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

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

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

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

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

Orange dream created from ladies beaded knit top.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Are You Smarter Than a 99-year-old?

It didn't take my grandmother long to outsmart some of the efforts to keep her safe and prevent another fall.  So it came as no surprise to me when the facility R.N. called on Friday and said, "Ms. Polly is a smart woman.  She has figured out how to turn off her bed alarm, rendering it virtually ineffective as a safety device.  Is it okay with you if I take it out of her room?"  I laughed and told her yes, that was fine.  Clearly, if she can disarm it before aides arrive, we all know she can be off and running (so to speak) and into a whole heap of trouble before help arrives.  And bending down under the bed to turn off the alarm is enough to make her fall in the first place!

The nurse also noted that my grandmother is FAST, which also came as no surprise to me.  On Thursday morning, I had spoken with Mam-ma and reminded her that I was picking her up later that day for a 1:45 p.m. appointment at the hospital outpatient clinic with her cardiologist.  Telling me anything on the phone takes her forever now (and it's not much better in person), but she managed to convey that she was not happy with what she was wearing - that the aides select her outfits each day, and she didn't approve of this one for a trip to the doctor. 

I told her, "Don't worry about it.  I will come at 1:00 and help you dress - and I will fix your hair."  She was scheduled to see the hairdresser when we returned from her doctor visit, but I knew her hair looked awful, and I had taken my curling iron once before and worked on it.  I could at least make her presentable.  So shortly before 1:00 p.m., I loaded my hot curlers and curling iron into the car and headed to the facility.

When I knocked on Mam-ma's door and tried the handle, it opened, and I stepped inside.  "Knock! Knock!" I called.  No answer.  I started looking around.  Mam-ma's call button was on the TV table.  She was not in the room.  I even looked over on the floor between her bed and the window.  She wasn't there.  I looked in the bathroom... not there, either.  I realized that her walker was gone, too.  GREAT!  She's loose in the facility, without even a call button if she falls and needs help!

I stepped back out of the room and walked to the dining area, where several residents were still eating.  No Mam-ma.  I saw the maintenance man, James, and asked, "Have you seen Polly?"  "Yes!  She was just here eating."  He stepped toward her table and realized she was not there, just as an aide said, "Polly's gone to the doctor."  No... I had come to get Polly to take her to the doctor.  The aide continued... "Mary Lou took her already."  Mary Lou is the driver for the facility.  The aide suggested I ask the nurse.  I went to the nurse's office, and sure enough, a phone call to Mary Lou revealed that she was already at the hospital with Polly and another client.

We surmised that the cardiologist's office had phoned the facility instead of me to remind us about the appointment.  When the facility got the call, they placed the appointment on the driver's calendar.  I didn't realize I didn't get the call... and I didn't call the facility to tell them I was taking Mam-ma myself, because I didn't figure it mattered.  Next time - if there is one - I will call.  I utilize the driver for routine things like trips to have her dentures adjusted, a routine pacemaker check, and more.  But when I feel I need to be with Mam-ma and hear what a doctor has to say, I will drive her myself.

So I hurried to the hospital, where I found Mam-ma, the driver, and the other resident sitting in the outpatient waiting area.  Mam-ma looked up at me, grinned, and said, "Well!  I didn't know you was a comin'."  I just laughed.  The driver began to apologize, and I assured her it was not her fault.  However, she had fed both ladies their lunch early and brought them both to the hospital before 1:00, because the other resident had an appointment at that hour.  This meant that Mam-ma was sitting a full 45 minutes before her appointment time.  We didn't ultimately get in to see the doctor until about 2:15 p.m., which meant Mam-ma sat and waited over an hour.  This might not seem like a big deal - and it's not for you and me.  But for a 99-year-old who tires easily, this is an eternity.  Think sitting and waiting with a 2-year-old for over an hour, and you sorta get the picture.  Mam-ma got stiff, and her ankles began to swell a bit from sitting and dangling her legs. 

In the exam room, I had Mam-ma prop up her feet.  The exam was fairly routine... the doctor listened to her breathing and we discussed her hospital visits and the treatments.  He looked at her ankles, and we discussed some of the medications she was given in the hospital and emergency room.  Then he asked Mam-ma if she had any questions, and she raised a bony finger and pointed it at him and said, "Yes... they won't let me leave my room!"  He looked at me, and I said, "Translation... she cannot leave her room without an aide accompanying her, because she is a fall risk."  The doctor launched into a dissertation on how at age 99, a lot more goes into walking than merely walking... balance, memory, muscle tone, strength, and concentration, to name a few.  He agreed that she needs someone with her.

"She wants to go outside and walk on the sidewalk," I added.  "Oh, no, Ma'am!" he said.  "You've already had a bad fall, and you are really very lucky.  Your fall on Christmas Eve could have been so much worse... so much worse."  She just looked at him.  He asked if there was anything else, and she said, "No, but your answer disappoints me."  He just laughed and said he would like to see us again in six months... or sooner if we need him.

By the time I got Mam-ma back to the facility, it was just after 3:00 p.m., and her hairdresser was waiting for her.  She called me later that evening, and she was exhausted.  I was not surprised.  However, the nurse assured me Friday morning that she was alert, clear, and transferring well from one place to another, i.e. chairs, her walker, and more.  The 30-minute checks by aides are still in place, but the alarm has been removed.

