We sat in the Opthamologist's office for the matriarch's annual appointment. Nothing has changed in her eyes--not that I can see anyhow. She still wears her black sunglasses when we drive about town, window rolled down and her hair blowing in the wind. So, we begin our conversation:
He might give me drops, you know.
Why? Is your eye bothering you? The doctor took you off the drops last year because you developed an allergy to the drops but there was nothing wrong with your eye.
But I am old, you know.
The visit to the doctor lasted all of five minutes: he wished her a belated happy birthday and checked both her eyes, the blind one is still blind and the one that is almost blind is still almost blind. She sees what she can see. Then, he wished us a pleasant afternoon, asked us to make an appointment for next year and that was that. My mother-in-law was not happy; she was almost belligerent.
Why are you so angry? There is nothing wrong with your eyes.
He should given me something; he could have made me see better.
He told you last year there was nothing he could do.
He could have told me that again.
Why? You already know.
The woman was royally disappointed for the rest of the day.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
This Really Happened
The matriarch wanted to go to the Mandarin for lunch on Sunday; the service was closed when we arrived and supper was in preparation. As an alternative, I suggested we go back during the week for supper. Wednesday was decided upon and I made reservations Tuesday.
For six please, Wednesday night.
Okay, here is your confirmation number; any birthdays being celebrated?
No, but there is a senior coming: I would like to arrange for the discount.
It's 25% off for seniors but they must show their Provincial Senior Citizen card.
Okay, but my mother-in-law is 100--it is sort of self-evident she is old.
No problem...just bring the card and she will get the discount.
I swear to you they asked for the card when we got there. Really.
For six please, Wednesday night.
Okay, here is your confirmation number; any birthdays being celebrated?
No, but there is a senior coming: I would like to arrange for the discount.
It's 25% off for seniors but they must show their Provincial Senior Citizen card.
Okay, but my mother-in-law is 100--it is sort of self-evident she is old.
No problem...just bring the card and she will get the discount.
I swear to you they asked for the card when we got there. Really.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Being Quiet...
(There are things you really want to say but can't...I don't know why silence helps so much, at times, but if I spoke I swear I would scream.)
Sunday, August 14, 2011
The Key
Wait, I have a key...
My mother-in-law flourished a key at me this afternoon as we stood outside my front door after this afternoon's corn roast. The event happened at the library-cum-police-station-cum-fire-hall; I think I have mentioned before I live in a very small town. Anyhow, the girls locked up our house while I drove the matriarch down to the corn roast and, then, they followed us down; the library is at the end of the street and around the corner. It shouldn't have taken a long time for the return walk home; unfortunately, my daughters take after me and chatted to neighbours along the way and, basically, had us awkwardly waiting for them on the doorstep. Until, of course, the matriarch brought out the key. I know this sounds stupid but my first thought was: why do you have a key to MY house?
The matriarch started talking about how my husband had given her a key in case she was ever locked out of the house. I was silent. The matriarch only ever goes out with me; though, case in point, I did not have a key because my children did not have keys and needed to have mine...I know this is all very confusing in a way and immensely insecure but you have to know the feeling, for a moment at least, of me resenting the matriarch having a key and me not having one. For a minute, no longer, I was really, really angry at my husband.
I know I tend to be a bit flaky but I deeply resented my husband being so familiar with that element of my character that he knew to act against it--if only it hadn't been his mother.
She stood there waving the key at me. Of course, the woman did not give it to me; she showed it to me and then tried to put it in the lock. I have mentioned before the matriarch is blind, well, not quite, there are times she sees nothing and times she sees less than that but we pretend not to notice. So, I had to stand locked outside of my own house while my mother-in-law who cannot see showed her independence by trying to open the door.
My youngest daughter came up; she did not have the house key but she grabbed the matriarch's key out of her grandmother's hand; no patience is in those who have to go to the washroom. And, the key did not fit.
The matriarch was surprised. No, actually, I believe she was indignant. Why would her son give her a key that did not work? Of course, I felt better and calmed my emotions; though, I was still a little angry at my husband. But the matriarch became royally infuriated at the absent man. My oldest daughter came along and told me my middle child had the house key and she was talking to neighbours about what was happening to the old school house next door to the library-cum-police-station-cum-fire-hall. Apparently, they are trying to put a new restaurant in the century old school; does anyone else see the irony in this? So, four of us stood now waiting on the door step. And, the matriarch began to talk...about my husband, about keys, about how she thought my husband trusted her more than me. And, my youngest danced around the porch trying to stall washroom needs.
When my middle child finally got home, she let us all into the house and the matriarch continued to talk about her son. She was obviously dismayed at my husband's behaviour...so much so she began to annoy me, again. When my husband finally came into the picture, the matriarch began to discuss with him the fact the key to the house did not work. I sat there looking at him.
And, he looked back at me knowing his mother could not see his face. And, knowing that whatever he said, he was going to be in hot water with someone. You could almost see him trying to balance contexts and see whose fury would be worse.
The fact that he allowed the matriarch to think he trusted her more than me bothered me more than anything. I don't know why it is such a big deal; but, call it residue insecurity, these things lately really annoy me. A lot. My husband told his mother he would get her a new key to the house and grimaced at me; I know he was just keeping her quiet; I know he would just give her another key that likely wouldn't work. The whole key debacle was happening because we are getting a new front door and didn't want to make any new keys. What I don't think he knew, and what I anticipated, was the reality she would try any new key he would give her. So, when he eventually gave her the new key, he tried his own key in the lock and with a little magic enabled by her blindness, everything righted itself. Except, of course, my anger.
A son is always a son--an only son and only child, more so. Sometimes, it takes a while to come to this realization. But there are few ways to confront this drama...I don't for a moment believe my husband would put his mother ahead of us but I do know, in order to avoid confrontation, he would do anything to silence his mother. Is it possible to still be afraid of a parent even when one is over 50 and the parent is 100? Is it possible to debate one's wife when dealing with one's mother? Why is it so necessary for my mother-in-law to have a key to the house? Why do I have such anxiety?
