Grace before Meals

Things that Really Happen...

So, the stove caught fire today and my youngest made a point of saying, "Not my fault." As we watched the bonfire in the oven and switched off the gas, the matriarch wandered into the kitchen.

"What's for lunch?"

The kids and I turned to look at her and I realized I still had the pot of soup on the stove and it was still warm, fire and all.

"Tomato soup."

My eldest wondered aloud if grandma noticed the oven was on fire; the old lady turned to look and told us to put salt on top of the flames and they would eventually go out.
"Just don't use my shakers."

Obviously, I used all the salt in the house, every shaker but her's, and the boxed salt and the pickling salt and the flames did eventually go out. I was shaking and I think the kids were scared and the oven was a little bit black but the matriarch ate all her soup and said she would have cake when my parents came over. Because stuff like this happens only when my mother comes to visit and the matriarch knows this to be true.

Incompetence

Giving up is not the same thing as losing control though I think, sometimes, I confuse the two. The matriarch has mild, very mild, dementia which basically amounts to some confusion, sometimes. It is unpredictable, irregular and I am not supposed to think she uses it on a whim--however, there are times I suspect she does. My big problem, and it is harsh, is my belief people should realize they are aging. My husband, who I tend to forget is almost 60, thinks age is all in the mind and I should get over my expectations. But, then, he is not the one who has to take a 99 year old woman to a beauty salon and explain her wishes to a twenty year old who hasn't a clue but that he is dealing with one very old lady. Of course, I want control; it would make things easier and, of course, there is guilt because easy disrespects my mother-in-law's competency. She knows what is up despite me often thinking she doesn't. It's not done on schedule, this becoming old and losing one's mind. Maybe in a home, my mother-in-law would be on schedule and not to do things to annoy people--my husband figures if his mother didn't have the option of driving people crazy, she'd be dead. But it is hard to reconcile age, wisdom (and, yes, I am giving more credit than normally) and the reality that things fall apart even when we won't admit it.

Home Forever

Sometimes, it is so hard with the matriarch; I feel she does some strange things on purpose and to drive me crazy. My friend was over yesterday and made the point that maybe my mother-in-law acts the way she does to retain control of some sort over her life. She does live in my home, she does eat in my kitchen, she does expect me to do all the work--because she can't. It must be awful to no longer have control, no direction in one's life and live at the discretion of someone else. I feel so guilty. My friend, whose grandmother lived with her family for 12 years, said her mother used to get depressed, too, but there was not a lot to be done. If it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a village to care for an older person, too. Maybe it would be easier if more family were involved but there is no family; distant cousins and nieces and nephews do not seem to feel the same obligations and my mother-in-law certainly does not seem to want them around.

I found this article in the New York Times about an 98 year old woman evicted from the Carnegie Artists' Apartments:

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/28/nyregion/28carnegie.html

Aside from the information about the building's demolition, there does not seem to be a recognition that this 98 year old woman was still living independently and participating with her neighbours despite her age. Sometimes I listen to the ads about how to live longer and younger and I see vibrant communities with purpose destroyed in the same of what is perceived as something better. All that is old is replaced with something new as though that is somehow better, more important and the wealth of the old, the traditions and so forth are lost. It reminds me of the bloody chili sauce and the knowledge, the recognition, that I am going to have to make it.

One thing my friend and I did disagree over was the way youth is celebrated; what does it matter if the old still dye their hair into their 70s? I guess I think it is that pretense at youth that makes it so much harder to accept old age and all the consequences of life that goes with it. My friend says it doesn't matter; we just now accept old people who look younger. And, I guess, that is my problem: people who look younger tend to act younger and I mean immaturely. Or, maybe, I am being stupid; it is okay for seniors to behave the way they want, they have earned the right. My expectations are warped, I guess. But my problems can be summed up in my experiences with my half-blind, half deaf mother-in-law who wants to make this chili sauce. She can no longer make it, no one eats it and I will have to go through the motions only to throw it out--what does it matter? Well, the matriarch can also no longer taste it-- my proof is in the plethora of empty sugar bowls around here, another pound of sugar on its way today,--do I expect the matriarch to understand she has physically changed and not the sugar and vegetables used to make the chili sauce? I think pretending to be young makes it more difficult to be old. We live in this world that changes so fast we think the world is altering daily and, yet, I think, we pretend to stay the same. I guess that is my problem: we do change as we age and that is okay and good, pretending not to makes the whole process worse. I wish my mother-in-law would realize we no longer eat the chili sauce but it has been replaced by homemade salsa and that fact commemorates her tradition of homemade pickling. It is a weird sort of paradox to be living with--this idea of change and stasis and jars of chili sauce that will be floating around my house for years to come.

