Making a Big Move

It's official... my grandmother is moving to an assisted living facility.  I put down the non-refundable deposit yesterday.  For over a month now, my grandmother has been telling other people that she was going to move into the assisted living facility.  But there were two obstacles:  1) there was no room available for which she qualified financially, and 2) every time I mentioned it, she would say, "I'm not a goin'!"  She also reminded me lately that... "your momma said I had a home to live in as long as I wanted."

My husband and I tread lightly as others began to tell us that my grandmother was reporting to them that she was moving to the assisted living facility... "as soon as they have a room for me."  And on Christmas Eve, she sat down on our hearth beside a cousin who lives in a condo on the same campus... collectively known as Southridge Village... and told him, "I'm ready.  I'm just waiting on a room."

I debated whether to phone the administrator and check on the availability of a room.  She had told me in late October that she would see what could be done and get back to me, and I had not heard anything.  But with the end of the year approaching, my husband and I decided a casual phone inquiry to ask if things had changed might be in order.  I didn't want to be the "spark" that lit this fire, but at the same time, I didn't want us to get deeply into the cold, dreary winter months and miss an opportunity for Mam-ma to spend those days in the company of others whom she would enjoy.

I phoned the administrator, and she said that nothing had changed... however, some things were about to change for 2011, and she just happened to be headed to a staff meeting to discuss the new adjustments.  She would see what could be done and call me.  The next morning, she phoned to say that a room was available.  I told her I would bring my grandmother to look it over the next day.

This process is not quick or simple.  There is a large amount of paper work to complete... physical evaluations to administer by a nurse and my grandmother's family physician, and more. In total, all of this will take four to six weeks to complete.  There was also a non-refundable deposit to the ALF ($500 at this particular facility, depending upon the resident's circumstances and level of admission).   And there will be additional monthly expenses... toiletries, personal items such as stamps, stationery, telephone service, candy and cookies, the hairdresser, and other "extras" are not included.

We never dreamed that an ALF would be an option for my grandmother... it seemed too far out of reach financially.  So we have done all we could to keep her safe and happy in her own home.  But the day has come when she is needing more attention and services - and she is lonely.  Home Health nurses, friends and family members can come through her door all day long, but she needs the continual companionship of people her own age, and this is where we think the ALF experience will shine.

We toured the room and the facility, and Mam-ma liked it.  I've completed all of the forms, and I've set up appointments for her exams and reviews.  We will begin to look at her clothing and personal items and determine what she should take with her... and what needs to be left behind.  I've assured her that all she has to do on moving day is get her purse and coat and go... my husband and I will handle the rest - along with my mom. 

Already, I've seen a marked difference in my grandmother.  I think this decision has weighed on her for months.  Once she made up her mind to go, she has been like a new person. (I'm knocking on wood here!) When I picked her up for her beauty shop appointment, she had no complaints. She was forgetful... but pleasant and accommodating.  She asked me to purchase a new quilt top for her at Wal-Mart, so that she could make a baby quilt for her church's youth leader... a decision she would never have allowed someone else to make for her in the past. I was concerned that what I chose would not suit her... she declared it "just fine."  She told me "I didn't know what to put on the grocery list... I don't know what I want."  I reminded her that soon, she won't have to worry about that, and she agreed.

At Southridge, there will be three meals a day, with a "daily special" plus options from a menu.  Snacks and coffee/tea, etc., are offered throughout the day.  This will be more food than my little grandmother can ever hope to eat.  And she has a mini-fridge in her room, so she can keep Ensure and Cokes (and her Three Musketeers and Chips Ahoy cookies) for midnight cravings and extra sustenance.  She can take her bird feeder... the maintenance person will keep it filled if she provides the seed.  She can take her sewing machine and place it in the activities/crafts room.  She can take her gardening tools and help in the spring/summer with a common garden.  Newspapers are provided - both the daily state paper and the semi-weekly local editions.  Each room comes with Directv... more channels than she presently gets at home with her extended cable package.  She has her own heat/AC unit, which thrills her... the room can be as hot or cold as she desires!

Beyond that, for my peace of mind, she will have medical and CNA attention... as much as needed.  There will be help with bathing, daily administration of her medications, and an alert button she carries with her at all times.  There are safety measures in place should there be a power failure or other emergency.  No more worrying that she is out in a rain storm trying to tell the neighbors her power is out... or dashing to her storm cellar.  No more concern about her slipping on an icy driveway as she walks to her mailbox - or that she will be trying to shovel snow and ice from said driveway "so people can get to me."  No more concern over her falling or having a heat stroke while watering her summer flowers and garden - the maintenance staff will water them for her!

There will be no more concern about Mam-ma's cooking.  And once these papers are completed, there will be fewer forms to complete over the year.  For the first time in years, I will be able to enjoy my grandmother rather than manage her care.