The debate within myself ceased for part of the evening. A key to the door is no big deal, really. It is, after all, just a key. But, then, my husband asked for strawberries and sugar...
My mother-in-law flourished a key at me this afternoon as we stood outside my front door after this afternoon's corn roast. The event happened at the library-cum-police-station-cum-fire-hall; I think I have mentioned before I live in a very small town. Anyhow, the girls locked up our house while I drove the matriarch down to the corn roast and, then, they followed us down; the library is at the end of the street and around the corner. It shouldn't have taken a long time for the return walk home; unfortunately, my daughters take after me and chatted to neighbours along the way and, basically, had us awkwardly waiting for them on the doorstep. Until, of course, the matriarch brought out the key. I know this sounds stupid but my first thought was: why do you have a key to MY house?
The matriarch started talking about how my husband had given her a key in case she was ever locked out of the house. I was silent. The matriarch only ever goes out with me; though, case in point, I did not have a key because my children did not have keys and needed to have mine...I know this is all very confusing in a way and immensely insecure but you have to know the feeling, for a moment at least, of me resenting the matriarch having a key and me not having one. For a minute, no longer, I was really, really angry at my husband.
I know I tend to be a bit flaky but I deeply resented my husband being so familiar with that element of my character that he knew to act against it--if only it hadn't been his mother.
She stood there waving the key at me. Of course, the woman did not give it to me; she showed it to me and then tried to put it in the lock. I have mentioned before the matriarch is blind, well, not quite, there are times she sees nothing and times she sees less than that but we pretend not to notice. So, I had to stand locked outside of my own house while my mother-in-law who cannot see showed her independence by trying to open the door.
My youngest daughter came up; she did not have the house key but she grabbed the matriarch's key out of her grandmother's hand; no patience is in those who have to go to the washroom. And, the key did not fit.
The matriarch was surprised. No, actually, I believe she was indignant. Why would her son give her a key that did not work? Of course, I felt better and calmed my emotions; though, I was still a little angry at my husband. But the matriarch became royally infuriated at the absent man. My oldest daughter came along and told me my middle child had the house key and she was talking to neighbours about what was happening to the old school house next door to the library-cum-police-station-cum-fire-hall. Apparently, they are trying to put a new restaurant in the century old school; does anyone else see the irony in this? So, four of us stood now waiting on the door step. And, the matriarch began to talk...about my husband, about keys, about how she thought my husband trusted her more than me. And, my youngest danced around the porch trying to stall washroom needs.
When my middle child finally got home, she let us all into the house and the matriarch continued to talk about her son. She was obviously dismayed at my husband's behaviour...so much so she began to annoy me, again. When my husband finally came into the picture, the matriarch began to discuss with him the fact the key to the house did not work. I sat there looking at him.
And, he looked back at me knowing his mother could not see his face. And, knowing that whatever he said, he was going to be in hot water with someone. You could almost see him trying to balance contexts and see whose fury would be worse.
The fact that he allowed the matriarch to think he trusted her more than me bothered me more than anything. I don't know why it is such a big deal; but, call it residue insecurity, these things lately really annoy me. A lot. My husband told his mother he would get her a new key to the house and grimaced at me; I know he was just keeping her quiet; I know he would just give her another key that likely wouldn't work. The whole key debacle was happening because we are getting a new front door and didn't want to make any new keys. What I don't think he knew, and what I anticipated, was the reality she would try any new key he would give her. So, when he eventually gave her the new key, he tried his own key in the lock and with a little magic enabled by her blindness, everything righted itself. Except, of course, my anger.
A son is always a son--an only son and only child, more so. Sometimes, it takes a while to come to this realization. But there are few ways to confront this drama...I don't for a moment believe my husband would put his mother ahead of us but I do know, in order to avoid confrontation, he would do anything to silence his mother. Is it possible to still be afraid of a parent even when one is over 50 and the parent is 100? Is it possible to debate one's wife when dealing with one's mother? Why is it so necessary for my mother-in-law to have a key to the house? Why do I have such anxiety?
The debate within myself ceased for part of the evening. A key to the door is no big deal, really. It is, after all, just a key. But, then, my husband asked for strawberries and sugar...
Saturday, August 13, 2011
My Husband wants to go to St. Jacobs
St. Jacobs is a little town near Kitchener-Waterloo in Southwestern Ontario; it is in Mennonite country and there all kinds of farms selling their wares on market day. It is about an hour and a half from here but it may as well be a million miles....
My mother-in-law cannot stay on her own for an extended time; it's been that way for years but this year, it seems especially difficult. My oldest daughter went to Italy for her sixteenth birthday; my younger daughters participated in a sailing camp run by the city of Barrie; we always try to get the girls some time away from here. My husband and I have not had a holiday in 3 years; 6 years, if one counts whole family holidays--either my husband or I must always stay with the matriarch...really, it's been a long time. It certainly feels that way.
The matriarch wants to come for the drive to St. Jacobs. That's okay but neither my husband or I want to drive to St. Jacob's, have lunch and come home; we want a day of it. My mother-in-law cannot walk for extended periods of time--she just wants the drive and a meal; we, obviously, want more. In fact, we'd rather skip the meal and bring a picnic. So, the idea has been to find someone to stay with the matriarch.
The sister-in-law has said she won't do it; the matriarch is too hard a guest. My mother-in-law does not want to go to my parents' house; she doesn't want a stranger staying with her. Her nieces can do some time but the matriarch doesn't realize she cannot be left alone. Why not? She wanders about the house and has turned things on and off, sometimes just on; it is not pleasant to realize she cannot be trusted. But it also means we are limited in what we can do as a family. It is also sad to say one gets in the habit of not doing anything; my husband, in particular, is having a hard time of it because he has always been the one to stay with his mother. I think he has only begun to realize how little time he has had out with his daughters. I wonder about our sense of duty---is there ever a reverse sense of obligation? For example, should a senior ever have to compromise on their desires? Am I being unreasonable?
