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.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Raspberries...Again
So, the girls and I must pick raspberries Monday morning. The season has opened; strawberries are done, raspberries are to be frozen next.
I think that, as a consequence of my aging, it seems we are always freezing fruit for my mother-in-law to eat. It seems my routine is feeding the woman...and my children. I have 2 chest freezers and by Monday night 1 will be completely full with this year's fruit: 100 litres of strawberries, 16 litres of rhubarb and whatever we do in raspberries. Do you realize an 100 year old woman will eat all this? Seriously.
If I didn't see my mother-in-law actually eat, I wouldn't believe it either.
Ooh, and the sugar...
As my husband likes to question, "Why is this house always out of sugar?"
I think you know the answer. We cannot be the only family in the world living like this...
I think that, as a consequence of my aging, it seems we are always freezing fruit for my mother-in-law to eat. It seems my routine is feeding the woman...and my children. I have 2 chest freezers and by Monday night 1 will be completely full with this year's fruit: 100 litres of strawberries, 16 litres of rhubarb and whatever we do in raspberries. Do you realize an 100 year old woman will eat all this? Seriously.
If I didn't see my mother-in-law actually eat, I wouldn't believe it either.
Ooh, and the sugar...
As my husband likes to question, "Why is this house always out of sugar?"
I think you know the answer. We cannot be the only family in the world living like this...
Sunday, July 10, 2011
How Do You Know?
The matriarch is suffering from the heat--terribly so. I asked her to sit down here with us or in the basement; there is a washroom down there, my husband and I sleep down there, there is a library/ living room down there...I think it is okay. She said, "No."
So what do I do? She has a fan in her room and I am bringing her iced water to drink. But it is her decision to stay up there. The windows are open, there is a nice breeze, but she has chosen to sit up in her room despite the fact the breeze is cooler down here in the living room and the basement is actually quite comfortable. We don't have air conditioning, but we do have lots of windows and a lovely breeze--almost all the time. So what can you do--make the old do something that would be better for them?
Sometimes it is so easy to know what should be done versus what is being done. The matriarch has been invited out for lunch tomorrow; it is to be even hotter than today. Does she go or stay? I already told her about the invitation--though, it was the height of disrespect to call me to ask her out as opposed to call her. I am not her jailer. The matriarch will make the decision this evening whether or not to cancel and I will have to call to make arrangements; the idea that I am responsible at one's convenience is actually the problem with the maintenance of the old. As people age, they need help; but, do they need mind readers or people who are supposed to know what they need even though no words are said? I find this the most frustrating aspect of the care of my mother-in-law; she can tell me when she doesn't want to visit, for example, the nail salon, but I am supposed to know when she needs or wants a haircut. And, if I treat her wishes as a child's wishes, knowing what she wants based on routine, she can easily change her mind and I am supposed to know or understand it. I really don't think I ever want to inflict this kind of life on my children. It is so easy to become dominant without knowing it.
Of course, there are also the old who are not like this...I imagine they see the world more broadly than my mother-in-law. Not everyone becomes so insular; so, the fact must be that are alternatives to living this way but how do we prevent our future old selves becoming like this? Does my mother-in-law really see herself as inhibiting other people's existence? I imagine she doesn't; like my friend's grandmother, I think she would die if she knew how restrictive her demands made my life. But, then, surely she must notice I never leave her; my husband or I are always here...no holidays, no vacations and her sister-in-law has said blatantly she is a difficult guest. (Though, to be fair, in a weird kind of way, the sister-in-law did say the matriarch could come visit her again but her cancer reappeared and she has had to have an operation on one of several days or several operations on one day or the matriarch completely misunderstood but the visit is not going to happen. Make of the information what you will...) So, really, I don't know what the matriarch thinks and I don't know what to do. It just gets hotter.
