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!

They's a Lot Worse Things Than Dyin'...

All of my adult life, I've heard my Mam-ma Polly say this... "They's a lot worse things than dyin'..."  Now, it's her turn.  I had made plans to accomplish two things today... get the laundry done, and visit Mam-ma.  I started laundry, worked at my desk, then did a workout, showered and dressed.  Somewhere around 2:30 p.m., I headed for the Assisted Living Facility.  My mother had visited Mam-ma yesterday and thought she was pretty good... so well, in fact, that she planned to take Timothy and Zola to see her tomorrow.

Today was totally different.  The Hospice aide - and a dear friend of our family - was there bathing Mam-ma.  And the oxygen machine was running... hose strung across the room and into the bathroom.  Shelly (the aide) hollered to me, "She's really wheezing!" I told her she has been wheezing for a couple of weeks.  But Shelly said, "I could hear it when I got here." And I could hear it.  Shelly said, "I am wondering if I should have showered her... she's not doing good."  Mam-ma was shaking... and she had an ashy color.

Shelly got Mam-ma dressed in some sweats and insisted she get into bed.  Mam-ma started to protest... and even had Shelly put her in the wheelchair... but then she thought better of it and agreed she should be in bed.  Shelly stayed while I checked with the facility nurse.  When the Hospice nurse had visited around 1:30 p.m., Mam-ma's pulse ox was 80.  Normal for most of us is somewhere around 95 to 100.  They start to worry at 89-90.  So this was a low reading, hence the oxygen.

Mam-ma was clearly in distress.  She and I had a long talk, as she tried and tried to tell me something, but could get out no more than an "Oh, I want... or "Oh, I'm going..."  I asked her... "are you ready to go home?"  She raised up in bed, looked me squarely in the eye, and adamantly said, "YES!"  I told her it was okay to go... that we were all okay.  Then I began to tell her how my mom had said just this morning that some of her friends had announced to their children that they were no longer to prepare a big Christmas dinner... and that "honor" would have to transfer to the children.  At least one of those children said, "Fine!  We'll eat out!"

I reminded my grandmother of my cousin Carla, who died suddenly about a year and a half ago of a brain aneurysm at age 46.  Her parents went to a franchise restaurant one year for Thanksgiving, and she had a FIT!  I told Mom, I could see Carla's eyes rolling at the very thought that we would not have a home-cooked Christmas dinner.  Then our conversation turned to Christmas dinners... and who all would be sitting at our family's table in Heaven vs. the table here.  I told Mam-ma, "There will be a whole lot more of us there than here... and you should be with them."  She began to cry.  I soothed her and said, "Now, we're not going to cry about this... this is a glorious, wonderful thing, and you deserve to be with... (and I named everyone from her sisters and best friend to my grandfather, dad, brother, cousins and aunts and uncles who have shared our table's bounty - and our lives). 

Mam-ma settled fairly quickly... at least she stopped crying.  My sister and my niece arrived to check on her... and then my mom came.  As each person came, Mam-ma tried desperately to tell them things, clasping their hands, grabbing for their shirt sleeve, or cupping their face in her hand.  The only words I understood beyond the "I wants" and the "I'm going tos" was "Greg" - my husband's name.  Mam-ma has been very worried about my husband and me ever since we moved my niece and her three children home a couple of months ago.  I smiled and said, "Greg is fine.  We are both fine... and we're going to be okay.  You don't worry about us... we are both okay."

A few minutes later, the door opened, and my sweet husband came through.  He walked over and kissed Mam-ma, and she gripped his hand.  He was just what she needed.  The Hospice nurse told me to ask the facility nurse for an anti-anxiety pill for Mam-ma.  One hour later, she was still agitated... the pill had not worked.  The Hospice nurse had arrived to see for herself what was happening, and she ordered a pain pill for Mam-ma.  The facility nurse gave Mam-ma the pain pill, and about a half hour later, she was calm and resting better.

