Are You Really That Busy?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


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

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

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

Are We Really Having This Conversation Again?

I did not realize it had been so long since my last post.  Somewhere in there, I had a birthday, and I guess "old age and senility" have set in!  Either that or there really was nothing newsworthy the last two weeks! Well, you know THAT's not true!*lol*

My 86-year-old mother-in-law got sick around the first of July - vomiting, chills, diarrhea, dizziness, and extreme fatigue. By July 4th, she had a sore throat and was somewhat disoriented.  No one in her circle of friends and acquaintances was sick.  We knew of no "bugs" circulating.  One of our friends had posted on Facebook about her husband's recent bout with Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever.  So I asked Greg, "Do you suppose your mom could have tick fever?"  He looked surprised and replied, "Could be... she had a tick on the back of her leg a week or so ago, and we talked about how to remove it."  (FYI... cover the tick in Vaseline and let it "sit" for about 5 minutes, then wipe away with a cotton ball.  The tick smothers and releases its grip... and you get the entire tick - head and all!)  Greg's mother is as active as any 70-year-old and loves to putter in her yard.  She also dog-sits for about a dozen people, so it is no surprise she has been exposed to both ticks and mosquitoes!

So July 6th, I phoned the doctor's office and told a nurse that we thought Grandma E had tick fever.  She said it sounded so... bring her in that morning.  My husband took his mother for the appointment, and blood was drawn.  The doctor immediately started her on antibiotics for suspected Ehrlichiosis (another form of tick fever) and/or West Nile Virus (she had been bitten by mosquitoes in her back yard, also).  The results of the blood work are still not back, but my mother-in-law is feeling better.  The antibiotic side effects included... get this... nausea, diarrhea, vomiting and more... so she had an anti-nausea medication to take with each dose of the Doxycycline!  If you aren't sick enough already, the medicine will fix that!

In the middle of all of this, my mother had cataract surgery on July 5th.  Thank goodness, the biggest thing that occurred with Mam-ma was that her UTI returned and she was put on yet another round of antibiotics.  That was all... until last Sunday!

I visited my grandmother around 2:00 p.m., and she was napping.  However, when I rattled my car keys, she roused and immediately began to reach for me and moan... "OH!  OH!  OH!"  I asked how she was, and she said, "I don't feel good."  "Where do you feel bad?" I asked.  "ALL OVER!" she replied.  She moaned almost continually the entire time I was there.  Aides came in and tried to comfort her... and one aide said, "She was wanting us to call you and see when you were coming... she's been asking for you."  I had only stayed away two days.

We had gotten rain, and some of the aides said, "All of the residents are hurting - the 'front' has caused their arthritis to be worse."  But this was not what I saw with Mam-ma.  In fact, she showed no visible signs of hurting, save the hollering.  Her brow was totally smooth and un-furrowed.  She showed no signs of distress in her face.  She just tossed and turned anxiously and would not stop hollering.

My other clue that this was not a reaction to pain was when I held up some toddler dresses I had made and said, "Well, I brought some sewing to show you, but apparently you don't feel like looking at it."  Mam-ma sat upright in bed and said, "Oh yes I do!"  She fingered each piece and made little "oohs" and "ahhs".  And as soon as I put them away, she started hollering again.

When one of the aides or I would ask what Mam-ma needed, she would say, "Nothing."  But she would NOT stop hollering.  I finally told her, "You are going to keep that up, and the aides are going to decide you don't need anything... then when you DO need them, they are not going to come see about you as quickly.  You have got to stop that hollering."  She replied, "Okay."  And the next breath included, "OH!  OH!  OH!

I left feeling so frustrated and defeated.  I didn't know how to stop this.  The nurse and the aides (including my sister) told me that Mam-ma practically SITS on her assist button, and when they go to answer the call, she doesn't need anything.  And if she sees an aide or nurse pass her doorway, she calls out to them by name.  My sister started closing the door far enough that Mam-ma could not see who was passing.  Mam-ma told her plainly, "LEAVE THAT DOOR OPEN!"

