My husband and I have decided to take turns taking the matriarch to the blood clinic. Today was my turn and, to be honest, I'd rather go to the blood clinic than do lunch. The matriarch wasn't happy but her spirits perked up when she met an old neighbour from her previous neighbourhood. The lady was taking her husband for blood tests. She looked elderly and her husband was on a walker and obviously had some issues; he didn't look healthy. The woman wasn't very pleasant to the matriarch. The two had a brief discussion in which my mother-in-law pointed out, despite rumours, she wasn't dead but was living quite happily with her son. Apparently, this kind of information is never a positive form of communication to seniors whose children aren't so reliable as my husband happens to be...
I watched the two old ladies navigate pleasantries and could literally see the other woman's face turn a different colour as she realized the matriarch wasn't in a home and that she lived permanently with us. No one wants to know someone else's family fulfills family obligations when their own children are absent. The poor woman needed some help with her husband. Even the nurses at the clinic attempted to be accommodating but the couple sort of rushed out in the way only seniors pushing a walker can. The matriarch retained her perkiness as only someone who knows she is in a better place than others can. That satisfaction even lasted through dinner.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
The Fire Alarm means Dinner is Ready
The fire alarm went off at the dinner hour today and the matriarch came down expecting her meal to be ready.
"I heard the dinner bell." But, the table wasn't set and the food wasn't ready and the children were still out in the garden. But, the matriarch sat down anyhow and wondered where everyone was and what was going on.
"Am I the only one eating tonight?"
Bacon set the fire alarm off, frying bacon. Not burning, frying bacon. Just bacon.
My husband told the matriarch dinner was almost ready and called the children into the house because he knows a crowd of hungry children, his mother and he are bound to make the food cook faster and my already frustrated life so much easier.
And, the phone rang.
"Whose answering the phone? Is it for me?"
The matriarch has her own phone line--so, no, it wasn't for her and I did not answer it because I wanted to get the meal on the table. Pasta shouldn't be so hard; but, of course, it was because one of my children answered the phone and gave it to me as I was serving out the plates. Why do the children never pass the phone to their father? Because telemarketers ask for the person whose name is on the Hudson's Bay/ Zellers credit card, that is why.
The matriarch did not like her dinner; pushing her plate away after one rib, she immediately wanted dessert. Chocolate fudge pudding. With lots of milk on it. And a cup of tea. Did I mention I was still eating? My husband started laughing which was no help at all. I got my middle child who was finished to serve dessert and make tea. Then, everyone evacuated the table and I was left with dirty dishes and the matriarch scraping her bowl of pudding.
"I guess I'll see you later," she said to me as, finally, she went upstairs to her room, "unless you're making a snack. No need to ring the bell, I'll just come down."
"I heard the dinner bell." But, the table wasn't set and the food wasn't ready and the children were still out in the garden. But, the matriarch sat down anyhow and wondered where everyone was and what was going on.
"Am I the only one eating tonight?"
Bacon set the fire alarm off, frying bacon. Not burning, frying bacon. Just bacon.
My husband told the matriarch dinner was almost ready and called the children into the house because he knows a crowd of hungry children, his mother and he are bound to make the food cook faster and my already frustrated life so much easier.
And, the phone rang.
"Whose answering the phone? Is it for me?"
The matriarch has her own phone line--so, no, it wasn't for her and I did not answer it because I wanted to get the meal on the table. Pasta shouldn't be so hard; but, of course, it was because one of my children answered the phone and gave it to me as I was serving out the plates. Why do the children never pass the phone to their father? Because telemarketers ask for the person whose name is on the Hudson's Bay/ Zellers credit card, that is why.
The matriarch did not like her dinner; pushing her plate away after one rib, she immediately wanted dessert. Chocolate fudge pudding. With lots of milk on it. And a cup of tea. Did I mention I was still eating? My husband started laughing which was no help at all. I got my middle child who was finished to serve dessert and make tea. Then, everyone evacuated the table and I was left with dirty dishes and the matriarch scraping her bowl of pudding.
"I guess I'll see you later," she said to me as, finally, she went upstairs to her room, "unless you're making a snack. No need to ring the bell, I'll just come down."
Sunday, March 28, 2010
I Can See and Other non Sequiters
That's the pepper. You've already put pepper on your food. No, you put the pepper down and picked it up again. Would you like me to add the salt?
I know you can go down the stairs but you're not near them, yet.
Are your eyes bothering you?
It's not bar-b-que sauce; it's a moist toilette.
The vinegar is right in front of you; it's in a glass bottle. I wouldn't think it was invisible but maybe...
Are you sure your eyes haven't gotten worse, lately?
There are no steps up to the restaurant. It's just a different coloured patio stone. You could lose your balance, please put your foot down.
There is sugar on your cereal. You want more? Are you sure? That looks like a lot of sugar already. I'm sorry I didn't mean to put so much on; I thought you asked for more. Yes, I know you did and I did tell you there was already a lot on there.
