnie wouldn’t get her feelings hurt. I got to where I actually dreaded seeing Aunt Polly coming with those heavenly cookies because I knew that Nonnie’s contribution was close at hand!

When I was in elementary school, I would ride the school bus with Timmy to Aunt Polly’s house. We would run amok on the farm, and Aunt Polly would cook all of our favorite foods. We would do whatever we wanted to do, and then our parents would come and get us before bedtime. Going out to the farm seemed so exotic… and riding the bus was a huge thrill, too. Of course, the best part was hanging out with Aunt Polly!

My number one memory of Aunt Polly is DUMPLINGS! She makes the best ones EVER! No one even comes close. Her cooking is the best part of me coming home to visit.

From Elwanda Bailey… I recall when you worked in the dental office and how neat you were in those white uniforms… makes me think also of my mom and how she starched and ironed her uniforms and wore the white shoes with white hose… neither of you would have ever thought of wearing the scrubs professional people wear today.

From Rick Whisnant… Remember when me and Jim Huson got caught smoking grapevines behind your house?

From Jasmine Linn Gary… Mom picked a flower on your lamp post. You thought it was me. You told me you would beat my “@$$” if I didn’t stop picking your flowers.

I showed you a bonnet on “Little House on the Prairie.” You made me one just like it, but mine was prettier because it was pink, orange and yellow.

From Mike Linn…You sewed the motorcycle on my stocking so I would feel like part of the family.

From Suzanne Chandler Linn… One year we had Thanksgiving dinner at the farm. That afternoon, you and us kids went for a walk in the woods. We picked rabbit tobacco, and when we got back to the house, we rolled it up in strips of a brown paper sack and smoked it!

I remember watching you make mince meat. You clamped the meat grinder to the kitchen counter, and I couldn’t believe all the stuff you ground up to put in it. It was a while after that before I would eat mince meat pie again! Now I love it!

Right after Pap-pa died, you and I were walking through the field to pick the peas, and you told me, “Honey, I learned a long time ago that you’ve got to walk through lots of piles of manure before you ever get to smell the roses.” (except she didn’t say manure!)

From Greg… I don’t think we’ve ever really acknowledged it out loud, but we both know that I adopted you as my substitute grandmother many years ago. The first time I had supper at your house (now over 40 years ago), I immediately became envious of Debbie, Suzanne, and Timmy. As you know, my family had moved hundreds of miles away from my grandparents when I was very young. The distance made it impossible for my grandparents to maintain the sort of relationship that you had with your grandchildren.

I realized just how much I missed being close to my grandparents the minute I stepped into your warm, cozy farm house one cold night for supper. And when I say warm, I mean WARM! Besides the wood stove, Trup had a fire in the fireplace and you were cooking up a storm in the kitchen, which generated even more heat.

I was just getting to know your family, so I was a little nervous. Trup was hard to read, but you made it clear that you’d be nice to any scoundrel that Debbie might drag to your table. Over time, I came to know that Trup had a sweet heart, too.

I could see immediately how important you were to Debbie, and so I wanted to make a good impression. When we all crammed in around the supper table, you made me feel right at home, and you introduced me to the best dessert ever invented… sweet potato pie!

Up to that time, I’d never cared much for sweet potatoes, so you might as well have been offering me a turnip pie! I probably appeared a little reluctant, but I was not about to insult Debbie’s grandmother, so I agreed to try it. I was even more apprehensive when you presented my pie in a bowl and with some sort of white gravy on top. When I took my first bite, I felt like everyone’s eyes were on me, so I was fully prepared to grin and bear it. Well, I was hooked… not just on sweet potato pie, but also on my new grandmother-to-be.

Besides being a great cook, you are a great teacher. I learned a lot of things at your table over the years… here are a few of my favorites…

• Green beans and black-eyed peas are good when they’re cooked right.
• Even turnip greens are good… when they’re cooked right!
• Eating and laughing go together.
• Some people put sugar on sweet corn.
• Some people put tea in their sugar.
• Some people say “I love you” with sugar cookies.
• Life’s short and sugar’s cheap.
• Hard work is its own reward… so long as your family appreciates it!
• Love and faith will get you by.
• God is good.