We decided to grab some dinner, and then I would return to the facility.  We were probably gone 45 minutes, and when I got back, aides were changing my grandmother and putting her bedclothes on her.  She was coughing more, and one aide took her vital signs.  The pulse ox was normal, thanks to the oxygen, but she now has a low-grade fever.  The Hospice nurse suspects she has some bronchial "something" going on.  BUT... as soon as Mam-ma was dressed for bed and settled, she drifted off to sleep immediately.  The aide on duty offered to come back after she finished her rounds and sit with Mam-ma until she was sound asleep, if necessary.  I sat with Mam-ma for about an hour, and my mom returned for a few minutes, as well.  Mam-ma never roused. Her brow has been furrowed in a frown all day... a sign that she is not comfortable... but she slept nonetheless.

So I asked the aide to be sure that Mam-ma continued to sleep.  Give her another anti-anxiety pill if she wakes, and don't encourage her to eat.  She refused supper... I'm hoping she will refuse breakfast. She had trouble swallowing water for her pain pill, and I do not want her to choke. I reminded the nurse and aides NOT to insist that she eat... to offer food, and let her decide.  The Hospice nurse, who is also a dear friend, keeps telling me, "You're doing great!  You're saying the right things.  You did well in talking to her.  Let her know it's okay to go."  So we are doing all these things.

This is not easy, by any means.  Mam-ma is right... "they's a lot worse things than dyin'..." and watching her like this is one of them.  While we were eating dinner, I told Greg, "I don't know why dying has to be so hard."  He reminded me that even though Mam-ma is ready to go... she is incredibly tough!  This could take a while.

Tomorrow, the Hospice nurse will consult her doctor and see if anything further can be ordered at this point to keep Mam-ma comfortable.  I'm hopeful.  Tuesday, December 18, will mark 80 years since my grandmother and grandfather married. My Pap-pa has been gone since August of 1984.   I would love nothing more than for the two of them to celebrate this anniversary together... in heaven.  I know I don't get to tell God how to run things... but I do believe He hears requests.  I'm just hoping He honors this one.

I'll Make Do...

My sister and I shared a Thanksgiving lunch with Mam-ma Polly the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. A few days after Thanksgiving, Mam-ma told my mom, "I don't know WHEN I've seen Suzanne (my sister)."  Mom tried to remind her that Suzanne and I ate lunch with her the previous Tuesday.  She argued that Suzanne was not there.  I snapped pictures of my grandmother and my sister... here is one.

A few days later, Mam-ma fussed that I didn't come often or stay long enough... and that "I'm seeing quite a bit of Suzanne."  I reminded her that yes, Suzanne works as an aide at the ALF on weekends, so she is there Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights.  That did not seem to register.

Last Tuesday, I went to visit Mam-ma.  She was in the hallway near the front door.  She said, "I'm lookin'... I'm lookin'..."  I asked who she was looking for, and she replied, "For YOU!"  I asked how she knew I was coming.  She couldn't tell me.

We returned to Mam-ma's room, and nothing was right.  She needed gloves from home.  I opened a dresser drawer and produced half a dozen pair.  I left some gloves and ear muffs on her table... was she wanting to go outside?  She shook her head, "No!"  I commented that it was realy too chilly anyway, but whenever she needed her gloves, they were there.

Mam-ma cried quite a bit, and told me, "I'm so lonesome."  She then told me, "I've tried to explain that I'm working on it... not being lonesome."  I told her being lonely is not something we overcome easily or at the snap of a finger... that I was sorry she is lonely, and I don't know what to do about it.  She replied, "You don't come often enough."  I tried to explain that I have a lot of responsibilities now... new ones with my niece and her husband and three children... my 86-year-old mother-in-law who had a mini-stroke this fall... my husband and my own household to run.  She cried and said, "I don't begrudge you these things.  I'm just lonesome."  It was a really, really bad visit.  Mam-ma spent most of the time I was with her telling me how I don't come often enough or stay long enough.  She was simply miserable.

The next evening, my mother took Timothy to see Mam-ma.  She had been asking for him and his siblings, who have been sick and unable to visit.  Mom said Mam-ma was overwhelmed... and overjoyed to see Timmy.  They didn't stay long, but Mam-ma was beaming.  Mom said, "It meant so much to her."