I think maybe we should see the doctor about your eyes. Yes, I know there is nothing that can be done but, maybe, he could help you admit that you don't see as well as you did. Yes, I know you see fine. Nothing has changed.
That's a step. Then, there's another. No, they did not get new walkway stones.
Yes, it's raining out. You can hear the raindrops on the window? No, of course not. You see them. Can you tell I put the wipers on? Yes, I did. See, they're going back and forth. Maybe you can hear them.
I do not want to grow old.
I know you can go down the stairs but you're not near them, yet.
Are your eyes bothering you?
It's not bar-b-que sauce; it's a moist toilette.
The vinegar is right in front of you; it's in a glass bottle. I wouldn't think it was invisible but maybe...
Are you sure your eyes haven't gotten worse, lately?
There are no steps up to the restaurant. It's just a different coloured patio stone. You could lose your balance, please put your foot down.
There is sugar on your cereal. You want more? Are you sure? That looks like a lot of sugar already. I'm sorry I didn't mean to put so much on; I thought you asked for more. Yes, I know you did and I did tell you there was already a lot on there.
I think maybe we should see the doctor about your eyes. Yes, I know there is nothing that can be done but, maybe, he could help you admit that you don't see as well as you did. Yes, I know you see fine. Nothing has changed.
That's a step. Then, there's another. No, they did not get new walkway stones.
Yes, it's raining out. You can hear the raindrops on the window? No, of course not. You see them. Can you tell I put the wipers on? Yes, I did. See, they're going back and forth. Maybe you can hear them.
I do not want to grow old.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
My Husband joins the Chipits Brigade
Yesterday, the tissues were finally found and it was confirmed, Kleenex is no longer making large sized tissues. I happened to be in a grocery store and there were a bunch of boxes in the clear out section; because I am the way I am, I asked the manager of the store (as in someone important who could impress the matriarch) why. Kleenex is no longer making this particular size for Canadian distribution. I bought 20 boxes; I cleared out the store and brought 20 boxes of Kleenex home for the matriarch to hide under her bed. She was delighted although a little bit peeved not to have been with me when I asked the manager of the store the infamous question. But, it's the store where I do my regular grocery shopping, so, I told the matriarch she could ask him herself on her next visit. I love having answers for my mother-in-law; they are small victories, but, sometimes, in this world, when battles are doomed to be lost, those little victories are so important.
Plus, I caught my husband sneaking into MY bag of Chipits. It, ironically, dawns on me that both my husband's mother and my own parents left their children's place of birth to adventure somewhere else. I hope I stay here where my children have grown up and they leave but come back. I think families fall apart when there is no sense of home. My husband disagrees with me: a house is just a house. But I have begun to think locality determines identity and one needs that strong sense of foundation to flourish. Just something I have begun to consider. Maybe things would have been easier on the matriarch and on my family if life with her had begun on a more familiar basis. For all the matriarch being a grandmother, she was very much on an independent road before people started dying on her and the doctor told her to either move in with us or into a home. My husband simply agrees there is a lot of stress. At this rate, the two of us will simply roll down the aisle at the matriarch's funeral.
Plus, I caught my husband sneaking into MY bag of Chipits. It, ironically, dawns on me that both my husband's mother and my own parents left their children's place of birth to adventure somewhere else. I hope I stay here where my children have grown up and they leave but come back. I think families fall apart when there is no sense of home. My husband disagrees with me: a house is just a house. But I have begun to think locality determines identity and one needs that strong sense of foundation to flourish. Just something I have begun to consider. Maybe things would have been easier on the matriarch and on my family if life with her had begun on a more familiar basis. For all the matriarch being a grandmother, she was very much on an independent road before people started dying on her and the doctor told her to either move in with us or into a home. My husband simply agrees there is a lot of stress. At this rate, the two of us will simply roll down the aisle at the matriarch's funeral.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
The Search for Tissues Continues
The matriarch has been spending a lot more time with my husband. He was able to arrange his work hours to be at home more and, thus, has spent more time with his mother. The quest for large size tissues is on again. And, my husband doesn't quite have the patience to go to every store I have been to in order to double check the lack of tissues. It is driving him crazy. The matriarch won't let the subject drop. To make matters worse, the matriarch doesn't really need the tissues; she just doesn't want to run out before, oh I don't know, November.
My husband will not take his mother for a drive every day; he has told her it is a waste of gas. One thing about being an only child is the fact the matriarch will always see my husband as right. Mind, I still take her for a drive and listen to her talk about how her son says it's a waste of gas. She has to do something, I feel; my husband argues, it is her life and if she wants to sit in her room all the time, let her. It is not that he has no sympathy; he is deeply frustrated. Imagine, this is his mother's existence and there is not a thing he can do to motivate her to change it. In the nice weather, she could, at least, sit outside. She won't even ask to listen to the Stuart McLean CDs; I always have to offer it to her. Of course, it is frustrating. What can you do? Entertain a senior 24 hours a day? Not even my children were that demanding when they were young.