Tuesday morning, I met the Hospice social worker at Southridge.  She reminded me that I must take care of myself... that Mam-ma is not the only one at the facility who hollers - not by a long shot!  We talked about how Mam-ma is physically improving... can put weight on both legs, transfer from chair to chair with help, and even pedal herself somewhat in the wheelchair.  But she doesn't have the cognitive reasoning to go with this, so she has no clue she can't do these things by herself.

As the social worker and I returned to Mam-ma's room, an aide stopped me and asked if I could ask for some "pull-ups" for Mam-ma to wear during the daytime instead of adult diapers.  They will be so much easier, she explained.  I looked at the social worker, and she said, "All Hospice provides are those diapers with the tape tabs."  I told the aide I would ask if the ALF would provide the pull-ups.  I knew that before we went on Hospice Care, the ALF provided one case of Depends per month.

Since Medicaid pays Hospice for the diapers and/or Depends, they will not pay for both.  So I returned to the aide and told her - and other aides standing nearby - that Hospice only provides for the diapers, so we would use those.  She flatly looked at me and asked, "Can't you go to Wal-Mart and buy pull-ups?"  I told her I could... but I'm not going to.  I cannot afford to pay for something that is already being provided.  She looked at me as if I was the Wicked Witch of the West, and said, "Well, I just asked because Polly is complaining that the diaper tape is uncomfortable.  I just wanted to make it better for her."  Now I was the uncaring caregiver!

I told her I could buy pull-ups, but I was not going to at this point. Polly is on a fixed budget, and between her room and board and her pharmacy bill, she barely has a dime left each month.  I was secretly thinking, "my reasons are really none of your business... you have no idea what my out-of-pocket expenses are already."  But I held my tongue and walked away, feeling as if the girls were talking about me like a hot wind on my neck!

I left the ALF still feeling frustrated at how lonely and needy my grandmother was... and how helpless I am to address her needs. I know she has feelings... and I want to honor those as best I can.  I saw the administrator on the way out and told her about the "pull-ups" incident, and she shook her head and said, "Don't worry about it.  Actually, I think those adult diapers are probably better for everyone."  I thanked her for the encouragement and drove away.  I vowed to stay away and do something for myself... some "textile therapy" was in order!  And sew I did - for the next two days!

Meanwhile, my mom visited on Wednesday, and while she was there, Mam-ma was really sick with diarrhea.  She had to be changed - and practically bathed from head to toe - twice.  The aide asked Mom about pull-ups.  Mom told her we were not having that discussion again.  She and I both discussed later how pull-ups would have made a bad situation even worse in this case.  At least the diapers un-tape and remove without having to slide down the legs!  You fill in the gaps in your imagination on this one!

On Friday, I attended the funeral of an elderly friend, did our grocery shopping and some other errands, and then I braced myself and headed to Southridge.  Mam-ma was sitting in her recliner... dozing.  She roused when I entered the room, and we visited a few minutes.  We were having a beautiful, sunny afternoon - with unseasonably clear blue skies filled with fluffy white clouds.  And it was not terribly hot nor humid, like it has been.  Mam-ma said she would like to go outside and sit on the porch.  So I called her aide to come and help Mam-ma to the bathroom and put her in her wheelchair.  Then we went to the porch and sat.

Another resident joined us... until her son arrived for a visit.  As they walked back inside the facility, Mam-ma said, "I tell you what... I think it's wonderful when people come to visit these people down here."  Apparently I was invisible!  We sat nearly 40 minutes, until I noticed Mam-ma dozing.  I asked if she was tired and would like to return to her room.  She said she would.  So we sent back to the room, where the aide appeared and said, "That's twice she's been out on the porch today."  She was not sure if Mam-ma had help getting out to the front porch Friday morning - or if she had peddled herself.  "You know, she can punch the button to open the door and take herself!" she told me.