I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me, but I’ll try...

• Thank you for throwing me off the bus when I was 12. I deserved it.
• Thank you for being nice to me, even when I didn’t deserve it.
• Thank you for accepting me into your family.
• Thank you for your example of hard work and perseverance.
• Thank you for praying for me.
• Thank you for loving me.

I love you too.

To mark Mam-ma’s 100th birthday, my mother posted a tribute to her on one of her blogs. It said in part…

Despite long working hours, Polly made time for church activities, membership in the County Home Demonstration Club, and the Business and Professional Women’s Club. She regularly hosted suppers for her family and many friends. Every Wednesday, her three grandchildren rode the school bus home with her and stayed for supper. Polly’s green thumb and her love for digging her hands into the soil turned out deep colored flowers and bountiful vegetables in her large garden. She spent summer nights canning and freezing her harvested food. Yet, she still made time to sew tailor-made garments for herself and her granddaughters. Her favorite pastime? Picking up a fishing pole and heading for a pond with her husband and two favorite friends.

To me, she is Polly—the mother who raised my first husband and cherished our three children. To my children, grandchild, and great-grandchildren, she is Mam-ma Polly—the matriarch of our family. She has lived and loved for a century; she's endured hardships and observed changes that boggle the imagination compared to her childhood. We celebrate her 100 years of living, her numerous accomplishments, and the impact she continues to have on so many lives.

Over the weekend, my good friend John Birdsong posted this tribute to Mam-ma Polly on Facebook… I want to share this on my own page because the life of this dear saint of God was so intertwined with mine. When I was very small we lived next door to her in my grandmother's house and later in Polly's rent house. She was sweet and kind and also very proper -- one of the most dignified and elegant ladies I knew as a child, though she might not have seen herself that way! I enjoyed knowing her son and her son's future wife Arline Chandler when they were dating and newly married, and Arline later became my piano teacher. Polly's grandchildren became some of the closest friends that I and my sisters had growing up.

In 1958 when I started first grade, Polly was bus driver for the small group of kids who lived east of the river. There were so few of us that at first she took us to school in her own car (a brand-new gold-colored 1959 Chevy with enormous fins) then later in a van until our route eventually qualified for a "real" school bus. It always amazed me to watch her grapple with the stick-shift and the big steering wheel on that bus, and it looked to me like it would have been a hard job for a strong man. She could back up that bus and turn it around as well as any bus driver in the district!

Though we moved across the field into our own house later on, we still considered Polly our neighbor. When telephone service came to our community it was on an eight-party line, and Polly sometimes gently reminded us kids that we needed to be respectful of the other folks on the line. I'm sure we sometimes drove her crazy making and receiving call after call in the afternoons and evenings, (our "ring" was an annoying "long and a short") but she was always kind when she reminded us that other people needed to use the line too.

She and my grandmother were good friends, though Grandma was about 18 years her senior, and I will always remember Polly coming to my side at the cemetery when we laid Grandma to rest. I was standing next to the grave as they lowered the casket into the ground, in some degree of distress, and Polly calmy and quietly, in that genteel Southern voice reminded me that Grandma was in a better place now and that everything would be all right.

So now Polly has gone to that better place. Her granddaughter, my good friend Debbie, has kept us apprised of Polly's condition over the past few years as she continued to enjoy life as best she could while her body became more frail. She will be missed by those who cared for her and stayed close to her. I had not seen her in a couple of years, but always enjoyed hearing about her on birthdays and special occasions as her family posted on Facebook. What a wonderful life she lived, and what a better world it is because of this sweet lady's life.

Yes, Mam-ma Polly was a mess… but she was our mess, and in large part, we are who we are today because of her influence. I may not be able to make peanut brittle, and my quilting stitches may not be as small and neat as hers, but I make a mean pan of hot rolls… and I like to imagine that I think of others more than myself most of the time. I know I love serving God – and serving others, in no small part because of her example. And I’ve even started saying “I tell you what” as I get older!