On Christmas Eve, my grandmother seemed so frail and confused... restless and miserable.  I looked at her and thought... "we may not have her with us next year."  After we toured Southridge, I asked my husband how much longer he supposed we will have Mam-ma.  He replied, "I'd give her about another eight years."  And truly, if she does as well as we think she will at Southridge, she very well might make it to 106!  But even if she only lives another few weeks or months, I know this is the right decision... and I think she does, too.

As we begin a new year, change is on the horizon.  Mam-ma told the administrator, "This is the biggest change I've ever made in my life."  I thought about her changes... losing her home of nearly 30 years to a fire, becoming a widow, losing her only grandson, son, and a long-term companion within the course of 2 years just a little over a decade ago, moving from her farm to a house in town, and more... all big changes.  But she knows that this change is probably more significant.  She realizes that admitting you can no longer live alone in your own home is a big step... and one that has a myriad of ramifications.

I have no doubt that this will not go as smoothly as I would like... there will be dark days and hard times as we near the move-in day.  But everyone who knows my Mam-ma will tell you, she is one tough bird... and she will rise to the occasion.  I'll let you know how it goes!

A Full Plate

Sooner or later, many life-changing events for elderly people center around a car - and usually, this involves a collision.  Tuesday, I took my daily walk mid-afternoon.  I often use this as prayer time, and I spent this particular hour talking to God about a packet we had received in the mail that day from our church.  This packet contained a tabloid outlining ways that church members could serve in church ministry ... everything from serving as Sunday morning attendance or Communion steward to teaching a Sunday School class or Bible study.

I mentally checked off those ministries in which my husband and I already participate ... and there are several ... and those in which we have served in the past (even more).  I talked to God and expressed my concerns - that I have a full plate already with the care of my grandmother, my great-nephew and another baby on the way, and helping my husband with his mother ... not to mention life in general, the ministries in which we already serve, and more.  I asked Him ... "What do you want me to do?  Am I where you want me?" and I told Him... "I almost feel like I spend many days just waiting for 'the other shoe to drop' and don't need to add anything else in the meantime.  Am I right, or do You have other plans?"

I really didn't expect God to answer so quickly ... but if I have learned one thing in recent months, it is that I must be ready at all times for God to show me whatever He wants to show me.  So when I walked in the door and sat down to recalibrate my pedometer, I shouldn't have been surprised to hear the phone ring.  I glanced at Caller ID and saw the name of my grandmother's "yard man," so I answered. 

The voice on the other end was shaky and belonged to a woman ... "Debbie, this is Ruby.  Me and Polly went to Fred's, and on the way home, somebody hit us.  My car won't start ... can you come get us?"  My mind began racing...

"Are you hurt?"
"No, but my car won't start."
"Did you call the police?"
"Yes, they are here now.  We're at the corner by the church and the library."

I knew this location well - two blocks west of my mom's house, and just across the corner from the police department.  I told Ruby, "I'll be right there."  Is there a Murphy's law that says that 90% of the time when these things happen, your hair will be dirty and stringy, you won't have on any makeup or clean clothes, you'll be sweaty from working out ... and there will be no time to even think about those things?!

I grabbed my purse and told my husband what had happened. He offered to go with me, and I thanked him and told him that I would call him if I needed him, but for now, I was fine.  I wished later I had taken him - he thinks so much faster and more clearly than I in these situations.  But I had assumed from Ruby's conversation that it was nothing serious.

I arrived at the scene to find a wrecker loading Ruby's car on a trailer.  I rolled down my window and told one of the police officers I was there "to collect two little ladies." "Good!" he said, pointing to my grandmother and Ruby, who were standing to one side leaned against a minivan.  I pulled in beside it.  There was no broken glass that I could see, and I didn't notice any damage to Ruby's car.

An older woman, a younger woman, and a little girl were talking to the ladies and getting sacks of groceries out of Ruby's car and putting them into the van.  There was also a young man I recognized from my church, and an adult friend of this young man's mother, standing nearby.  There was also an ambulance parked beside the minivan, lights blinking, and I assumed this was a routine formality.  The policeman told me, "The lady in the white coat complained of chest pains, but she is refusing treatment."  I looked over, and both little ladies had on white jackets, and they waved at me and grinned.  I thanked the officers, and they left.

I turned to the ladies and asked, "Who has chest pain?"  Mam-ma said, "I do, but I'm fine."  "Are you sure?" I asked.  "Yes," she replied.  One of the EMTs asked her, "Are you sure you don't want us to take you to be checked out?"  She told her no... she was fine. 