Friday, my husband and I collected Timmy and his 18-month-old sister, Zola, and brought them to our house for the afternoon.  We played with toys, looked at the Christmas decorations, and watched Frosty the Snowman and other videos.  Late in the afternoon when the temperatures warmed, we took them to a local park to play.  We had not been there long when my phone rang.  It was the nurse from the ALF reporting that Polly was having difficulty breathing.  She and the facility owner (who is an RN) had both listened to her chest and heard a rumble.  Hospice had been contacted, and the nurse said she thought the doctor would be consulted about an antibiotic.  Mam-ma was also retaining fluid... level 3 to 4, the nurse said.  She told me, "We'll see if the doctor wants to send her to the hospital for that."

I questioned the antibiotics for someone on Hospice and told the nurse we had agreed NOT to send Mam-ma back to the hospital.  She assured me that I did not need to come to the ALF...that she had given Mam-ma an Ativan to calm her, and everything was fine.  A few minutes later, the Hospice nurse called to tell me that the doctor had ordered a seven-day round of antibiotics, cough syrup, and a steroid shot.  Again, I questioned this, and the nurse said even if the problem was congestive heart failure (CHF) and not something bronchial, the medicine might help with her cough - and in that regard, keep her comfortable.  She also told me it would be fully understandable if I refused further medication.

So I visited on Saturday.  The nurse and I talked, and we both agreed that Mam-ma is - as she put it - "ready to go Home."  Mam-ma was coughing terribly, and wheezing audibly.  She complained that her pants were too tight, so I helped her change them.  These were also too tight.  I surmised she was retaining fluid in her mid-section.  An aide came in with a basket of freshly cleaned laundry, and I grabbed a stretchy sweatsuit.  The aide changed Mam-ma into the suit, and as I put her shoes back on her, I said, "I think I may need to buy you some more sweats."  She shook her head, "No!" and started to cry.

I questioned... what was wrong?  She cried more.  I finally asked, "Do you not think you will be here to wear the sweats?"  She stopped crying and took my hands and said, "I'll make do."  I took that as her way of saying she was done, and I nodded in agreement. I stayed a while longer and got Mam-ma settled for lunch, with the understanding that she would nap in the afternoon.  She had worn herself out changing clothes and coughing... and in fact, she coughed so hard at the dining table I thought she might trigger a heart attack.  The nurse had insisted that this is CHF... and if she does have something bronchial, she indeed does have CHF as well.

I struggled with this all weekend.  Mam-ma is like a doll that falls over, and we prop her back up with medication for a while.  She doesn't want to be here any longer.  We are not honoring her wishes.  So this morning, I spoke with our Hospice nurse/caseworker, and then I called the ALF administrator and told her that this will be my grandmother's last round of antibiotics.  She has indicated that she does not want further treatment, and I am representing her wishes... serving as her advocate and speaking for her, because she can no longer speak for herself.  I will sign a "compliance" paper that says that this is what we desire on my grandmother's behalf.

Late this morning, my mother visited again and found Mam-ma doing well.  Mom said her conversation was fairly pleasant, although Mam-ma cried about a few things.  She coughed some, but Mom did not think it was all that bad.  However, my sister attended an inservice this afternoon, and the administrator told her that I had requested that no more antibiotics be administered, and she advised... "She won't last much longer."  She went on to say that Mam-ma had a serious coughing spell this morning in the lobby, and a staff member had to dash to get a drink of water for her to get it stopped.

My sister also told me that Mam-ma has suffered from diarrhea since sometime Saturday.  We agreed that we are not ready to say "Good-bye" to Mam-ma... yet we know she is ready to go to heaven.  It's been a really rough week.  I have struggled with these decisions, knowing fully that my grandmother is tired of living.  I know that we could go to her apartment and ask her point blank, "Do you want to keep taking medicine?" and she might say "Yes"... then turn right around and say "No."  Her answers are no longer dependable... but her demeanor is.  And I am ready for her to be at peace.

My mom said that when she and Timothy visited a few nights ago, Mam-ma kept looking at him and saying, "I tell you what..."  Finally, Timothy said, "Tell me, Mam-ma!"  When Mam-ma Polly gets to heaven, she will be able to tell everyone what again... and that will be the best medicine ever for her.  Meanwhile, we'll handle whatever lies ahead... and do our best to "make do."

Making Some TOUGH Decisions...