There will never be another Mam-ma Polly. I’m not sure the world – or heaven – is big enough to hold but one. But I know when I get to heaven, she will be there waiting for me. I just hope she isn’t holding a chicken!

The Sights and Sounds of Christmas Shouldn't Include Blood and Sirens

The Christmas Eve meal was pretty well prepared and in the oven. We were planning to eat at 3:30 p.m. My mother-in-law arrived early, and she visited with my husband as I finished up with last-minute kitchen preparations. I glanced at the clock – 2:10 p.m. My mother and her sister were to pick up my grandmother at her assisted living facility at 2:00, so they should be arriving any minute. I glanced up and saw Mom’s Jeep pull into our driveway, and I told my husband, “Mom is here with Mam-ma.” He and his mother started for the door to greet them, as I searched for something in the pantry. Then I heard my mother scream for my husband to come quickly. My grandmother had fallen. I rushed outside to see her lying lifeless on the driveway. We thought she had had a stroke. My husband rushed to call 911 as I hurried toward my Mam-ma. That’s when I saw the pool of blood forming under her head and trailing down our driveway.

In a panic, I ran inside and told Greg that Mam-ma was bleeding. He told me to get a rag and apply pressure to her wound. I ran inside and got a wet rag. Looking back, I don't know why I thought it had to be wet, but in my panic, I ran the rag under the faucet to dampen it! I knelt beside Mam-ma and pressed it tightly to her head. Her eyes were fixed, her mouth was open, and she was totally unresponsive. I thought she was dead.

I applied pressure, and asked, "Mam-ma, can you hear me?" A few seconds later, she said, "Yeah." We covered her with blankets. Thankfully the temperature had risen into the fifties and the day was sunny, so the concrete driveway was cold, but dry. As I applied pressure, the blood soaked through the rag and poured on to the concrete underneath. Greg brought me even more rags, as the pool of blood continued to grow on the concrete. We kept assuring everyone that head wounds bleed a lot and often look worse than they are. But since we didn't dare move Mam-ma to look, we had no clue exactly where she was wounded... or how bad it truly was.

The ambulance arrived after about 10 minutes, and my grandmother was placed on a back-board and fitted with a cervical collar. She was transported to the hospital emergency room, which is maybe two minutes from our house. A few hours later, CT-scans indicated no internal head or neck injuries. Once the bandages were removed and everything was cleaned, only a small puncture wound inside a larger hematoma sat behind her right ear. The only pain she complained of was from the back stabilization board. The ER staff said that this necessary precaution is "one of the worst things we do to people." She begged me, "Please, please... get me off this thing." But I was unable to do so until the results of the scans were read. I would guess she was strapped down about two hours.

When we could see that this was going to take a while, my husband came to the ER and sat with my grandmother, while I hurried home and finished heating our Christmas dinner and got it on the table for everyone. I ate with my family - Mom, her sister, my mother-in-law, my sister and her husband - knowing it might be my only chance to eat for the rest of the night. Then I returned to the ER and traded places with my husband. By this time, the doctor had given her a shot of something called Nubain for pain.

Greg said he asked Mam-ma, "Are you hurting?" and she said she was not. But when the doctor came in, he asked her if she was in pain, and she said "Yes." So he promptly ordered pain medication and gave her 5 mg of Nubain. He also wrote a prescription for pain medication for the next 2 days and said we needed to hurry to Wal-Mart to get the prescription filled, because the pharmacy would close early on Christmas Eve. It was now about 5:30 p.m.

This prescription should have been a "red flag," but in our shock and confusion, we didn't think to question it, so Greg headed to Wal-Mart to get the medication. Meanwhile, the doctor prepared to discharge my grandmother, declaring that he had “no medical reason” to keep her.

I could not believe it... and I tried to plead my case with him... Wasn’t it enough that she was 99 years old and had just had such a nasty fall? Didn’t her high blood pressure and her “loopiness” from the pain medication he had just administered qualify her to stay? Could he not consider that she was dismissed from a six-day hospital stay only 12 days earlier? He insisted his hands were tied.