My friend's mother is 94; the woman is incredible but my friend says for all her health, the woman is still her mother and can still drive her crazy. Age is irrelevant in the greater scheme of things. The same can be said about the matriarch; despite it all, the woman is my mother-in-law first then a very old woman; hence, I have these resentful feelings and the incredible guilt. Tomorrow, we have a corn roast in town and the only anticipation I have is the sweet relief of not having to go to Swiss Chalet; and, sadly, I feel a terrible guilt. My daughters don't want their grandmother to go to the corn roast; I'm bringing a knife to cut the cobs of corn but it is still not pretty with a toothless granny eating. Can you believe I would rather clean up at the corn roast than go to a restaurant? There is something wrong with priorities, here. My friend says you do what you can and hope for the best...
My husband says to wait till September or October for the trip to St. Jacobs; life may change. I doubt it. It is also a dreadful kind of thinking....
My mother-in-law cannot stay on her own for an extended time; it's been that way for years but this year, it seems especially difficult. My oldest daughter went to Italy for her sixteenth birthday; my younger daughters participated in a sailing camp run by the city of Barrie; we always try to get the girls some time away from here. My husband and I have not had a holiday in 3 years; 6 years, if one counts whole family holidays--either my husband or I must always stay with the matriarch...really, it's been a long time. It certainly feels that way.
The matriarch wants to come for the drive to St. Jacobs. That's okay but neither my husband or I want to drive to St. Jacob's, have lunch and come home; we want a day of it. My mother-in-law cannot walk for extended periods of time--she just wants the drive and a meal; we, obviously, want more. In fact, we'd rather skip the meal and bring a picnic. So, the idea has been to find someone to stay with the matriarch.
The sister-in-law has said she won't do it; the matriarch is too hard a guest. My mother-in-law does not want to go to my parents' house; she doesn't want a stranger staying with her. Her nieces can do some time but the matriarch doesn't realize she cannot be left alone. Why not? She wanders about the house and has turned things on and off, sometimes just on; it is not pleasant to realize she cannot be trusted. But it also means we are limited in what we can do as a family. It is also sad to say one gets in the habit of not doing anything; my husband, in particular, is having a hard time of it because he has always been the one to stay with his mother. I think he has only begun to realize how little time he has had out with his daughters. I wonder about our sense of duty---is there ever a reverse sense of obligation? For example, should a senior ever have to compromise on their desires? Am I being unreasonable?
My friend's mother is 94; the woman is incredible but my friend says for all her health, the woman is still her mother and can still drive her crazy. Age is irrelevant in the greater scheme of things. The same can be said about the matriarch; despite it all, the woman is my mother-in-law first then a very old woman; hence, I have these resentful feelings and the incredible guilt. Tomorrow, we have a corn roast in town and the only anticipation I have is the sweet relief of not having to go to Swiss Chalet; and, sadly, I feel a terrible guilt. My daughters don't want their grandmother to go to the corn roast; I'm bringing a knife to cut the cobs of corn but it is still not pretty with a toothless granny eating. Can you believe I would rather clean up at the corn roast than go to a restaurant? There is something wrong with priorities, here. My friend says you do what you can and hope for the best...
My husband says to wait till September or October for the trip to St. Jacobs; life may change. I doubt it. It is also a dreadful kind of thinking....
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Does Anyone Remember Lucille Ball?
Today would have been the comedienne's birthday; Lucille Ball would have been 100 today. You know the matriarch is incredible when a) she is older than Lucille Ball would have been and b) there is no sign of anything stopping her.
I believe we will go out for lunch today simply because we can.
I believe we will go out for lunch today simply because we can.
Friday, August 5, 2011
What Are You Doing Today?
What are your plans for the day?
My housework, the girls' camp.
Are you going out today?
You mean for a drive? No.
Oh.
Do you want to come with me when I go to pick up the children?
Is it a far drive?
No..but you could come for the ride, anyhow.
Would I have to walk around?
No, you could wait in the car, the windows could be open, we'll be down by the beach.
The air conditioning won't be on?
No, I told you we have to bring the van into the mechanics.
So, no air conditioning.
But, we'll be down by the beach. There is a nice breeze.
I don't really like going for a drive if there is no air conditioning.
I told you the car has to be fixed.
When are you going to get it fixed?
I don't know--the car is old, it may not be worth it.
To get the air conditioning fixed?
We haven't had it all summer. My husband's car has air conditioning. As long as there is a breeze, you don't seem to miss it.
I like air conditioning, you know, when I go for my drive.
I don't have air conditioning. Are you still coming?
Where?
To the beach--to pick up the girls.
I don't know.
Okay, I'm not going till long after lunch.
Can't you try to fix the air conditioning?
No, I can't. I am not a mechanic. The breeze will still be nice.
It's not the same. Okay, I will stay home.
No problem. What do you want for lunch?
Are we going out?
My housework, the girls' camp.
Are you going out today?
You mean for a drive? No.
Oh.
Do you want to come with me when I go to pick up the children?
Is it a far drive?
No..but you could come for the ride, anyhow.
Would I have to walk around?
No, you could wait in the car, the windows could be open, we'll be down by the beach.
The air conditioning won't be on?
No, I told you we have to bring the van into the mechanics.
So, no air conditioning.
But, we'll be down by the beach. There is a nice breeze.
I don't really like going for a drive if there is no air conditioning.
I told you the car has to be fixed.
When are you going to get it fixed?
I don't know--the car is old, it may not be worth it.
To get the air conditioning fixed?