This week has been like a giant roller-coaster ride.  Wednesday - DAY 1 of Post-op, was a painful day.  Mam-ma's pain was never controlled, even with morphine.  Part of the problem was that the nurses got busy, and through a series of circumstances, she did not get any pain medication from 10:30 a.m. to 4:00 p.m., which caused her pain level to spiral out of control.  Knocking it back down was a daunting task.  She moaned and cried out in pain almost continually - even when she appeared to be dozing.

DAY 2, the pain was not much better, and as Mam-ma began to drink more liquids, I noticed she was not having any output.  I asked about this, and the nurses said, "We changed her at 9:00 a.m."  I asked again.  At 4:00 p.m., I went to the desk and said, "She HAS to be wet... can you please check?"  The nurses came and changed her... and declared her "Just a little damp."  I questioned... how could this be?  She had been drinking... Coke, sweet tea I brought from home, a Miralax "cocktail"... and she had been given TWO doses of Lasix!  No real answer.

When the shift changed at 7:00, I asked the nurses to please check again... surely my grandmother was wet now.  These nurses changed my grandmother, and again she was "barely damp."  However, this time, they noticed that her bladder was distended and tender.  She had told me her "belly" hurt.  The nurses did a scan of some sort that told them Mam-ma had at least 400 cc's of urine in her bladder.  They inserted a catheter, and almost immediately, Mam-ma's pain left, her whole body relaxed, and she has been like a new woman ever since!  Apparently the bladder muscles never woke up after surgery, so her body didn't know to relax and "go!"  I'm still not sure that is corrected completely.

I wish I could say the confusion is clearing.  Mam-ma looked brighter yesterday and has not moaned out in pain since Thursday night - except when they move her in bed or from the bed to a chair.  She still can't tell me my name sometimes - or hers - but she knew my husband yesterday afternoon.  He walked in, and I asked, "Who is this?"  She grinned and said, "GREG!"  Then she knew my cousin Amanda by name.  We thought maybe the anaesthesia was wearing off and she was clearing mentally.

Today, she is back in a fog.  I arrived at 9:00 a.m., and the aides said, "She drank her juice, but she wouldn't eat.  We got a couple of bites down her."  I looked at Mam-ma... she was not wearing her dentures.  I told them, "No wonder she didn't eat... she doesn't have her teeth."  "But she drank her juice!" they countered.  "Yes, but she can't chew without her teeth!"  So I put in her dentures.  The ward clerk retrieved Mam-ma's breakfast tray from the meal tray cart and re-heated her eggs, biscuit and coffee.  Mam-ma ate ALL of her scrambled eggs and half a biscuit with jelly... and she drank half a cup of coffee.  This is the most she has eaten all week. 

I told my husband a couple of days ago, "If I ever have to be hospitalized, PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME THERE!"  If you or a loved one has to be hospitalized, be sure you have an advocate.  I have left my grandmother for a few hours... and these are good nurses... but I would not leave her there all day unattended - and I am there for both shifts, so all of the nurses know me.  My name and phone numbers are on the white board, along with the reminder that "Polly is DNR."  One nurse told me, "It is so much faster to pick up the phone by her bed and read your numbers off that board than to go search for her chart and look up your contact info."

Yesterday, given the lack of progress and my grandmother's inability to put her feet on the floor and stand, I asked one of the R.N.s (who calls my grandmother "Aunt Polly" and knows her well) what she thought about the possibility of putting Mam-ma in Hospice care.  Her eyes welled with tears, and she said, "I think that's a wonderful idea."  She said that she would call the Hospice coordinator and get the ball rolling.  I know many of the Hospice staff well.  My brother worked with them as an R.N., and then when he was dying in 1998, they cared for him.  They have cared for other family members since then, and the coordinator attends church with my mom.  They all know Mam-ma Polly well...and love her dearly.

The R.N. friend returned to Mam-ma's room soon to tell me that the coordinator was not in agreement - she wanted us to try therapy at the nursing home first.  I could not see the point in putting Mam-ma through the pain of therapy if every doctor and nurse are telling me she probably won't be able to walk again.  She can already sit in a chair - we don't need to go to the nursing home or get therapy for that!  So after I talked with the coordinator myself, she said if Mam-ma's facility physician would agree to Hospice, she would agree.  The facility physician agreed 100%. 