The Crazy Age

Here is an interesting article by Jane Miller on growing old:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2010/aug/26/jane-miller-growing-old-ageing

What intrigues me most is the idea that, somehow, a narrative can be created for a life and events explained as though there was a reason for every incident of every day of one's existence. It's not like that and I think people are beginning to delude themselves into thinking rationalizing events or circumstances in a life can excuse behaviours. I recently read Mitch Albom's book "5 People You Meet In Heaven" and, while it was interesting, ultimately, it was a justification for all life events and a rationalizing of the connectedness between people. I guess I am not saying that people are not connected and chaos theory alive but what I am saying is that we mistake this sort of belief for a God or faith or whatever. I don't think it works that way.

The matriarch may reflect privately on her life, I don't know; she loves to talk about her first marriage in the thirties and the parties she and her husband used to have. But she left him when she had had enough of his boozing and physical abuse--I wouldn't have thought it the happiest time in her life and, yet, it is the period she seems to reflect on the most. I think you have to have a certain nature and desire for introspection to create sense out of an existence; some people are not like that. It's not wrong or right; but, I think there so many attempts to rationalize existence that attempts at life get lost in the thinking. I don't think my mother-in-law thinks about her own death; I think that is why she loves going to funerals--she is still alive despite it all and loves pointing the fact out to the grieving. (Yes, it's tasteless and tacky and the reason my husband avoids bringing her to funerals but true all the same.) My suspicion is the matriarch doesn't think about God or meaning--I'm not saying she doesn't care, well, actually, I am--but I mean it is not in her nature to worry about such stuff, to even contemplate it. And, I think we live in a world where sometimes that is seen as wrong.

Privileging the cerebral, because that is what it is, applying this narrative structure to a life is not fair. Because, then, somehow there has to be meaning in stuff that "just happens." And, stuff does just happen for no reason at all. I know I judge my mother-in-law all the time and I am beginning to think I do it because I am trying to rationalize the last ten years of my life. It's a long time to have spent helping someone else with their life and I am trying to make sure I have learned something by it. And, I haven't--not really. And, one cannot really make the argument there have been lessons without falling back into platitudes that someday these events will come back to me; I could get hit by a car in the future, die and none of it will have mattered in the long run to me personally. That's okay or, at least, I am beginning to realize that it would be okay. It is so hard to do the right thing when there is no reason, no narrative, no structure. Reminds me of that other book "Can We Be Good Without God?" (just you have to replace "God" with the word "Reason.")

Habits of Charity

No one wants to die knowing there are no memories of kind acts. Unfortunately, a lot of people plan to do generous acts when they retire but die before they can. I don't think the matriarch even considers the possibility of her own death and our memories. Perhaps I am being judgmental, perhaps I am being realistic. My husband figures his mother could live another twenty years and think nothing of putting me in the grave--and that is not being ironic, just very sad. My mother-in-law lives in a constant state of "want." She is never happy with what she has and thinks the grass is always greener somewhere else. The new blood clinic, today, proved her thoughts wrong yet again as we went to an almost factory like clinic and she was treated decently but impersonally. Of course, this is what a home would be like. Though, she has visions of catered meals and friendly nurses and laundry done daily. How nice it would be if life could be like that.

Sadly, that is not what the average home is like despite the best intentions; it is generousity of spirit that makes the best homes excel. My mother-in-law does not have that kind of spirit; she waits to be catered to and fussed over and, I guess at 99, she has earned the right. But I cannot help but wonder what my mother-in-law was like when she was younger and had to take care of my husband's grandparents. They lived with his family for twelve years, rent free, and left when my husband's father asked for a hand with the expenses. I don't know why the family asked for the money; the house was paid for and there were no debts. But I think about that absence of the matriarch's unselfishness and wonder. Is it a habit that must be cultivated when younger?

Tired

As the matriarch gets older, she gets tired. Most nights, she goes to bed before 8:30. You can see in her face, she is physically exhausted--whether or not she has not done anything. Most days, the matriarch just sits in her room; I don't know what she actually does beyond sit but she is there. And, the fruit and sugar eating is completely out of control.

My husband made his mother lunch on Saturday and she complained there wasn't enough sugar. My husband being my husband poured a little over half the sugar bowl onto her fruit and silenced her. She ate it. But my husband, guiltily perhaps, told me he thinks it was definitely too much--his mother is more a less than half sugar bowl sort of person. This week I bought 2 pounds of sugar to see how it goes. I have been going to the store every few days to buy pounds of sugar because my husband didn't believe me when I said his mother was eating immense amounts of sugar. Now, he does. You would think the sugar would keep the matriarch hyped up. But she is still tired at night.

