Heaven Is My Home...Mam-ma Polly Got Her Wings!

“Polly” Chandler, passed away Friday, March 8th, 2013, at her residence in Southridge Village Retirement Center, Heber Springs, Arkansas. Born November 5, 1912, in Little Red, Arkansas, as Willie Dove Thrasher, “Polly” was the eighth child of William Floyd and Mary Caroline (Cullum) Thrasher. When Willie Dove was a little girl, a man nick-named her “Polly,” and it stuck.

Polly lived in the area of Hiram and Cooter Neck much of her life. On December 18, 1932, she married Truman Paul Chandler. They were the parents of two sons… a baby who died at birth, and James Paul, who was born in 1936. Trup and Polly worked most of their lives in and around Heber Springs, with brief stints at factories and farms in Indiana and Texas in the 1940s and 1950s. In one of those factories, Polly helped to create munitions for the war. She also worked in a dress shop, a department store, and as a cook for farmhands in Texas.

Polly worked outside the home almost all of her life. Even in “retirement,” she served as a “Foster Grandparent”… first in the elementary school and then at the Community School of Cleburne County. She was a long-time member of the Heber Springs B&PW Club, the Extension Homemakers, and a charter member of the Heber Springs Folklore Society, where she was instrumental in raising the funds to build the facility that sits at the foot of Sugarloaf Mountain. Polly was an extraordinarily good dancer!

Polly served as a chairside dental assistant to Dr. Joe N. Robbins for nearly 20 years. During that time, she was a bus driver for the Heber Springs Schools for approximately eleven years. Dozens of students can recall riding Polly’s bus… especially getting out and walking across the Swinging Bridge in its later years, because she felt it was unsafe for them to ride. She would drive across and meet them on the other end.

Polly was the oldest living member of the First Baptist Church of Heber Springs, having joined the local congregation in 1953. If anything defined Polly Chandler, it was her faith in God, which served her well through many challenges, including the loss of her first baby, a fire that claimed her home and all of its belongings in 1981, the death of Truman in 1984, and the loss of her grandson Tim in 1998, followed by James Paul’s death in 1999. Throughout all of these events and much more, Polly would say, “The LORD will take care of me”… and He did.

Anyone who knew Polly knew that she was an incredible cook, gardener, seamstress, and quilter. Polly was known far and wide for her peanut brittle, homemade rolls, and her sweet potato cobbler. She was recognized in the local paper just a few summers ago for growing incredibly large tomatoes in her backyard plot. At Southridge, she supervised the community garden and maintenance of the hanging baskets and flower beds. Polly made beautiful quilts… all stitched by hand from start to finish. She could arrange flowers on the fly and whip up a feast out of a few “dabs” of leftovers that looked like less than nothing.

Polly loved people and was happiest when surrounded by visitors to her home. Her conversations were peppered with “I tell you what!” , “I started to say…” and “My land a livin’s” galore… plus many other pearls of wisdom… some that cannot be repeated! Her first question to a new neighbor was usually, “Can you stay for dinner?” followed by “Where do you go to church?” Polly lived a rich life of service to God and others, and she will be remembered by many for her beautiful smile and her lovingkindness toward everyone she met.

In addition to her parents and nine siblings, Polly was preceded in death by her husband, Truman, her infant son J.H., her son James Paul, and her grandson, Timothy Paul Chandler. Polly is survived by her former daughter-in-law, Arline (Chandler) Smith and her husband, Lee; grand-daughters and sons… Debbie and Greg Robus, and Suzanne and Mike Linn, all of Heber Springs; her great-grand-daughter, Jasmine Gary and her husband, Jamison; and three great-grand-children… Timothy, Zola , and Nathan Gary, all of Heber Springs. Polly is also survived by her nephew, Ricky Whisnant, and his wife, Lori, of Heber Springs; nieces, Martha (Faulkner) Tucker, of Searcy, Arkansas, and Sue (Barnett) O’Dwyer, of Conway, Arkansas; and Amanda (Whisnant) Holland and her husband, Bradley, of Heber Springs, as well as many other dear relatives and friends.