We haven't had it all summer. My husband's car has air conditioning. As long as there is a breeze, you don't seem to miss it.
I like air conditioning, you know, when I go for my drive.
I don't have air conditioning. Are you still coming?
Where?
To the beach--to pick up the girls.
I don't know.
Okay, I'm not going till long after lunch.
Can't you try to fix the air conditioning?
No, I can't. I am not a mechanic. The breeze will still be nice.
It's not the same. Okay, I will stay home.
No problem. What do you want for lunch?
Are we going out?
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Gentle Hugs
The nurses at the blood clinic have taken to hugging the matriarch every visit. The woman doesn't seem to mind, but asked me, in the car today, why they did so.
I have no idea. (I suspect they think each visit could be her last, but we have been there three times in the last two weeks, at the doctor's request, and one would think the nurses would realize the matriarch's last visit could be a while away.)
She shrugged her shoulders and told me about a lady at the spa not too long ago whose mother was blind. The woman is old, 80, and disabled by her lack of vision.
You may have to help me soon to dress, but I can see well enough to get by...
The matriarch is blind. Except when she's not. I think.
I have no idea. (I suspect they think each visit could be her last, but we have been there three times in the last two weeks, at the doctor's request, and one would think the nurses would realize the matriarch's last visit could be a while away.)
She shrugged her shoulders and told me about a lady at the spa not too long ago whose mother was blind. The woman is old, 80, and disabled by her lack of vision.
You may have to help me soon to dress, but I can see well enough to get by...
The matriarch is blind. Except when she's not. I think.
What Do You Do If....
Death is a funny thing; inevitable for all of us, but we live as though that fact is somehow irrelevant. It is always a surprise to have a death in the family--no matter how expected; one gets used to having another person around and then, suddenly, they are not there and the absence is earth shattering.
When the matriarch was late for breakfast, I was a little scared. It's not that her death would be unexpected but I didn't want to be the one to find her first. Of course, I didn't want the children or my husband to find her either. One delays checking, you know, hoping against hope that, maybe, it doesn't have to be done. When it went past ten in the morning and the children were awake and dressed, we were all looking at each other in that nervous, wary sense. I, in particular, was dreading to have to go into her room to see if... But I had to do it before my husband got up; as much as the matriarch is his mother, I didn't want my husband to find her first.
When someone is my mother-in-law's age and dies at home, the ambulance is not called; the police are and they arrange for the funeral home to come pick up the body. It can take some time. It is very rare a senior of such an age has their death investigated. It is very rare for the event to be viewed as an emergency. When I pre-arranged the matriarch's funeral, years ago, I was told the protocols involved and the procedure was explained to me. But knowing and being the first to find a dead body are two very different things. I am not sentimental. I am religious in a spiritual sense. A dead body won't scare me. Finding my dead mother-in-law before my husband is made aware of the situation does scare me. I don't want to be the first one as much as I don't anyone else to find her either. Maybe she won't die.
10:45
With a sigh, I begin to go up the stairs but my husband comes up from the basement.
Morning. Everyone up?
The girls are silent and look at him and I am on the stairs and look at him. And, he says,
What? My mother not up yet?
I shake my head and tell him I'll go check first. He grimaces at me and goes up the stairs first. I don't know if he is expecting her to be dead or what he is thinking or if I am disappointing him. I trail behind wanting to be there for him in case....
You want some breakfast?
In the hallway, outside the matriarch's room, I realize I am an idiot. She's not dead. She has merely slept in. My husband comes out of the room and tells me his mother wants her Sugar Crisp for breakfast and her tea. I am obviously in a state and my husband looks at me.
What were you expecting? She's not dead today.
It is almost anti-climactic. My doctor once told me his grandfather lived well into his nineties and his actual death was more surprising by his physical absence; you get so used to an elderly person being around that one is more struck by their no longer being there than by their death. One misses their everyday needs and wants, the routine of their existence.
It is not that I want my mother-in-law to die; it is more I keep expecting her death and am tired of the waiting. Doesn't that sound awful? But she has lived an extraordinarily long time and it wouldn't be a surprise and it is extremely difficult to keep expecting it to happen. It is weird when my mother-in-law talks about some one old dying and the person, in fact, is younger than her. Oh well. My mother-in-law must eat her cereal and her strawberries and sugar and I must pick up some more candies for her and take her to the blood test and wonder if I am anticipating her death too much because I am tired of it all or if, really, the woman is immortal and I just haven't clued in yet....
When the matriarch was late for breakfast, I was a little scared. It's not that her death would be unexpected but I didn't want to be the one to find her first. Of course, I didn't want the children or my husband to find her either. One delays checking, you know, hoping against hope that, maybe, it doesn't have to be done. When it went past ten in the morning and the children were awake and dressed, we were all looking at each other in that nervous, wary sense. I, in particular, was dreading to have to go into her room to see if... But I had to do it before my husband got up; as much as the matriarch is his mother, I didn't want my husband to find her first.
When someone is my mother-in-law's age and dies at home, the ambulance is not called; the police are and they arrange for the funeral home to come pick up the body. It can take some time. It is very rare a senior of such an age has their death investigated. It is very rare for the event to be viewed as an emergency. When I pre-arranged the matriarch's funeral, years ago, I was told the protocols involved and the procedure was explained to me. But knowing and being the first to find a dead body are two very different things. I am not sentimental. I am religious in a spiritual sense. A dead body won't scare me. Finding my dead mother-in-law before my husband is made aware of the situation does scare me. I don't want to be the first one as much as I don't anyone else to find her either. Maybe she won't die.
10:45
With a sigh, I begin to go up the stairs but my husband comes up from the basement.
Morning. Everyone up?
The girls are silent and look at him and I am on the stairs and look at him. And, he says,
What? My mother not up yet?