So what do I do? She has a fan in her room and I am bringing her iced water to drink. But it is her decision to stay up there. The windows are open, there is a nice breeze, but she has chosen to sit up in her room despite the fact the breeze is cooler down here in the living room and the basement is actually quite comfortable. We don't have air conditioning, but we do have lots of windows and a lovely breeze--almost all the time. So what can you do--make the old do something that would be better for them?
Sometimes it is so easy to know what should be done versus what is being done. The matriarch has been invited out for lunch tomorrow; it is to be even hotter than today. Does she go or stay? I already told her about the invitation--though, it was the height of disrespect to call me to ask her out as opposed to call her. I am not her jailer. The matriarch will make the decision this evening whether or not to cancel and I will have to call to make arrangements; the idea that I am responsible at one's convenience is actually the problem with the maintenance of the old. As people age, they need help; but, do they need mind readers or people who are supposed to know what they need even though no words are said? I find this the most frustrating aspect of the care of my mother-in-law; she can tell me when she doesn't want to visit, for example, the nail salon, but I am supposed to know when she needs or wants a haircut. And, if I treat her wishes as a child's wishes, knowing what she wants based on routine, she can easily change her mind and I am supposed to know or understand it. I really don't think I ever want to inflict this kind of life on my children. It is so easy to become dominant without knowing it.
Of course, there are also the old who are not like this...I imagine they see the world more broadly than my mother-in-law. Not everyone becomes so insular; so, the fact must be that are alternatives to living this way but how do we prevent our future old selves becoming like this? Does my mother-in-law really see herself as inhibiting other people's existence? I imagine she doesn't; like my friend's grandmother, I think she would die if she knew how restrictive her demands made my life. But, then, surely she must notice I never leave her; my husband or I are always here...no holidays, no vacations and her sister-in-law has said blatantly she is a difficult guest. (Though, to be fair, in a weird kind of way, the sister-in-law did say the matriarch could come visit her again but her cancer reappeared and she has had to have an operation on one of several days or several operations on one day or the matriarch completely misunderstood but the visit is not going to happen. Make of the information what you will...) So, really, I don't know what the matriarch thinks and I don't know what to do. It just gets hotter.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
A Word from Deborah Orr (Guardian Newspaper Comment Section)
This was found in the more left than right wing paper, 'The Guardian:'
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2011/jul/06/care-expensive-deborah-orr
Ms Orr is one hundred per cent right (though I did find her essay a little convoluted); how we treat the young, the very old and the ill is how a society is judged. So, no matter how difficult it gets with the matriarch--and it does, forgive me--I can never forget she is a fellow human being, capable of mistakes, cares, and opinions just like everyone else. Yes, it is incredible she is 100 with her health and her marbles; but, it is also very difficult to take care of her in a society that constantly encourages her to be put into a hospital to wait out her days. I know my house is not much better, but my mother-in-law does get out, does see the world, does have choices over what she wants to eat (yes, she always wants to eat sugar and strawberries but it is her choice).
Perhaps, it is my anxiety; I do suffer from the effects of taking care of someone who does not like me; but I find I am waiting for some sort of endpoint. Isn't that awful? Even my husband, and it is his mother, finds things pulling on him. The routine of going out for lunch every single week doesn't sound like a chore, but it is; there is no choice in the matter for him; every Wednesday afternoon, he must take his mother out for lunch, rain or shine, plans or not. You get caught wondering what the matriarch must be thinking...it is a lot to demand of another person. He has been doing it for three years, every single week; though, I have little sympathy for him, I have been doing it for almost thirteen years. You know it is bad when you know the serving staff and their children by name at particular restaurants. But my point is when do we make the decision, because I think it must be a conscious choice, to become so demanding? My girlfriend--whose parents took care of her grandmother for 20 years--said her grandma would have died had she known how demanding she was. How could, or can, a fully functioning adult not know? Worse yet, when or why does it become so acceptable? I know my mother-in-law has lived a long and difficult life, but does that mean she is entitled to become selfish? Is age an excuse for selfishness? But, then, am I selfish for wishing this could end? I don't want the woman to die, but there are times when I don't want her here. And, yes, of course, I feel guilty. It is also underscored when people, who have not taken care of the elderly for extended periods of time, comment as though they know or think they could do better. For whatever I write or think, the matriarch is still here by her choice as much as my own (don't get into how ridiculous that sounds, I know I complain and it is very hypocritical but she is still here and not somewhere else).
