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!

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!

Are You Really That Busy?

My last post was one month ago today, and honestly, not much has changed in the last four weeks.  Mam-ma has had good days and bad, but mostly she has remained the same.  Her table-mate and a lifelong friend of my maternal grandmother, Evelyn, passed away on January 19th.  The nurse called to tell me - and to let me know that Mam-ma was having a major meltdown... uncontrollable sobbing...asking "Why not me?"  She said she was giving my grandmother an anti-anxiety pill to calm her. My little niece, Zola, was napping - and my husband was not at home to babysit.   So I called my mom, and she went to the ALF to see about Mam-ma.  When Zola woke up 45 minutes later, we went to the facility, also.

Mam-ma was sitting in the dining room with her other table-mate, Bessie, and Mom. She was subdued and never even mentioned Evelyn.  She did reach for Zola several times with a gloved hand.... fingers wriggling.  This scared my 20-month-old great-niece half to death, and she cried and cowered on my lap.  Mam-ma has always done this with little ones... she has no clue that she is frightening them.  It's her way of trying to amuse them, and it has a totally opposite effect.

I attended Evelyn's service last Monday, and afterward, I took the funeral program to Mam-ma.  Cousins had come to visit, so we chatted a while, and I left the program for Mam-ma to look over at a later time.  The administrator has advised me that she doesn't think Mam-ma will last long now that Evelyn is gone... she says she has seen it over and again.  The resident is physically fine but shuts down emotionally.  I thought this, too, but after this week, I think Mam-ma is taking Evelyn's death in stride like she has countless others in the last two years.  I honestly believe she could defy the odds and live another year or better... or she could be gone tomorrow. I've quit trying to second-guess it.

Meanwhile, we are up to our eyeballs in babies.  Zola spent two nights with us last weekend.  I had forgotten what it is like to chase a 20-month-old baby who doesn't talk in sentences yet!  She flits from one thing to another, has little to no interest in television or reading books, and loves to throw things!  On the up side, she is an angel at naptime and bedtime.  All I have to do is put her in the playpen, wind up a musical lamb, and she is OUT for the night or a 3-hour nap!  She also eats everything I feed her.  I have begun to wonder if she and Timothy are truly brother and sister, because he is totally the opposite!  BUT... he will occupy himself with blocks, a movie, or story books or puzzles for quite a while, and he can tell me what he wants and needs.

I love these babies, but when they go home, we are exhausted!  And we have yet to keep 6-month-old Nathan!  As I was leaving the funeral service last week, my piano teacher stopped me and asked if I was still teaching.  I'm not sure what she meant by that question, but I told her no, and she began to tell me how hard it is to find substitute pianists for church.  She really needs me to help fill in when she needs a break.  I told her I was absolutely too busy.  She wanted to know what on earth I was doing!  I told her I was up to my ears in babies and taking care of Mam-ma Polly, and she said, "Well, you could work up some pieces in your spare time and have them ready!"  I tried to tell her that I really don't have "spare time," and she looked at me and asked, "Do you really keep the babies that often?"

I had just dropped Zola off from her two-day stay that morning... in time to go home and shower for the funeral service.  Zola stayed two nights and 3 days because her brothers were sick with fever, and her mother wanted her out of the house in an effort to keep her well.  I took her home Monday morning, and she promptly ate a handful of dried cereal and threw up in the floor.  We were afraid she was getting sick, so on the way to the service, I stopped back by to see if I needed to pick up one of the boys ... or Zola... instead.  All were well, and napping.  We decided that Zola stuck her fingers too far into her mouth and gagged herself... hence the vomiting.  But I never know from one minute to the next when my niece will call for help with the children... or the facility will call with a problem about Mam-ma.  And it almost never fails that Mam-ma's problems occur when we have at least one child in our care.

Don't misunderstand... this busy, crazy life is full - and full of joy for the moment.  I really am at a comfortable place with my grandmother's care... save the fact that we cannot communicate and there is virtually nothing for us to talk about.  I have made peace with taking "busy work" to do while I am with her... or cleaning her apartment and sorting her drawers... or just sitting in the dining hall with her and staring at her smiling face.  And I love, love, love these babies and watching them grow and develop.  But this is just about all my husband and I have time for these days.  And we are 100% okay with that.