Then, Saturday night, I got a phone call about 7:30.  I saw on Caller ID that it was my grandmother, but when I answered, there was no response. I called her name, and finally, she said in a weak voice, "Well, I was calling for Greg (my husband)." I offered to get him, but asked what she needed. It was a 10-minuted convoluted conversation about something about trying to call my cousin Ricky and not being able to get him... then she couldn't get anyone on the phone - all she gets are busy signals... and then it was crying, and "I'm crazy."  She managed to tell me, "I called Ricky this afternoon... and he came over here."  Then why did she need to talk to him again that night?  "I don't know," she cried. 

We went back and forth - she wasn't hurt, she wasn't sick, she didn't fall - and finally I got her to press her call button and get an aide in the room, telling her, "Call your aide and stay on the line. When she comes in, put her on the phone, and I will tell her what you need."  The aide arrived, and she had a hard time understanding why Polly wanted her to talk to me, but finally she got on the line.  I asked her to give Mam-ma her Ativan and put her to bed. She said she would, and she handed the phone back to Mam-ma, so that I could tell her goodnight.  It took a few minutes of reassurance and "I love yous" to convince her that the aide would return and she would feel better in the morning. 

I called later to check on her, and the aide said, "She has been upset and confused like this since I came to work Friday night at 6:00." But she assured me she had put her to bed and given the Ativan and would keep an eye on her.  Based on previous experiences, I figured after a good night of sleep, Mam-ma would not even remember calling us.  That was not the case... she told my sister and her husband all about it today when they visited her - as best she could.  She told them that "I froze... I don't know what happened" and "Debbie talked to me and calmed me down."

I don't know what happened, either.  I just know that while I was talking to my grandmother and trying to calm and soothe her, I thought to myself, "I could easily be having this same conversation with Timothy... and it would make about as much sense."  The similarity was striking.  Mam-ma now has so much trouble thinking of what she wants to say - and saying it - that she actually is harder to communicate with than our 2½-year-old nephew.  As he learns so much each day and becomes more adept at manipulating objects, managing his own personal care - and talking - Mam-ma loses ground.  And that's how life is... for all of us.  I just happen to have a more poignant illustration right in front of me.

I don't know what happened.  I don't know if Mam-ma had a little TIA, or if she just got so tired on Thursday that she was still mixed up on Saturday night...or if she is starting to "sundown" - becoming disoriented and confused late into the afternoon and early evening, which is common with patients who have dementia or Alzheimer's.  This may happen repeatedly - or she might not ever become disoriented like that again.  Time will tell.  At times, I think the spunky little lady who can outsmart a bed alarm is still with us... and the next minute, I realize that time is slipping away - and taking her with it. My prayer is that, one way or another, she soon ceases to realize her limitations and be frustrated by them.  This is something we desire for our babies... and now we wish it for our elders, as well.  And the circle 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!

45 Days...

"Nothing happens before 45 days."  This was the comment I was given more than once on Monday by the DHS caseworker who will sign off on my grandmother's admission to the Assisted Living Facility (ALF).  She added quickly... "It won't be 45 days until 2-16."  Today is 2-16. 

I phoned the caseworker on Monday to make sure that there was nothing else we needed to do on our end to expedite this approval.  She would not give me a chance to ask my question directly, but when I told her that my grandmother has decided that she has done something to create a holdup, the woman said, "NO! That's not it... we're just behind and working as fast as we can."  There were other excuses, but the bottom line is, we are still waiting, and I am sure that there is something "magical" about 45 days.  I guess if you work faster than that timeline, people might come to expect quick service.

Meanwhile, Valentine's Day has come and gone.  I mailed my grandmother a Valentine.  On Valentine's Day, I took her homemade stew, and I refilled her medicine compartments.  She was busy doing laundry and setting out lunch for herself and her friend Ruby.  A neighbor had brought beef stew, and Mam-ma was adding some food from her Meals on Wheels lunch to it and, basically, feeding both of them with "loaves and fishes."  I told Mam-ma that I was on my way to straighten my booth at a local antique store, and I left.

That evening, my sister called, and Mam-ma told her, "You are the only one who has called me today to wish me a Happy Valentine's Day."  I told my sister I had been there, and she said, "Yes... she told me you brought stew and fixed her medicine, but she said that you were too busy trying to get to the antique store to see about your stuff to sit down and visit with her."  Oh, and my mom called on Valentine's Day - and she mailed Mam-ma a Valentine - from California!  I have to admit... most days, I'm a little irritated by such comments, but I forget about them fairly quickly.  But in light of the amount of time and energy I have expended with my grandmother in the last six weeks, this remark really stung.  As many in my boat know, it truly never will be enough with her.

Mam-ma continues to be "down" with me when we talk on the phone... she is growing increasingly impatient about this move.  And when she knows it is time for me to call, I get a very whiny voice as she musters enough breath to say, "Hello?"  However, if I call unexpectedly at another time of day... I get a very strong, energetic voice... or even a "Good Morning," if she thinks the caller is my mom! 