Back to Ms Orr's essay....
If the old aren't taken care of, we forget our past; if the young are not cared for, we have no future; and, if the ill are left behind, we have no hope. Gosh, this is depressing.
A short word on the Matriarch and the Cat...
My mother-in-law sat out on the front porch in the sunny weather; when it got too hot, she decided to come it. I offered my arm.
I don't need your help. I can open the door on my own. I can do things on my own. Go away.
You try not to take things too personally; there are times, of course, it doesn't work.
I am only trying to help. Let me open the front door.
No, I can do it.
In goes the matriarch, out goes the cat.
Ooh, I let the cat out.
The cat is a house cat, but we let him out on a leash most days. It is not ideal, but we live in the country and it is for his protection; there are coyotes around and foxes and the odd wolf and they could eat him. They have been known to do so to other cats from the neighbourhood (laugh if you want, it is an honest concern).
An hour and a half later, my husband comes home and finds me wandering the neighbourhood looking for the cat. If we didn't have children, I would not have been so persistent. All I could think of was finding a half-eaten cat and my daughters crying their hearts out. So, I kept looking. And, the matriarch was on the front porch calling out for the cat:
Pumpkin, Pumpkin, Pumpkin
And, the neighbours are watching the matriarch on the front porch, trying to make out what she is saying. I don't know if she was choosing not to yell, if she couldn't yell, or if they just couldn't hear her but, when I came back, a fellow asked me what was wrong with my grandmother.
She's not my grandmother; she's my mother-in-law.
Well, she's been standing out there on the porch since you left talking to herself.
The cat runs into the house and the matriarch fails to notice and tells my husband I lost the cat. My husband closes the door and offers his mother a cup of tea.
No, I am going to bed. This too much for one day.
And, I come home and we all go in; the cat has rushed down to the basement because it so hot. I think to myself, it never, ever ends.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2011/jul/06/care-expensive-deborah-orr
Ms Orr is one hundred per cent right (though I did find her essay a little convoluted); how we treat the young, the very old and the ill is how a society is judged. So, no matter how difficult it gets with the matriarch--and it does, forgive me--I can never forget she is a fellow human being, capable of mistakes, cares, and opinions just like everyone else. Yes, it is incredible she is 100 with her health and her marbles; but, it is also very difficult to take care of her in a society that constantly encourages her to be put into a hospital to wait out her days. I know my house is not much better, but my mother-in-law does get out, does see the world, does have choices over what she wants to eat (yes, she always wants to eat sugar and strawberries but it is her choice).
Perhaps, it is my anxiety; I do suffer from the effects of taking care of someone who does not like me; but I find I am waiting for some sort of endpoint. Isn't that awful? Even my husband, and it is his mother, finds things pulling on him. The routine of going out for lunch every single week doesn't sound like a chore, but it is; there is no choice in the matter for him; every Wednesday afternoon, he must take his mother out for lunch, rain or shine, plans or not. You get caught wondering what the matriarch must be thinking...it is a lot to demand of another person. He has been doing it for three years, every single week; though, I have little sympathy for him, I have been doing it for almost thirteen years. You know it is bad when you know the serving staff and their children by name at particular restaurants. But my point is when do we make the decision, because I think it must be a conscious choice, to become so demanding? My girlfriend--whose parents took care of her grandmother for 20 years--said her grandma would have died had she known how demanding she was. How could, or can, a fully functioning adult not know? Worse yet, when or why does it become so acceptable? I know my mother-in-law has lived a long and difficult life, but does that mean she is entitled to become selfish? Is age an excuse for selfishness? But, then, am I selfish for wishing this could end? I don't want the woman to die, but there are times when I don't want her here. And, yes, of course, I feel guilty. It is also underscored when people, who have not taken care of the elderly for extended periods of time, comment as though they know or think they could do better. For whatever I write or think, the matriarch is still here by her choice as much as my own (don't get into how ridiculous that sounds, I know I complain and it is very hypocritical but she is still here and not somewhere else).