My husband will not take his mother for a drive every day; he has told her it is a waste of gas. One thing about being an only child is the fact the matriarch will always see my husband as right. Mind, I still take her for a drive and listen to her talk about how her son says it's a waste of gas. She has to do something, I feel; my husband argues, it is her life and if she wants to sit in her room all the time, let her. It is not that he has no sympathy; he is deeply frustrated. Imagine, this is his mother's existence and there is not a thing he can do to motivate her to change it. In the nice weather, she could, at least, sit outside. She won't even ask to listen to the Stuart McLean CDs; I always have to offer it to her. Of course, it is frustrating. What can you do? Entertain a senior 24 hours a day? Not even my children were that demanding when they were young.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
A Senior and $7000.
An elderly lady was robbed on her deathbed in Toronto, recently. As the radio and newspapers covered the story, I couldn't help but wonder why a dying woman would want to keep her valuables on her--in the hospital. Apparently, the deceased had been robbed previously and had decided to bring everything into the hospital with her. She chose not to leave anything with her family. In a discussion with my parents, both seniors, and my mother-in-law, we tried to rationalize the lady's behaviour. When the matriarch has been in the hospital, I take her valuables, basically her purse--she wears no jewellery, home. I don't go through it; it's not mine. My mother thought the lady in question kept her things for sentimental reasons. My father thought she may have kept things close to her for control purposes; assuming she was in a healthy state of mind, the lady could have been doling out legacies from her deathbed. It may have been a way of insuring visitors came to the hospital. Either way, it is sort of pathetic. Death offers no chance, in the words of Thornton Wilder, to take it with you. So why have it around? And, sentimentality? I honestly don't understand. Photographs and pictures are sentimental; a wedding ring may be meaningful; but things? I cannot understand how things can bring meaning and comfort at one's end. Of course, I am judging this poor lady. It was terrible for her to be robbed on her deathbed; but, of all the things she will be remembered for, it is also terrible this one decision on her part will also be part of her history.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
How often do You have Sex?
Actual conversation:
Me: Dear, you'll never guessed what you're mother asked me today.
Dear: (pouring himself a glass of orange juice)(shoulders slump) What did she say now?
Me: (defensive tone) You know, I am not always criticizing your mother.
Dear: (looking lovingly if somewhat exasperatedly at the juice glass)I know. But when you ask a question that way, I always assume the worst.
Me: (preparing the pan for bacon and eggs) What "way" do I ask a question?
Dear: What did my mother say?
Me: (somewhat angrily) YOUR MOTHER wanted to know how often we have sex. (face in that "so there" defiant look)
What can one possibly say to that kind of question, asked by one's mother-in-law, with whom one shares a house, and for who's sake one sleeps in the basement in a room without a door and no access to privacy? We have sex like rampaging bunnies? I have no idea how my mother-in-law came up with this kind of curiousity. It makes me wonder what she is thinking about in that room of her's all alone.
It is very stressful having the matriarch here; that's life. But, there are worse things and, for all my complaints and awful question voice, I really don't mind. Okay, that's a lie.
But, it is not as though our family ethics could allow for her to live somewhere else. Sometimes I find living the talk as opposed to talking the talk, if you understand, really hard. But what can a family do to instill character in one's children if parents refuse to do the hard stuff? I hope I never live with my children. I hope I never ask them embarrassing questions. I hope I never ask about their sex lives (and, if I do, let them be in their eighties and so beyond caring, it won't matter!).
Me: Dear, you'll never guessed what you're mother asked me today.
Dear: (pouring himself a glass of orange juice)(shoulders slump) What did she say now?
Me: (defensive tone) You know, I am not always criticizing your mother.
Dear: (looking lovingly if somewhat exasperatedly at the juice glass)I know. But when you ask a question that way, I always assume the worst.
Me: (preparing the pan for bacon and eggs) What "way" do I ask a question?
Dear: What did my mother say?
Me: (somewhat angrily) YOUR MOTHER wanted to know how often we have sex. (face in that "so there" defiant look)
What can one possibly say to that kind of question, asked by one's mother-in-law, with whom one shares a house, and for who's sake one sleeps in the basement in a room without a door and no access to privacy? We have sex like rampaging bunnies? I have no idea how my mother-in-law came up with this kind of curiousity. It makes me wonder what she is thinking about in that room of her's all alone.
It is very stressful having the matriarch here; that's life. But, there are worse things and, for all my complaints and awful question voice, I really don't mind. Okay, that's a lie.
But, it is not as though our family ethics could allow for her to live somewhere else. Sometimes I find living the talk as opposed to talking the talk, if you understand, really hard. But what can a family do to instill character in one's children if parents refuse to do the hard stuff? I hope I never live with my children. I hope I never ask them embarrassing questions. I hope I never ask about their sex lives (and, if I do, let them be in their eighties and so beyond caring, it won't matter!).