Last night Mam-ma phoned about 9:00 and said, very strongly, "I cannot get my front door to lock."  I tried to talk her through it, but she said the door would not lock.  I suggested she lock her storm door and the extra safety latch on her main door... she had done both, but "I like for my door to be locked."  I agreed, but I told her I felt she would be fine for one night.  She said, "Well, I want Greg to come look at it tomorrow."  I told her I was not sure what my husband had planned, but someone would try to come and see about it.  I am going... she will not be happy - in her mind, I know nothing about "man stuff" and will not be able to rectify this situation. 

Monday, I also took Mam-ma another 6-pack of Cokes, and she said, "Well, what I really need is cookies!"  I told her I would bring some next time I came.  As I left, she said, "And I need bread."  I told her I was not going to the store (probably what prompted her irritation about my supposedly brief visit), and I asked if she was completely out of bread.  She was not.  I added it to her grocery list for beauty shop day.

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I did go to see about the door. When I arrived, Mam-ma grinned and said, "Well... what are YOU doing out today?"  I told her, "You said your door won't lock, so I came to see about it."  "Well, that's right," she said, "It won't lock - but do you think YOU can fix it?"  "I'm certainly going to try," I told her.  The door locks fine... you just have to push on it to make it latch properly.  This did NOT go over well.  For one thing, Mam-ma did not believe I could actually fix it, and she was less than pleased to learn it was not broken! 

We also had quite a conversation about a doorbell that kept ringing.  I would get up and look to see who was at the door - no one.  Finally Mam-ma showed me a wireless contraption plugged into an electrical receptacle that made a doorbell noise every time you walked across the floor just so.  Mam-ma had tucked a folded envelope between this device and the wall to steady it in the receptacle.  I told her that this arrangement had to go... that it was a fire hazard.  She screamed at me, "No it's not!"  "Yes, it IS," I replied.  She insisted it was fine, and finally I said, "Okay, Mam-ma...whatever... just leave it then.  It's totally up to you."  A few minutes later, when the bell rang again, she said, "I guess I'll take that paper out."

After several frustrating minutes and conversations that went nowhere, I left, feeling like I had caused more trouble by even stopping by to try and see about the door.  I pulled into the Wal-Mart parking lot, and before going inside, I said a little prayer.  I asked myself, "What advice would you give someone in a similar situation?"  My answer was that this is not me... it's her.  I am doing the best I can, and I just have to hang on and get through this.  I felt better, and once inside, I met an old friend and had a good conversation, and my mood was immediately elevated.  Thank you, God, for continually blessing me!

Late this afternoon, the administrator at Southridge called.  She has the care plan from the Medicaid nurse.  She had already e-mailed the DHS case worker and was submitting a form requesting a move-in date.  She asked, "When would you like for Ms. Polly to move in?"  I replied, "Honey, as soon as possible!"  Then I told her that we could be ready as early as tomorrow.  She said, "Okay, I'll give the case worker a move-in date of somewhere within the next few days.  If she doesn't respond by Friday, I will call her." She said she would phone me when she knew the move-in date for certain.  I hung up, elated, but not ready to tell Mam-ma until we know a date.

A few minutes later, Mam-ma phoned - "We're having company!" she announced.  It seems that cousins from Oklahoma are passing through on Friday and plan to take my grandmother out to dinner.  She said, "So I've made their bed!"  (This is the bed we are taking to Southridge for her. I had entertained the thought of moving it and getting things in place ahead of her physical move.)  "Are you sure they are spending the night?" I asked.  "Well, I've made their bed!"  she answered.  "Yes, but are you sure they are spending the night, or did you do that in anticipation?"  "Well... anticipation, I guess... but they are staying all weekend."  "Really?  All weekend?"  "Well... maybe they are going home Saturday... I really don't know."  Neither do I... and if we get THE CALL to move, they may have her house to themselves! 

We may just have a little light at the end of this tunnel.  Time will tell... and I'm still praying!

I Baked a Cake

Today, my husband went by to visit my grandmother after he delivered Meals on Wheels.  They talked about her getting them and how it was unsafe for her to cook.  She told him, "I baked a cake this morning, but that girl was here."  We assume she meant her home health aide.  Anyway, my husband shared their conversation over lunch ... how they discussed her not having any more vegetable gardens, and no peanut brittle making ... and no cooking unless someone was there.  He forgot to mention the cake to me.

So when my mother e-mailed and said Mam-ma had made a cake, I told him, and he said, "Oh, yeah... she mentioned that and said 'that girl' was here."  I called my mom to tell her it was okay - the aide was there.  Mom said, "NO!  She told me that the girl had left!"  She also told my husband that all she had left to do was ice the cake. I'm thinking buttercream frosting - Mom says she makes a "boiled" icing on the stove.  Yikes!

So much for being scared by burning the dried peaches in the crock pot - much less listening to anything we told her about not cooking unattended!  Thankfully, Mam-ma's deacon visited her last night and took her a supper of black-eyed peas and turnip greens - and he took home his peanuts and corn syrup, along with the recipe for making peanut brittle.  He spoke by phone with my mom today, and when she told him about the cake, he said, "You are kidding!"  He was planning to return her recipe book later today and have another talk with her about not cooking any more! 