By this time, the young man driving the wrecker was tapping on my shoulder, wanting to know if I could follow him to the Ford dealership to retrieve the rest of the car's contents.  I told him no, that I had two little ladies to take home.  I said, "Why can't we get the rest out here?"  "Oh, the police want this cleaned up quickly," he replied.  He also wanted to know who was going to pay for his services, and he said normally he got paid at the scene.  Ruby asked him how much it would cost, and he said he didn't know.  I assured him he would get his money, and I walked over to the car and saw that most of the groceries had been retrieved.  I grabbed the rest, along with Ruby's prescriptions from the Fred's pharmacy, and I told him we were good.  I gave him my phone number and again assured him he would be paid, and he left.

I returned to my two little ladies and the women and child with the van, still unsure what exactly had happened.  The young man and his adult friend were still there, too.  I asked him, "How do you figure into this equation?"  He replied, "It's all my fault... I hit them."  I was able to determine that the lady with the minivan was the wife of Mam-ma and Ruby's yard man, and she happened to drive up just after this accident occurred.  Recognizing the two ladies, she stopped to help.  She had planned to take Ruby home, so they were loading Ruby's groceries into the minivan.

We transferred Ruby's groceries to my Jeep, and I loaded the two ladies to head home.  We no sooner got in and buckled our seat belts, when Mam-ma said, "Can... you... take me... to the ER?  My... chest... hurts ... and I... can't get... my... breath."  I just looked at her.  "You need to go to the ER?"  "Yes," she said between short breaths.  "Do we need to go straight there, or do you feel like me taking Ruby home first?" I asked.  "Take Ruby home," she answered.

All the way to Ruby's, which was some 10-12 blocks, Mam-ma was saying, "Oh... that hurts so bad ...oh ... my chest hurts ... oh... oh... oh."  We pulled into Ruby's driveway, and Ruby said, "I don't have a house key... it's on the car key ring, and the police couldn't get my keys out of the ignition."  But then she quickly remembered that she had a key hidden.  She told me where it was, and I dashed to get it.  This was Ruby's first day to drive since having the fall and breaking 3-4 ribs a month ago, and she was in no shape to dash anywhere.

I got the key, grabbed Ruby's cold milk from the car, and unlocked her house.  I told her we would be in touch later and get the rest of her groceries to her.  I got back into my car, and Mam-ma was clutching her chest and moaning between short breaths.  I asked, "WHY did you refuse the ambulance?"  "I didn't know I did."  I told her the policeman had told me she refused, and she even told me that she was fine.  She said, "Well, I didn't know." 

We started across town - 4:30 p.m. - "rush hour" traffic beginning, and Mam-ma saying, "Oh... I can't get my breath."  I told her I was driving as fast as I could without speeding.  I thought, "If she passes out on me, she just does... all I can do is keep driving and stay calm." 

We arrived at the ER, and the waiting room was filled with patients.  I knew the admissions clerk... a woman from my church, and I quickly explained the problem.  She took information from me and asked us to be seated.  My cousin, who is an LPN, was in the ER with a patient from the clinic where she works, so she helped me get Mam-ma seated ... then to the bathroom ... then seated again.  More than 20 minutes went by before we were called back to an exam room.  We both pointed out to Mam-ma that, had she ridden to the ER in an ambulance, she would have been driven directly to the back entrance and placed in an exam room.  "Well, I didn't know that," she said pitifully.

While I was handling the insurance and admission forms, my cell phone rang - the guy with the wrecker service.  He wanted me to know he had stuck a bill in the car visor.  I told him that I would let the car owner know.  Sheesh!  This was the least of my worries at the moment!

In the exam room, more questions were asked, and Mam-ma was hooked to a monitor.  Her BP was 207 over 90-something.  The nurses went into high gear getting her in a reclining position and trying to lower those numbers.  I told them that her BP always goes up in the ER and at the clinic, and usually it comes down (and it did, somewhat).  She was also due for her night-time medications, which include Coreg for high blood pressure.  They made note of all of this, but no medications were given.

The doctor came in and asked Mam-ma what happened.  As she began to tell him, she started crying, which is something Mam-ma often does, but it was effective in garnering her sympathy from the medical staff.  The doctor ordered a chest X-ray.  A couple of hours later, he said the X-rays were inconclusive, and he ordered a CT-scan.  He said, "We're making sure nothing is cracked and there are no punctured lungs." 

At 9:30 p.m., we were dismissed.  The diagnosis was a bruised sternum, resulting in pain when deep breaths are taken.  BUT... failure to take deep breaths can result in pneumonia, so she was told to breathe deeply throughout the day for the next week or so, regardless of how much it hurt.  The doctor gave her a muscle relaxer tablet to take when she got home - and a prescription for 12 more.  The doctor also said she would be woozy and would need someone to stay with her, at least that first night.