Then she started asking again about pull-ups... or so I thought.  I flatly told her, "We are not having this conversation again."  She nicely said, "Oh... well, okay... I was just going to say that these diapers are too small."  I apologized profusely... someone had brought a package of the wrong sized diapers, and indeed, they were too small.  I called Hospice and asked for a package of Medium-sized diapers.  Before I left the facility, a Hospice aide arrived... with a package of LARGE diapers!  The aides laughed and said they would "make do" over the weekend, since the Hospice office was now closed.

So I told Mam-ma I was leaving, and she said, "You're not gonna stay?"  No, I had been there nearly 2 hours, and I needed to go home and make dinner.  "Well," she said, "I sure would like a Coke!"  So I got a can of Coke from her refrigerator and put a straw in it."  Then I told her I was leaving, but I would be back.  She said, "Well, don't stay away too long!"  "I never do," I told her.

Sunday, I visited again, and I took more sewing.  Mam-ma was in her recliner, and she looked neat, clean, and alert. Her first words to me were, "Why can't I have pull-ups?"  I sat down on her bed and told her, "Because you can't afford them."  I knew that one of Mam-ma's biggest concerns is that nobody be out any money for her... and I figured this would be the best answer.  I continued... "Hospice provides the diapers and the pads."  We have to pay for pull-ups - Hospice doesn't have them.  I added it up, and you would use about $120 in pull-ups a month.  And that's just too much.  I'm sorry."  She nodded in agreement, and I thought we were done with that.

I had brought more sewing to share, and Mam-ma enjoyed looking at the toddler outfits I had made for Timothy and Zola.  And then yet another aide came in to check on her, and she sat down in the floor and said, "I want to talk to you about pull-up for Ms. Polly."  I told her, "We are just not going to discuss this again... Hospice does not provide them, and she does not have the money to purchase them herself... it's too expensive."  I explained that I am not being mean... I really feel the diapers are best.  I told this aide about the diarrhea incidents on Wednesday and asked, "Do you really want her wearing a pull-up when that happens?"  This seems to happen about once a week... mainly because Mam-ma insists on Miralax several times a week.  She is of the opinion she needs to "go" at least once - maybe more times - per day!

I told the aide I had "put the pencil to it," and pull-ups would cost about $120 per month. She said, "You can buy a package of 20 at Dollar General for $6-8."  I told her that I might look into that, but I still thought it would be too expensive.  She replied, "I don't mean to be mean or anything, but if it's okay with you, I would like to buy Ms. Polly some pull-ups."  I told her, "It is NOT okay with me... I don't want you spending any of your money on Ms. Polly.  If any pull-ups are purchased, I will buy them.  But 20 pull-ups will not go very far.  Even if she uses 3 or 4 a day, that won't last a week."  The aide said, "But she probably won't use one pull-up a day!  If the aides take Ms. Polly to the bathroom frequently, she is not having any accidents all day long."  She was insistent about this... that Mam-ma was improving and only had problems at night - and she could still wear the diapers for this.

So I asked, "If this is true... then why can't we put down the pads provided by Hospice in Mam-ma's wheelchair and recliner, and put her in her own panties during the day?  If they get wet, you change them and toss them in the laundry."  The aide thought that would work.  She asked Mam-ma, "Would you like me to take you to the bathroom now and then change you into your own underwear?"  Mam-ma said she would like that.  So while the aide helped Mam-ma to the bathroom, I put pads everywhere she sits during the daytime and made notes for the wall saying, "Polly wears her panties during the daytime and diapers at night.  Please be sure she has pads in her chairs."

The nurse came in, and we explained what we were doing, and she said, "I'm sure that her own panties feel much more comfortable than even a pull-up!"  I reminded them both that this will not be fun when Mam-ma has diarrhea... and it may not work if she starts having accidents.  But they wanted to try... and so did Mam-ma.  So hopefully there will be no more discussion about me purchasing pull-ups!  However, the aide and nurse no sooner left the room than Mam-ma asked, "How much is this gonna cost us?"  I shook my head.  "Mam-ma... the panties are YOURS!  Hospice provides the pads you are sitting on.  It won't cost us a dime!"  I don't know if she believed me or not.