And, as for fruit, the woman really hasn't eaten dinner in a few days; she's eating plums, nectarines, peaches, bananas, strawberries and raspberries but no dinner of consequence. The matriarch does eat breakfast with cereal, toast, juice and tea. Is this what happens when we get old? We succumb to the sweetness and fibrousness of any fruit that is available and that we can chew? The matriarch peels everything and I constantly have to check for skins because she will leave them in her room and I am afraid of bugs. She is an adult and should know better. It's like she wants to be told to give me her peelings. On one level it is silly, but on another she is giving up her independence, her rights as an adult. The matriarch is waiting for me to make decisions for her. It can be quite draining constantly making someone else's life choices. She is not my child. Ultimately, my mother-in-law is a stranger I have grown to know instinctively but it is still weird for me. I wonder if it is like this for others? And, I always feel she is judging me despite her half blind eyes and lack of hearing--it is all so silly to be so insecure around an old woman who can do no harm.

A New Blood Clinic

Today was the last day I took the matriarch to the blood clinic at its current location. By next week, the clinic will be closed, the nurses moved and doctors' offices will have assumed occupation. It is hardly a thing to be sensitive about and, yet, the clinic was possibly the most perfectly located place for a senior citizen--on level ground, next door to both a doctor's office and drug store, radiologists in the basement and dentist's office upstairs. It was a one stop-shop for seniors, well, for my mother-in-law. It was ideal.

The new clinic is located much closer to my house--which means shorter drives for the matriarch and I know she won't like that. It is located in the second story of a building--which means either standing in an elevator or taking the stairs. Truthfully, the matriarch likes neither option. And, it is located neither conveniently close to the matriarch's doctor's office or her preferred drug store. I guess that means more drives but also more time waiting. We used to be able to book a doctor's visit, pick up any new medication and do the weekly bloodtest. No longer.

I don't think much consideration is put into the welfare of seniors. Who in their right mind would put a blood clinic on a second floor? Generally, sick people and seniors get regular blood tests; they are not ones to be enthusiastic about a lot of exercise. Plus, and this is just a general complaint, the new clinic is nowhere near a bus stop; it is, in fact, in the middle of nowhere. It is close to my home and there is no public transit where I live--not to mention one must drive to the highway, the town administration buildings, the grocery store. Convenience does not come to mind and a general hassle for seniors does. I know the matriarch is not going to be happy.

There is another blood clinic in the city. It is close to the video store and a plaza for shopping but it is also right beside the after hours medical clinic and is really close to both highway and public transport. Read: there is an option that will be busier, with line-ups and lots and lots of different nurses. So, either I take the matriarch to a clinic where she will be inconvenienced or one where she will have to wait. She's 99 for heaven's sake; change is hard for seniors; harder for the doubly senior. I hate thinking about next Tuesday.

I Don't like Pizza

My mother-in-law is apparently going deaf--except when she can hear. My husband doesn't know if it's an attention thing or if his mother really has phases of hearing loss. She can hear any sentence with the word "sugar" in it. I am currently going through a pound of sugar every 4 or 5 days; my husband says it's the children, too--I think not. I ask my mother-in-law if she would like a slice of cheesecake. She replies she doesn't like pizza. I make the request more loudly and she says,
"Oh, yes, I'll have some cheesecake."

I don't know if I resent my mother-in-law growing old and her unawareness of her age or the fact I am suspicious that she knows she is being selfish at times and still chooses to be that way. The matriarch doesn't say "thank you" which means she takes things people do for her for granted completely. But I could be wrong and she may be completely unaware that some one has helped her and is oblivious to a standard of decorum. Do the old know they are solipsists? Are all old people this way? Do we as a community withdraw from the old or do they withdraw from us? The matriarch sits in her room and expects phone calls and invitations and me to go upstairs to chat with her. She makes no effort to come down. So, it this old age or her nature? And, what can I do about it when I have already taken her to senior centres and churches and the matriarch does not want to participate?

I know the matriarch doesn't like pizza; she has no teeth and cannot eat it. I don't have to be told.

Why I am not a Christian or a good person

This post may seem more personal than most but it's not, not really. Simon Critchley has written a brilliant article in today's Times:

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/08/08/the-rigor-of-love/?hp

I can never get the link to work. It is about being good without God, but emphasizes the importance of living a life without judgment of the other. It is only the individual, I guess the self, before God (or the mirror) that can be judged important. Really Ivan Illych talks about the same sort of thing: a speck from someone else's eye cannot be removed while there is a log in your own; it's a comment about judgment. And, let's face it, I judge the matriarch all the time.

Unfairly.

I wish I could be a better person when it comes to the matriarch. It is so hard sometimes. I keep thinking to myself it would be worse on my mother-in-law if she was in a home. There, she would not be treated as a person, as an individual. I mean it is a struggle to constantly recognize my mother-in-law as a senior person, my elder in the old fashioned sense. It is easier to say she has regressed and is back to the solipsism of the two year old and treat her as such. But, then, I think to myself that is to deny the life she has led and not offer it any respect. I can only think I have to do what I think is best because at the end of the day I have to look at myself in the mirror and be happy with what I see. And, I can't fall into the trap at looking at what others do in comparison. Sometimes, it is really hard to hate the idea of a home and be so envious at the same time.