Meanwhile, I've spoken with cousins who sometimes take her out to dinner and bring her peanuts and sugar to make peanut brittle.  At first my cousin thought I was asking him NOT to take her anywhere, but I explained that no... out to eat, or giving her a ride to Ruby's house was fine.  But taking her to the grocery store or helping her "make a garden" was out of the question.  I hope he understood.

I know it's hard for people who don't know the whole situation to grasp this.  For one thing, my grandmother seems so able bodied and "talks a great game."  And she has no problem telling people, "I'm just a poor old widder woman who can't drive any more."  She also has told me directly that she tells others that "... my kids don't care anything about me.  They've got better things to do than see after me."

So another day brings more "fun."  I have my doubts that this is going to work for long, but the Meals on Wheels may begin as early as tomorrow.  I'm planning a family dinner for next week - and I plan to use some food from her "deep freeze."  I'm also going to call the assisted living facility administrator and tell her that - for now - we do not want the room she has available."  Something tells me this may be a very temporary fix.

The "Voice" of Reason

My mother-in-law is gradually improving.  She gave us a good scare while on the heavy medication.  Her thinking grew very fuzzy, and she was wobbly and unsteady on her feet.  Then she just felt "blah" and had no enthusiasm or energy.  The doctor attributed it all to the medicine - particularly the steroid dosepak - and assured us it would clear... and it has/is.  And he told her she could gradually and gently resume her former activities - two words she is not hearing, apparently.  She is presently dog-sitting - for three dogs!  Thankfully two of these dogs are from the same household and get along with the third.  She has not mentioned swimming yet, and as long as the dogs are visiting, she probably won't leave the house.  But the doctor did say she could swim again - just gently and not every day!

My husband Greg spent every night (and most of the days) with his mother for a solid week.  I "spelled" him for a few hours here and there to do things like mow our yard and tend to things on the home front, handle business affairs - and just get away and rest.  Each day, I went to my mother-in-law's house and fixed lunch and dinner and in-between snacks to be eaten with the scheduled medications.  I also did some housekeeping and laundry, and changed the beds. Greg vacuumed his mother's house.  When she began to feel better, my mother-in-law dismissed her son - told him he needed to go home and sleep in his own bed.  So we complied, although Greg returned daily for a little while longer.

One of the first mornings Greg was back at home, he got up early and went to a fast-food place and picked up a breakfast burrito for himself and his mom.  They shared breakfast, and she announced that she thought she would take a shower and dress for the day.  Greg came home, and about noon, he telephoned his mother - and got no answer.  Panicked, he drove to her house, where he discovered all was well with my mother-in-law, but there was a problem with the telephone.  In fact, nearly all of the people on her end of town were without phone service - including my grandmother.

My husband reported the outage, and the phone company recording said it might be two days before service was restored.  Meanwhile, my grandmother's neighbor, Merrellyn, e-mailed my mom and said that she had reported the outage for herself and my grandmother, and she was told the same thing ... but she was hoping they were mistaken and service would be back that Tuesday afternoon.  Sometime around 4:30, my phone rang, and it was my grandmother, calling on her housekeeper's cell phone.  She said, "Debbie, I don't have any phone."   I told her I knew that, and it had been reported.  She said, "Well, Mary came by and I told her, 'Let's call Debbie and tell her my phone is out.'"  I found that funny - like I am the all-powerful telephone repair wizard! 

I realized that this meant my grandmother's "life alert" didn't work, because it's tied to the phone service, but I hoped service would come back quickly.  I told Mam-ma that I knew the phone was out, but there was nothing else to do but wait, since it HAD been reported.

Concerned for both ladies, Greg and I got in the car around 5:30 p.m. and set out to check on each of them.  We ended up at my grandmother's house around 6:00 p.m., and her friend Ruby was visiting.  She lives one street over from my grandmother, and her phone service was out, too!  This didn't seem to faze my mother-in-law, but the other two little ladies were all in a tizzy without their phones!

As we drove home, we passed telephone service trucks in the neighborhood alongside an enormous hole in the ground, and one of the repairman was holding a huge fistful of cables.  Greg said, "That doesn't look good."  Later in the evening, other neighbors in the area reported on Facebook that someone digging a water line cut through 600 phone cables, and it would indeed take days to reconnect them.

But that was not the case for my mother-in-law and grandmother.  Both had service sometime the next morning.  For some reason, my grandmother's next-door neighbor, Merrellyn, was without service a few more days.  We still don't know what happened there.  But she did tell my mother that my grandmother walked over to her house immediately after the phone lines went down to report the outage. Merrellyn said her housekeeper heard my grandmother outside.  It was raining - but just a sprinkle at that time - and Mam-ma was all bundled up.  She was standing on Merrellyn's porch under the eave.  She wanted to tell her know that her phone was out, and Merrellyn said she would report it. Later Mam-ma told me that she had walked to Merrellyn's and told her that the phone wasn't working.

Of course, none of us was thrilled to hear that my grandmother had gotten out in any rain - sprinkle or downpour - and walked on wet, slick streets to a neighbor's to tell her the phone wasn't working!  But what happened the next day was even more bothersome, and Mam-ma has yet to tell me about it herself.