Back to Ms Orr's essay....
If the old aren't taken care of, we forget our past; if the young are not cared for, we have no future; and, if the ill are left behind, we have no hope. Gosh, this is depressing.
A short word on the Matriarch and the Cat...
My mother-in-law sat out on the front porch in the sunny weather; when it got too hot, she decided to come it. I offered my arm.
I don't need your help. I can open the door on my own. I can do things on my own. Go away.
You try not to take things too personally; there are times, of course, it doesn't work.
I am only trying to help. Let me open the front door.
No, I can do it.
In goes the matriarch, out goes the cat.
Ooh, I let the cat out.
The cat is a house cat, but we let him out on a leash most days. It is not ideal, but we live in the country and it is for his protection; there are coyotes around and foxes and the odd wolf and they could eat him. They have been known to do so to other cats from the neighbourhood (laugh if you want, it is an honest concern).
An hour and a half later, my husband comes home and finds me wandering the neighbourhood looking for the cat. If we didn't have children, I would not have been so persistent. All I could think of was finding a half-eaten cat and my daughters crying their hearts out. So, I kept looking. And, the matriarch was on the front porch calling out for the cat:
Pumpkin, Pumpkin, Pumpkin
And, the neighbours are watching the matriarch on the front porch, trying to make out what she is saying. I don't know if she was choosing not to yell, if she couldn't yell, or if they just couldn't hear her but, when I came back, a fellow asked me what was wrong with my grandmother.
She's not my grandmother; she's my mother-in-law.
Well, she's been standing out there on the porch since you left talking to herself.
The cat runs into the house and the matriarch fails to notice and tells my husband I lost the cat. My husband closes the door and offers his mother a cup of tea.
No, I am going to bed. This too much for one day.
And, I come home and we all go in; the cat has rushed down to the basement because it so hot. I think to myself, it never, ever ends.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Living Forever...and not in Expected Ways
Last week, there was a wedding shower for my cousin and I met a woman whose Aunt died 8 days short of her 108 birthday. Recently, the oldest woman listed in the world died; she was 114. I think she was from France.
Then, Brazilian statisticians found this woman:
http://blogs.aljazeera.net/americas/2011/06/25/woman-aged-120-years-old-discovered-brazil
They apparently are trying to confirm she is 120.
My middle age could last a very long time.
Then, Brazilian statisticians found this woman:
http://blogs.aljazeera.net/americas/2011/06/25/woman-aged-120-years-old-discovered-brazil
They apparently are trying to confirm she is 120.
My middle age could last a very long time.
Friday, July 1, 2011
A Meditation on Age
Sometimes, the matriarch drives me crazy...her greatest wish is to go for lunch; her easiest want to satisfy is a drive about the township. But, here is the thing, as I sit writing on the computer, my 100 year old mother-in-law is wandering about the house--getting exercise, she calls it. Up the stairs, down the stairs, round the hall, into the kitchen and back up again. She does not come into the front room--she thinks what I am doing is work, so she does not come into the room. My mother-in-law knows I don't work; but, she does not understand this computer thing and waits for my daughter to show her the movie trailers. But do you understand I am complaining about the activities of an hundred year old woman? She is wandering about my house; I feel my privacy invaded; but, my mother-in-law is 100...what else can she do?
My priorities need to be adjusted.