So I loaded Mam-ma into the car and drove her to my house, where I took my medication, grabbed some food to take with me and an overnight bag and a nightshirt, and off we went to her house.  I got her home and inside her house, and while I fixed her dinner, she called Ruby to give her the report.  By now it was nearly 10 p.m.  Mam-ma ate and took her night-time medications.  She said, "I'm not taking that pill (the muscle relaxer)" - fine by me.  She added, "I'll just take two Tylenol."  She did, as well as one of her Ativan tablets for anxiety. 

I knew from when my mother-in-law took this same muscle relaxer  a few weeks ago that the side effects would mean someone would have to stay with Mam-ma for several days, if she decided to take the medication.  I told her unless she needed the prescription, I was not having it filled. She insisted I leave the first tablet with her "just in case," but I brought the prescription home with me and have not filled it.  And clearly, she doesn't need it.

After I got Mam-ma fed, she went to her room to dress for bed while I called my mom (who was in Memphis visiting her husband's family) and gave her the report.  While we were talking, Mam-ma came into the living room and asked, "Are you gonna sleep with me, or do you want to sleep in the other bedroom?"  I told her I would sleep in the other bedroom, thanks!  She went right away to turn down the spare bed.  I followed her, assuring her I would do that, while Mom was laughing and saying, "No you won't, no you won't!"  Sure enough, Mam-ma turned down the bed.  She also made 2 more trips through the house to check her garage to make sure I closed the big door (I had), and she turned out most of the lamps, and then she told me she was afraid I would get hot in the night.  I assured her if I did, I'd move to the couch and turn on a ceiling fan.

Our nights are cooling off now, and on the way home, Mam-ma had declared, "When we get home, I'm turning on the fire (meaning she'd turn up the thermostat!)."  Her house is usually like an oven anyway, and I thought, "Great... this will be fun... NOT!"  She apparently didn't turn up the thermostat, because it didn't get unbearably warm in her house overnight.  And she slept like a baby - probably from the medications she took, all of the excitement, and a busy day she had experienced the day before that included afternoon company and dinner out.

I was up much of the night, and the next morning, Mam-ma was up before 7:00.  She seemed fine - was sore, but moving around well - and I left her getting a bowl of cereal and looking for her Home Health aide, who was coming for the routine check-up and morning bath between 8:00 and 8:30.  She insisted she wanted to keep her hair appointment that afternoon, so I told her I would be back to get her before 1:30 ... and I asked her to tell Ruby that I would drop off her groceries later. 

I swung by the Ford dealership and retrieved Mam-ma's remote garage door opener, which she always leaves in the pocket of the passenger door.  Ruby's passenger door was warped and would not open, so I had to slide in on the driver's side. 

I came home, regrouped and showered, and returned to town to run some errands and take Ruby her groceries before picking up Mam-ma for the hairdresser.  Ruby said she was fine... sore, but fine... and she was very worried about Mam-ma. I had heard Mam-ma tell her the night before as they talked on the phone that "Debbie will take you to the beauty shop tomorrow."  Ruby goes to another hairdresser about an hour before Mam-ma goes to her appointment.  Since she didn't have a car, I guess she didn't have a ride to her appointment.  Honestly, I assumed when Ruby was at home that she either didn't feel like going, or she had simply decided not to go.  So I did not offer to take her.

Again that afternoon, Mam-ma seemed fine.  We got her hair fixed and got her back home.  I had picked up some things she wanted at the store, and I put those away for her.  I talked with her later that evening to make sure she had taken her medication, and she still seemed fine.

Saturday morning, Ruby called me, and she was very upset.  Her son had told her that she can still drive - and apparently he got the car fixed enough to be driveable - but he does not want her to have passengers any more.  She did not know how to tell Mam-ma.  I assured her this was FINE... and we would make Mam-ma understand.  This is too much responsibility ... and potential liablility ... for Ruby, who is 91.  We talked at length about the whole situation and what will happen long-term.  Ruby said, "If I have to stop driving, my life is over."  I assured her it will not be, but I know she is scared of the future and potential changes.

I tried to reassure Ruby as much as possible, and when we hung up, she said, "You've helped me feel a lot better."  I hope so.  A whole lot of changes have happened to these two ladies in a very short time ... and it's a lot to digest.  Thankfully, both are relatively unscathed for the moment.  Ruby's ribs are apparently healing, and Mam-ma's bruising will subside in a few days, hopefully.  But it doesn't end there, and we all know it.  Ruby told me that Mam-ma told the policeman she was 79, not 97.  She often does this - transpose the numbers.  An 84-year-old friend was 48 one day, etc.