The assisted living facility was contacted, and the nurse said they were understaffed and they could not perform “neuro” checks every 2 hours, as prescribed. I did not feel my grandmother was steady enough to stay in her apartment alone anyway.

The doctor suggested perhaps Mam-ma could stay with a family member. I just looked at him and said, "She fell trying to get into my house. Do you really think that's a good idea?" He agreed this was not a great option, but he said he was just trying to offer me some possible solutions. His final suggestion was, “I guess you could take her to apartment and stay with her there overnight.” I just walked away from the desk.

I was at my wits’ end. I didn’t know what to do. I called my husband and told him this while he waited at Wal-Mart. He was not a happy camper, but he told me the choice was ultimtately mine. I told him I guessed we would have to pray hard and take our chances in my grandmother’s apartment. Greg suggested I call my mom and relay all of this information to her and see what she thought. I looked up and saw a sign beside a door where I was standing. It said “Chapel.”

I stepped inside the chapel to call my mom, and as we talked, I started to fall apart. I looked at plaques that hung on the wall. They were scriptures, and the first thing I saw was Philippians 4:6-7..."Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Then I read Lamentations 3:22-23..."Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness."...followed by Psalm 23, and finally... Jeremiah 29:11..."For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." All scriptures are from the New International Version (NIV).

My mother insisted that she would stay with my grandmother at her apartment, and I reluctantly agreed. I knew that I was physically stronger and more able to manage Mam-ma, but neither of us had any business handling a 99-year-old injured woman who was spaced out on pain meds. Then I said a prayer before I left the chapel and asked God to handle this… to take my worries and fretting and give me peace about this situation.

When I stepped back into my grandmother’s exam room, I was visibly upset… and so was the charge nurse who had been treating my grandmother. I am not sure she hadn't been crying, too. Her face was red and she was sniffling. She had spent an hour cleaning Mam-ma's head wound, and I have to say, every single staff member - including the attending physician - was absolutely wonderful with Mam-ma. I expressed again my concerns and frustration… and the nurse agreed that I was right to be concerned. Then she asked which doctor my grandmother had seen when she was hospitalized earlier in the month.

I told the nurse name of my grandmother’s last hospitalist, and she said, “He’s on duty all weekend. I can ask the ER doctor to call him if you want and see if he will admit your grandmother - at least overnight.” She didn’t make any promises, but it was worth a shot. Of course I wanted her to ask! I thanked her for doing this, and she left to talk with the attending physician. A few minutes later, she returned to tell me that the attending had indeed agreed to call the hospitalist, who had agreed admit my grandmother for overnight observation.

I cannot tell you the overwhelming peace and relief that flooded me when the nurse offered to talk with the doctors. I cannot begin to express how I felt when she returned to tell me that the hospitalist had agreed. I was so grateful to God for working out what I could not… and for directing me into that chapel for a few minutes. There, as I read those scripture passages, God gave me what I needed… hope, peace, reassurance that He was in control… and love overflowing.

Orders were written, and Mam-ma was wheeled upstairs by the charge nurse. I continued to thank her for being there - for helping me - for caring. She said, "My hands were tied until you asked..." It was then that I realized... I had to ask to speak to the hospitalist. Since Mam-ma's primary care physician is the nursing home staff doctor (and practicies in another city and does not have admitting privileges at our local hospital), we had to find someone who had treated her and could vouch for the necessity of admitting her. Once I recognized her hospitalist's name on the white board, we had a chance!

Upstairs, the nurses on the floor - some of them childhood friends, and all of them good "new" friends from 2 weeks ago - jumped up and began to get Mam-ma settled. To a nurse, they were appalled that there had been any question about admitting my grandmother. One dear LPN said, "Were you supposed to pour her into your car after this shot of Nubain?" For the record, this is not a necessarily bad pain medication - the concern was my grandmothers size and age - and the dosage administered.

Every time they stood Mam-ma up or moved her in the least, she vomited. The nurses agreed to watch her and hold off on giving anti-nausea medication, in case the sickness was related to the head injury. Mam-ma was settled in bed by about 7:00, but she seemed restless. She kept saying, "Debbie, you go on home." I decided she might rest better if I left, so I returned to my family gathering for a while.