My mother-in-law can do a lot of things--except see. She is not deaf, she has no cane, her gait is steady; she'd love a date. She cannot see except, of course, for those days when she can see which are always inconvenient. I wish I knew what exactly she could manage to see, how bright the light must be to see something. The word "blind" floats about unsaid; the opthamologist has confirmed it, but I live in a world where my expectations are constantly surprised. She wipes a bit of dust off my husband's suit; how does she know it is there? How can she see it? The world would be so much better if she could see...I think.
How does the world appear to one so old? Does my mother-in-law care anymore? I know she enjoys movie trailers and strawberries; she likes to go for lunch and for drives; but, I don't understand the meaning of her existence...but, then I live under the delusion there is meaning to existence. The matriarch has just given my older daughter her flowers from her birthday:
I wanted Werthers and chips; I don't like flowers.
My daughter thinks her grandmother is annoyed because she wanted the water on the flowers changed yesterday and my daughter had to go to piano first. If there is one thing that does annoy me: when the matriarch wants something done, she wants it done immediately. My youngest is the only one who can cajole any kind of patience out of her. But why the rush? It is not like she or the flowers are going anywhere. Up the stairs, down the stairs again. I try so hard to understand why it is like this. I can rationalize in a weird way surprise deaths, accidents, even tragedies; but, for the life of me, I cannot understand why someone who does nothing lives so long, is so healthy.
As a matter of gossip, the matriarch's doctor has MS; she has gone through 3 doctors, 2 of whom have retired and this fellow who is ill and may retire early. There are so many ironies here it could be seen as really funny where it not for me knowing the fellow and he being a nice, albeit a doctor who thinks he knows everything, kind of guy.
Up the stairs, down the stairs.
Dinner still not ready?
We are having salmon, new potatoes and spinach and the matriarch will eat it all and have strawberries with sugar for dessert. Then, go back upstairs to watch her shows and go to bed and I will ponder on the meaning of existence wondering why some in this world have it so easy and some seem born to endure.
My priorities need to be adjusted.
My mother-in-law can do a lot of things--except see. She is not deaf, she has no cane, her gait is steady; she'd love a date. She cannot see except, of course, for those days when she can see which are always inconvenient. I wish I knew what exactly she could manage to see, how bright the light must be to see something. The word "blind" floats about unsaid; the opthamologist has confirmed it, but I live in a world where my expectations are constantly surprised. She wipes a bit of dust off my husband's suit; how does she know it is there? How can she see it? The world would be so much better if she could see...I think.
How does the world appear to one so old? Does my mother-in-law care anymore? I know she enjoys movie trailers and strawberries; she likes to go for lunch and for drives; but, I don't understand the meaning of her existence...but, then I live under the delusion there is meaning to existence. The matriarch has just given my older daughter her flowers from her birthday:
I wanted Werthers and chips; I don't like flowers.
My daughter thinks her grandmother is annoyed because she wanted the water on the flowers changed yesterday and my daughter had to go to piano first. If there is one thing that does annoy me: when the matriarch wants something done, she wants it done immediately. My youngest is the only one who can cajole any kind of patience out of her. But why the rush? It is not like she or the flowers are going anywhere. Up the stairs, down the stairs again. I try so hard to understand why it is like this. I can rationalize in a weird way surprise deaths, accidents, even tragedies; but, for the life of me, I cannot understand why someone who does nothing lives so long, is so healthy.
As a matter of gossip, the matriarch's doctor has MS; she has gone through 3 doctors, 2 of whom have retired and this fellow who is ill and may retire early. There are so many ironies here it could be seen as really funny where it not for me knowing the fellow and he being a nice, albeit a doctor who thinks he knows everything, kind of guy.
Up the stairs, down the stairs.
Dinner still not ready?
We are having salmon, new potatoes and spinach and the matriarch will eat it all and have strawberries with sugar for dessert. Then, go back upstairs to watch her shows and go to bed and I will ponder on the meaning of existence wondering why some in this world have it so easy and some seem born to endure.