I sat a little while longer and made my "goodbyes."  I left feeling like Mam-ma was better for the moment - certainly far better than the previous Sunday - but a few "good" days do not give me a false sense of hope.  I also left feeling like the staff thinks I do not care about my grandmother because I was unwilling to purchase pull-ups for her.  They have changed from "it's easier to help her to the bathroom with a pull-up" to "it's more comfortable... Polly says the tape bothers her."  The problem with this is that they do not cinch the tape tightly, like you would do for a baby diaper.  Polly complains about them being to snug.  So I am sure the diapers shift around throughout the day and do not feel comfortable.  Hopefully the panties and pads will work... and save all of us some grief!

I am refusing to own this judgment by my grandmothers' staff.  As the Hospice social worker pointed out to me... they do not know our history.  They don't know Mam-ma Polly like I do... the antics she is capable of instigating... and how much I do for her - how much I love her.  They are judging this situation unfairly, based solely on what Mam-ma "tells" them and what little they observe.  And I am not angry at them... I'm just a tad weary these days... and I guess a little "battle-worn!"  It's nothing a day or two of "textile therapy" can't fix... and some new pictures of my babies.

I will return to the ALF in a few days and see how things are going.  Hopefully, we will not visit this "pull-ups" conversation again.  I figure something new will take its place soon enough... and the adventures will continue!

I Guess I Forgot...

Last Saturday, my mother e-mailed me to say that my grandmother had given half the family a royal scare.  To back up just a bit, as we were leaving for the beauty shop on Friday, some dear friends of my grandmother drove into the driveway.  The man is a deacon in her church and they are so good to her; however, he is very ill and taking chemotherapy, and he could hardly get up the steps and in the doorway - and he was DRIVING!  They had brought Mam-ma tomatoes that they had driven down on the river to pick.  They realized we were leaving and hurriedly left, also.

Saturday, my sister took Timothy and went visiting - first to my mom's, and then she planned to visit Mam-ma.  She phoned Mam-ma around noon and told her that she was coming by in a couple of hours for a visit.  Mam-ma's friend Ruby then called and invited my grandmother to go visiting with her at one of the nursing homes.  Mam-ma declined, and told Ruby that my sister was coming by for a visit.

So when my sister arrived at 2:00, the house was locked tightly, the garage doors were closed, and no one would answer the doors.  It concerned my sister, and she called my mom, who called Ruby.  Ruby did not know where my grand mother was, and she related to Mom that Mam-ma would not go to the nursing home with her because she knew my sister was coming for a visit.  So Ruby went over to my grandmother's, and she could not get anyone to answer the door.  Now everyone was frightened.  At some point my sister took the baby home, and my mom and her husband went over to my grandmother's, because they had a house key, and they fully expected to find her dead or injured inside.  The only odd thing was that Mam-ma almost never closes her garage door during the daytime hours if she is home.

Mom and Lee unlocked the door and went inside - and all through the house - and Mam-ma was not there.  But her oven was on and chicken pieces were cooked to a crisp - Mom declared them "inedible".  While they were looking through the house, Mam-ma returned... with her friends from Friday.  They had been somewhere to pick plums.  This couple came by and invited Mam-ma to go, and she dropped everything and rode along - totally forgetting that my sister was coming by... or that she had chicken baking in the oven.

I think Mom and Ruby both fussed at her pretty strongly.  She called my sister four times in the next 12 hours to apologize.  She also called my mom and apologized.  They all assured her they were over it.  But coming on the heels of forgetting her purse at Fred's, this is disconcerting.  And frankly, I was more upset about the oven and the chicken.  However, I had told her the day before that she did not need to ride with this dear man who is so ill and shouldn't be driving, and she said, "Oh, I won't!"  Well, you see how long that lasted!