Visitation will be held on Tuesday, March 12,, 2013 at 1:00 p.m. at the First Baptist Church Heber Springs. Funeral services will follow at 2:00 p.m., with Rev. J.R. DeBusk and Rev. Kathy DeBusk officiating. Pallbearers are Tim O’Dwyer, Kevin O’Dwyer, Chris O’Dwyer, BJ Stracener, Hal Caid, and Bill Baldwin. Honorary pallbearers are the staff at Southridge Village Retirement Center and the Cleburne County Hospice staff, Verlon Abram, J.R. Barnett, Joel Pilkington, and Tom Welborn. The family also wishes to offer special thanks to Dr. David Eades for his loving care of Polly in recent years.

Memorials may be made to the First Baptist Church 201 N. 4th St., Heber Springs, AR 72543, or to Cleburne County Hospice, 2319 Hwy 110 West Ste C, Heber Springs, AR 72543.

Safety in Numbers... and Paying it Forward

Yesterday, I attended a quarterly Family Council meeting at the ALF.  Dr. Kimberly Curseen, Medical Director of the geriatric palliative care program at the UAMS Reynolds Institute on Aging was the speaker.  I'll be honest... I almost didn't go.  And as Dr. Curseen began to speak, I wondered why I was there.  It wasn't her fault.  But the discussion centered on Alzheimer's patients and their care... and dementia.   However, as Dr. Curseen began to explain the stages of Alzheimer's and dementia... and the various kinds of dementia... she hit on several things that resonated with me and my situation with Mam-ma Polly... and she gave me several insights.

The first thing that hit home with me was Dr. Curseen's comment that "one of the last things to go" in dementia patients is the "social graces"... the ability to smile, say "Hi!  How are you?"... or to shake a visitor's hand.  She said this is why patiens will light up when someone enters the room and speaks to them... and this is 100% Mam-ma Polly.  Later in the discussion, I said to the group, "If one more person tells me that Mam-ma 'still has that sweet smile,' I think I may scream."  Mam-ma will die with that sweet smile.  It's all she has left!  The administrator chimed in and agreed... "Even when Polly feels really bad... like today... she is still smiling."  Another family member attending the meeting asked, "Oh, is that the sweet little lady who is always peddling around in her wheelchair... the one with the white hair?"  That's my Mam-ma Polly!

Later, Dr. Curseen talked about how difficult it is to take Alzheimer's and dementia patients out of their routine.  She mentioned that once-frequented restaurants may now be too crowded, noisy and confusing for the patient.  She suggested that any visits to places outside of the facility be done at off times... with small groups... in quieter settings.  This really resonated, too.  Mam-ma did not do well at all the last few times we took her out to eat.  And the ALF administrator added that they always see a lot of behavioral problems with residents around the holidays... when families insist on taking them out of the facility and away from familiar surroundings.

This was another revelation for me... and I thanked the administrator for speaking out.  I told her that I truly grieved over the decision this Christmas NOT to take Mam-ma out and try to get her to our house on Christmas Eve.  While I knew in my head that we could not physically get her inside - she didn't even make it off the driveway last year! - I still felt guilty.  And then someone asked me, "How was it the last Christmas she was with you?"  "Terrible!" I replied.  "She slept most of the time or looked and acted miserable... and she was ready to go home before dark."  "So there's your answer," this person told me... and she was right.  And now I had reinforcement from the facility staff.  Mom and her husband ate lunch with Mam-ma on Christmas Day... I was there for the facility dinner earlier... and a day or so before Christmas.  And Mam-ma was fine... probably happier than the last Christmas she spent with us. 

When the doctor finished her discussion, the family members began to talk and share.  One lady, a retired nurse for the state hospital, told of her husband, who has Alzheimer's.  She said she should have seen the signs earlier, but she didn't... and maybe she didn't want to.  The doctor very lovingly reassured her that "We see the signs when we are ready.  You did nothing wrong.  When the time was right, you made the move."  This sweet lady spoke so lovingly of her husband and how she visits him each day... and how hard it has been.

