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!

We're the Only "Normal" Ones Here...

Mam-ma Polly and my niece
Jasmine (Timothy's mom)
about 1992 - Mam-ma
would have been 80.

Last week, I went to visit Mam-ma Polly one evening just before 5:00 p.m. She was in the dining hall, dressed in a winter sweater - and pants.  In case the full impact of this statement has eluded you, let me remind you that I removed ALL of my grandmothers pants and pajama pants from her apartment (or so I thought) a few weeks ago.  I couldn't get the aides to stop putting pants on her (I felt dressingand undressing in pants would be cumbersome and painful) so I bought a half dozen house dresses for Mam-ma to wear and brought all the pants home with me.

Somehow, I guess I missed three pair of pants in the laundry.  An aide had reorganized the closet and matched these pants up with what blouses she could find (or in this case, a sweater) and dressed Mam-ma in an "outfit."  I explained that we are not wearing pants.  The aide apologized profusely.  The nurse rolled her eyes and said, "You have signs everywhere that say 'NO PANTS!'"  I assured them both that it was okay, and I gathered up the pants and all of Mam-ma's blouses and sweaters and brought them home.  I told my mom and the rest of the family, "Now all she has is her house dresses, some cardigan sweaters and jackets, and her winter coat.  If you go to visit and Mam-ma is dressed in her coat, you will know why!"  It shouldn't be this difficult!

Mam-ma with Timothy (Jasmine's baby)
Thanksgiving 2010

I did not go to the ALF on Tuesday or Wednesday - I was not feeling well.  However, my mom went on Wednesday, and she thought Mam-ma talked well and was doing okay.  On Thursday, I stopped in to see Mam-ma, and she was in bed. Some former neighbors from my childhood stopped by to say "Hello," and she seemed glad to see them.  That afternoon, my grandmother's three cousins in Oklahoma (who are more like nieces), called to say they wanted to drive over for a visit on Friday.  This is at least a four-hour drive for some of them - and one cousin and her husband were coming from Oklahoma City.  They promised to arrive after lunch and only stay about an hour.  They really wanted to do this, and I told them that I felt Mam-ma is as good as she is going to be - so come on over!

Friday, I went to the ALF about 1:30 p.m. to greet the cousins and make sure Mam-ma was doing okay.  They had just arrived.  I had some questions for the facility owner, so I left them visiting with Mam-ma in her apartment.  I ended up spending quite a while with the facility owner.  She was really pushing for Mam-ma to get physical therapy.  She explained to me how much she and the others love my grandmother - and how inspired and impressed they are by Mam-ma's "oomph" to get up and go.

I thanked the owner for being so caring toward Mam-ma... I truly do appreciate how they adore her and spoil her rotten.  But at the same time, I explained that Mam-ma's "oomph" is innate and belies her cognitive abilities.  She appears to be physically capable, to some degree... but mentally, she does not recognize her limitations.  I explained that rehab to get her walking again could possibly set her up for a bad event.  I believe she would not be able to comprehend her limitations... and she would try to do things she cannot and possibly fall and hurt herself badly.

Additionally, rehab would mean leaving Hospice.  This would be considered a "get-well" measure, and Medicare would not pay for rehab for someone on Hospice.  My grandmother is incontinent, she doesn't eat well, and most days, she is not mentally clear.  I feel she needs to remain under Hospice care.

Once we talked through all of this, the owner agreed that I was probably on the right track.  I agreed to keep an open mind.  Should my grandmother show improvement, I would have no problem removing her from Hospice in favor of rehab.  But we are a long way from this... and honestly, I don't think it will ever happen.

The cousins stayed about 2 hours.  I think they had trouble leaving and probably realized they might not get back to Arkansas to see Mam-ma again.  When I visited Mam-ma on Sunday, she did not even mention the cousins' visit.  She was in the dining hall, and I visited with her there while the aide fed her a roast beef lunch.  We returned to her room, and I showed Mam-ma some sewing projects I had brought.  She seemed to understand that I had made the pillows and dresses, and she fingered each one.

For several weeks, Mam-ma has mentioned one of these cousins named Patsy... to me, her aides, and one of the Hospice nurses. She has said more than once, "I want to call Patsy."  I assured her that I was keeping in touch with Patsy, and we all knew that Mam-ma could not talk on the phone well enough to have a conversation with Patsy... so I would do the communicating.  So when Patsy visited and Mam-ma did not even speak her name afterward, I was even more convinced that therapy is a bad idea.  My husband said, "Your grandmother has not said much in months.  Why would you think she would talk about the cousins coming?"  I agreed, but as I told him, I thought she would at least say, "Patsy," or "the girls came," or something about Oklahoma.  But it's like it never happened.  I do not think she remembers it at all... nor do I think she remembers her neighbors visiting on Thursday.