Tuesday, when my grandmother called us to say that the grocery store had called her again about the check that was not signed, she told my husband, "I have been so upset."  He asked why, and she started telling him about the incident on Saturday.  My husband can do more with Mam-ma than most people, and he stopped her and said, "I know all about that, and you need to get over it.  Nobody else is still upset about it.  Move on.  Your grand-daughter will visit again."  She meekly said, "Okay."  She has yet to mention the incident to me.

A friend who is a social worker with geriatric patients in a hospital setting said, "You need to disable her stove!"  I told her... "Mam-ma would have a dozen deacons over there the next morning trying to fix it."  My friend replied... "Put a note on the back, 'Do not repair this stove!'"  That would never work.  As long as Mam-ma is living at home, she is going to cook.  I am really trying to "let go and let God" on this one... I know He will work this out... and better than I ever can.  I am trusting that He will do so... He just hasn't told me yet how He'll manage it!

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."

Learning to Read the Signs

Nobody can make you feel inferior without your permission. ~Eleanor Roosevelt~

I post this comment, because there are people who believe that I am uncaring or unfeeling toward my grandmother... that I don't do enough for her, or that I do not treat her well.  They base these assumptions on casual observations and claims of such from my grandmother.  I assure you, there is no basis for any of this.

See, I know my grandmother.  I have observed her behavior and her reactions for over 52 years now, and I am a pretty good judge of how she is really doing.  Last week, a dear friend of hers passed away.  This man was known to everyone as "Sis."  Don't ask why - I have no clue.  His brother - "Deb" - was my grandmother's constant companion for seven years after my grandfather passed.  Deb became a second grandfather to us, and we loved him dearly until the day he died in May 2000, of bladder cancer.  My grandmother was very fond of Deb's brother, Sis, and they visited often by phone, and sometimes in person.  So, when he died, my grandmother was naturally upset.  One of Deb's sons came for the visitation and took Mam-ma.  She saw lots of people, and when I went to her house a couple of days later, that was what she talked about.

During this same time, Mam-ma's blood pressure began to spike.  It worried a nurse's aide enough to call a nurse from Home Health.  The nurse supposedly told Mam-ma if she had pain in her neck and shoulder, to call an ambulance.  That was early in the week.  Friday when we went to the beauty shop, Mam-ma seemed fine, except she kept telling me she "just hadn't felt good for a couple of days."  Now, I recognized the tone and demeanor as a manipulative ploy.  If I would ask what was wrong, the flood gates of symptoms and ailments would open.  But I could see from her actions and the list of things she had been doing around the house that she was basically fine.

In addition to the loss of her friend, my mom and her husband left Friday for six weeks in Arizona. Mam-ma almost always has a medical crisis before Mom can get up the mountain and out of our little valley town.  So I was not surprised when we came home from the high school basketball games Friday night, and there was a phone message from my grandmother... "It's Mam-ma."  It was also 9:30 p.m., and I did not call her back, figuring she was in bed.  After all, she knows how to call my cell phone if she really needs me, and she had not done so.

Saturday morning, my husband, mother-in-law, and I set out to attend an auction.  On the way, I phoned Mam-ma and told her I'd seen her phone message.  Yes, she had called... "What am I going to do about this blood pressure?"  I asked if it was high, and she said yes, it was something like 189/85.  I asked if she had taken her morning medicine.  Yes, she had.  I suggested she take it easy and give the medicine time to work and we would see how she progressed through the day.  I told her we were on the way to an auction, and very quickly, she said (sarcastically), "Well, y'all go on and don't worry about me."  I reminded her I had a cell phone, and to call if she needed anything.  I did not hear from her again that day.

Sunday afternoon around 3:30, the phone rang - Mam-ma.  "What are we gonna do about my blood pressure?"  I asked if it was still high, and she read me some BP readings... 162/82 and similar readings.  I told her it sounded like it was coming down.  "Well something has got to be done!" she said.  I asked if she thought she was having a stroke.  She didn't know.  We bantered back and forth, and I told her our only option was the ER, and when she goes there, they always get her in a mess... screw up her medicine or worse.  Finally, I asked, "Are you wanting to go to the ER?"  She said no, but something had to be done.  I reminded her that a trip to the ER might likely result in a trip to the nursing home.  She said, "Well, I called Shirley (an LPN friend of the family), and she said I could take half a Lasix."  I did a quick search on the Internet of all of Mam-ma's medications and told her I didn't think she should take that until I found someone medical to consult.