Back to Normal
So, the matriarch is 100...
and we still have to do the blood tests, the hair salon, the nail salon, and the strawberries. My husband and I have had a bit of a dispute about the strawberries:
My mother does not eat that much.
I look at him and can honestly say I want to hit him. With 3 children, 2 4 litre baskets each, we pick a lot of berries. Today is my third visit to the farm. We pick a lot of berries. The woman eats a lot of strawberries.
The girls eat some, too, you know.
They don't eat strawberry jam; they don't eat fresh raspberries; they do eat blueberries till the cows come home; it is not blueberry season. We are picking strawberries for my mother-in-law. This is not a disputable fact. The woman is now 100 and will eat as many strawberries as she can till she dies. She will eat strawberries covered in sugar and love the syrupy stuff at the end of the bowl more. That is that.
Well, I think your exaggerating.
Where the heck do the strawberries go then? Do you ever have a fact, an indisputable fact, that someone debates with you, contradicts, attempts to prove wrong, and, ultimately, gets mad at you for knowing the truth? Some days are just like that.
We are picking strawberries and my mother-in-law is eating them and that is our life.
and we still have to do the blood tests, the hair salon, the nail salon, and the strawberries. My husband and I have had a bit of a dispute about the strawberries:
My mother does not eat that much.
I look at him and can honestly say I want to hit him. With 3 children, 2 4 litre baskets each, we pick a lot of berries. Today is my third visit to the farm. We pick a lot of berries. The woman eats a lot of strawberries.
The girls eat some, too, you know.
They don't eat strawberry jam; they don't eat fresh raspberries; they do eat blueberries till the cows come home; it is not blueberry season. We are picking strawberries for my mother-in-law. This is not a disputable fact. The woman is now 100 and will eat as many strawberries as she can till she dies. She will eat strawberries covered in sugar and love the syrupy stuff at the end of the bowl more. That is that.
Well, I think your exaggerating.
Where the heck do the strawberries go then? Do you ever have a fact, an indisputable fact, that someone debates with you, contradicts, attempts to prove wrong, and, ultimately, gets mad at you for knowing the truth? Some days are just like that.
We are picking strawberries and my mother-in-law is eating them and that is our life.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Swiss Chalet and the Matriarch
Two days after the matriarch turned 100, we went to Swiss Chalet. The staff had asked me to bring her in to celebrate her birthday.
They were absolutely lovely. The manager did up a special table with cloth, flowers and balloons; they treated us for lunch and they brought in a cake. It was, without question, absolutely delightful. The matriarch was so surprised, very surprised, and it was so nice. We took pictures and the matriarch was delighted to participate in a second party. I think she likes this turning 100 thing. I know restaurants are there to make money and business and all that, but this was so beyond regular ideas of customer service and it mattered so much to my mother-in-law....
Although...it wouldn't be my mother-in-law without a comment on her lack of food presents--Swiss Chalet excepted. On her birthday, she noticed she received flowers and chocolates but no Werthers Caramels and no chips. So, after this beautiful lunch, we went shopping for her candies and her snacks. Because, God knows, what is life without Werthers Caramels and Chips and if, at 100, one cannot have what one wants, when can you?
They were absolutely lovely. The manager did up a special table with cloth, flowers and balloons; they treated us for lunch and they brought in a cake. It was, without question, absolutely delightful. The matriarch was so surprised, very surprised, and it was so nice. We took pictures and the matriarch was delighted to participate in a second party. I think she likes this turning 100 thing. I know restaurants are there to make money and business and all that, but this was so beyond regular ideas of customer service and it mattered so much to my mother-in-law....
Although...it wouldn't be my mother-in-law without a comment on her lack of food presents--Swiss Chalet excepted. On her birthday, she noticed she received flowers and chocolates but no Werthers Caramels and no chips. So, after this beautiful lunch, we went shopping for her candies and her snacks. Because, God knows, what is life without Werthers Caramels and Chips and if, at 100, one cannot have what one wants, when can you?