Yesterday, I visited late in the afternoon, and Mam-ma was asleep.  I rattled my car keys, and she roused.  Instantly, she reached for me and was visibly upset.  She said, "They've confined me to my bed, and I don't know why."  I asked if she had been up, and she said, "No!  They've confined me to this bed!"  The nurse overheard this and said, "She's been up a LOT today - she was up for breakfast and lunch, and they just put her back to bed after lunch."  I also knew that the Hospice aide had been there to bathe her during the morning hours - and the Hospice nurse had made a visit.  Mam-ma was mad.  She insisted "I'm confined to this bed, and they won't tell me why!"  "Confined" was the word she used over and again.

Finally, I rang for Mam-ma's aides and asked them to change her and get her up.  By this time, it was about 4:15 p.m.  I said, "We'll just let her sit in her wheelchair for a while and I will push her out to dinner."  I thought getting her up might prove to her she was not confined.  It didn't.  She sat in her wheelchair and said, "I don't understand why they have confined me to bed."  I told her... "Mam-ma!  You are sitting in your wheelchair.  You are NOT confined.  You can get up any time you want and sit in this chair or your recliner."  She looked at me like I was from Mars, and then she said, "Well, since I've been confined to my bed, I've not been able to get my kidneys to work."  She followed this with, "I've got to go to the bathroom!"

I realized Mam-ma was not mentally on the same planet with me, and I was wasting my breath.  After the aides came once again to change her, I wheeled her to the dining room.  We were very early - it was only about 4:30 p.m.  But drinks were already on the table, and I offered Mam-ma coffee, which she declined.  We sat in total silence.  Mam-ma stared blankly at the table.  A few more people entered the dining room.  In one corner sat a woman and her gentleman companion.  There were a few other ladies sitting at various tables throughout the dining room.

At the table nearest us, a lady sat sorting silverware.  She seemed to be in the throes of dementia as she unrolled the silverware at each place setting and combined them, then rolled them again in a napkin, saying, "It's just one thing after another."  At one point, she looked toward Mam-ma and me and said, "How can you kill someone if he's already dead?"  We did not respond, of course!

Then I heard the lady sitting with her gentleman friend say, "Look! These people are all crazy.  That one is rolling silverware.  That one is doing what she should... so is that one... and that one (gesturing toward me) is just sitting there staring at her mother!  We're the only normal ones here!  I think we should leave!"  It was all I could do to keep a straight face.  My worst "fears" have been confirmed... I am no longer "normal!"  At least it added a little levity to an otherwise depressing visit!

I found out later that when the Hospice nurse had visited yesterday morning, she found Mam-ma curled in a fetal position in her bed, very blank and sad.  Mam-ma cried, and the nurse asked her, "Are you hurting?"  Mam-ma said no, she wasn't hurting.  The nurse asked, "Then what's wrong, Polly?"  Mam-ma replied, "I'm tired."  The nurse was very upset... she loves my grandmother dearly, and as she told me today, "I think she is so tired of this life."  I agree... but we all know we cannot change this.  I'm touched that the nurses care so much.

Today, my mom visited and found Mam-ma a little better.  She was able to visit some - even asked a few questions, like when my niece's next baby is due.  But Mom didn't think she was "great" by any stretch.  And...at one point, she said Mam-ma told her, "I prayed and prayed and prayed that I would never be this way."  We think she meant being incontinent and dependent on others to change her and keep her clean and dry.

On a happier note, we talked to Timothy this week, and he sounded great.  He told us all about swimming and Toy Story 3, and his birthday cake.  He also told each of us that "I love you," and that made our day!  And... I was told by my cousin Natalie that her three-year-old, Owen, wants to wear the "Toy Story" shorts I made him every day - she can't keep them laundered enough for him!  Owen and his 8-year-old sister, Olivia, visited us last Tuesday, and I gave him the shorts.  I also gave Olivia a denim skirt I had made for her.  Sewing for them is great therapy and gives me a reason to smile.

So every day is still different... and Mam-ma's decline continues. I have asked my family and friends to pray for peace for my grandmother. I am trusting God's will and His timing... and I know if Mam-ma is still here, there is a reason. But she is truly miserable... I am convinced of this... and it's heartbreaking. I try to do what I can for her when I visit... and not to think about it too much when I leave. I feel like the best thing I can do for her and everyone else at this point is to try to preserve my own sanity, and - despite the assessment of the other ALF resident - maintain as much "normalcy" as possible!  Wish me luck!

Another Empty Chair at the Table

Last week when I took my grandmother to the doctor, she told me, "Ruth is sick."  Ruth was my third-grade teacher.  She and my grandmother became friends in the late 1950s/early 1960s.  They were in B&PW Club together - both "business women" in an era when there weren't very many women who worked outside the home.  Ruth had moved to the ALF several years ago, and when Mam-ma moved in, she was seated at a table in the dining area with Ruth and another friend, Ms. Evelyn.  I spoke to Ruth and Evelyn on January 2nd when I walked Mam-ma to lunch.  Both seemed well.