So I called Shirley, and she said, "I did NOT tell her to take a Lasix.  In fact, I told her NOT to take ANYTHING until she talked with her doctor on Monday."  Shirley said Mam-ma heard what she wanted and would probably do what she pleased... and one pill would not kill her.  But Shirley asked, did I think this was about Sis.  I agreed that this had crossed my mind, and Shirley said, "I've been expecting a call from your grandmother ever since he died... she was so crazy about him."  We agreed the BP rise was from that and the absence of my mom. Shirley also said my grandmother's voice was strong on the phone and she didn't sound like she felt that bad... just "pouty."

So I called my grandmother back. When she answered, her voice was strong and solid.  Once she heard my voice, hers changed to a very faint whine.  This happens often, and she used to do the same thing to my dad.  It was all I could do not to laugh out loud.  I told her NOT to take anything extra - that Shirley said "No!" and that when her aide came Monday morning, if she felt the BP was high, she would call the nurse, and we could go from there.  She asked, "Well what am I gonna do about this headache?"  For the record, my grandmother has had "the headache" all of my life.  The last week or so, our weather has been totally unseasonable and erratic, and most of the people I know have had a headache at some point from the continual changes in air pressure, etc.  So I tried to explain this to Mam-ma... she still thought it was her blood pressure.  I just let it drop.

By 10:00 a.m. today, I had not heard anything from my grandmother, so I called.  She sounded extremely strong and well.  I asked what her aide had said, and she said, "Nothing.  She was in such a hurry, she didn't say anything."  I asked, "Did she take your blood pressure?"  Yes... it was 148/70.  Now that is a very good reading for my grandmother... and of course, she sounded disappointed.  I told her it sounded like she was on the mend, and she said, "Well, I guess."    We talked a few minutes and hung up, and later in the morning she called me to verify a phone number... she was already on to the next project.  It seems the "crisis" has passed for the moment... and hopefully we will have a smooth week.

Back to the quote.  There are those who would think I am horrible for not rushing my grandmother to the ER with such high blood pressure.  At one point yesterday, she yelled at me, "Well if I die tonight or in the morning, it don't make any difference!"  I've heard those sorts of threats before... and to some that would sound cruel, but I know her!  The last time we took her to the ER for high blood pressure was a couple of Easter Sundays ago, and we sat in the ER for probably 6 hours - some of that without the monitor even connected because they took her for an X-ray and forgot to reconnect her upon returning.  They finally gave her a blood pressure medication that her cardiologist said she is NEVER to have again, and after not eating or having any of her regular meds all day, she bottomed out, nearly passed out, and threw up!  We were several weeks getting her totally regulated after that little episode, so I am less than eager to go dashing to the ER when my instincts and assessments tell me we are not in a crisis... and certainly not an emergency situation.

But I have seen the looks from others.  I've heard the "I hope you know your grandmother is really sick!" (as if I was not checking on her and had no clue) comments, and I've felt the daggers from those who believe Mam-ma when she tells them, "Debbie is too busy to fool with me."  And Eleanor Roosevelt is right... only I can let those things make me feel inferior or inadequate... or guilty!  I have made a conscious decision not to "go there."  I'm pedaling as fast as I can, and I'm doing my best to keep my grandmother safe and well cared for... and to love her as much and as often as possible!

Meanwhile, our nephew Timmy is coming to spend a few nights with us... his regular two, plus an extra because his grandpaw is sick. So we are going from one end of the spectrum to the other - from high blood pressure to teething and crawling!  Life is certainly anything but dull and boring... and most days, this "sandwich" is pretty darn good!