Seniors Driving
A little off topic because the Matriarch never ever drove a car. She once took a horse and sled into the ditch when she was eleven but I don't think that counts. My mother-in-law had decent eye sight till she was in her mid nineties and, even now, she is still steady on her feet. Would I trust her in a car? I would have trusted her five years ago.
I got my license when I turned 31; for one year, I lived in a small town, with no transit, and 3 children under 4. My life changed when I got my license and I could go to the grocery store. Independence is very much linked with the ability to get around. My heart goes out to seniors and their independence and their driving licenses. It seems tragically unfair to take someone's license away simply because of age; I can understand eyesight and general health concerns but, all things being considered, I don't think seniors' age an extreme danger. There have been a number of accidents, lately, which seem to indicate age related dangers. However, accidents also happen to the young and healthy.
Most older people don't drive at night; some do. Most older people drive locally, some go to Florida. Whatever rules that are to be enacted to change driving regulations for seniors had better also take into concern the changes society requires, too. A senior who is not allowed to drive is going to need transit, be it public transit or a family member driver. And, sadly, not every senior has a family member on which to rely. Seniors who cannot get to grocery stores are going to need delivery options; seniors who cannot get out are going to need public health to call on them to make sure they are okay; seniors who are stuck may get bored in empty neighbourhoods or they may become the Neighbourhood Watch and extremely friendly, and possibly annoying, to police.
It seems so easy to talk about seniors losing their drivers' licenses; but, it is a way of controlling they way old people live. Society cannot just pool together and limit what the old can and cannot do; assuming health is not an issue, and all sorts of diseases not all age related can affect driving skill, the simple fact one has turned 80 should not mandate testing. As the demographic bump of the baby boom approaches, certain realities are going to hit: families that haven't bonded are not going to be there for parents; institutional care reminiscent of daycare centres are going to develop; seniors who do not like their life options are going to vote.
I got my license when I turned 31; for one year, I lived in a small town, with no transit, and 3 children under 4. My life changed when I got my license and I could go to the grocery store. Independence is very much linked with the ability to get around. My heart goes out to seniors and their independence and their driving licenses. It seems tragically unfair to take someone's license away simply because of age; I can understand eyesight and general health concerns but, all things being considered, I don't think seniors' age an extreme danger. There have been a number of accidents, lately, which seem to indicate age related dangers. However, accidents also happen to the young and healthy.
Most older people don't drive at night; some do. Most older people drive locally, some go to Florida. Whatever rules that are to be enacted to change driving regulations for seniors had better also take into concern the changes society requires, too. A senior who is not allowed to drive is going to need transit, be it public transit or a family member driver. And, sadly, not every senior has a family member on which to rely. Seniors who cannot get to grocery stores are going to need delivery options; seniors who cannot get out are going to need public health to call on them to make sure they are okay; seniors who are stuck may get bored in empty neighbourhoods or they may become the Neighbourhood Watch and extremely friendly, and possibly annoying, to police.
It seems so easy to talk about seniors losing their drivers' licenses; but, it is a way of controlling they way old people live. Society cannot just pool together and limit what the old can and cannot do; assuming health is not an issue, and all sorts of diseases not all age related can affect driving skill, the simple fact one has turned 80 should not mandate testing. As the demographic bump of the baby boom approaches, certain realities are going to hit: families that haven't bonded are not going to be there for parents; institutional care reminiscent of daycare centres are going to develop; seniors who do not like their life options are going to vote.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Stuart McLean and Meditations on Petulance
The matriarch and I listened to the "Vinyl Cafe" yesterday lunchtime and she told me Stuart McLean had a nice voice. I asked her if she would like to listen to some of his "Dave and Morley" stories; the children own all of Stuart McLean's cds. We once went to see the radio taping of the "Stuart McLean's Christmas at the Vinyl Cafe." My youngest child also happened to be the youngest member of the audience and won a free cd; Santa Claus brought the rest of the collection as presents. So, now, the matriarch has something to do. It is about time.
At my friend's suggestion, we have tried radio dramas before; the matriarch has refused everything the library in town has and the versions of "The Shadow" I own. She won't listen to books on tape and she isn't a music oriented person. The matriarch has been sitting in silence in her room, for days on end, interrupted only in the evenings with "Wheel of Fortune" and "Jeopardy." Saturday nights are for "Cops" and "America's Most Wanted." She used to listen to the children practice piano and guitar but has withdrawn into her room to listen from upstairs; I like to think she still listens despite her absence from the family room. You know, you can't force a person to participate in family life; sometimes, it seems they are almost afraid of laughter. My husband has told me not to take the matriarch so personally; he recognizes his mother for what she is and I want her to be something she is not. Not everyone's granny is going to be a little old lady who bakes cookies for children; some are going to be individuals who really want something undefinable from the world and resent the fact they cannot get it.