It used to bother me that others judged me... that people thought I should have time for church ministries, social outings or whatever.  But I am past that.  I don't know what is happening in their lives either.  I just know that mine is something of a roller coaster on occasion... and certainly never dull!


Table-mates Evelyn, Mam-ma, and
Ruth (my 3rd-grade teacher). 
Mam-ma is the only one still living.

I will end this post with a thought to ponder.  As I sat at Evelyn's service and listened to her grandson (who happens to be a Methodist minister) deliver the message, he spoke of how his grandmother always loved her family so deeply... and showed it.  This woman was in a coffee club with my maternal grandmother and great-aunt, my neighbor, and several other ladies.  These women were a huge part of my childhood... and some, like Evelyn, were lifelong influences.  Until just about a year ago, Evelyn never failed to kiss me when she saw me.  It didn't matter if it was at church,in a local store, or even at the ALF...she always greeted me with a kiss.  Now, I have no doubt that Evelyn kissed everybody... but she made me feel loved and important with this simple gesture.

I have thought about that a lot this week... how this single, seemingly insignificant act was filled with impact.  And I wonder... are we making such an impact on those in our lives?  Do we greet others with love and kindness?  Do we make them feel important?  Are we showering our children - and our elderly - with love and kisses?  Or are we so caught up in the "busyness" of our daily lives that we barely even greet one another?  I am determined to take a page from Evelyn's book... to make a concerted effort to offer up hugs and kisses - to the babies and children, to the elderly, to friends and family members - and to tell them just how much they are loved.  This should fill up any remaining "spare time" I might have.  I can think of no better way to spend it... can you?

Change is Hard at Any Age

It's been a busy month.  I know I say that a lot, but this one has been especially busy.  We've had Timothy every weekend while my sister worked, which usually meant picking him up either Friday night or Saturday morning, and keeping him until Sunday afternoon or Monday morning when he returned to daycare.  Meanwhile, Mam-ma has done pretty well.  She had about a week of celebrating for her birthday, including a visit from beloved cousins in Oklahoma who spent an entire Saturday playing "Chicken Foot" dominoes with her and taking her to her favorite restaurant - KFC, or "Kentucky Colonel" as she calls it.

My sister and her husband have decided that it is time for Timothy to return to live with his mother, baby sister Zola and Zola's daddy (who Timothy calls "Daddy," also).  So this coming weekend, the plan is for my sister and her husband to drive Timothy to Texas, spend a few days visiting, and return home without him.  After three months of spending so much time caring for this little guy, the thought of him leaving for an indefinite period of time is truly stressful.  I am trying to stay positive.  I know that Timothy needs to be with his family... but I am going to miss him madly!

And Mam-ma is convinced that Timothy will never see her again... which could be very possible.  Today, we visited her apartment, and she said to Timothy, "I hope you don't forget me."  I assured her we will never let that happen.  When we left, she asked, "Will I get to see him again before he leaves?"  I told her we will try to come and see her next weekend while he is with us, but I couldn't promise.  There were lots of tears and hugs and kisses when we left, and I felt badly, but this is not something I can control.

Thursday, we had Thanksgiving lunch at my mother's.  My sister filled Timothy's plate while I filled Mam-ma's.  I carefully cut up her ham and made sure to get the things I felt she would want to eat.  I think there was more thought required for her plate than Timothy's.  However, after a few bites, he wanted down from the table, and he ended up sitting in my lap, beside Mam-ma, finishing his lunch.  We brought him home late afternoon, so that he could wind down and get settled before bedtime.  Friday, he returned to my mom's for most of the day, while my husband and I hosted a football watch party.  We're all trying to make the most of these last couple of weeks before Timothy leaves.

I will admit that I am struggling with my feelings.  Last week, I said as much to my husband, and he said, "You are blue because Timmy is leaving."  I told him it's more than that.  I feel like my life is on the verge of a major change.  Having part-time care for Timothy these last 29 months has changed our world in ways we never expected and brought us both tremendous challenges and immeasurable joy.  And when his family moved to Texas in August and we didn't see him for six weeks, I was pretty lost.  At the same time, I have (gladly) put a lot of my own projects on hold since Timothy was born... never sure when the phone would ring and he would be coming to stay for a day or two - or a week or more!  Now my niece says it will be at least the end of February before they return for a visit.