When everyone had eaten and visited, we declared our "Christmas" over and done, and all of the family members went home around 8:30 p.m.. I returned to the hospital to sit with Mam-ma for a while. The LPN asked me, "What are you going to do... are you staying?" I asked her if she felt it was necessary, and she said, "No... but I want your phone number written on the white board." I placed my contact information on the white board and reminded the nurses I was less than 2 minutes away any hour of the night or day. I also reminded them that my grandmother is a DNR - Do Not Rescusitate - patient. Be sure you remind the staff of this, if you have such directives as a DNR and/or Living Will. Apparently it does not always transfer on the records!

I sat with Mam-ma until about 10:00 p.m., kissed her goodnight, and returned home. Christmas morning, I was back about 9:30 a.m. - the nurses had said the doctor would make rounds by 10:00, they hoped. And he was pretty well right on time. Before he even examined her, he said, "We'll monitor her today, and maybe she can go back to her apartment tomorrow." I was thrilled by this news. But at the same time, I had to ask myself... how did we so quickly get from "We have no medical reason to keep her," to monitoring her for two nights in the hospital? The only answer I have is the grace of God and His divine countenance to put the right nurses - and this hospitalist - in the key places Christmas Eve.

Amazingly, Mam-ma is doing very well. She was dismissed to return to her apartment the day after Christmas, and we had her back in her own bed by about 1:00 p.m. The hospitalist told me that this will be mostly a "behavior modification" issue... helping my grandmother remember to ask for help when getting up for the bathroom, to go to meals, etc. In talking to my mom and her sister, we have determined that Mam-ma got out of Mom's car under her own steam and did not wait on Mom to come around and help her.

While Mom got the walker from the back of her Jeep, Mam-ma got out, closed her door, and was inching along the side of the vehicle. Mom's sister, who is probably 4'10" and about 85 lbs., saw Mam-ma wobble and tried to grab her coat. She says she quickly realized if she hung onto the coat, she would be pulled down atop my grandmother... so she let go. We are assuming that Mam-ma's blood pressure dips when she first stands, and she must wait and count to 5 before taking a step... giving her body time to catch up. We think this explains the other 2 falls, both of which occurred when she bent over or turned too quickly while standing.

The nurses at the hospital admonished me that Mam-ma was going home as a "full one-person assist" when getting up for anything. She is weaker than ever now. In talking with the nurses at the ALF, we agreed that she truly doesn't remember to call for help... and she doesn't mind well, to boot! So the R.N. and I both talked to Mam-ma about calling for help. I asked Mam-ma, "What are you supposed to do when you need to get up?" "Call for help," she answered. I told her that was right and asked, "Where is your 'call button'?" She answered, "I don't know." I reminded her it was in the chest pocket of her pajamas.

The R.N. printed ten signs that remind Mam-ma to call for help before getting up. She taped them all over Mam-ma's apartment - the walls, every door and drawer, and above her bed. Even as she did this, Mam-ma started to get up out of bed unassisted. "This is good," I thought... "she will see first-hand how Mam-ma does." We reminded Mam-ma to call for help, and she said, "Well, y'all was both here." We agreed, but after the nurse helped Mam-ma to the bathroom, she turned her back for a few seconds, and Mam-ma was trying to stand on her own. She said, "I can see that this will not work."

I asked what else could be done besides 10 signs on the walls and doors, and she said, "I'm going to talk to the aides right now and order room checks every 30 minutes. If that isn't enough, I will put an alarm under her bed." Somehow, I have a feeling we will have that alarm before the week is over. The nurse said surely if an aide came in every 30 minutes and tried to second-guess what Mam-ma might need - bathroom break, something to drink, etc. - we could prevent her getting up unattended. We are all shocked that nothing was broken in this latest fall, and we are so worried that she will break something the next time.