Last night, Mam-ma called me around 9:30 and asked, "Debbie, did your momma and Lee get back home yet?"  I told her yes... FRIDAY.  Then I reminded her, "You talked to Momma this morning, didn't you?"  I knew that she had.  "Well, yes," she answered... "I guess I did."  I told her again that they got home Friday night, which seemed to surprise her, and she said, "Well, I knew I talked to her this morning, but she never called me again."  I replied, "Was she supposed to?  When I checked on you after dinner, you said you were going to call her in the morning and let her know whether you were going to church or not."  She answered, "Well... okay..." and I started to say something else, only to realize I was talking to dead air.  "Mam-ma?  Hello?  Hello?"  She was gone - she had hung up on me, as usual.  Some things never change!

So I let my mom know that Mam-ma had called and was confused.  Mom said if she didn't hear from Mam-ma Sunday morning, she would check on her.  Apparently, Mam-ma was well enough to attend Sunday School and church today, have lunch with Mom and her husband, and then stop at Wal-Mart for cookies and bread.  She is devastated that she can no longer ride with Ruby and that "... my life is over.  I guess I'll just stay home and never go anywhere."  Mom assured her that this is not the case, but Mam-ma, of course, replied, "You just don't understand."

Truly, we don't understand, because our universes are anything but parallel to my grandmother's.  I am content for days on end to stay home and enjoy my hobbies and writing and caring for my household.  My prayer is that I always have interests and hobbies to fill my days - and the ability to enjoy them.  I also pray that I will be adaptable, and if arthritis renders my fingers unable to do some of the things I enjoy now, like playing piano and typing on a keypad and small handwork, I'll find something else to enjoy!  So much of life is just what we make of it... and I hope I'm learning this for the long haul.

Meanwhile, I have assured Ruby that none of these changes are her fault.  She feels guilty that Mam-ma can no longer ride with her.  She fears that we will place my grandmother in the assisted living facility as a result.  I have assured her that if/when Mam-ma goes to the assisted living facility, it has nothing to do with the car accident - or Ruby's ability to taxi Mam-ma around.  This was already being discussed.  It may never happen ... or she may go next week.  But regardless, it will be the result of a compilation of circumstances - and the best thing for Mam-ma.

My mom thinks Mam-ma has already picked out her next taxi driver - a little lady who has driven her to the Senior Citizens' Center a couple of times for lunch - and who hit the accelerator rather than the break a few months ago and plowed into the wall of a downtown bank!  I have no doubt that Mam-ma is in "preservation mode" and considering all of her options for finding new means to stay "out and about."  At two weeks shy of age 98, she is not ready to settle down and stay put... and maybe there's a lesson in that for all of us. 

The other night at the ER, my cousin asked Mam-ma, "Won't you let me take your shoes off?  You'd be more comfortable."  She replied, "NO!  Leave 'em on... I'm not stayin' - I'm going home!"  The later it got, with all of her symptoms and maladies, I felt certain the doctor might keep her.  But sure enough, he dismissed her, and she walked out under her own power.  The next time I bump into her with a friend at Wal-Mart or Fred's, I won't be the least bit surprised. 

Meanwhile, I have thanked God for his quick - and profound - answer.  I truly do have a full plate at the moment ... and I'm handling all that I can - and should.  There's a reality television show that begins with one of the stars saying, "It may be a crazy life, but it's our life," and that is a great description of my present world.  To an outsider, it may seem chaotic and insane - and some days it is.  But for the most part, we've learned to manage on the present "diet."  We just don't have room for another bite!

So Far .... So Good!

The daily phone calls to remind my grandmother to take her medicine are going well ... so far.  She seems to be enjoying the attention and is quite chatty ... and she is remembering to take her daily doses!

Last night, I tried to talk to Mam-ma about getting Meals on Wheels.  She argued with me that the meals are not the same as what is served to those who physically go to the Senior Citizens' Center for their lunch.  I assured her the meals were exactly the same ... and Greg confirmed this. He delivers on Mondays, and I've helped him a time or two, and I've seen how they serve the food - and it all comes out of the same pots! 

Anyway, I told Mam-ma I am concerned about her use of the stove and not realizing that the gas is on under a burner, but there is no flame.  She said, "I knew that gas was on.  Ruby had been here, and she told me that there was gas on at the stove, but I didn't get up and see about it."  I asked her why she didn't do that, and she said, "Well ... I forgot!"  I stressed to her that she must remember those things - and she must be very careful about the stove. She said she fries an egg each morning for her breakfast.  I guess now when Mom calls, she can ask, "Did you take your medicine?" AND "Did you turn off your stove?"!

Here's a link to a great story about a caregiving angel.  They do walk among us!
http://newoldage.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/08/10/the-caregiver-next-door/

Fodder for the Blog

Whenever something happens lately with my grandmother, I've begun shrugging and saying, "Oh well... fodder for the blog!"  So last week, a dear lady in our community passed away at the age of 102.  Charlsie Baldridge Little was an iconic figure in our community and a tremendous role model for women everywhere. 