And then there is my grandmother... she continues to decline overall, and I feel like some morning the aides are going to find that she drifted away in the night - or she will contract some illness or infection and be gone in a matter of days.  I know she has lost her drive and determination... and she is basically "waiting for the LORD" to take her home.  So there is every possibility that the next few months will find me with two less people to care for, and honestly, I am going to have some adjusting to do!

Clearly, my situation pales in comparison to those of you who have full-time care of either a child or a senior - or both.  But I am also certain that some of you know exactly what I'm talking about - you've "been there, done that!"  So I ask that you remember my family in your prayers... that you ask God to make this reunion of Timothy and his family a good one - and that He equip the rest of us with whatever we need to handle his absence.

My niece needs prayers, too... she will be caring for her six-month-old daughter and 29-month-old son while living over seven hours from her parents and the support system she has relied upon for all of her 21 years.  She is also dealing with the reality that she could lose her great-grandmother in the coming months and not be able to get home.  In a recent phone conversation, she said to my sister, "If something happens to Mam-ma, someone will come get me, won't they?"  My sister had to tell her that this was not likely, for a variety of reasons. 

So this will be a challenging week.  We will keep Timothy over the weekend until my sister and her husband get the car packed and are ready to head to Texas.  I have given this situation to God, and I am trusting He will guide my steps over the next few weeks/months... and keep me sane.

Preparing for Anything...

Today is a "rest day" for me... much needed after the past week.  Timothy stayed with us the first part of last week, and then for a few hours in the afternoons on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, until his GaGa finished with her CNA classes.  Friday, I visited with Mam-ma and did things at home that I had neglected.  Saturday, I learned that my cousin's aunt... the one who just turned 90 and missed her birthday because she had to be hospitalized with a UTI... had passed away.  I factored a visit with my cousins into my afternoon, along with a shopping trip for our own groceries... and shopping for my 85-year-old mother-in-law, who is having knee problems.  My husband had asked her to please stay off her feet - and on her couch... and we offered to bring her some prepared meals and a few other groceries she needed.

By the time I finished all of my "rounds," I was too tired to cook dinner, so Pizza Hut was a welcome reprieve.  Two carry-out pizzas and some R and R on the couch, and I was feeling much better.  However, Sunday I "worshipped at St. Mattress," as my friend Mitch so aptly described it recently, and I caught up on some much-needed sleep and rest. I did a few loads of laundry, ran the vacuum, and did a workout.  Then I picked up Timothy around 4:00 p.m. at his grandmother's (my sister's).

 

Timmy swimming at the Community
Center pool with his great Granny (my mom).

Timmy was wearing a "fever patch" on his forehead, and my sister said he had been feverish and had a runny nose all day.  I brought him home, gave him Tylenol and some children's Zyrtec, and let him soak in a bubble bath.  He seemed better after that, and we played until bedtime.  He slept somewhat fitfully... but he did sleep.  The next morning he was fever free, so I took him to daycare, so that my husband and I could attend the funeral of my cousin's aunt in the afternoon.

Following the funeral, we returned to my cousin's house to visit with the family members we rarely see.  My little cousins, Owen and Olivia were there, and their mother said, "Oh, I wish you had brought Timmy."  So I went and picked him up at daycare and brought him over to play.  On the way to the house, I told Timmy we were going to play with Owen and Olivia.  He was so excited, and he said, "I hug 'em!"  Then he added, "I kiss 'em, too!" 
Then Timmy said, "DebDeb... I so happy!  Are Oooo happy?"  I smiled and told him yes, I was very happy whenever he is happy.  He said, "I happy, you happy, me happy!  Yea!"  So sweet!  And he truly is a happy child... and he enjoyed playing with Owen and Olivia.

Meanwhile, my mother offered to check on Mam-ma for me... and Sunday afternoon, she took her on a long drive.  We are having gorgeous fall weather, and Mom took Mam-ma "all over the countryside," as Mam-ma put it!  She even took her to Sonic for an ice cream cone.  Mam-ma loved every minute of it, and Mom has promised to do this again.  She said, "I don't know why I didn't think of this earlier."  Mom has been a big help with Mam-ma lately... visiting her when I am tied up with Timothy or other things and calling her more often.