Another lady spoke of her mother, who is apparently the QUEEN of guilt trips.  She told of visiting recently with her sister.  Her mother lay in bed repeating, "Oh, LORD, help me!  LORD, help me!"  Finally, the daughter said, "Mother, what do you need?  We're right here!  Why don't you let us help you?"  The mother replied, "Because I can trust HIM!"  We all had a laugh, but the woman tearfully said, "It's been four years now... when do I stop feeling guilty?  I can't even enjoy doing the things Mother used to do, because I feel so guilty that she can no longer do them."

I reminded this lady that we honor our loved ones when we do the things they can no longer do - or at least I believe we do.  I told her that I can make my grandmother's sugar cookies and homemade rolls, and in sharing them with others, I feel like I carry on her legacy.  Now, this woman's mother may not admit that to HER... but the administrators assured her that out of sight, this woman is adorable and pleasant - that she truly has mastered making her daughter feel guilty... and delights in doing so!  And this may never change.

What can change is this woman's attitude.  She can live in the world of her mother when she visits, and leave it at the door.  I know it is hard, but you can do it if you work at it.  We also all agreed that talking and sharing helps tremendously.  I pointed out that I believe if anything positive can come from our experiences, it is that we share them with others who are going through a similar situation, so that they know they are not alone.

In the end, the doctor told us that statistics show that the stress level of caregivers with a loved one still at home versus that of a caregiver who has admitted their loved one to a facility is markedly similar... no real difference.  I found that tremendously profound.  I don't think I am nearly as stressed now that Mam-ma is at the ALF... but if I add up all of the trips and meetings and phone calls and struggles over laundry and diapers and wipes and medications and falls... the wondering if/when the phone will ring... the not feeling comfortable to leave town because this might be "the day" that we are needed... I see that the stress is still here.  It's just packaged a little differently and distributed in spurts more than day-to-day (and sometimes hour-to-hour) like before.

So I came away from the meeting with a sense of community.  We are all in this boat together... and we have stories to tell... people to encourage... and at least one for each of us who desperately needs us to reassure him/her that they are still loved, valuable, and honored.  For the foreseeable future, this is my task.  I pray for the patience to see it through.

Meanwhile, I need to throw in a happy thought.  Timothy started HIPPY this week... the Home Instruction for Parents of Preschool Youngsters program.  He LOVES it already, and he made quite an impression on the instructors at the elementary school when he went for his evaluation.  All three of our little ones are growing like weeds (and keeping the other end of the spectrum in perspective!).  Oh, LORD... give me strength!

Our little Zola... almost 2.

Nathan Daniel (7 months) with his Uncle Greg

Some Days the Gap Seems Wider Than Others...

February 18... the phone rang around 2:30, and I recognized the number on Caller ID right away... the ALF.  The nurse told me that Mam-ma Polly had fallen and hit her head.  She had a nasty cut, and the nurse thought it needed stitches.  "Do you want me just to put her in my car and take her to the ER?" she asked.  I told her no... that I had signed papers saying that Mam-ma is not to go to the ER.  She said, "Then we need to call Hospice... and you can revoke those papers at any time."  I asked if I should come down to the facility, and she said, "It wouldn't hurt."

I was preparing for a workout, so I was not dressed.  I quickly pulled myself together and headed for the ALF.  I found Mam-ma with at least 3 facility staff members, sitting in her wheelchair beside her bed.  The workers animatedly began to tell me how she had "bled all over everything."  The bleeding had stopped, and she did indeed have a large cut above her right ear... just a little forward of the injury she received two Christmas Eve's ago on our driveway.  I saw blood on the carpeting and her oxygen compressor... but it did not seem excessive.

I told the staff that I realized it seemed like a lot of blood, but she bled so much more on our driveway - and she only had a small puncture wound from that.  The staff kept saying, "But she soaked an abdominal pad."  Yes... she soaked every rag in our house and the blood continued to run down the driveway.  This was not good... but I didn't see anything that I felt merited a trip to the ER.

We determined that an aide came in to ask Mam-ma if she wanted to attend a musical performance in the dining room.  Mam-ma was in bed at the time... napping.  She said she wanted to go to the performance, so the aide said, "I'll be right back to get you up and help you to the bathroom first."  Apparently, when the first note of music was played, Mam-ma helped herself up... and fell into her oxygen compressor.  The aide said when the first number stopped, she could hear Polly hollering... and she found her sitting in the floor with blood pouring.