Mam-ma's friend Ruby called to ask her for a recipe for chili.  Mam-ma said she would have to look up the recipe and call her back.  When I telephoned Mam-ma that evening about 5:30, she said, "I'm really worried about Ruby.  She's not answering her phone.  I told her I would call her with that recipe, but she's not answering.  I know what happened ... I bet you anything she went to the grocery store!"  And she said this rather disgustedly - obviously miffed that Ruby would go anywhere without her!  I said, "Maybe she went to get the things to make your chili," and Mam-ma replied, "No... that chili is for church!"  The First Baptist Church has a fall festival sometime in October that includes a chili cook-off.  I didn't know these 90-somethings were participating, but I guess they are!

Anyway, we talked about other things, and I told Mam-ma that Ruby would show up soon.  What I didn't know was that Mam-ma had already been to Merrellyn's house and asked Merrellyn's son, Sean, who was visiting, to drive her over to Ruby's.  Sean knows my grandmother, but he and his mom really didn't understand her request.  Merrellyn told my mom later, "We thought she was bored and just wanting to get out of the house."  They drove to more than one house, and Sean thought Mam-ma was a little confused.  But she directed him to Ruby's house, and I guess he stopped and Mam-ma got out.  From the reports of others, my grandmother barrelled into the house, calling, "Ruby!  Ruby!  Ruby!"  A man was lying on the couch watching TV - his wife was in the bathroom.  This was not Ruby's house!  Mam-ma was off by one house, I think.

The lady came out of her bathroom and told Mam-ma she was in the wrong house.  It turns out, Ruby was at work - caring for another 90-something friend a few streets over.  She had talked to Mam-ma on her lunch hour and told her "I'm going back to work at Gladys'." But I guess Mam-ma forgot or didn't hear or understand what Ruby said, and when she wasn't home, Mam-ma panicked.  She told my mom about it the next day and said, "Oh, I really flubbed up."  But she has not told me about it still... except to say one evening, "I really got upset over that little episode," as if I knew what she meant.  Of course, I do - from other sources.  I am assuming that after she barged into the wrong house, she had Sean drive her home.

On Friday when I picked up my grandmother for the beauty shop, she knew that we had kept our nephew overnight.  In fact, my sister took Timmy to visit Mam-ma on Wednesday.  Mam-ma asked me, "How is Timmy?"  I told her, "Timmy has a bad cough.  We were up for several hours in the night because he had trouble breathing."  She replied, "Well, I've got a terrible cough.  I've about coughed my head off."  That was the last she asked about her great-great-grandson, and she began to cough for me... and I have to say, it sounded fairly contrived.  But she had Tussin DM on her grocery list, and I bought her a bottle.

I ran Mam-ma's errands while she was getting her hair done and quickly deposited her at her house and put her groceries away.  I told her that I had left Timmy with my mom, because Greg was busy taking his mother for a follow-up visit at the doctor, and Timmy's dad was supposed to be coming to get him as soon as I got home.  So I needed to hurry back.  Mam-ma seemed fine with all of that.

By Friday night, I had a sore, scratchy throat.  By Saturday morning, I had a deep cough and felt lousy.  Sunday, my voice was GONE.   I felt better on Monday, but the voice is still not back.  So my mother has been doing double duty phoning morning and night to make sure my grandmother takes her medicine.  On Wednesday, Mam-ma phoned my mom and asked her if she would go to the pharmacy and pick up some medications that the doctor had ordered for her via the Home Health nurse.  The nurse happened by to give my grandmother a vitamin B-12 shot, and I don't know what all transpired, but my grandmother told Mom that the nurse called her doctor and "talked a long time." 

The bottom line was that the doctor prescribed "cough pearls" and an antibiotic dosepak that the pharmacist told Mom "might make her sick at her stomach."  Not good news.  Mom took the meds to my grandmother and insisted she eat some crackers and drink buttermilk before she took them.  Hopefully this will do the trick ... whether she needed it or not ... and prevent a visit to the clinic - or a truly serious illness.

It's been a long time since we went to the family physician for any type of visit, so I am not surprised that all of this transpired.  Mam-ma will sometimes tell me, "My doctor needs to see me ever once in awhile."  My mom has gone with her husband to visit his children and grandchildren in Tennessee, so my husband is going to go with me tomorrow for beauty shop day to serve as my "interpreter," since I still have no voice.

So things are adding up ... and not in a good way.  When you consider the mental confusion, at least two times recently that my grandmother has left a gas stove burner on with no flame, her refusal to stay out of her yard and do such things as rake pine needles, and then barging into someone's home ... it's not good.  While she dismissed me a few weeks ago when I mentioned the assisted living facility again, I think we may have to talk about it more seriously.  I simply feel like the time may have come when she can no longer safely live alone in her own home.

This is National Assisted Living Week.  I heard a staff member from an area assisted living facility say we caregivers should not feel guilty about choosing such a facility for our senior when the time comes.  We are offering them a chance to live as independently as possible while having all of their needs met by a trained, professional staff in a safe environment.  My social worker friend thinks my grandmother would be the "belle of the ball" in assisted living.  It may be time to find out.  I am hoping that my grandmother - and my mother-in-law - will listen to the voices of reason that surround them.  For the moment, my  "voice" of reason is silent.  I may learn that they prefer me this way!

One Step at a Time...