Saturday, the matriarch spent the entire day in her room complaining of cold and not eating anything. She had no fever and I did not know what was wrong; she did eat breakfast but no snacks throughout the day and no lunch. At 2 o'clock, I phoned the nurse at Telehealth Ontario. The only change we could account for in the matriarch's routine was the addition of the Cumidin, the blood thinner with the side effect of more easily felt cold. The Cumidin had started Friday evening and it would be difficult to accept the side affect would be so immediate; the matriarch's annoyance at being on the medication, however, is obvious. My husband wants to see the doctor and make the argument the Cumidin is not worth the effort; my mother-in-law doesn't want to be on it and her wishes should be the deciding factor in her health management. However, that fear of stroke lies over our heads and the possibility she could survive a stroke, disabled, is a terrible fear.
What amazes me is the petulant nature of the matriarch's behaviour; she stayed in her room and refused to eat but what she had to eat in order to take her medication. She does what she has to do to stay alive. My oldest child made a beautiful dinner for Saturday night supper; all my children cook really well; the meal was fennel rubbed pork chops with orange sauce, mashed potatoes, and a medley of vegetables: parsnips, brussel sprouts and carrots. The matriarch's favourite vegetables and mashed potatoes and a sauce she could use as a gravy; the woman chose to eat bread and jam, no peanut butter even. I think to myself the only one she is punishing is herself; it is as though, the matriarch has a slightly masochistic attitude toward life--she is going to live despite herself.
At my friend's suggestion, we have tried radio dramas before; the matriarch has refused everything the library in town has and the versions of "The Shadow" I own. She won't listen to books on tape and she isn't a music oriented person. The matriarch has been sitting in silence in her room, for days on end, interrupted only in the evenings with "Wheel of Fortune" and "Jeopardy." Saturday nights are for "Cops" and "America's Most Wanted." She used to listen to the children practice piano and guitar but has withdrawn into her room to listen from upstairs; I like to think she still listens despite her absence from the family room. You know, you can't force a person to participate in family life; sometimes, it seems they are almost afraid of laughter. My husband has told me not to take the matriarch so personally; he recognizes his mother for what she is and I want her to be something she is not. Not everyone's granny is going to be a little old lady who bakes cookies for children; some are going to be individuals who really want something undefinable from the world and resent the fact they cannot get it.
Saturday, the matriarch spent the entire day in her room complaining of cold and not eating anything. She had no fever and I did not know what was wrong; she did eat breakfast but no snacks throughout the day and no lunch. At 2 o'clock, I phoned the nurse at Telehealth Ontario. The only change we could account for in the matriarch's routine was the addition of the Cumidin, the blood thinner with the side effect of more easily felt cold. The Cumidin had started Friday evening and it would be difficult to accept the side affect would be so immediate; the matriarch's annoyance at being on the medication, however, is obvious. My husband wants to see the doctor and make the argument the Cumidin is not worth the effort; my mother-in-law doesn't want to be on it and her wishes should be the deciding factor in her health management. However, that fear of stroke lies over our heads and the possibility she could survive a stroke, disabled, is a terrible fear.
What amazes me is the petulant nature of the matriarch's behaviour; she stayed in her room and refused to eat but what she had to eat in order to take her medication. She does what she has to do to stay alive. My oldest child made a beautiful dinner for Saturday night supper; all my children cook really well; the meal was fennel rubbed pork chops with orange sauce, mashed potatoes, and a medley of vegetables: parsnips, brussel sprouts and carrots. The matriarch's favourite vegetables and mashed potatoes and a sauce she could use as a gravy; the woman chose to eat bread and jam, no peanut butter even. I think to myself the only one she is punishing is herself; it is as though, the matriarch has a slightly masochistic attitude toward life--she is going to live despite herself.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
The Doctor Makes a Phone Call
The Doctor phoned and requested I put the matriarch back onto her blood thinners; he had discussed her situation with the Eye specialist and saw no problem with the medication's return. I hate the matriarch taking Cumidin; it is basically rat poison thinned out to prevent the possibility of a stroke. The matriarch and I live in this world of possible death and the main aim of things is to prevent her survival should she suffer a stroke. My mother-in-law has an irregular heart beat; and, in the regular scheme of things, taking the medication is wise advice. However, she has had an irregular heart beat for forty years and has previously been on Cumidin for 3 years. I don't think it is going to make a difference but we are following the doctor's advice.
It means a change in routine. Every week, I must take the matriarch to a blood clinic to have her blood tested; she must be poked and prodded and her blood assessed to make sure the dosage is correct. The amount of Cumidin in her blood can affect her general health: too much and she could bleed to death; too little and the medication serves no purpose. The amounts are affected by her diet and her physical exercise; I think these effects of the medication are age-related. The matriarch will bruise easily for the next little while; the dosage will take some time to adjust. Every tap on the hand will cause massive bruising; the matriarch cannot fall. She cannot eat dark greens because the iron in the vegetables will affect the Cumidin dosage: no spinach or broccoli, in particular. Because she cannot see, I must watch out for the blood affects of bruising.