The Hospice nurse came and cleaned the wound and Polly's hair - now read instead of it's beautiful snowy white.  The facility RN and two LPNs looked at her.  Neuro checks were ordered every 30 minutes for 24 hours.  Mam-ma basked in all of the attention.  The Hospice nurse lectured her sternly about not getting up without help.  Then she helped Mam-ma to the bathroom, and as they crossed the threshold, I heard the nurse yelling, "Wait!  Wait!"  Mam-ma had grabbed the rail beside the toilet and was already trying to help herself!  She will NOT listen - nor cooperate - and I am fully convinced that she knows perfectly well what she is doing.

I told everyone that when Mam-ma fell on our driveway, they did not suture the wound... they covered it with a gauze pad and wrapped her head like a turban.  It oozed and was ugly for quite a while, but it eventually healed.  A CT-scan was done, and she was given some pain medication she probably didn't really need - which made her woozy and very nauseous.  She spent two nights in the hospital... the first one vomiting every time they moved her.  For those reasons, I did NOT want to return to the ER.  Mam-ma seemed fine.  She was not complaining of anything.  The staff finally asked her enough times if she was in pain that she said "Yes," and they gave her one of her regular pain pills.  I told them, "If this controls things and she remains stable, this is the best option."  Some of them acted like I was Satan for not rushing to the ER, but I've quit caring about what anyone else things and now focus solely on what is best for Mam-ma Polly.  And this was best.

I stayed until Mam-ma was safely placed in the dining room for supper, and I left.  I told my husband later that I was totally exhausted... and I couldn't figure out why.  He said, "You spent two hours or more at Southridge!  That's exhausting."  And he is right.  It is... it was!

I knew fully well that my grandmother could have a more serious internal head injury - that she could even die in the night.  I was prepared for this.  After all, Mam-ma is 100+ years old and on Hospice... and she is living life on her terms.  I am done trying to add days/weeks/months/years to her life by artificial means... even medical ones.  I even wonder on some level if this stubbornness about getting up and around by herself is a self-conscious attempt on her part to speed things along.  We'll never know... Mam-ma couldn't tell me if I asked... and she might not even realize this herself.  I just know she is old and tired... and sick of living like this.

My mom visited Mam-ma the following day and could barely locate the wound, which had measured 1.25" long by .25" wide and seemed deep.  She came to see me afterward and said, "You definitely made the right call."  And indeed, she has not missed a beat since.  Cousins from Oklahoma visited on Friday, and she enjoyed their company and the chicken legs they brought her from KFC.  On Sunday, she could not even visit with me because she was so focused on her ham and turnip greens lunch... and Thursday, she was sitting under the hair dryer getting her weekly "do."

Meanwhile, I've been like a switchboard operator... trying to keep everything rolling along.  Mam-ma's laundry has been in a shambles of late, so I've spent the last two visits sorting her closet and drawers, looking for HER items and returning more than I can count that did not belong to her.  I've also been coordinating appointments for my niece with the elementary school to enroll Timothy in HIPPY, a program for preschoolers that helps the parents learn how to become more involved in the child's educational growth.

I've also acquired several children's car seats, cleaned them and washed their covers, so that my mom, niece and I all have our own equipment for transporting the children. This will make it easier for Mom to help out with caring for the children... and we won't have to be constantly shuffling car seats.  I feel like something of a rocket scientist now after removing all of the strapping and reinserting it in no less than six car seats in the last couple of months!  Once you get the hang of it, everything is pretty straightforward... but those first two or three were doozies!

In the midst of all of that, Timmy, Zola, my niece and I have battled some sort of upper respiratory bug... and we've had overnight visits from both of the two older children, which were a ton of fun.  I've also worked on finding a suitable Pre-K for Timothy for this coming August, and we've put out what seemed like almost-daily little "fires" of some sort between the youngsters and Mam-ma Polly.