Meanwhile, the ALF nurse shed some light on why the ER attending physician was so reluctant to admit my grandmother. Medicare has tightened the reins on admits and discharges and what they will cover. It is possible that this doctor felt that the hospital would not be reimbursed for Mam-ma's stay, because it occurred within 30 days of her last visit. The nurse told me, "I could have easily given you a dozen or more viable reasons to admit your grandmother," but apparently this doctor chose to go strictly "by the book." I want to give him the benefit of the doubt... but I'm struggling, given her age, high blood pressure (193/118) and her general condition.

The ALF nurse was also less than pleased that a woman weighing 113 lbs was given such a strong dose of pain medication - and a "take-home" prescription for Hydrocodone. She could not understand why someone with a history of falls would be prescribed narcotic pain medication and dismissed. I don't get it, either... and my grandmother will never see the Hydrocodone!

I feel that the staff at the ALF is doing everything possible to help me keep my grandmother safe. Physical therapy will begin later this week to strenghten her physically and cognitively. The goal is to get Mam-ma up on her feet again... with the help of a walker, of course. I asked the hospitalist if he could order a wheelchair for her, but he explained to me that this needs to be a last resort - and he does not want her in a wheelchair 24/7, because her skin tissue can deteriorate from sitting, and she would be at risk for infection. I am so glad this guy is so thorough. That had not occurred to me... and some doctors would have said, "Sure!" and written this order, just to placate me.

From what I have been reading, part of the new Medicare initiatives involves encouraging hospitals to do a better job of treating the patients while they are there... AND sending the proper care directives home with them to prevent a return stay and better rehabilitate the patient. I understand this completely, and for the most part, I've observed more detailed discharge directives for my grandmother. MY JOB is to follow through on these and make sure they are all communicated properly and nothing falls through the cracks!

As we left the hospital, I told one of the nurses, "I learned several new things this trip." She replied... "You will learn new things every time you come. It's not always things you would wish to know, but you will be better for it." What did I learn this time?

1. Do not be afraid to advocate for your patient. I told more than one nurse, "I know you are sick and tired of looking up at the desk and seeing me standing there to ask you something." More than once, I was told, "If you don't advocate for your grandmother, nobody will. Do not ever back down or hesitate. We understand completely."
2. Do not be afraid to question or challenge the medical staff. Now I know to ask to speak to the hospitalist if we are in the ER. Had my grandmother's doctor been one who had hospital admitting priviliges, I would have asked for him/her. But now I know to ASK! Question medications... What is this?... Why is it being given?
   
   My grandmother will often say one thing one minute and another the next, as in "No, I don't hurt anywhere," followed by "I hurt all over." And because we are not sure which is true, I would rather she be given something for pain on the off chance she really was hurting. But you still should know exactly what is being administered, what procedures are being performed, what the ramifications are of these... and WHY they are being done.
3. This was not a new revelation, but I need to remind you that the medical staff does not know your loved one like you do. On Mam-ma's last visit, the doctors kept wanting to tinker with her blood pressure medications, because one day her BP would be extremely high, and the next it would be very low. I explained that she has done this for years now... several days of high blood pressure, followed by a day or two where it bottomed and she could barely move. Once they understood that this is "just Polly," they left the medications alone and let her body level out on its own.

I also made a point to "prove" to several nurses just how poorly Mam-ma follows instructions. While making sure she was safe and didn't fall and hurt herself, I let more than one nurse see how she gets ahead of you and will not wait for assistance. It didn't take long for them to get the necessary alarms and precautions in place.

Finally, I have been monitoring my grandmother's weight gain. When my mom and I visited a few days before Christmas, Mam-ma's ankles were swollen again - and I was alarmed. I questioned this and was told, "She's only gained seven pounds - but she is eating well." I pursued this and got the nurses to understand that "a pound a day" is too much weight gain... and it was not from eating well! Now the ankles are once again little and bony, and the hospitalist and I made sure that orders transferred that no more than a 3-lb. weight gain is acceptable. And I will be checking!

I was prepared to lose my grandmother on our driveway Christmas Eve. I felt God’s peace and calm there in a way I cannot begin to describe. But I am grateful that He chose to wait for another place and time for this inevitable event.