The matriarch really did not want to go back on the blood thinner; my husband and I left the decision up to her; my husband has her power of attorney and makes the decision about her right to die if she has an accident or suffers ill health. He cannot decide about her right to live; the matriarch cannot suffer a stroke for the very fact, she could survive it. My husband and I will take turns taking the matriarch to the clinic; although, neither one of us really wants to do it; one does the clinic and the other one does piano with the children. One day, at some point in the distant future, when the matriarch has passed on and the children have grown, my elderly husband and my older self will look at each other and wonder what we can do with this thing called "free time"....
It means a change in routine. Every week, I must take the matriarch to a blood clinic to have her blood tested; she must be poked and prodded and her blood assessed to make sure the dosage is correct. The amount of Cumidin in her blood can affect her general health: too much and she could bleed to death; too little and the medication serves no purpose. The amounts are affected by her diet and her physical exercise; I think these effects of the medication are age-related. The matriarch will bruise easily for the next little while; the dosage will take some time to adjust. Every tap on the hand will cause massive bruising; the matriarch cannot fall. She cannot eat dark greens because the iron in the vegetables will affect the Cumidin dosage: no spinach or broccoli, in particular. Because she cannot see, I must watch out for the blood affects of bruising.
The matriarch really did not want to go back on the blood thinner; my husband and I left the decision up to her; my husband has her power of attorney and makes the decision about her right to die if she has an accident or suffers ill health. He cannot decide about her right to live; the matriarch cannot suffer a stroke for the very fact, she could survive it. My husband and I will take turns taking the matriarch to the clinic; although, neither one of us really wants to do it; one does the clinic and the other one does piano with the children. One day, at some point in the distant future, when the matriarch has passed on and the children have grown, my elderly husband and my older self will look at each other and wonder what we can do with this thing called "free time"....
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
The Thing About Accidents and Kidney Infections
To begin, the matriarch does not have accidents; she has had them after emotional upsets but they are hardly routine. It is embarrassing and sheets must be changed, clothes washed, and the matriarch's dignity restored. But it happens.
The matriarch is on a low dose Alzheimer's medication and the doctor did not tell me accidents could be a side effect. My friend's father has full onset Alzheimer's and she has not been told accidents could be a side effect of the medication. Neither one of us has ever heard of kidney infections being a possible side effect of the drugs; we both figure if they were, it would be the doctor's obligation to inform us.
Unfortunately, and recently, an Alzheimer patient I know of has suffered her third kidney infection and the staff of the home has told the family the infections are a result of the medication. Maybe they are, maybe they aren't. But my first thought when I found out about the infections was personal accidents. Were the patient's sheets not changed or was the person left sitting in the mess for too long? When my children were young, I made 'Huggies' a small fortune because I would change the children's diapers whenever they had a movement, urinary or bowel. It sounds silly to have explain about accidents but some people change on timers, every 2-4 hours, some change on demand, and some allow so many diapers a day. I feel terrible about the situation with the Alzheimer patient; the accident scenario was not discussed. But adult diapers also have to be changed and, often, work on the same schedule as children's concerns. I can't imagine doctors accepting kidney infections as par for the course with some medication. Maybe they do? But this is one reason, I think no matter how difficult it is here, I could not, in good faith, let my mother-in-law into an institution. I don't imagine any way to justify her sitting in her own filth.
The matriarch is on a low dose Alzheimer's medication and the doctor did not tell me accidents could be a side effect. My friend's father has full onset Alzheimer's and she has not been told accidents could be a side effect of the medication. Neither one of us has ever heard of kidney infections being a possible side effect of the drugs; we both figure if they were, it would be the doctor's obligation to inform us.
Unfortunately, and recently, an Alzheimer patient I know of has suffered her third kidney infection and the staff of the home has told the family the infections are a result of the medication. Maybe they are, maybe they aren't. But my first thought when I found out about the infections was personal accidents. Were the patient's sheets not changed or was the person left sitting in the mess for too long? When my children were young, I made 'Huggies' a small fortune because I would change the children's diapers whenever they had a movement, urinary or bowel. It sounds silly to have explain about accidents but some people change on timers, every 2-4 hours, some change on demand, and some allow so many diapers a day. I feel terrible about the situation with the Alzheimer patient; the accident scenario was not discussed. But adult diapers also have to be changed and, often, work on the same schedule as children's concerns. I can't imagine doctors accepting kidney infections as par for the course with some medication. Maybe they do? But this is one reason, I think no matter how difficult it is here, I could not, in good faith, let my mother-in-law into an institution. I don't imagine any way to justify her sitting in her own filth.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
What is Life?