In the "down time," we've tried to maintain a "normal" live... exercise, eat, sleep, handle our own personal business, and spend time together as a couple.  We even found time to attend our high school's local regional basketball tournament.  My husband's great-niece will be on the Senior Girls' team there next year, so we try to support her activities, as well.  It's been a very busy three weeks!

Shortly after Valentine's Day, my sister, niece and I attended a women's ministry luncheon with Mom at her church... the church in which we were reared.  Timothy and Zola spent this time in the nursery with three very attentive sitters who were thoroughly entertained.  Timmy returned the next day for Sunday school and "Wee Church."  When it was over, he did not want to leave... in fact, he cried!

While my husband and I now attend another church in town, I was delighted to see so many ladies I've known since I was a toddler.  It was great to see a mix of ages... from young mothers my niece's age to the ladies who are my grandmother's friends, and every age in between.  In my own church, we have created a "Middle Contemporary Praise and Worship" service in a separate building.  This service is held at 9:30 a.m. and is geared toward young families.  There are some grandparents who attend... and a few folks like my husband and me... but by and large, the age demographic is 40 and younger.

There are a lot of older church members who attend services at 8:30 a.m. or 11:00 a.m. in the sanctuary that I never see any more.  And that saddens me.  One of my friend's moms, who is 88, said, "We never see children any more."  When all three services were held in our church sanctuary, we at least saw each other in passing as one service ended and another began.  I am not sure what the solution is to this dilemma, but I can say with certainty that there is definitely a generational gap in our church... and we are smack dab in the middle of the Sandwich Generation on this one!  If you have encountered this in your own church setting, I would be interested in hearing how you are addressing it.

I share this information to emphasize that I am feeling "sandwiched" on all sides... and in most every area of my life.  And there are plenty of challenges on any given day.  Whether we handle them well or not remains to be seen.  I don't have time to quit trying... and you probably don't either!

There are dozens of aspects to this I would not trade for the world.  We absolutely adore our great-niece and nephews.  We take incredible delight in watching them grow and hearing what they have to say.  Nothing beats a hug, snuggle or a blown kiss from our little ones.  We revel in watching our niece and her husband learn more each day about how to be good parents and to nurture and encourage these babies.  And we are blessed to see the children enjoy the privilege of a close interaction with their great-grandmother and her husband, whom they call "Granny and Pap-pa Lee."

How many children can say they knew their great-great-grandmother?  While we have not taken them to visit Mam-ma often in recent weeks, Timothy and Zola HAVE visited... and I believe Timmy, at least, will remember her.  My mother's paternal grandparents died when I was in 5th and 6th grade or so... I still remember them and visits to their farm.  I know that Timmy, Zola and Nathan will remember visiting their Granny's home... and that is priceless.

So I keep on playing "Switchboard Operator" - arranging for Mom to keep one child while I keep another or so as my niece attends appointments or runs errands... scheduling visits to Mam-ma Polly and making sure that everybody gets where they are supposed to on time.  This is my purpose for this season of my life... and I pray God continues to give me the strength and energy to bridge the gap!

We're Not Ready...

My friend and her four siblings have been taking turns sitting with their 88-year-old mother, who recently returned home following rehab for a mild stroke.  Dementia began to set in several years ago, but things were not so bad that the siblings didn't feel they could leave their mother unattended while the baby sister - who has lived with her mother for nearly 20 years - worked at a "day job" in this community.  All bets were off when Sue* suffered the stroke.  Now she has to be reminded - and often prodded - to dress, brush her teeth, and eat.  Other times, she will do these things repeatedly.  My friend told me one day recently, "Mom brushed her teeth three times this morning."

At her wits' end, my friend came to me recently and asked for help... what did she need to do to get the ball rolling for her mom to enter an assisted living facility.  I told her I would be happy to help her "navigate the waters."  I inquired a couple of days later at the Assisted Living Facility where my grandmother resides and discovered there was a room vacant right across the hall from Mam-ma.  "But she better hurry," the administrator advised.  I relayed this information to my friend that evening, and she sheepishly looked at me and said, "We're not ready."  I nodded and told her I understood... I've been there... but she needed to be aware that the clock is ticking.