I shake my head and tell him I'll go check first. He grimaces at me and goes up the stairs first. I don't know if he is expecting her to be dead or what he is thinking or if I am disappointing him. I trail behind wanting to be there for him in case....
You want some breakfast?
In the hallway, outside the matriarch's room, I realize I am an idiot. She's not dead. She has merely slept in. My husband comes out of the room and tells me his mother wants her Sugar Crisp for breakfast and her tea. I am obviously in a state and my husband looks at me.
What were you expecting? She's not dead today.
It is almost anti-climactic. My doctor once told me his grandfather lived well into his nineties and his actual death was more surprising by his physical absence; you get so used to an elderly person being around that one is more struck by their no longer being there than by their death. One misses their everyday needs and wants, the routine of their existence.
It is not that I want my mother-in-law to die; it is more I keep expecting her death and am tired of the waiting. Doesn't that sound awful? But she has lived an extraordinarily long time and it wouldn't be a surprise and it is extremely difficult to keep expecting it to happen. It is weird when my mother-in-law talks about some one old dying and the person, in fact, is younger than her. Oh well. My mother-in-law must eat her cereal and her strawberries and sugar and I must pick up some more candies for her and take her to the blood test and wonder if I am anticipating her death too much because I am tired of it all or if, really, the woman is immortal and I just haven't clued in yet....
Monday, August 1, 2011
Doctors and Care
Just an article I found in today's "Globe and Mail:"
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/health/ask-a-health-expert/the-patient-navigator/why-do-doctors-seem-to-neglect-long-term-care-patients/article2114148/
A doctor gets paid for reading the charts of the old, not for reading them. Their care is actually determined by the nurses. Of course, every home has enough registered nurses who are more than capable of providing acceptable care. Any family who has a family member in care knows what is going on in Senior Citizens' Facilities...it's what they choose to do with the information that matters.
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/health/ask-a-health-expert/the-patient-navigator/why-do-doctors-seem-to-neglect-long-term-care-patients/article2114148/
A doctor gets paid for reading the charts of the old, not for reading them. Their care is actually determined by the nurses. Of course, every home has enough registered nurses who are more than capable of providing acceptable care. Any family who has a family member in care knows what is going on in Senior Citizens' Facilities...it's what they choose to do with the information that matters.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Once Upon a Time in a Salty World
People do not like to admit they cannot see; they would rather be deaf than blind. Although, from experience, believe it or not, I would rather be blind than deaf. There is no comparison in my view. A world without sound is one without colour. But the matriarch has different views on this matter.
The matriarch was putting salt on her dinner; I made her an Irish dinner called "Champ" which is basically boiled and mashed potato and cabbage with raw onion grated through it. I boiled bacon in the dinner and removed it before I served it but, otherwise, I thought it was a nice dinner. Until, of course, the matriarch began to put salt on it. She shook the shaker around the plate; I had piled the dinner in the centre of the plate and she missed it completely. After a few bites of the mashed potato, she realized she needed more salt...and missed again.
A third try led to utter failure as well. So, I offered to put salt on her dinner.
Why?
What do you say? The matriarch just thought she wasn't tasting the salt not that she was missing her meal when putting the salt on her food. So, put the salt on before giving her the meal, a reader suggests. But it is a habit for my mother-in-law to put salt and pepper on her dinner; she doesn't taste the food, she just puts the salt on it. It has become a habit she does not even think about... Empty the shaker, another person recommends. This is the most obvious solution. But, the most worrisome because, somehow, the matriarch knows when the shaker is empty; I have even put rice in for weight to distract her and failed completely. I have obviously put salt on her dinner when trying such things and she still must use her shaker. And, it must have running salt within its body. Go figure.
Yet, again, she goes round with the shaker.
And, my husband shakes his head because there is now a pile of salt on the rim of her plate and on the table beside it. Give up, he mouths to me. Next time, I think I will spread her dinner out more--although, then she will wonder why it is so flat and if she is having a potato pancake. She loves potato pancakes and would eat them everyday until, of course, she didn't want them anymore and would spit them out. I would love to do a blog on the varieties of the spitting habits but I just cannot stomach it yet. Anyhow, the matriarch ate half her dinner and told me I didn't cook with enough salt. What do you say? I mean, really, what do you say?
The matriarch was putting salt on her dinner; I made her an Irish dinner called "Champ" which is basically boiled and mashed potato and cabbage with raw onion grated through it. I boiled bacon in the dinner and removed it before I served it but, otherwise, I thought it was a nice dinner. Until, of course, the matriarch began to put salt on it. She shook the shaker around the plate; I had piled the dinner in the centre of the plate and she missed it completely. After a few bites of the mashed potato, she realized she needed more salt...and missed again.
A third try led to utter failure as well. So, I offered to put salt on her dinner.
Why?
What do you say? The matriarch just thought she wasn't tasting the salt not that she was missing her meal when putting the salt on her food. So, put the salt on before giving her the meal, a reader suggests. But it is a habit for my mother-in-law to put salt and pepper on her dinner; she doesn't taste the food, she just puts the salt on it. It has become a habit she does not even think about... Empty the shaker, another person recommends. This is the most obvious solution. But, the most worrisome because, somehow, the matriarch knows when the shaker is empty; I have even put rice in for weight to distract her and failed completely. I have obviously put salt on her dinner when trying such things and she still must use her shaker. And, it must have running salt within its body. Go figure.
Yet, again, she goes round with the shaker.
And, my husband shakes his head because there is now a pile of salt on the rim of her plate and on the table beside it. Give up, he mouths to me. Next time, I think I will spread her dinner out more--although, then she will wonder why it is so flat and if she is having a potato pancake. She loves potato pancakes and would eat them everyday until, of course, she didn't want them anymore and would spit them out. I would love to do a blog on the varieties of the spitting habits but I just cannot stomach it yet. Anyhow, the matriarch ate half her dinner and told me I didn't cook with enough salt. What do you say? I mean, really, what do you say?