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
100th Birthday
Yesterday was the matriarch's 100 birthday. 15 of us went to The Keg and the restaurant was lovely and the party was lovely and the Matriarch ate 2 (!!!!) racks of baby back ribs. My husband stopped eating to watch her. I swear his mother constantly impresses him.
The matriarch seemed happy. I hope so.
The matriarch seemed happy. I hope so.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
A Bit of News
The matriarch's sister-in-law has cancer again. They called her this morning and are taking her in for emergency surgery the day after the matriarch's birthday. The matriarch took it in with one sentence:
Well, I guess she's not coming to my birthday.
Personally, I think the absence is to be expected; it is sad on so many levels. For the sister-in-law, it is obviously a concern; her husband has the start of Alzheimers and I am sure the stress will compound the situation, not to mention the man will be worried about his wife. And, of course, the party the matriarch didn't want to have, turned out to be glad she was having, is now shrinking in numbers. The distant nephew who was coming has also cancelled. I don't want to be the one to tell the matriarch; so, I am leaving it to my husband to relay the news. None of this is funny, but there is a certain irony here...the woman didn't want to have a party in the first place and, maybe, I should have listened. She will now be disappointed at the fewer numbers. The matriarch's expectations will have been met. I am trying not to laugh at myself but, sometimes, it is all so defeating. Life is just one long, melodramatic soap opera.
Well, I guess she's not coming to my birthday.
Personally, I think the absence is to be expected; it is sad on so many levels. For the sister-in-law, it is obviously a concern; her husband has the start of Alzheimers and I am sure the stress will compound the situation, not to mention the man will be worried about his wife. And, of course, the party the matriarch didn't want to have, turned out to be glad she was having, is now shrinking in numbers. The distant nephew who was coming has also cancelled. I don't want to be the one to tell the matriarch; so, I am leaving it to my husband to relay the news. None of this is funny, but there is a certain irony here...the woman didn't want to have a party in the first place and, maybe, I should have listened. She will now be disappointed at the fewer numbers. The matriarch's expectations will have been met. I am trying not to laugh at myself but, sometimes, it is all so defeating. Life is just one long, melodramatic soap opera.
My Husband spends the day with his Mother
My daughter had to referee a number of soccer games on Saturday and, because it was far away, my other children came and my husband was left alone with his mother. I should note he also had work obligations--so, he was around to give her lunch and dinner but not to socialize. Apparently, the day did not go well. She was not happy. She did not go out for lunch. She sat in her room and griped. Okay, I think she did. I just know the matriarch was in bed when I got home late at night and we had to go for lunch on Sunday. Swiss Chalet is lovely; the staff is great; the food is wonderful; but, even they are beginning to wonder why we eat there so much...
Can an old person dictate a family's lifestyle? Am I giving in too much to the matriarch? Can this really go on forever?
I have been reading about quality of care in some of the homes in England and Ireland and there is an outcry over the abuse; mind, the homes are more for the intellectually and physically challenged rather than the old. But, does it matter? Would I be able to live with myself if I knew the matriarch (who let's admit is slowly driving me crazy) was being abused? What if it wasn't so much abuse as left alone, isolated, one of a number in a warehouse? If nothing else, I do try; much like my cooking, however, from the matriarch's perspective, I fail miserably.
My husband, who I really admire, says, in a nice way, I am a control freak and I must let things go. His mother chooses to live her life her way; she doesn't have to remind me I don't quite cook to her taste but she chooses to rather than be quiet, offer suggestions to cook differently, buy me a new cookbook. He likes my cooking, anyhow.
I wish I could empathize differently; I wish I knew how. I can't spend the day in the house with the matriarch without encouraging her to do something, go somewhere, go out for lunch. My husband has told me I am as dictatorial with the children as his mother is with me. My middle child, who for the sake of argument I'll suggest is the opinionated one, tried to get her grandmother to try a new restaurant on Sunday; the girls are all tired of Swiss Chalet. But, I interfered and said, Grandma is paying, so we go where she wants....