Ms. Evelyn, Mam-ma Polly, and my first grade
teacher, Ms. Ruth

By Thursday, January 5th, Mam-ma was telling me that Ruth was sick.  She sat at the table that evening for dinner... but she did not eat.  The next day, she was admitted to the hospital, where she died Monday morning from pneumonia.  Ruth would have been 97 on June 16th.  Mam-ma and Ms. Evelyn are heartsick.  Evelyn and Ruth were "kitty-cornered" neighbors for decades before both moving to the ALF.  Evelyn has told me over and over this week how long she and Ruth were friends - and how much she will miss her.

Monday, I went to the ALF to check on Mam-ma, and we talked at length about dying.  She is so ready - and quite frankly, she is jealous that Ruth got the jump on her!  She said, "I prayed this morning about this.  I told the LORD I'm ready to go." Then she managed to get out... "Death... frightens... me."  I asked, "Are you afraid to die?"  No, she told me... and finally I managed to discern that she is afraid of lingering... becoming comatose or "like a vegetable."  She also managed to express that she worries about those who are left.  I assured her that we will be fine... we will manage... and without her to lean on, some might even have to step up to the plate and do better!

While we talked, I realized that the last few times I have visited, Mam-ma's attire has been a little strange.  January 2nd, she had on summer white pants and a light-colored shirt. Many other visits, she has been wearing the same drab olive green pants and a multi-colored blouse.  So I went through her closet and organized some "outfits".  I asked her why she wore the same thing all the time, and she replied, blankly, "I don't know."  My grandmother has beautiful clothes.  Now that she has lost weight, she fits into all of them well.  There is no reason for her to wear the same thing every day.  Either the aides are not paying attention - or she chooses to wear the same outfit.  I tend to think it is the latter. 

So, just as I selected Timothy's daily attire, I grouped ensembles for Mam-ma - pants, shirts and a jacket.  When I returned yesterday, I partitioned her closet, leaving notes on the summer things that said, "Summer Clothes - Do Not Wear Until After March 2012".  The outfits for this winter, I labeled... "Please Help Polly Dress in These Outfits for Winter.  Thank You!"  So far, Polly has worn a new outfit each day this week. As one staff member put it, "There are people here who get paid to do laundry - there is no reason she can't wear a clean outfit every single day."  It may not seem like much, but I think it makes a difference - not only in my grandmother's appearance, but also in her attitude.  Change is good...even if it's merely your clothing!

I've been visiting more often and spending more time with my grandmother this last week or two.  One day she is up and the next she is down.  She is staying in her room more... and sleeping a lot. She is bored and depressed.  My mother is traveling, and she said she hesitates to phone, because Mam-ma has so much trouble talking on the telephone - and even getting to it to answer.  She said she would write a letter.  However, I've been having to read Mam-ma's mail to her this week, so Mom is going to e-mail the letter to me, and I will read it to her.  Once again, I see a similarity - we read to Timothy, and now we read to Mam-ma.

I told my grandmother that I have no idea when the LORD will call her home.  I know it won't be until she has accomplished all she is responsible for here... and that may be something as seemingly small as smiling at an aide or working through the grief over Ruth's death with her friend, Evelyn.  But I assured her that when the day comes, we will all be happy for her... confident she did all she was supposed to do in her lifetime - and that she is reunited with so many who loved her and have gone to heaven already.

This is a challenging time... a hurtful time, in a way I didn't really expect.  Watching two ladies who are nearly 100 years old sit and stare through their tears is both a heartache... and a blessing. I've sat in Ruth's chair a couple of times this week when I visited.  The empty chair is a constant reminder to these ladies of her absence. To realize that they are so ready to go to heaven makes the thought of losing them a little easier.  It will be a sadness... but also a relief.  They, like Ms. Ruth, will leave a rich legacy of lives well-lived. 

In the meantime, the skills and tactics I use in nurturing a 2-year-old are coming in handy as I nurture my grandmother.  Much of the frustration and stress associated with caring for Mam-ma in the last decade or more is being replaced with a new-found level of patience, compassion, and empathy. I look at some of the things she can no longer do, and I realize that, like a toddler learning to do things for the first time and often stumbling in the process, she cannot help herself much of the time.  She has outbursts and expresses frustration and confusion, just like a toddler... and I have to respond the same for both ages.  

And maybe that's why God has kept her around.  I prayed for a number of years that my grandmother would not die with us at odds with each other... leaving me with bitterness.  She can still push my buttons... but no longer in the same way as when she was "up and at 'em."  Maybe God has kept her here and allowed this decline to soften the blow. 

I apologize if my last few posts have been depressing.  This is a bittersweet season in my life.  And I suspect from comments I've been receiving that many of you are in the same boat... or you just got out!  Right on cue, God blessed me last night with a phone conversation with Timothy that totally brighten my day and reminded me of the circle of life.  Timmy told me of playing with his dinosaurs and reading books.  Then he said, "Okay, honey, I'm gonna let you go and get some sleep!"  With a "later, gator" and an "after while, crocodile" - and even an "I love you!" - he returned to play with his toys, and I hung up confident that he was happy and content... and always loved. 

I don't know when I will get to see him again - and IF I will see my grandmother tomorrow.  But I do know that God is working everything out perfectly.  And for the moment, all is well.