Friday, July 29, 2011
This is Absolutely Awful
While this particular article is from the Irish press and has nothing to do with old age or seniors or anything in Canada, it does reflect on the effects of the profit motive and institutional care on the needy and infirm:
http://www.independent.ie/world-news/europe/scandal-of-abuse-at-irish-tycoons-care-homes-2834887.html
Two of the richest men in Ireland profit by allowing mentally challenged adults to exist in substandard care. I do not know how families, who feel they have no choice for their loved ones, can allow them to remain in such a situation; there is always a choice...sometimes it is just hard to make.
http://www.independent.ie/world-news/europe/scandal-of-abuse-at-irish-tycoons-care-homes-2834887.html
Two of the richest men in Ireland profit by allowing mentally challenged adults to exist in substandard care. I do not know how families, who feel they have no choice for their loved ones, can allow them to remain in such a situation; there is always a choice...sometimes it is just hard to make.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Why Here...
The matriarch stays here because it is better than anywhere else; I complain, I gripe; she complains, she gripes...but, really, she eats well, gets out, sees people. I don't know what the best situation is for seniors; the matriarch and I agree, sitting in an old age home waiting to die, no matter how nice the home, is not ideal. The matriarch has heard horror stories of how some old people are forced to live and she does not want that life. From what I understand, no matter what kind of place is available, the elderly want to be involved in their family's lives; there never comes a point where they choose not to participate....although, sometimes, family members may not realize or choose to ignore this. It is easier to forget what an old person must endure...
My latest horror story: my friend's mother-in-law had a stroke at 94; she had lived on her own, in her own house, and she still rode the subway. The hospital treated her well and the woman was sent to recuperate at a rehabilitation centre. There, she was put in "Depends" because it was easier than having a nurse assist her with going to the toilet. This woman was not in difficulty; she was just needing time to rehabilitate and to have some help. She still had her dignity. My friend had to go and fight for her mother-in-law to have assistance and not wear diapers. She had to explain to a nurse that just because her mother-in-law was 94 did not mean she was an invalid. My friend was called one night six weeks after the stroke and informed her mother-in-law had died. Alone. In diapers. My friend swears that loss of dignity killed her mother-in-law, not the stroke, not her age.
It is my greatest fear to have the matriarch endure something for the convenience of an institution rather than having a choice in her treatment. I know it is not surprising for the elderly to die; I cannot really believe I am still helping my mother-in-law after all this time; but, it is wrong to watch a person suffer for the sake of numbers...be they financial ones or statistical expectations or hourly rates. There is something terribly wrong to let a society be so governed...I keep thinking a civilization is judged by how it treats its very young and its old and our society is not doing a very good job.
When I took my mother-in-law to the spa yesterday, they treated her to a manicure and a pedicure for her birthday. It was extremely nice of them. They are a Chinese brother and sister who jointly own the spa; their mother, also elderly, lives with the brother and the sister's children are under foot and present while school is out. My point is they completely understood having the elderly and the young present in the everyday; they made it look so easy.
My latest horror story: my friend's mother-in-law had a stroke at 94; she had lived on her own, in her own house, and she still rode the subway. The hospital treated her well and the woman was sent to recuperate at a rehabilitation centre. There, she was put in "Depends" because it was easier than having a nurse assist her with going to the toilet. This woman was not in difficulty; she was just needing time to rehabilitate and to have some help. She still had her dignity. My friend had to go and fight for her mother-in-law to have assistance and not wear diapers. She had to explain to a nurse that just because her mother-in-law was 94 did not mean she was an invalid. My friend was called one night six weeks after the stroke and informed her mother-in-law had died. Alone. In diapers. My friend swears that loss of dignity killed her mother-in-law, not the stroke, not her age.
It is my greatest fear to have the matriarch endure something for the convenience of an institution rather than having a choice in her treatment. I know it is not surprising for the elderly to die; I cannot really believe I am still helping my mother-in-law after all this time; but, it is wrong to watch a person suffer for the sake of numbers...be they financial ones or statistical expectations or hourly rates. There is something terribly wrong to let a society be so governed...I keep thinking a civilization is judged by how it treats its very young and its old and our society is not doing a very good job.
When I took my mother-in-law to the spa yesterday, they treated her to a manicure and a pedicure for her birthday. It was extremely nice of them. They are a Chinese brother and sister who jointly own the spa; their mother, also elderly, lives with the brother and the sister's children are under foot and present while school is out. My point is they completely understood having the elderly and the young present in the everyday; they made it look so easy.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
A Date for the Matriarch
Here is a wonderful story from the New York Times...
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/07/25/us/25orleans.html?_r=1&hp
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/07/25/us/25orleans.html?_r=1&hp
Saturday, July 23, 2011
I Fought the Toaster and the Toaster Won
It has been one of those days hot, muggy, and desperately still in the air. The matriarch has not been happy in the heat. In fact, to say she has been unhappy is an understatement. In a parallel event, the toaster died honourably earlier in the week and I have been making the matriarch toast over the stove burner; we have a gas stove, I didn't want to buy a new toaster, it seemed a most convenient option. Obviously, in this heat, I am suffering from delusions.
I can give you money for the toaster, you know.
It's not that. I just didn't want to buy one right now.
Why? You need one.
It is ridiculous to pay over one hundred dollars for a toaster. I don't need one that badly.
What about my toast in the morning? You can buy one at Walmart for less than one hundred dollars.
I don't shop at Walmart. You have had toast all week and you haven't noticed.
I noticed when the toaster died on Friday.
(Obviously, I cannot reveal the toaster has really been dying for over a week and completely non-functional since Monday.)
I don't need money for a toaster; I'll buy one for next week.
What about my toast in the morning?
Okay. I'll go get you a toaster.
Can I come with you?