Yesterday, there was an appointment in the city; it was an event for my children, it was important to me, and it was for the better part of the morning. My mother-in-law cannot stay at home alone for extended periods of time; it is not that she gets into anything, it is the fact that she does nothing. She will not make herself lunch; she will not venture into the rest of the house; she will not turn the television set on. I gave her breakfast and put her drops into her eyes and I said good-bye; my husband was home for her lunch and a bit of a visit and then, he had to go. I was back home by 2. Over all, I did not think she was alone excessively; she disagreed. However, when I invited her to go shopping in the late afternoon, she declined; my two younger children stayed at home with her while I did the grocery shopping. Last night, the matriarch made the comment to me that yesterday was very hard on her; she didn't like being alone.
The thoughts of her being so alone have me stressed with guilt; although, over the course of the five hours I was gone with the children, my husband was there for one hour during the middle. It was broken up. But the idea brings to me the harsh reality that life is what one makes it. The matriarch resented the fact I was gone; however, most days, she sleeps for a couple of hours in the morning after breakfast, has lunch and retreats back to her room until I take her for a drive. Technically, the routine was no different; but, the matriarch was still angry. I cannot explain the reason to myself except to consider my mother-in-law wants me around all the time. I hate to think she wants me at her beck and call but I cannot think what else would be her reasoning. And, I have this awful thought at the back of my mind: after almost 100 years, this is what her life amounts to, having someone wait on her. That sounds so depressing, never mind judgmental.
But, then, I think of seniors in their old age homes, sitting in chairs, watching television, doing nothing and I wonder about my mother-in-law. She could do so much more and chooses not to participate; would seniors from other situations be so different? Our family life is really restricted because of my mother-in-law; the problems arise, however, when she takes our sacrifices for granted as though she is somehow entitled to have us around at her discretion. Maybe the old are hidden away in homes to escape this reality? I don't know. I do know the matriarch is looking forward to today: we are off for a drive to my parents' home, are doing lunch at a pancake house and the Oscars are on television this evening.
The thoughts of her being so alone have me stressed with guilt; although, over the course of the five hours I was gone with the children, my husband was there for one hour during the middle. It was broken up. But the idea brings to me the harsh reality that life is what one makes it. The matriarch resented the fact I was gone; however, most days, she sleeps for a couple of hours in the morning after breakfast, has lunch and retreats back to her room until I take her for a drive. Technically, the routine was no different; but, the matriarch was still angry. I cannot explain the reason to myself except to consider my mother-in-law wants me around all the time. I hate to think she wants me at her beck and call but I cannot think what else would be her reasoning. And, I have this awful thought at the back of my mind: after almost 100 years, this is what her life amounts to, having someone wait on her. That sounds so depressing, never mind judgmental.
But, then, I think of seniors in their old age homes, sitting in chairs, watching television, doing nothing and I wonder about my mother-in-law. She could do so much more and chooses not to participate; would seniors from other situations be so different? Our family life is really restricted because of my mother-in-law; the problems arise, however, when she takes our sacrifices for granted as though she is somehow entitled to have us around at her discretion. Maybe the old are hidden away in homes to escape this reality? I don't know. I do know the matriarch is looking forward to today: we are off for a drive to my parents' home, are doing lunch at a pancake house and the Oscars are on television this evening.
Friday, March 5, 2010
A Moral Character
My husband has been home this week and thinks he has been really helpful; he has been helpful with the children...he's supposed to help me with his mother. For the first few days, I kept hoping he would be motivated to take her for a drive or to the shops or to get her to do something. He wasn't. His argument is basically if the matriarch wanted to go somewhere, she would tell him. He took her for lunch...to the restaurant and back. I know it's tedious and boring; I hate going out for lunch; but, I wish he would be more empathetic and consider doing something with the matriarch. He could have taken her for a drive after lunch. That is what I find so draining--having to always entertain her. My husband feels no such obligation.
We have gotten into a debate about our roles with the matriarch here; my husband believes she is an adult and can make her own choices. To some degree, he is right; the matriarch chooses to sit up in her room rather than participate in family life. People tell me that is what very old people do. However, every time I ask the matriarch if she wants to go out or to do something, she does. I know it is selfish on her part seeking to always be entertained but, then, what else can an almost 100 year old person do??? She refuses responsibility for anything but her own rooms and she does take meticulous care of them. Mind, it is not like they can get all that untidy. But, I must emphasize she considers them her responsibility; I only vacuum, take out the garbage and do the toilet when my husband takes her for lunch. But I always feel the matriarch is waiting for someone or something to happen. My husband laughs with me and says I take everything way too seriously. But I don't know how else to take it.
The matriarch doesn't phone her in-laws but expects them to call her; I have told her I would dial for her but she would prefer them to call her. That is selfish. And, that is her nature or character; my husband points out after 10 years of being actively involved with her, I am only discovering this now. I am not just discovering it. But I don't understand why, even at 100, the matriarch would choose to be this way. I mean there are ways to make things easier on oneself; I imagine sitting up in her room all the time to be boring; she could, at least, be down here with us and the piano and the guitar and the children reading. I can't imagine what kind of person she must have been, or what kinds of things she must have gone through, to prefer isolation to family life. I hate to think what kind of mother she must have been.