It's been an interesting two weeks with my family.  Last week, we were keeping Timothy, and he was fussy.  We think it was a combination of teething and some booster shots he had gotten.  But he ran a low-grade fever and slept restlessly, then he would be happy for a few minutes before napping again - mostly in our laps.  I left him with Greg to go and do my grandmother's errands on Friday afternoon.

Before I even opened her back door, I smelled gas. When I went in her kitchen, one of her burners was turned on, but not lit. She said, "Oh, I'm sorry." I told her not to apologize, but we have to be careful about those burners! I ran the exhaust fan some and turned on all four burners to try to burn any excess gas that might be floating around the stove... don't know it that's the right thing to do, but it seemed right.

I tried to talk to Mam-ma about our joining our new Community Center, and she said, "Well, I really need to see it first." I asked - had she and Ruby not been out there to look it over? No, Ruby has... she's already taking classes. I explained to Mam-ma that it's $10 a month, with a 3-month minimum, but she can well afford $30 a month. HOWEVER, those classes Ruby takes are extra... another $10 a month. I told her, "For $10 a month, you can walk on the track and swim in the pool. You could also play racquetball and basketball, but I don't see you doing that." She laughed. She said, "What I think I need is that pool. Ruby says that really helps her."

I don't think I ever made her understand that Ruby is not swimming laps or just floating around... she is taking water aerobics... and there is an extra fee for that, which Mam-ma can afford - but she won't like it. I suggested she go with Ruby to a class and just observe and see what she thought. She said, "Well, I really thought that YOU would take me out there to look it over." I told her I could not do that on that particular day, because I had Timmy at home and after her beauty shop I would have cold groceries. But I told her that if she and Ruby had not gone by the end of the week, I would come early on the next Friday and take her to see the facility.

So as I left, I said, "I bet you and Ruby can get out there sometime this week," and she said, "Well, I doubt it. Ruby goes to exercise class... then she goes to swim... and then she goes to work for her friend Gladys. She's got too many irons in the fire." So I'm thinking... if Ruby goes to exercise, THEN to swim, and then to Gladys' house to work, it's not going to work for Mam-ma to go with her anyway. This may all be a total bust. I know what's coming... Mam-ma is either going to want me to take her to the Center every day to walk, or she is going to finagle someone else to do it - like one of her deacons!

Actually, God humbled me by placing my friend Anna ahead of me in the check-out line at Wal-Mart.  Anna is a little older than my mother, and she has been like a second mother to me - our families have always been close. She and her husband have an adult grandson living with them.  He has a daughter nearly two years old, and for some reason, he only sees her every other weekend.  Supervised visits are required, and Anna and her husband, are the supervisors.  So every other weekend, this 70-something couple (who have a myriad of personal health issues) are hosts/supervisors to their great-grand-daughter, their grandson, and the grandson's mother and her husband!  Here I am, much younger than Anna, and she is caring for a child who is almost two every other weekend. GEEZ... I have no room for a pity party! I told her, "Bless your heart!" and I meant it!

Later in the week, I picked up an application for membership at the Community Center.  I realized that Greg and I were not going to utilize the pool for swimming laps, nor would we drive across town to walk on the indoor track when we have our own treadmill.  And I could not see my grandmother getting to that Center several times a week to walk/swim without a huge ordeal for her and everyone else.  So I called her and asked, "Do you want to go to the Center and look around?"  She said she did not... it was too hot (we've had triple digit heat for about two weeks running), and she had about decided the Center was not for her (thank you, God!).  So we opted to dismiss this project.

This past Friday, I went to get Mam-ma for her hair appointment, and she was confused and whining about how she "can hardly go." When I opened her medicine compartments, she had missed a LOT of medicine last week... Saturday, Monday and Tuesday mornings, and Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights! I showed her - she argued that she had NOT forgotten - and then she said, "Well, I'm sorry." Again, I told her, "Don't apologize, but when you say you are out of sorts and can't go, this might be why. Your body gets used to having this medicine three times a day." So now my mom is calling her every morning, and I'm calling her every evening to remind her to take her medicine. She won't like it, but it beats her going to the nursing home, which is the next step. I honestly don't think that Mam-ma would last six months in the nursing home... and neither does anyone else in the family.


My grandmother's comment about the medicine was, "Well, I haven't died yet!" I told her no, but she wasn't feeling great, either. This is just typical for someone who is nearly 98, and it could be so much worse.  My mom's aunt is in the nursing home here and dying of bladder cancer. In fact, she was transported to Little Rock for a surgery over the weekend- they cauterized a tumor in her bladder to try and stop some bleeding. It was very traumatic for my aunt - and every procedure is painful and frightening to her.  When my uncle died a few years ago, his son swore he would never be back - not even for his mother's funeral.  He lives on the West Coast.  A daughter who lives in New York has written letters to her mother - but she had not visited since her dad's funeral, either, which was 2005 - until this weekend.  I think the son is now planning to visit later in the month - if his mother is still alive.  Basically, my aunt has had no immediate family to see about her for years now.

I can't imagine this, but I know it happens ... and I know there are often mitigating circumstances, so I am not passing judgment.  I am just praying we can keep my grandmother living safely in her own home as long as possible.  And if/when she has to go to a nursing home, I know our lives will change dramatically as we do what is necessary to keep her happy and comfortable there.  Meanwhile, I am realizing just how fortunate and blessed we are, especially in comparison to many others. I'm leaning on God and praying faithfully ... and taking things one step at a time.  So far ... so good!