Timmy did not sleep well Monday night... more fitful tossing and turning.  Tuesday, he would not nap, and he ran fever off and on all day.  The daycare did not have a vacancy for him, so we just played at home.  Tuesday night, he was so tired that he went to bed at 8:00, but he was awake with nightmares or something at 8:30 and 10:30, and at 1:30 a.m., he awoke drenched in sweat, soaking wet diaper, and asking for milk.  I changed him, stripped off his clothes (amidst a major, ear-piercing, hysterical fit), and settled him back in his bed.  I thought, "He's settled for the night now!"  NOT!  At 4:00 a.m., he awoke, crawled into our bed, and said, "Milk!  Jack!"  I got more milk, changed him again, and turned on "Jack's Big Music Show."

Timmy has been having diaper leakage again, so I've been limiting his night-time liquids and double-diapering at bedtime.  It has worked fairly well the last 2 weeks.  Wednesday morning, we watched 2+ hours of Jack and "Wonder Pets," and we both drifted off to sleep again shortly before 7:00 and slept until 9:30.  When Timmy woke up, he was feverish again and somewhat clingy.

By 10:30, I thought Timmy was ready for an early nap, and he actually said, "Couch!"  We got on the couch and settled in together.  But he asked for more milk, and when I got up to get some for him, he followed me to the kitchen.  He whimpered and I picked him up and carried him back to the couch, where he promptly threw up... a LOT... all over himself, me, the couch, and rug.  I scooped him up and started across the floor toward the kitchen, and he threw up again. This was the first time Timmy has thrown up since he was about 6 months old.  It really scared him.

I quickly stripped both of us and carried him to a makeshift pallet in the living room floor.  Thank goodness we have hardwoods, because we left a trail you would not believe.  My husband came in and wrapped Timmy in a blanket while I ran around in my underwear and tried to sop up the mess and regroup.  Timmy was burning hot with fever, so I gave him 7-up and Tylenol, and he laid limp on the pallet for about 45 minutes.  Then as quickly as he got sick, he popped up and seemed much better!

The rest of the day we tried to remain quiet and keep the fever at bay; however, I could not get Timmy to nap.  We ditched plans for a haircut and a visit to Mam-ma's... apparently this is a "bug" that is circulating in our town, and I can't risk exposing her and the others at the ALF.  My sister picked Timmy up at 5:30 when she completed her last CNA class- she is official now (YEA!).  She said Timmy was asleep before they arrived at home... and he slept until 8:30 a.m. today!

After the baby left, I stripped beds, did laundry, and regrouped... then headed for the couch!  With a good night of sleep, I am better rested, but still tired.  I realize that younger moms do this every single day... but for me, it's a lot... especially with the other factors and people for whom I feel responsible.  I talked with Mam-ma today and explained why I have not been to see her this week.  I feel like I am neglecting her, but I am confident she is safe and comfortable and well-cared for at the ALF... and she knows why I am not coming very often and seems okay with it.

My house is not nearly as clean as I would like, but I am learning to let things slide a bit in favor of being rested and doing what absolutely HAS to be done... and anticipating "the next big thing."  I'm learning to roll with the punches... that comforting a frightened, sick little toddler beats dusted furniture and a haircut any day of the week... and that hearing "I so happy" from my little guy is possibly the BEST phrase in the whole world.

One other thought... Sandwich Generations are nothing new.  At the funeral of my cousin's Aunt Louise, there was a lot of talk about the service this dear lady gave to her family.  She never married... spent 90 years taking care of others.  When her sister suddenly became a widow with three small children and another on the way, Louise took them all in, and they lived with her and Louise's parents... forever.  Louise retired early to care for her ailing elderly mother, then she helped with the care of her sister, who developed Alzheimer's.

Along the way, Louise taught 3 and 4-year-olds in Sunday School for 25 years, helped with the rearing of her sister's four children - school functions, weddings, births of their children and helping to babysit, family gatherings, and much more. Louise's life was very much serving as the "filling" in a sandwich that included elderly parents and her sister on one side... and the younger generations on the other. And nobody could recall ever hearing her complain.

As we reminisced about Louise and noted how well she had loved and care for so many throughout her life, I realized that she is a tremendous inspiration. If I can make my "sandwich" half as rich as hers, I will have truly accomplished something in this world. I don't know how she kept such a positive attitude, but she has motivated me to work on the grumbling, too. Wish me luck!

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BTW... the formularies for Medicare Part D Prescription Drug Coverage have arrived... it's time to start picking our new plan for 2012! So sharpen your pencils and start calculating!

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.