Widowed on Pearl Harbor Day at the age of 33, Ms. Charlsie reared two young sons alone, supporting them as a school teacher who made $100 per month!  She managed to stretch that money enough to take summer vacations and introduce her sons to culture and art... such as opera performances they attended by riding a bus some 65 miles to Little Rock. 

Mrs. Little left her sons with their grandparents for a couple of summers while she attended graduate school at Peabody (part of Vanderbilt University) in Nashville, Tennessee.  For a woman to have a master's degree in the late forties/early fifties was rare, particularly in the South... but not if you were Ms. Charlsie!

After retiring in 1973, Mrs. Little formed a local county historical society. She traveled to Little Rock to the state history commission each week to gather data and research family trees.  She also authored a book for the 100th birthday celebration of our community's First Baptist Church - Upon This Rock. Her daughter-in-law, Barbara, (who was my piano teacher), declared Ms. Charlsie to be "a force to be reckoned with" - and she was that and more. 

My mother remembers being in second grade and thinking she would take her cousin's collie dog to school with her.  She envisioned Bing lying beside her school desk, much like Lassie did in the movies.  But when she got to the front door and started inside, her principal - Ms. Charlsie - told her sternly, "Get that dog out of the school house!"  And of course, she did.  She said as a child, she was afraid of Mrs. Charlsie... and one can understand this, because Mrs. Little was so pragmatic, all-business, frank, and yes, stern!  But she was also a model of decency, propriety, and order.

I explain all of this to say that I telephoned my grandmother to see if she wanted to go with me to Ms. Charlsie's funeral.  She did not... she was going to visitation the night before with my mom, and that would suffice.  She added... "I didn't know anything about this until today."  I told her I had assumed her "network" of friends would have let her know right away.  "Well, they didn't," she retorted.  I laughed and said, "They are falling down on the job."  She answered, "Yes, you are!"  I added that I was referring to her Sunday School members, with whom she speaks almost daily.  It was lost on her.

Friday went smoothly... for the most part.  We went to the beauty shop, and I bought groceries.  She had Lysol on the list, and I bought a can of spray... she needed liquid for disinfecting the toilet.  I suggested she get some the next time she and Ruby visited Fred's.

Speaking of Fred's... when Mom took Mam-ma and Ruby to the visitation for Ms. Charlsie, they were getting in their car afterward, and Mam-ma said, "Ruby, do you know where my purse is?"  Ruby asked, "Did you leave it in my car?"  Mam-ma replied, "No, it's at Fred's."  This was Thursday evening... Mam-ma and Ruby had shopped at Fred's on Monday or Tuesday.  Apparently Mam-ma left her purse there, and the store clerks tried to use a phone number inside to contact her, but it wasn't working.  We think maybe it was my sister's old land line number.  Anyway, one of the clerks said, "I know where she lives, and I go by there on my way home.  I'll stop and tell her the purse is here."  I guess they felt that was better than taking the purse, in case Mam-ma didn't answer her door. 

So the clerk stopped and told my grandmother that her purse was at Fred's.  My mom and her husband drove by the store on their way home from the visitation and retrieved the purse.  Mom looked inside, and everything appeared to be there - including $23 in cash.  Mom chastised Mam-ma about being careful... and not carrying a lot of cash in her purse!  Everyone remarked that only in a small town such as ours could something like this happen.  In a major city, nobody would drive to a little old lady's house to let her know her purse had been left.

Mam-ma chalked it up to forgetfulness, but this was the tip of the iceberg.  On Saturday, my sister phoned my grandmother and told her she was coming for a visit.  This was around noon.  Ruby phoned afterward and asked my grandmother to go with her to the nursing home to visit friends.  Mam-ma said she could not... Suzanne was coming for a visit.  My sister stopped at my mom's house for a visit first.  She had baby Timmy with her, and they stayed a half hour or better and arrived at my grandmother's around 2:00 p.m.  The house was locked up tight, and no one would answer the doors.

Naturally, this frightened my sister.  She phoned my mom, and Mom checked with Ruby to see if perhaps Mam-ma was with her.  No, Ruby was at home alone, but this worried her.  Of course, Mom assumed the worst. So she and her husband grabbed their house key and hurried to my grandmother's.  I'm not sure if Ruby came along or not.  Anyway, Mam-ma was not dead in the floor as anticipated... she was not there.  But chicken pieces were baking in the oven... almost burned to a crisp.  Mom said they were rendered inedible.

While Mom and the crew were searching the house for my grandmother, a truck pulled up.  In it were Mam-ma and her friends from church, the Barbers.  They had been to pick plums.  Mom fussed at Mam-ma for leaving the chicken in the oven... she forgot.  She phoned my sister later and apologized for forgetting she was coming.  I don't think it has fully registered with her the gravity of forgetting in such a short period of time all that had transpired... and leaving food baking, to boot.  All she could think about was getting plums to make jelly!