We have gotten into a debate about our roles with the matriarch here; my husband believes she is an adult and can make her own choices. To some degree, he is right; the matriarch chooses to sit up in her room rather than participate in family life. People tell me that is what very old people do. However, every time I ask the matriarch if she wants to go out or to do something, she does. I know it is selfish on her part seeking to always be entertained but, then, what else can an almost 100 year old person do??? She refuses responsibility for anything but her own rooms and she does take meticulous care of them. Mind, it is not like they can get all that untidy. But, I must emphasize she considers them her responsibility; I only vacuum, take out the garbage and do the toilet when my husband takes her for lunch. But I always feel the matriarch is waiting for someone or something to happen. My husband laughs with me and says I take everything way too seriously. But I don't know how else to take it.
The matriarch doesn't phone her in-laws but expects them to call her; I have told her I would dial for her but she would prefer them to call her. That is selfish. And, that is her nature or character; my husband points out after 10 years of being actively involved with her, I am only discovering this now. I am not just discovering it. But I don't understand why, even at 100, the matriarch would choose to be this way. I mean there are ways to make things easier on oneself; I imagine sitting up in her room all the time to be boring; she could, at least, be down here with us and the piano and the guitar and the children reading. I can't imagine what kind of person she must have been, or what kinds of things she must have gone through, to prefer isolation to family life. I hate to think what kind of mother she must have been.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Money
It sucks to be poor. It must be worse to have worked one's entire life, fall into dementia and have one's family rob one under the guise of providing care. I found the following article in today's Globe and Mail:
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/judge-blasts-siblings-for-neglecting-ailing-mother-during-inheritance-fight/article1488862/
The judge seriously criticized the family for their concern for their inheritance rather than for the care of their 87 year old mother. However, he did nothing to actually improve the situation for the old lady. I wonder sometimes what motivates people; money is such a shallow thing; I mean the old eventually die and situations do not go on forever. The matriarch, perhaps, is the exception. In her case, there is no money but what she gets monthly and that goes for lunch, every week, twice a week; what will be left will cover her funeral. I just don't understand what can make people think robbing their parents is somehow okay, can be justified.
Sometimes, I think our youth dominated society tends to think young knows best--and everyone seeks to stay young despite their age. My mother-in-law stopped dying her hair when she was in her late 70s; I didn't know her then but I cannot help but wonder what she thought about a head of black hair and a face lined with wrinkles. I don't dye my hair and I never have; so, I have more gray than most of my family. I don't think that's a bad thing; I am certainly not competing with my children to be younger or cooler. And, of the money situation, when you die, nothing goes with you and I do think what goes around, comes around. Although, I have a hard time believing so many parents put their children through the hell their children put them through at the end of their lives. With the baby boomers aging and their eternal youth, I can only think seniorhood is about to get worse; these people will not admit they are old and will think they are on the cusp of what is about to "be." The matriarch annoys me with her demands and expectations and her failure to recognize she is not the woman she once was; I dread living in a society filled with similarly minded people....
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/judge-blasts-siblings-for-neglecting-ailing-mother-during-inheritance-fight/article1488862/
The judge seriously criticized the family for their concern for their inheritance rather than for the care of their 87 year old mother. However, he did nothing to actually improve the situation for the old lady. I wonder sometimes what motivates people; money is such a shallow thing; I mean the old eventually die and situations do not go on forever. The matriarch, perhaps, is the exception. In her case, there is no money but what she gets monthly and that goes for lunch, every week, twice a week; what will be left will cover her funeral. I just don't understand what can make people think robbing their parents is somehow okay, can be justified.
Sometimes, I think our youth dominated society tends to think young knows best--and everyone seeks to stay young despite their age. My mother-in-law stopped dying her hair when she was in her late 70s; I didn't know her then but I cannot help but wonder what she thought about a head of black hair and a face lined with wrinkles. I don't dye my hair and I never have; so, I have more gray than most of my family. I don't think that's a bad thing; I am certainly not competing with my children to be younger or cooler. And, of the money situation, when you die, nothing goes with you and I do think what goes around, comes around. Although, I have a hard time believing so many parents put their children through the hell their children put them through at the end of their lives. With the baby boomers aging and their eternal youth, I can only think seniorhood is about to get worse; these people will not admit they are old and will think they are on the cusp of what is about to "be." The matriarch annoys me with her demands and expectations and her failure to recognize she is not the woman she once was; I dread living in a society filled with similarly minded people....
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Of Strawberries and Raspberries
Well, we're into March and the mother-in-law has eaten 50 1 litre bags of strawberries and 40+ 1 litre bags of raspberries. It has taken her 5 months but she has done it. And, she has done it with no help from the children. I have a chest freezer completely empty of fruit; there are some frozen broccoli left, bags of spinach and chocolate from last Easter which I figure I had better throw out. But, otherwise, the darn thing is empty. My husband is worried about what his mother is going to eat next week. Can you believe we are talking about a 98 year old lady????
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)