As it stands now, we will move back to my grandmother's apartment on Monday, where she will be placed on Hospice care.  A hospital bed, wheelchair, oxygen and bedside toilet chair have already been placed in her room.  I have paper work to complete on Monday, and the hospitalist heartily agreed to keep Mam-ma in the hospital until Monday.  Everyone tells me, "You are doing the right thing."  Based on this and how doors have continued to open at every turn, I believe this is the right decision.

This morning, the therapist came in and helped set Mam-ma in a chair (with the assistance from an aide), and she mouthed to me, "You are doing the right thing." Her own grandmother is in her late 90s, and I asked, "What if this were your grandmother?"  She answered without hesitation... "Oh, absolutely, I would do the same thing!" 

Mam-ma Polly - November 2009

A few have questioned me, or hung their heads at the mention of Hospice and said, "I'm so sorry."  But I just smile at them.  Today, my grandmother is exactly 6 months from her 100th birthday.  I have two goals for her for the rest of her days on this earth:  1) to be comfortable, and 2) to be happy.  The best shot she has of accomplishing this is to go back to her apartment at Southridge ALF and be among staff who love her and her many friends.  No more sorrow, no more pain.  My sister works the weekend nights at Southridge as a nurses' aide, so she will be there to keep an eye on Mam-ma, adding another layer of comfort for both of us.

Was this an easy decision?  Absolutely not!  I told the Hospice coordinator, "You know that my family is not eager to expedite things for Mam-ma."  She replied, "Of all the people in the world, I know that you are all the last people who would do this!" 

According to http://www.longtermcarelink.net/, "Hospice is a range of health and comfort care services that are delivered to patients who are nearing the end of life. In most cases, these patients have refused or otherwise are ineligible for receiving curative measures such as surgeries or advanced medical treatments. They are expected to live for 6 months or less after their admission to hospice care. The foremost consideration in hospice delivery is providing increased comfort care services."

As a friend who visited Mam-ma yesterday said, "People need to realize that Hospice care is not an immediate death sentence!"  We love my grandmother... this was a hard decision... but I believe it is the best for her. I don't know how long Mam-ma has left, but I want each day to count - and be a good one - as much as possible at this stage.

As I fed Mam-ma this morning, I thought once again of the many times in recent months that I have fed Timothy.  For someone who has never actually been a mother, I have certainly done my share of "mothering" in recent years - at both ends of the spectrum.  At the same time, one of the physical therapists who came in the other day was talking about how so many of their patients trip over small dogs or cats at home and fall.  I told her that my 86-year-old mother-in-law keeps dogs, and we worry about this happening to her.

The therapist said, "So in addition to your grandmother, you check on your mother-in-law?"  I told her yes, and until recently, we were helping to care for our 2-year-old great-nephew.  She replied, "WOW!  Your life is so RICH!  That's wonderful!"  I certainly don't hear that very often!  But she is right!  In so many ways, we are rich - and blessed - to have been given this opportunity... even with its challenges, rough patches, and tough decisions.  With God's grace, we're keeping all the balls in the air and making good choices...and I pray that this continues.

It's the In-between That's Worrisome...

As I prepared dinner a few nights ago, I asked my husband, "Did you hear on the news that Robert Redford is 75 today?"  He responded.  About 20 minutes later, we sat down to dinner, and during the course of the meal, I turned to my husband and asked, "Did you hear on the news that Robert Redford is 75 today?"  He looked at me like I had just grown a third eye.  "I asked you that already, didn't I?" I said as I shrunk down in my chair, totally embarrassed.  "Yes," he answered.  "What was your answer?" I countered.  It's the little things that make you wonder if you are really losing it ... or if you just temporarily tripped a breaker somewhere.  I'm hoping for the latter!

So when I visited my grandmother today, every other sentence she began ended in, "I don't know," or "I forgot what I was going to say."  This has not been a good week.  Timothy's family has been here for a visit (and that is a good thing), and when my niece took the babies to see Mam-ma on Wednesday, she was lying in bed and said she was dizzy and did not feel well enough for company.  I queried the nurse, who said all vital signs were good.  However, when she arrived for work that morning, Mam-ma was sitting on the front porch wearing a thick sweater that was buttoned up all the way under her chin.  We are still in the middle of an oppressive heat wave, with morning temps in the upper 80s and extremely high humidity, giving us some record heat indexes.