At first, Mom didn't think this really bothered Mam-ma at all.  But she has now phoned my sister at least three, maybe four times to apologize... and she has phoned my mom and her husband once.  She couldn't believe she forgot.  Neither could we.  So there is a pattern developing... and it's not good.  We are all forgetful, but when cooking is involved, the stakes are greatly elevated.  I am not sure how we will deal with this, but we are probably going to have to address it at some point... particularly before "peanut brittle making season" rolls around again.

I know God takes care of these situations in ways we cannot, and I am praying He does this for us.  Ms. Charlsie lived in the nursing home for eight years.  I am not sure Mam-ma could last there 8 weeks.  She would be so miserable.  I love my grandmother dearly and don't want to lose her... but if "the day" comes when she is inside her home when we unlock the door, that will be fine by me.

Ten Steps to Easier Care of Your Senior Adult

Knowledge is power... and I've harnessed many of my personal experiences into a list of ten steps that can help you better manage the care of your senior adult.  They are not rocket science, but I bet some of them will be new to you - or offered in a manner you had not previously considered.

The leaflet is only $3 and is available in PDF format... e-mailed directly to you.  You can order online using the info on the left-hand sidebar of this blog... PayPal and credit card payments are accepted. 

More informational data sheets may be offered at a later date.  If you have suggestions for topics that might be helpful, please contact me.  I welcome your feedback!

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!

Can You See Me Now?

This is a big week for my grandmother.  Thursday night is the annual "Widows Banquet" at her church.  I did not make up this name - they really do call it the "Widow's Banquet."  Each deacon at the First Baptist Church is responsible for the care and nurture of assigned widows.  My grandmother's deacon is wonderful... and he does many very nice things for Mam-ma.  This banquet is always a HUGE deal - as much as the prom is important to any teenager.  We moved Mam-ma's hair appointment to early Thursday, so that her hair will look nice, and she will have plenty of time to rest and dress.  Usually her deacon brings her a corsage, and she wears her nicest outfit.  The church social hall is decorated, the meal is always "delicious," and there is generally live entertainment - usually a musical group.  Mam-ma talks about it for weeks before and afterward.

So Monday, as I sat down to eat a late lunch and visit with my husband and mother-in-law, the phone rang.  Mam-ma wanted to know some details about her funeral.  I explained that everything was taken care of - I had personally spoken to two owners of the funeral home, and all would be handled to her satisfaction.  Then she said, "Well... I want His Eye is on the Sparrow and Beulah Land" (meaning she wants these songs sung at her funeral).  I wrote it down.  I told her I had heard from my mom that she wanted a certain church member to sing Beulah Land after it was sung at another funeral recently.  She said it didn't matter who sang it... and I pointed out she had previously told me she wanted a men's group to sing, and she retorted, "Why, they can't sing Beulah Land!"  I laughed and made notes.  I also asked about the hymns she had told me several months ago she wanted sung.  Now she wants His Eye Is On the Sparrow and Beulah Land.  I told her this was fine - and I would note that today she wants these songs. 

Then I asked, "Are you planning on kicking off any time soon?"  "No," she laughed, "but when you sit here by yourself all alone and think about things, you get to thinking about this."  Later my mom pointed out she doesn't plan to die before the banquet!  Anyway, I tried to console her and reassure her that we would carry out her wishes.

That evening, Mam-ma phoned again.  "Debbie," she said.  "I just sat on my glasses and broke them all to pieces!"  We talked about what she could do - didn't she have another pair that was very similar and close to the same age?  Yes, but she couldn't see out of them (I didn't understand this) and they were "great big."  No, that must be another pair, I told her, but she insisted.  I told her I wasn't sure when I could get there to help her... I was expecting to have the baby the next day and Greg had afternoon appointments.  She said, "Well, that's okay... but I need to be able to see for the banquet."  I pointed out that there would be no way to get new glasses by Thursday.  Maybe these could be repaired.

So Tuesday morning, I called the eye clinic and asked if we coudl come in and see about the glasses.  I dashed to Mam-ma's and collected her.  She was wrapping her glasses in a handkerchief - mangled wire frames with both lenses out - but not broken.  I hoped the girl could repair them.  She thought she could, but there was a piece broken that required a special solder, so we were unable to repair the old set.  New frames were ordered - they will be ready in two weeks!  Mam-ma said, "I can't see out of these others."  The girl checked, and they were misaligned, and she was seeing the bifocal at the same time as the other part, so hopefully that is better now.