Are you going to get out of the car? It's too hot to sit in the car.
I don't want to get out of the car and into the heat. Leave the car on and the air conditioning running.
No, I can't do that. It would be a waste and I won't do it.
I don't see what the big deal is...park at Walmart and run in and get the toaster and leave the air conditioning on for me.
I don't shop at Walmart. I won't leave the car on. So, I'm sorry you can't come with me.
It's terribly to realize I am as obdurate as my mother-in-law. It shouldn't be such a big deal. In the end, my oldest and I went out and bought a toaster for less than an hundred dollars at a place that wasn't Walmart. We didn't leave the air conditioning on or the car running and the matriarch was furious with me. I should be able to take her out in this heat and she should be able to sit in a running car while I shop. How often can this want really need to be satisfied?
Do you honestly really want me to answer that?
I can give you money for the toaster, you know.
It's not that. I just didn't want to buy one right now.
Why? You need one.
It is ridiculous to pay over one hundred dollars for a toaster. I don't need one that badly.
What about my toast in the morning? You can buy one at Walmart for less than one hundred dollars.
I don't shop at Walmart. You have had toast all week and you haven't noticed.
I noticed when the toaster died on Friday.
(Obviously, I cannot reveal the toaster has really been dying for over a week and completely non-functional since Monday.)
I don't need money for a toaster; I'll buy one for next week.
What about my toast in the morning?
Okay. I'll go get you a toaster.
Can I come with you?
Are you going to get out of the car? It's too hot to sit in the car.
I don't want to get out of the car and into the heat. Leave the car on and the air conditioning running.
No, I can't do that. It would be a waste and I won't do it.
I don't see what the big deal is...park at Walmart and run in and get the toaster and leave the air conditioning on for me.
I don't shop at Walmart. I won't leave the car on. So, I'm sorry you can't come with me.
It's terribly to realize I am as obdurate as my mother-in-law. It shouldn't be such a big deal. In the end, my oldest and I went out and bought a toaster for less than an hundred dollars at a place that wasn't Walmart. We didn't leave the air conditioning on or the car running and the matriarch was furious with me. I should be able to take her out in this heat and she should be able to sit in a running car while I shop. How often can this want really need to be satisfied?
Do you honestly really want me to answer that?
Thursday, July 21, 2011
The Old Age Police
My husband says age is determined by how young the police are; if all the policemen look young to you, one is old. I am apparently extremely naive about old age. I give my mother-in-law way too much credit.
But, then, my husband is the one who spoke to the matriarch about traveling to Florida.
A 100 year old woman in a car and a 24 hour drive to Florida...he is crazy.
My mother-in-law thinks this is a brilliant idea because she cannot fly anywhere anymore. This is not going to happen; it is not worth discussing. Why would my husband even bring the idea up? I am not sitting in a car driving to Florida because the matriarch cannot fly anymore....Really, that is the least of her problems.
But it has just become my biggest one.
But, then, my husband is the one who spoke to the matriarch about traveling to Florida.
A 100 year old woman in a car and a 24 hour drive to Florida...he is crazy.
My mother-in-law thinks this is a brilliant idea because she cannot fly anywhere anymore. This is not going to happen; it is not worth discussing. Why would my husband even bring the idea up? I am not sitting in a car driving to Florida because the matriarch cannot fly anymore....Really, that is the least of her problems.
But it has just become my biggest one.
When is One Old?
My mother-in-law is twenty years older than Rupert Murdoch. Before the Committee of the English House of Commons, Rupert Murdoch looked like a frail, eighty year old man--except, course, he's not; he's a manipulative, monopolizing old coot--they are not the same. I imagine if he was a neighbour or an old man settled in an old age home, he would be one of those stubborn wise guys who believe they have seen more of the world than anyone. But money, apparently, makes the difference...
Sometimes, it is very hard to make people understand my mother-in-law, at 100, is still in charge of her own destiny. Life is a complete set of contradictions; the woman likes to think she doesn't need any help, but I must be available for those times when she does need it; this, of course, leads to resentment on my side. No one likes being taken for granted. But, my question is do we ever realize we are old? I am in an unique position to consider this because the matriarch is old but my husband is 18 years older than me and, although he is past 60, I don't feel he is old. The matriarch's neighbour in her old neighbourhood thought himself an old man at 65, he moved into a senior's complex, and is now dead. Yes, I know illness actually killed him but was there, perhaps, an element of giving up? Of no longer feeling young or optimistic or having a future? I don't know what makes one feel old or how, or if, it is necessary to always feel young but that feeling is important. The potential of life is important and I don't think it is discriminatory. This post strikes me as a contradictory. There is a difference between being old, as in mature, and old, as in age.
The matriarch is an old woman but if I was being honest, I would have to admit she is immature; does that make her young? Anyone who can just expect others to bow to their expectations, ie like going to a restaurant every, single week, is immature, young, childish--does that feeling of entitlement enable one to live as though they are still young? I cannot but compare Rupert Murdoch to my mother-in-law which seems weird in one way but, if he is guilty of the domineering behaviour of which he is accused, is he not the same? If he was a senior in an old age home, his behaviour would not be acceptable. Does money make the difference? Power? Do we ever abdicate our sense of responsibility? Or our sense of entitlement?
As much as I consider these things, I keep thinking of my husband...He's older than most of my family and, yet, I would argue he is treated as though outside the normal strands of behaviour. His children are the same age as my second cousins but he is older than most of my Aunts and they are grandmothers. It is all so weird. But when I saw Rupert Murdoch on television, I kept thinking he is a frail, old man--particularly when his wife slapped the man who threw the shaving cream pie on him. She was protective of an old man not a husband.