Lola, the nurse, asked my grandmother, "What are you trying to do - give yourself a heat stroke?"  I think she made Mam-ma go inside.  Then she discovered that Mam-ma was dizzy - and she said she had not slept the night before because she refused to take her Ativan (a prescription drug she takes in a very low dose for anxiety and as a night-time sleep aid).  The nurse told me, "I know what is happening... I overheard enough of a conversation in the dining room to know that the little ladies at Polly's table have convinced her she shouldn't be taking something at night to help her sleep."

When I talked with my grandmother later, she said she had tried to cut out her Ativan, because... "I don't want to get hooked on drugs."  She also claimed her sweater was a very light jacket over a very thin blouse.  I seriously doubt it.  I've seen her sweaters and blouses.  At any rate, I told her to take the Ativan and quit worrying about it... she needs a good night's rest.  Lola told her that overheating and not sleeping were enough to make anyone dizzy and feeling badly.

So today when I went to visit, Mam-ma was in the dining room listening to some live music.  However, she quickly told me she was not well, and we went to her room to visit.  She claims she is still dizzy.  We visited about a funeral I had just attended for a man who was a deacon in her church and a lifelong friend.  I told her neat things that had been posted on Facebook - recollections from former students who rode her school bus.  And I told her about delivering Meals on Wheels to an old friend of hers who worked at a local Piggly Wiggly "back in the day" with Mam-ma's sister.  Then we walked down the hall to visit my birthday buddy, MawMac, who is also a dear friend of my grandmother's.  She's not doing so well these days, but she enjoyed our visit.

When we returned to Mam-ma's room, she told me she was not going to go to tea ... that she had not been in over a week, primarily because she is not able to remember what she wants to say, and it's embarrassing to her.  MawMac had just told me how much she enjoys my grandmother's visits - and Mam-ma barely said a word while we were there.  I pointed this out and said, "You don't have to say anything - those ladies want you there... even if you don't say a word.  All you have to do is walk down to MawMac's room and hold her hand, and she is happy you came for a visit - and it's the same for your tea ladies."  I also told her I bet the tea ladies were missing her... and she replied, "Well, I'm missing them."  So she agreed to give it another try.

But when I mentioned leaving, she said, "I wish you would come more often," and she began to cry.  This was about the fourth time she had broken down and cried today, but usually it's over fairly quickly as she remembers something sad and then recovers.  This time was different.  I asked what was wrong, and she said, "Well, I know you are busy," and I laughed and said, "Mam-ma - you are busy, too!"  She said, "I know it, but things are changing."  I took that to mean her inability to string thoughts together well these days, and a general decline in her overall well-being.  I told her, "Mam-ma, I want you to live a long, long time.  But I will tell you, the day you go to heaven, I'm not going to be sad, because you will be a whole lot happier than the rest of us!"  She agreed... and said, "That's not it." 

It took her awhile, but she finally said, "I'm not afraid of dying... it's the in-between that worries me."  I told her I could understand, but we don't get to choose that.  I asked if she was worried about suffering, and she shook her head, "No!"  She was finally able to tell me that she doesn't want to be a burden.  I assured her she would not be - that she is not a burden now, and she never will be.  Whatever happens, we will deal with it.

I also explained that she can live out her days in her apartment.  The facility has Hospice, and barring something that would cause her to have to be hospitalized, she can stay right where she is for the rest of her life.  She said she didn't know that.  I assured her that she was surrounded by people who love her and care about her... she has a resident doctor, nurses, and there can be Hospice nurses if/when they are needed.  She will never be a burden.

Part of this is melodrama on my grandmother's part...her specialty!  But part of it is a genuine realization - brought home by almost a half dozen funerals for friends and acquaintances in rather short order - that her life is winding down.  Mam-ma will be 99 in November.  She sees the rapid decline of our friend, MawMac, who is only 93... and she has seen friends get sick one week and die the next.  She knows how quickly things can change.  On top of this, it bothers her greatly that my niece has moved her family to Texas, more than 7 hours away.  She even told my niece, "I will try to live until you come home for Christmas." (Yes, she is a drama queen!)