We had quite a discussion about whether Medicaid would pay for the glasses.  At first the receptionist said that Medicaid would pay... but when I questioned this, based on past experience, she investigated, and Mam-ma has some sort of "QMB" Medicaid that doesn't cover glasses, apparently... at least not very frequently.  So we will pay $119 - and maybe that is "our" portion for Medicaid - for new frames.  As we left, Mam-ma told the receptionist, "Now I do have Medicaid."  She replied, "Yes ma'am, I know." Under my breath, I told her, "The less Mam-ma knows about how much this is costing, the better."  The woman answered... "I gathered that!"  On the way home, Mam-ma asked, "How much are these glasses gonna cost me?"  I told her around $100 - and that she can afford it.  She always tells me how "broke" she is!

I took Mam-ma home to rest... she had washed her windows yesterday (inside), and she was exhausted. Hopefully she will feel good for Thursday. I got home before Timothy arrived... now he is giving us a workout! Timothy was 11 months old yesterday. My mother reminded me that I was his age when my sister was born! Hmm... an infant and a toddler vs. an infant and a grandmother... there is no "winner" in either of those scenarios! Both have their challenges AND rewards. Some days they are just easier to see.

End of the Year Housekeeping

Happy New Year! Our year ended with two words... stomach flu! My sister phoned me three days before Christmas and wanted to know if I could come and get my great-nephew. She had succumbed to stomach flu (he was still recovering), and neither she nor her husband could manage the illness AND a baby. Timmy's mother was working long shifts as a nurse's aide at a local nursing home, so my husband and I were next on the list for baby care. We picked up the baby and brought him home, and we began to help him recover from his bout with this "bug" in time for our family holiday on Christmas Eve. We made it through our Christmas lunch, and then my husband began to feel sick. My mom and her husband and my grandmother decided they were already exposed, so they stayed until early evening.

The next morning around 3:30, I awoke so nauseous I could not move. I looked at the baby sleeping in his crib and thought, "I can't even get up to check on him." We managed until mid-morning, when the baby's dad arrived to get him. It was a long Christmas Day, and my husband began to gradually feel better, assuring me that within 24 hours, I would be better, too. And I was... but by December 26th, my mom's husband was down, and my grandmother was saying she was sick. She recovered the fastest of any of us, so we aren't sure if she really had the "bug" or if she ate too much rich holiday food. Either way, we were thankful she bounced back so quickly.

Meanwhile, there has been so much end of the year work to be done. I got Mam-ma re-enrolled in Medicare Part D coverage - a new provider, of course. I've begun getting the papers to apply for her supplemental assistance. I filled out several pages of information for one service, including a lengthy bank statement showing her auto-draft for utilities for the past three months. The application was returned, noting that I needed "proof" of her utility payments. Apparently highlighting her auto-drafts on a bank statement is not sufficient evidence. We determined that this supplemental assistance, which nets some $14/month, is not worth the time and trouble it takes to apply for it, so we are forfeiting. I realize that this is what the agency may hope will happen, and if my grandmother truly depended on this service, we would keep it. But we are in "divide and conquer" mode, and frankly, I just did not have the time and energy to collect - and copy - all of her utility bills, proof of her pharmacy purchases, burial insurance and more for $168. I'm something of a slow learner, I guess, since I've done exactly this for several years now. But I finally decided to cry "Uncle" on this one - and thankfully, Mam-ma agreed to it.

Meanwhile, I am very grateful that my 97-year-old grandmother is doing so well. Sure, she gives me a run for my money many days, but all in all, we're doing great. My sister-in-law lost her 90-year-old father on December 21st to a massive brain bleed. Her 91-year-old mother suffers from macular degeneration and other physical ailments. The family laughed that "together, this couple made a whole person." She couldn't see - he couldn't hear. Now decisions have to be made about how this mother will function alone - and IF she can manage in her own home with help. Mam-ma still sees well enough to embroider pillowcases, read the newspaper daily, and do routine household and personal chores. She still hears relatively well and can manage quite ably in her own home with the assistance of Home Health aides and family and friends. I realize this is a delicate, and precarious situation that could quickly change. And she does show signs of becoming more confused and forgetful. But for the moment, we are hanging on and making it all work.

I look at my little nephew and how dependent he is on us for virtually everything in his life, and then I look at my grandmother and the assistance she requires, and I realize that the two are different, yet somewhat similar. Timmy's needs are more physical - food, clothing, clean diapers - while Mam-ma's are more of the paper variety - forms to complete, errands to run, medicine to dispense, bills to pay, and more... at least for the moment. At some point, the needs may begin to look more and more alike. My sister-in-law said her prayer was always that her parents would be able to live alone in their own home until one of them fell over dead, and that is virtually how it happened. This is my prayer, too - that for as long as humanly possible, Mam-ma will be able to function in her own home, on her own terms. I'm doing all I can to make this happen... and for now, we're doing okay.