The matriarch has never been married to a man older than her; this fact does not bode well for me. All of her husbands (3) and both her boyfriends (2) were notably younger than her. In fact, she once met a man who was interested in her until he found out her age--yes, he's already dead and she is still looking. I think that sense of optimism is what makes her attractive; only an old woman with no teeth and questionable eating habits could feel so attractive. The woman never feels old--though, realizing she is 100 has aged her; I think sometimes it has knocked her for a loop, but she still seems to enjoy the ride of life. These are things I am pondering at the moment...It's funny but as I write this I realize I keep forgetting how old I am...what does that say about me?
Sometimes, it is very hard to make people understand my mother-in-law, at 100, is still in charge of her own destiny. Life is a complete set of contradictions; the woman likes to think she doesn't need any help, but I must be available for those times when she does need it; this, of course, leads to resentment on my side. No one likes being taken for granted. But, my question is do we ever realize we are old? I am in an unique position to consider this because the matriarch is old but my husband is 18 years older than me and, although he is past 60, I don't feel he is old. The matriarch's neighbour in her old neighbourhood thought himself an old man at 65, he moved into a senior's complex, and is now dead. Yes, I know illness actually killed him but was there, perhaps, an element of giving up? Of no longer feeling young or optimistic or having a future? I don't know what makes one feel old or how, or if, it is necessary to always feel young but that feeling is important. The potential of life is important and I don't think it is discriminatory. This post strikes me as a contradictory. There is a difference between being old, as in mature, and old, as in age.
The matriarch is an old woman but if I was being honest, I would have to admit she is immature; does that make her young? Anyone who can just expect others to bow to their expectations, ie like going to a restaurant every, single week, is immature, young, childish--does that feeling of entitlement enable one to live as though they are still young? I cannot but compare Rupert Murdoch to my mother-in-law which seems weird in one way but, if he is guilty of the domineering behaviour of which he is accused, is he not the same? If he was a senior in an old age home, his behaviour would not be acceptable. Does money make the difference? Power? Do we ever abdicate our sense of responsibility? Or our sense of entitlement?
As much as I consider these things, I keep thinking of my husband...He's older than most of my family and, yet, I would argue he is treated as though outside the normal strands of behaviour. His children are the same age as my second cousins but he is older than most of my Aunts and they are grandmothers. It is all so weird. But when I saw Rupert Murdoch on television, I kept thinking he is a frail, old man--particularly when his wife slapped the man who threw the shaving cream pie on him. She was protective of an old man not a husband.
The matriarch has never been married to a man older than her; this fact does not bode well for me. All of her husbands (3) and both her boyfriends (2) were notably younger than her. In fact, she once met a man who was interested in her until he found out her age--yes, he's already dead and she is still looking. I think that sense of optimism is what makes her attractive; only an old woman with no teeth and questionable eating habits could feel so attractive. The woman never feels old--though, realizing she is 100 has aged her; I think sometimes it has knocked her for a loop, but she still seems to enjoy the ride of life. These are things I am pondering at the moment...It's funny but as I write this I realize I keep forgetting how old I am...what does that say about me?
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Tea on the Porch in the Morning
It was lovely, the morning air cool, the garden alive with birds, crickets and a rabbit eating radishes in the garden. Our yard is not fenced, neither is our neighbour's and a street runs perpendicular to their yard in an East- West direction.
Damnit, that's my mother going for her morning constitutional.
And so begins our day....
Damnit, that's my mother going for her morning constitutional.
And so begins our day....
Sunday, July 17, 2011
The Man with the Superman Tattoo
We went for a drive and had to get gasoline for my husband's car; the matriarch enjoys the wind in her hair--as opposed to air conditioning with the windows closed. With her sunglasses on, she looks like one hot granny.
Anyhow, the gas station in Baxter is full serve and the fellow who was the attendant was covered in tattoos; in particular, he had a Superman tattoo now down his whole arm. To be honest, when I first saw him I was a little intimidated--really, he had a lot of tattoos. The Superman one was just the largest. It's funny how appearances dictate how we see people because this man was very nice. He called me "Miss," he called the matriarch "Miss." He was polite, attentive and made a big deal out of the matriarch being his oldest customer of the day. Why do I keep telling everyone how old the matriarch is? It is not like it is a general part of conversation. But, the fellow was a good sport and made the matriarch's day. It is funny how a simple trip to the gas station can improve the whole day.
It was a short drive in the heat. But the matriarch seemed pleased for the day.
Anyhow, the gas station in Baxter is full serve and the fellow who was the attendant was covered in tattoos; in particular, he had a Superman tattoo now down his whole arm. To be honest, when I first saw him I was a little intimidated--really, he had a lot of tattoos. The Superman one was just the largest. It's funny how appearances dictate how we see people because this man was very nice. He called me "Miss," he called the matriarch "Miss." He was polite, attentive and made a big deal out of the matriarch being his oldest customer of the day. Why do I keep telling everyone how old the matriarch is? It is not like it is a general part of conversation. But, the fellow was a good sport and made the matriarch's day. It is funny how a simple trip to the gas station can improve the whole day.
It was a short drive in the heat. But the matriarch seemed pleased for the day.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
It is so Hot
The poor matriarch is suffering terribly with the heat...and she keeps wanting to go out for lunch to sit in the cool of the restaurant for a time. I can't go out for lunch everyday and the matriarch won't sit in the basement or in the family room; she stays in her room unless we go out.
What is the big deal if she is so uncomfortable? There is a bathroom in the basement; we can leave her alone or join her. She won't sit outside in the cool of the morning.
Am I supposed to force her to sit outside? To know better than she knows? Am I supposed to make her do something she doesn't want to do?
There are times this whole age is just driving me crazy.
What is the big deal if she is so uncomfortable? There is a bathroom in the basement; we can leave her alone or join her. She won't sit outside in the cool of the morning.
Am I supposed to force her to sit outside? To know better than she knows? Am I supposed to make her do something she doesn't want to do?
There are times this whole age is just driving me crazy.
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