Yesterday, after the corn roast, the children came home and two got out the sewing machines and did some projects. We are getting to the skill level where some clothes can be worn out in public and not look homemade. My mother-in-law watched the children and felt their projects and made the pronouncement she would like a new blouse. Made by one of them. I imagine you can just see the anticipation in the children's faces at the thought of making a blouse, measuring, buying fabric and sewing for their grandmother. And, I sat there and wondered.

Is it such a big deal to make a blouse for their grandmother? Why is it that no matter what the children get up to, their grandmother always wants to participate, even when she can't. And her desire to participate is in constant competition with her ability to do something--I grant it is not fair. It sucks (sorry, for the term) to grow old but it also sucks (again) to have to live with the constant accommodation for an older person. And, I am sitting here wondering about the log in my eye. How do I behave in this situation? Make her a blouse myself? Buy one and pass it off as authentic? I can't buy one and tell the children to pass it off as their work as equally as I can't force them to make a blouse. And, I am sitting here trying not to judge the matriarch's desire to always want what the children have.

I don't have a log in my eye; I have a bloody forest.

We Go to a Cornfest

We live in a small farming community--predominantly corn crops. And so, every year the matriarch waits for the annual Cornfest. And, there is nothing in life like a toothless, 99 year old woman at a cornfest. Yes, I brought a knife. And salt. My one regret was the absence of a spoon but the local fire department happened to have some on hand, so it really wasn't a problem.

We were the first there. Then, as the matriarch dug into her first cob, the crowds began to arrive.

I swear some people come just to see the matriarch eat. And, her eyes were bigger than her stomach which meant I had to throw out a plate of corn kernels under the angry eyes of a local volunteer. It's still food and the matriarch should not have taken it if she wasn't sure she was going to eat it. But the woman was full and everyone got annoyed with me for not knowing. I would have brought it home but the matriarch got mad at herself for not being able to eat and spat the food out and it was just gross.

But such is life. At least, most of the neighbours in town came to say "Hi" and the matriarch felt the belle of the ball; at least, until she got full. Then, I had to take her home. But the children were able to stay because the fire hall, which also doubles as a library and OPP office, is just down the street. Literally. The matriarch is upstairs sleeping her digestion away and will probably wake up hungry.

And, so, the Matriarch gets mad at me

It drives me crazy to no end to have people email me and tell me I am doing a good thing for my mother-in-law and I have joy and patience in my heart. Read the posts, people, if it was easy, everyone could do this. The tragedy is not many people do take care of the old. If my posts can inspire one person to take the time to go and visit an elderly relative or a neighbour and relieve someone else of a burden, then this whole taking care of my mother-in-law will have been worthwhile. Someone in some situation would have gotten a break.

Obviously, my mother-in-law is angry at me and I resent the frustration the matriarch is currently inflicting on me, in particular, and on my family in general. One thing I must admit to admire about the character of my husband is his ability to shrug it all off; he does not carry a grudge and, if he cannot change a situation, he just grins and bears it. Come to think of it, he is driving me crazy, too.

The matriarch is annoyed we are eating too fast. Can you believe it? Apparently, she has been complaining to my husband about how she is always the last at the dinner table. My husband has grinned and born it. The woman brought her annoyance up this evening in a very calm, no yelling manner, and the children and I are eating too fast. She never criticizes her son.

At breakfast, lately, I have started the matriarch's meal as soon as she gets up; the children wander in later and eat their cereal, grandma is still eating, the children finish their cereal, grandma still at it, I eat my toast or whatever keeping company with the last of grandma's endeavours. No complaints. Had I known, I would have worked something out for dinner. The woman is almost 100, it takes her forever to eat. The meals, but for the bread, are almost all kind of liquidy or mashed, but the matriarch eats pulling the crusts off each individual slice of bread and dipping the remnant in the gravy or sauce to soften it up before she gums it down. This is what the old and toothless are like; it's not pretty and it's not fair and the children are pretty good at not watching it and eating and excusing themselves when they are finished. My husband and I usually remain, drinking our tea, while the matriarch finishes. I don't know why a woman who spits out food would become self-conscious about her timing; I tend to think it would be the other way around. However, it really and truly peeves me that the matriarch thinks the children should adjust their routine. I should adjust my routine. My husband can go and grin out of my sight.

This is not old age, this is selfishness. Maybe this is control. I don't know. I keep telling myself: do not show anger, do not get upset; at 99, the matriarch has earned the right to be like this. In my heart of hearts, I think not. I think it is mean.