I assured Mam-ma that I would visit more often... and I will.  Timothy is here for an extended visit, and we will go and see her.  But I cannot stop the clock... or the aging process.  I have no control over my grandmother's last days/weeks/months on this earth - nor how the end will come.  I also know that I could die before she does. A business friend of mine died in a motorcycle accident just last week at age 55.  None of us is promised another day!

So I think my take-away for this post is that a lot of times we don't really know what is bothering our seniors... and they can't seem to put it into words.  But it just may be that they are wrestling with their own mortality.  I told Mam-ma today that I don't want her to spend her time worrying about what is going to happen to her - or how and when she will die.  I want her to be busy enjoying her life and being happy.  The rest will take care of itself.  I also hugged her tightly as she sobbed and told her that we have been through far too much already to fall apart now.  And I used one of her favorite phrases (with a chuckle) and told her to "dry it up!"  She laughed.

Tomorrow, my grandmother may not remember our conversation... and I have no doubt that we will have these teary encounters again... and I will once again reassure her that she will always be loved and cared for - and all of her needs will be met.  Meanwhile, I am going to make an effort to visit more often and hope that encourages her... and I am going to try to be patient and listen - let her vent her frustrations and worries.  I'm going to remind myself that knowing that the end of one's life is imminent is daunting... no matter how strong your faith is or how excited you are to get to Heaven and reunite with loved ones there.

When Mam-ma complained today of not being able to get her thoughts together and remember what she wanted to say, I shared my "Robert Redford" story and told her it happens to all of us... even those in our 50s instead of our 90s... and she laughed.  We still have lots of miles left in this journey, hopefully... and I want them to be happy, productive ones - for Mam-ma, and for us.  I just hope I can remember what I told her the last time I visited!

I'd Like to Buy a Vowel

I visited with my grandmother after church today.  She had called last night, but a thunderstorm was in progress with very serious lightning, and I suggested we talk another time.  When I arrived at the ALF today, Mam-ma's room was unlocked, but she was nowhere to be found.  An aide suggested she was out walking the halls.  I started searching for her, but I couldn't locate her.

I visited a dear friend of mine who moved to the ALF last week.  My little "birthday buddy" who shares my birthday has declined tremendously in recent weeks, and I found her in bed, under oxygen, looking frail and quite unwell. However, when I squeezed her hand and spoke to her, she immediately began talking to me, and she seemed quite lucid.  She told me she had been very sick, but today she had eaten four bites of oatmeal and drunk a cup of milk.  She said, "Oh, the milk tasted so good."  She also told me she had fallen again, and she felt so badly that she didn't think she would dress today.  This little spitfire who has been my hero for over 50 years is now in tremendous decline, and it saddened me greatly to see her this way.  As I left, she said, "Happy Birthday."  Our birthday is not until July 4th, and I told her, "Happy Birthday to you... we've still got a few weeks, but we're gonna make it."  Secretly, I wonder if she truly will see 93.

I let myself out and started looking for Mam-ma again.  A resident told me she was sitting on the front porch.  And that's where I found her... sitting in a rocking chair, looking at the redwing blackbirds and enjoying the relatively cool morning under a cloudy sky.  As I sat down in a rocker beside her, she said, "Well, I didn't know you was here... I've been a lookin' for you all day."  It was nearly noon, and I asked, "How did you know I was coming?"  She replied, "Well, you told me last night that you might come today."  I had to wonder... would she have sat there all day waiting for me?

We had a good visit, and my grandmother talked about my "birthday buddy"... who is also her friend... and an elderly cousin who is ill... and Mam-ma cried.  She said, "Sometimes I wonder why I am still here... and I wish I wasn't."  I told her about a book I read this week... 90 Minutes in Heaven.  The author tells of crying out to God and asking why he had to leave and return to earth to suffer terribly through nearly 2 years of excruciating recovery.  Heaven was so glorious...so amazing it defies description... yet he didn't get to stay.  He learned that God had a purpose for him... on earth... to minister to specific people in a way that no one else could.  He was directed to several people who were enduring the same recovery that he had endured... and they could only relate to the empathy of someone who had "been there done that."