Two days later, my phone rang.  My friend asked if I could meet her at the ALF and show her around... let her see Mam-ma's room and answer a few questions.  I told her I would be glad to do that.   We agreed on a time to meet, and I thought she said her sisters were coming with her.  When she arrived, her husband and one sister were with her... along with her mother.  She said, "I told Mom we were going on a little outing."

We toured the facility, I answered questions, and we visited with Mam-ma, who gladly showed them her apartment.  I had visited with the administrator before the entourage arrived, and she told me to visit the vacant apartment across the hall.  We did that, as well.  I showed them menus for the week and the monthly calendar.  We opened closets and drawers and everyone commented on how spacious the apartment seemed... perfect for their mom.  Several people poked heads out of doorways and realized that they knew Sue and her family... and many came to greet us.  Sue hugged my grandmother as she left and said, "I may be back real soon, and we can visit."

The next morning, my friend called and dejectedly told me that her mother had thrown a fit in the car.  She was NOT moving in with a bunch of people.  I reminded my friend that we had toured that very same apartment one October, and the next day Mam-ma declared, "That's not for me.  I'm not moving down there."  Less than a month later, she was ready... and the apartment was gone.  It would be several more LONG months before we were able to secure an apartment and officially make the move.

Meanwhile, I see the toll this is taking on my friend and her siblings.  Three of them are trading off days... sitting with their mother while the youngest sibling works.  This woman is responsible for her mother each evening.  I can only imagine how tired she must be after working all day... and how confined she must feel.  Even if her mother eats dinner and goes to bed, this woman can't go out or do anything socially.  She probably doesn't feel comfortable to do much entertaining in the home, either.

I told my friend that I fully understand her dilemma, but I suggested she continue with paper work and basic preparations, in case things change suddenly.  AND... I reminded her that she is dealing with a problem we did not have... dementia.  At some point, it may be necessary for the siblings to force this issue - for the sake of all concerned.

Later in the day, while shopping, I ran into the other sibling who had come to the ALF with my friend.  I told her that I had heard that her mother was not pleased.  She said, "Oh, mother was SO upset.  She is not used to being alone like that."  I know I looked perplexed, and I said, "Your mother would NOT be alone at the ALF... there are people everywhere."  She replied, "Well... yes... but she wouldn't participate in any activities.  She would just sit in her room all day."  I agreed that some residents do this... but she would always be given an opportunity to socialize and participate in activities.

Then I told her that she and her siblings are going to wear out if they continue to provide all of the necessary care.  She said, "We may have to get someone to help us a little, but if so, that's what we will do."  I mentioned the sister who works and lives with her mom.  "Oh, she's used to that," she replied.  I suggested it was terribly confining, and she said, "That's all she knows... she's lived there almost 20 years!" 

I realized in that instance where the real difficulties lie.  The siblings are not all on the same page.  Their mother may not be ready to agree to move to an Assisted Living Facility... but some of these children are most definitely not ready.  And as long as there is dissension among the siblings, nothing will change.  Their mother may have already surpassed her mental capability to make this decision... but these siblings are not emotionally ready to say, "This is best for Mom - and for us."  Until this happens, they will continue spinning their wheels and making themselves crazy on a daily basis as they attempt to meet their mother's needs - and demands - in her own home.

I fully understand that this is a difficult decision.  And thankfully, my grandmother was mentally capable of deciding on her own to make the move.  But we don't all have that luxury.  My maternal grandparents were somewhat "manipulated" into moving into a nursing home by convincing each one that they were going because the other one needed to be there.  So my grandfather would say, "I'm only here because Mother needs to be here."  My grandmother would tell others, "I'm just here until Daddy gets well and we can go home." My grandfather was virtually blind and deaf... my grandmother had Parkinson's disease.  Neither one could care for themselves - much less each other - in their their own home.

I strongly suspect that this family will be like countless others ... they will rock along in their current situation until something else happens.  Their mother will suffer another stroke and either lose her life or be so incapacitated that she has to go to a nursing home... or she will fall with the same results.  Hopefully the outcome will not be such a toll on the caregivers that their own health suffers.  And I am not saying that the ALF would be better.  Sue might love it... or she might be perfectly miserable there and make everyone else miserable in the bargain.