Just in Case...

Things have gone pretty smoothly of late with my grandmother's care.  She has been fairly agreeable, and she has thanked me often - and told me numerous times that she loves me.  Last week I took her to our local hospital for an outpatient check of her pacemaker.  I dropped her off at the covered walkway adjacent to the cafeteria, since we planned to have lunch there afterward.  It was a short elevator ride to her appointment. 

As I drove away, I thought, "Wait!  She's going to be 98 years old this fall, and I just dropped her off at the doorway unattended?"  But then I looked back and she was moving right along on her walker, entering the building.  I reminded myself she takes an almost daily walk around the block without any assistance, so while this was remarkable, getting inside a building by herself was no big deal... to her!

We kept Timothy for three days and nights last week, and he was so much fun, but we were pooped by the time he left.  He still doesn't consistently sleep well... a three-hour nap one day followed by no nap the next!  He fell asleep two nights running while eating dinner in his high chair.  I whisked him to a bath and into jammies... and then he got a "second wind" and was awake for a few more hours.  He walks and crawls everywhere, so we're in a constant state of motion when he is awake as we attempt to keep up with him.

Sunday, my grandmother phoned to ask, "Is it hot at your house?"  Yes, I assume it was the same temperature here as it was three miles on the other side of town.  The real purpose of her call was not determined... and that's okay.  At least it wasn't as bizarre as her call the Sunday before:

Mam-ma: "Are your mother and Lee gone?"
Me: "Yes, they went to have lunch with cousins in Quitman."
Mam-ma:  "Well, I just wondered.  Lee wasn't at church.  Your momma was there, but I didn't see him, so I wondered if they were okay."
Me:  "I don't know what to tell you.  Maybe he had to stay home and do something to get ready for their trip to Branson tomorrow."
Mam-ma:  "Well, I seen him headed toward the basement."
Me:  "The basement where?" (Their house has a basement.)
Mam-ma:  "The basement at church - that's where he parks his truck."
Me:  "So Lee was at church?"
Mam-ma:  "No, he wasn't at church.  He must have taught his Sunday School class and then left."
Me:  "Well, Mam-ma, I don't know what to tell you.  Maybe he got sick or something."
Mam-ma:  "Well, he played his trumpet with the band."
Me:  "So how did he play his trumpet if he didn't go to church?"
Mam-ma:  "He played with the band, but he didn't go to the choir after that."
Me:  "So he was at church?"
Mam-ma:  "Yes, but he didn't stay."
Me:  "I don't know what to tell you.  Obviously they have both gone to Quitman, so he must be okay now."

This was a bizarre conversation, to say the least.  I also told her at least twice that my mom and her husband were going to Branson for a week, so that my mom could do interviews and research for a book she is writing about the history of the entertainment industry in Branson. 

That evening, I related this conversation to my mom, and she said, "That is so weird.  I talked to your Mam-ma when we got home, and she asked if Lee was okay, and I said yes, and she said, 'Well, I didn't see him at church.'  I told her he was there and played his trumpet and sang in the choir as usual, and she said, 'Well I never saw him.'"  (Insert theme music from The Twilight Zone here!)

I tell all of this to explain my title - you knew I'd get to it eventually!  Several weeks ago, Mam-ma called one night and asked me if I thought she should have her air conditioner serviced, "just in case it doesn't work when I turn it on."  Now first of all, Mam-ma's house probably never gets any cooler than 85 degrees, so an air conditioner working at half capacity would most likely serve her needs just fine.  But I told her that it was up to her... the big worry on her part was whether she could afford it.  I assured her she could afford to have the unit serviced, but my husband told her that she should turn it on, see if it worked, and then decide if she needed service.  That was the last we heard about the air conditioner... until last night.

My phone rang about 6:30 p.m. as I was preparing our dinner... Mam-ma. 

Mam-ma:  "Debbie, I think maybe I better have my air conditioner serviced."
Me:  "That's fine.  Call Ricky (my cousin who used to work for a local company who did work on heating and air conditioning units) and ask him who you should contact.
Mam-ma:  "I just got off the phone with Ricky.  He told me to call XYZ.
Me:  "Fine.  We've used him before.  Call him tomorrow."
Mam-ma:  "Well, I'm not sure I can afford it."
Me:  "We've been through this before... you can afford it."
Mam-ma:  "Well, I really don't need it right now, but you just never know.  It's working fine for me, but I am just thinking about other people."
Me:  "You sleep on it, and if you want to call someone tomorrow morning, go ahead.  Have them send a bill, and I will pay it."
Mam-ma:  "Okay."

Figuring out why Timothy is cranky and crying is often a much easier dilemma than trying to decipher some of these "adult" conversations!  In the end, I can see that my grandmother is slipping, becoming more forgetful, and losing concentration.  I am taking one day at a time with her... and honestly, I find myself feeling more patient.  I know the time is short...and I am sure she senses that, too.  For now, we are taking things as they are, and as she would put it, trying to "make do."

I Can't Get No Satisfaction...