I explained to Mam-ma that she has a purpose... at Southridge.  I didn't even acknowledge that she is important to us... that she serves a purpose in our lives.  She might not even believe me!  But I pointed out several at the ALF to whom she is ministering... friends, aides, nurses, staff.  I told her, "Maybe your purpose is to help James (the maintenance man) to become a better gardener!"  That made her laugh.  I also told her that heaven will be just as glorious - if not more so - when it truly is her time to go... but for now, she has work to do here!

I stayed until Mam-ma went to lunch, and then I filled her bird feeder and came home.  Mam-ma called a little before 6:00 p.m., and I didn't get to the phone in time, so the machine picked up as I answered. She said, "I can't get my TV to work... it says cable." I told her to hang up and I would call her right back. "Okay," she said. I hung up, but she didn't, and I waited a few seconds, and finally she DID hang up, and I called RIGHT back... and ... wait for it... I got her machine!

Lately, there have been a few times when I have told Mam-ma, "Let me call you right back," and she has said okay... and when I phone her immediately, she doesn't answer after six rings... and I get her answering machine!  I had to try three more times before the machine finished its cycle, and the phone would ring. I heard her pick up and start dialing. "Mam-ma! Mam-ma! POLLY!!!" "What?" she asked innocently. "Where did you go? I told you I would call right back." "Well, I don't know... I don't know what I did."

So she said her TV was messed up - "It's on cable, and I can't change it." I told her she is supposed to be on cable. No, she wasn't... it wasn't right. She didn't know what she had punched. I tried to talk her through punching the "TV" button on her remote - she could barely see the markings to read them to me. Then she started reading SS1, HDTV, Dolby... "No, that's not it," I told her. She said something about only getting an orange screen. Finally, I said, "I'll just come down there... I'll be right there." "Okay," she said.

I collected the manuals for Mam-ma's TV and headed to Southridge. When I got there, her TV was on, and it appeared everything was fine. I picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels, and everything was fine. "No, it's not!" she insisted... "It says 'Cable'." "Yes, you are on cable," I told her. I explained that this little display shows "cable" when she punches the "TV" button on her remote, but it will go away after a few seconds.

I flipped all the way to what appeared to be RFDTV. "How many channels are you supposed to get?" "40," she said. "Okay, I'm on channel 40." She showed me her channel guide, and I showed her the Weather Channel, "60 Minutes" on CBS, "Dateline NBC" on NBC, and RFDTV on Channel 40. She said, "Well, all of my programs is not there." I looked at the clock... 6:25. "Are you looking for 'Wheel of Fortune'?" I asked. "Yes." "Mam-ma, this is Sunday... 'Wheel of Fortune' isn't on tonight." "Yes it is!" "No, it's not... that show is on every night of the week except Sunday. You should be getting 'America's Funniest Home Videos' and 'Extreme Home Makeover,' but there is a ballgame tonight on ABC, so that's what you will get there."

I FINALLY convinced her that "Wheel of Fortune" was not on tonight, and there was nothing wrong with her remote, and I showed her the button to press to be sure she was on TV. She showed me the SS1 and HDTV settings she was referring to on the phone - they were on a sticker on the front of her TV! They were for Surround Sound, Dolby Sound, HDTV, etc. - and just indicated her TV was programmed for these features. I explained that these were part of a sticker and were not actual buttons - pressing them did NOTHING.

Finally, she was convinced all was well, and she said, "Well, Sugar, I'm real sorry." I told her it was fine... I did not mind running down to check. I told her what might be on tonight that would be of interest to her, and she said, "Well, I'm a fixin' to go to tea!" I said, "Okay... well, your 9:00 news will be on for you when you return."

So next time, I will know a few more questions to ask before I make the trip.  And I have no doubt I will have to return again at some point to "fix" the remote.  As for the phone, I don't have a clue.  Mam-ma's apartment is less than 300 square feet... she has a cordless phone.  How she gets that far away from it in 15 seconds is beyond me!  Mam-ma had asked for pretzels and raisinets for "tea time" - and I'm sure by the time she got there tonight, all was forgotten about the television and the remote - and the phone... until the next time Pat and Vanna are not on at the appointed hour.  Once again, I'll be called upon to "solve the puzzle" and get things back in order.  And so it goes...