All I can do is be encouraging and supportive... and share my own experiences in hopes they will help someone else.  For the moment, my grandmother is doing amazingly well.  She even managed TWO "I tell you whats" for me yesterday... more than she has spoken in months.  However, she totally ignored me as she tried to wheel herself to the bathroom... so I know that another fall is always just one mis-step away.  And I have accepted this.

I had to laugh as I checked out at Wal-Mart yesterday - I had diapers for Zola, our great-niece... and diapers for Mam-ma.  We've been at this a while now.  Timothy is three and has been out of diapers for about a year.  Hopefully Zola will follow suit soon... but Nathan is only six months old, so we will have baby diapers in the mix for a while yet.  And one of Mam-ma's friends is 103 and a half... and another is 106... so who can say how much longer we will be buying the bigger variety, as well! 

Part of my consolation is that I am amassing a wealth of knowledge that just might help the next person... like my friend and her siblings.  There has to be some redeeming purpose in all of this... and maybe that's it!  If/when my friend and her siblings ARE indeed ready... I'll be here to help them.

*Name changed

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?

Getting Your Face on a Smucker's Jar...

When it appeared fairly certain that my grandmother would live to see her 100th birthday, I did a GOOGLE search for Willard Scott and found his website and the requisite forms to complete for submitting Mam-ma Polly's name for consideration as one of the centenarians featured on Willard's segment during NBC's "The TODAY Show."  Sponsored by Smucker's, the celebrants' photos are superimposed on a Smucker's jelly jar label, and Scott tells a little something about the honoree. The information on the website stated that the forms had to be submitted at least six weeks prior to the actual birthday.  Since Mam-ma's birthday was November 5th, I sent the forms in early September.

The information also stated that either we would receive a phone call to let us know that our centenarian would be featured... or the honoree would receive a card in the mail.  Neither happened.  Shortly before Christmas, I cleaned off my desk... and I threw away all paper work related to this endeavor.  I decided I must have failed to complete the forms correctly or something. 

December 22nd, our telephone rang, and Caller ID said the number was "PRIVATE".  Since this is what shows when the Hospice nurses call, I feared the worst... but I answered.  The caller was a gentleman from Willard Scott's office.  He apologized for the delay, explaining that they were behind on airing the segments, but my grandmother was scheduled to be featured on Monday, December 24th, between 8:00 a.m. and 9:00 a.m.  He asked about our time zone, and I told him we were on Central Time.  He explained that the segment would air on the East Coast between 8:00 and 9:00 - and repeat for us the following hour.  He said, "Set your DVR for 8:00 a.m. to 10:00 a.m."  I set mine for 7:00 - 11:00!!

So I let EVERYONE know!  I made sure all televisions at the facility would be turned on and set to the appropriate channel.  My mom let the church administrators know, and they made a BIG SPLASH about it Sunday morning at Mam-ma's church.  I think everyone in our community of about 7,000 people sat glued to their TVs Monday morning... along with family members and friends from coast to coast.  And Willard Scott was not on.  They did segments on all sorts of things, from ugly Christmas sweaters to revealing the sex of a baby expected by an Olympic volleyball champion... but no Willard Scott.

So we regrouped and set the DVRs for Christmas Day.  This time, Scott was on... and a long segment aired, featuring several centenarians... but no Mam-ma Polly!  Would she ever be featured?  That afternoon, the phone rang again, and the same man apologized and said they were still very behind, and he thought that Mam-ma's segment would air on December 26th.  I told him how disappointed we were, and he kept saying, "We have no control over what they do... the segments are pre-recorded, and we don't know when they will air."  So we regrouped once again.

Wednesday morning, a friend posted on Facebook that she was spending the holidays in New York City, and she had just seen Mam-ma Polly on Willard Scott's segment!  So I started letting people know that we WOULD see the feature.  Sure enough, somewhere around 8:30 a .m., Central Time, Willard Scott's birthday feature aired... and there was Mam-ma on a Smucker's label!  Soooooooooo... in case you missed it... here is my Mam-ma Polly... now forever known throughout America for her peanut brittle!  I hope you enjoy it!  (Watch all the way... she's almost the last one featured!)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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