I made a trip to the medical supply store to try and get my grandmother's "wobbly" walker fitted with new legs to replace the one I ran over last week at the beauty shop.  The ladies were so nice there.  They said, "Oh, this has happened before."  In fact, the woman in charge said that she could fix up the "old" walker, but it would cost about $55, and the walker itself was a little unsteady, and she did not recommend fixing it.  What happens to these walkers?  Just a few months ago, it was outfitted with the 360-degree wheels for outside use and declared safe... now it's unsteady? 

Anyway, the woman went on to tell me that she thought we could qualify for a new walker covered by Medicare, since it has been two years since Mam-ma last got a new one.  Apparently these walkers are not designed to last very long, whether you run over them or they are driven around the blocks and through the stores and churches by little 97-year-old ladies!  I had to sign a waiver saying that I would pay the $130, if Medicare will not authorize the walker.  I did that. 

I also told the lady that Mam-ma had seen some white, flat tips on her friend's walker last Friday, and she had a fit over them - wanted some for HER walker... and she wanted BIG wheels.  The lady said the tips were called "gliders," and she had some... but they would be an extra $19.  I told her to put them on the new walker.  She fixed me up with the gliders and BIG wheels.

I took the walker to Mam-ma's, along with a box that contained the plain rubber tips that had been exchanged... and I took back the "old" walker, too.  I got Mam-ma to come out into the garage, and I showed her the brand spanking new walker - complete with white glider tips.  I have to admit, I was feeling pretty proud of my efforts!  Mam-ma looked the walker over and said... "Well... (long pause)... that's okay."  Okay?  What did she mean, "Okay?"  She harrumphed and said, "Well, it'll be okay if I don't stub my toe on them tips.  Gerry said she had to watch out for that."  Now, for the record, I never heard our little friend say a word about those tips causing her to stub her toe.  But I told Mam-ma..."If you decide you don't like them, we can take them off and put on the original rubber tips.  And if you wear them out on the concrete, we have the other tips in this box." She replied in a pitiful tone, "No... that's okay."

I parked the walkers, put the extra legs/tips in her closet, and let it go.  Clearly, there will be no satisfaction with the walker situation, regardless of what we get.  And that is useful information for the future. Meanwhile, we are garnering an arsenal of old, useless walkers - if anyone needs parts, we probably have 'em!

Fodder for the Blog

You can't make these things up.  Today, I ran over Mam-ma's walker!  The day had been going fairly well.  I had run errands for myself, then picked up Mam-ma and dropped her off at the hairdresser's.  She didn't need many groceries, so I decided to buy mine at the same time.  That, too, went smoothly.  I even stopped at the meat market for some steaks for our dinner.

When I returned to the hairdresser's, Mam-ma was sitting in a chair waiting on me.  The hairdresser was running behind when I left, but somehow she had managed to catch up - and then some.  Also waiting was a little friend of ours - and my birthday buddy - whom I call "Maw Mac."  She will be 92 on our birthday in July.  Maw Mac's daughter Marsha arrived in Maw Mac's Buick, and she parked perpendicular to my vehicle - and part of another - in the street.  So we weren't going anywhere until Maw Mac was loaded.  Marsha walked out with Mam-ma and up the passenger side of my vehicle.  She instructed Maw Mac to follow me around the driver's side of my vehicle, because that would put her in the right spot to get in her back seat.  Both ladies had walkers.

I never gave Mam-ma's walker another thought.  She got into my car.  I showed Marsha and Maw Mac pictures of Timothy, and then Marsha helped her mother into the car.  I got in, and when Marsha had driven away, I backed out of the parking lot.  I knew right away I hit something - but what?  I looked around and there was nothing behind me... and then I realized... the walker!  I stopped and got out, and there it lay, beside Mam-ma's door... warped, flattened along one spot, and ruined.  Mam-ma had folded it up and laid it against the back door on her side of the vehicle.  She NEVER does this.  I always fold and put away her walker.  Had she left it... we would not have hit it.  But it was partly my fault, too for not remembering it.

So I will take another walker that Mam-ma has - the one with the "roly-poly wheels" - and have a new walker outfitted for her on Monday.  She was not the least bit upset, because she is not happy with her current walker situation anyway, and this represents an opportunity for something new.  She had just commented inside the beauty shop that she wished her walker had feet on it like Maw Mac's - some sort of flat contraption I'd never seen before on the back legs.  I'll just have to see what the Medical Supply store can offer us.  I had cold groceries today and it was 80 degrees, humid as the tropics, and stormy, so I was not stopping now.

I rolled into Mam-ma's driveway and parked beside her friend Ruby.  I said, "Wonder what Ruby is up to..." and Mam-ma said, "Well, I'm sure we're going to the grocoery store!"  I had Mam-ma's groceries in the back seat!  Sure enough, we unpacked Mam-ma's groceries (buttermilk, "sweet" milk, orange juice and Three Musketeers) and she grabbed her purse.  I got one of her spare walkers for her, and she said, "Oh, no... I'm not taking that.  I don't take a walker to the store."  Ruby chimed in... "She holds onto my arm to get into the store, and then she pushes a buggy - she doesn't know what to do with that walker in the store."  I just shrugged and said, "Have a good weekend, girls!"  It was all I could do.  I'd bet a dollar to a donut Mam-ma buys more groceries while she is out with Ruby.

Fridays are always an adventure!