Meanwhile, I am reminded once again that God is in control… that I am His, and He blankets me with His love, grace and peace. I am also reminded of His perfect timing. Our little Timothy returned to live with his mother on December 3rd after being with us and my sister for nearly 4 months. Mam-ma entered the hospital on December 6th. I had little time to grieve the departure of Timmy. At the same time, I was so thankful that I was not trying to balance his care with that of my grandmother.

I had been pretty sad about celebrating Christmas without our babies. After all, the joy and excitement of children truly "makes" the holiday. But one of my first thoughts as I sat on the driveway holding Mam-ma's head and watching the pool of blood increase was... "I am so glad Timothy is not here watching this!" I have no doubt that my husband and other family members would have helped me care for the baby while I bounced back and forth to the hospital and ALF. But I thank God that he put Timmy back with his mom, where I am confident he is safe and happy... and I can concentrate on my grandmother. It's her "season" now. The other benefit is that I can truly rest and rejuvenate when I am not with her, instead of having to immediately focus on the care of a toddler.

I do not know what lies ahead. I felt quite certain another fall was imminent... I just didn't know it would happen like it did. Christmas Day as my mother sat beside my grandmother's hospital bed, Mam-ma told her, "I wish I had died." I know she is so ready... and I am trusting God and His timing. I am resting when I can, and talking to Timothy on the phone every few days. In a somewhat weary voice, his mother told us Christmas night, "Timothy was so excited about Christmas that he would not go to bed last night, so we opened gifts at 1:30 a.m. He finally conked out about 3:30 and slept until noon!" Imagine if I had come home to THAT! The best blessing of my Christmas Day came when that little guy said, "I opened presents, Aunt Debbie and Uncle Greg!" God gave Him a happy, "normal" family Christmas... and that in itself was my best Christmas gift.

I hope your holidays were less eventful. I pray that you find a good balance in the coming year, and that you trust God to meet your needs. Trust Him to work things out even when you cannot see a solution. Believe that He will give you the right questions to ask... and the perfect answers, as well. I know it's a little late, but Merry Christmas!

Time Well Spent with Mam-ma Polly and Timothy

We've had several visits with Mam-ma Polly lately.  However, she hasn't always felt like walking the halls and pushing Timothy in her walker, which he loves.  We sat in the dining hall for a long time Sunday, looking at the fish tank.  Timmy loves it... and Mam-ma really needed to sit and rest.  It worked for both of them.

I'm seeing a steady decline in Mam-ma's overall health and well-being.  It's nothing definitive, but she is struggling to put her thoughts and words together, and that worries her.  She told my mom that a dear friend and table-mate, Ruth, asked, "What have I done to you?  You don't talk any more."  Mam-ma told Ruth that she had not done anything, but she also added (in true Mam-ma Polly fashion!), "You need to wear your hearing aids!"  Mam-ma doesn't understand that Ruth may have trouble using them in a noisy dining hall... and she may simply forget to put them in.  Regardless, she doesn't wear them to meals, so she can't hear what Mam-ma says... and that makes Mam-ma very unhappy!

We are enjoying our time with Timothy... he learns something new every day. I have enrolled him in a local daycare for a few days a week as a "drop-in."  He needs the structure and stimulation of being with other children; however, it's been harder for me than I thought.  I am the "mother" I laughed at when I was teaching - the one who worries that Timmy will cry or feel abandoned when I leave him.  And he did cry when I dropped him off Monday morning for a fun-filled day.  I stood outside on the sidewalk and listened until the crying stopped - less than 30 seconds!  All the way home, I told myself, "You are doing what is best for Timothy."  I've told myself that many times about Mam-ma Polly, as well!

I remember the day we drove her to the ALF to move into her new apartment. I felt like I was leading a lamb to slaughter as we drove out of her driveway... but I can see (and I knew at that time) that this was the best place for her. And it's much that way with my 2-year-old nephew. I know this is best for him... and it gives me and his grandmother a break... but it is hard to leave a child who is crying and asking, "DebDeb... where are oooo?" - even if you know he is in loving, capable hands.

This sandwich has many layers, and all of them have a lot of "flavor" - some are even a little bittersweet!