My girlfriend's family took care of her grandmother for twenty years. They brought a hospital bed into the home. They were good and decent people and it cost them dearly as a family. My friend's parents lost their middle age to the care of their mother; I admire them so much but the cost is so high. Why must it be so???
Can an old person dictate a family's lifestyle? Am I giving in too much to the matriarch? Can this really go on forever?
I have been reading about quality of care in some of the homes in England and Ireland and there is an outcry over the abuse; mind, the homes are more for the intellectually and physically challenged rather than the old. But, does it matter? Would I be able to live with myself if I knew the matriarch (who let's admit is slowly driving me crazy) was being abused? What if it wasn't so much abuse as left alone, isolated, one of a number in a warehouse? If nothing else, I do try; much like my cooking, however, from the matriarch's perspective, I fail miserably.
My husband, who I really admire, says, in a nice way, I am a control freak and I must let things go. His mother chooses to live her life her way; she doesn't have to remind me I don't quite cook to her taste but she chooses to rather than be quiet, offer suggestions to cook differently, buy me a new cookbook. He likes my cooking, anyhow.
I wish I could empathize differently; I wish I knew how. I can't spend the day in the house with the matriarch without encouraging her to do something, go somewhere, go out for lunch. My husband has told me I am as dictatorial with the children as his mother is with me. My middle child, who for the sake of argument I'll suggest is the opinionated one, tried to get her grandmother to try a new restaurant on Sunday; the girls are all tired of Swiss Chalet. But, I interfered and said, Grandma is paying, so we go where she wants....
My girlfriend's family took care of her grandmother for twenty years. They brought a hospital bed into the home. They were good and decent people and it cost them dearly as a family. My friend's parents lost their middle age to the care of their mother; I admire them so much but the cost is so high. Why must it be so???
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
And You Want Me to do What?
The other day, the matriarch and I went to the local Re-Store to drop off a donation of a toilet. I had gotten it from my father, it was new and I didn't need it--may as well give it away...The matriarch came with me for the drive and the workers at the Re-Store couldn't believe I had an 100 year old lady in the van. One fellow, while I was in the shop looking for the person in charge of donations, had come up to the van and asked the matriarch what she wanted done. The window was open and the two got talking; he was very nice, patient with my mother-in-law, and suitably impressed such an old lady had come for a drive. They were all very nice. Of course, they couldn't believe I was taking the matriarch out for a drive while I did my errands.
I have been told I shouldn't demand so much from my mother-in-law. It didn't occur to me that I was demanding a lot from her; the matriarch likes going for drives; gas is too expensive to just drive around; so, I take her with me when I have to pop over to the bank, the gas station, drop videos off at the store; it gets her out of the house and the matriarch wants to come. But, I have been told, it is inappropriate for me to take the matriarch out, to take her round to all the stores I must visit, errands I must do. Such an old woman should stay in her room.
Maybe I am wrong to offer the rides to the matriarch...I don't force her to come. I offer her the opportunity of going for a drive and she has the option of saying, "No."
She doesn't.
And, I don't take her shopping or leave her alone in the van for extended periods of time; she comes along to keep me company. I feel defensive because I have been told it is wrong. I shouldn't be taking the matriarch out so much; she could die; she could have an accident; I could have an accident. The point is what? At 99, 11 months and 13 days, the matriarch could die anyhow. The woman can be in her room or she can be out driving around in the world. It isn't wrong to let the old see the world. It makes me more comfortable when the matriarch wants to be out and about; it's better than going for lunch all the time. It is less draining than seeing her sit in her room waiting for visitors that never come--except her family, my parents, the children, my husband and me. It is just weird how used to isolating the elderly society has become; it is as though people don't want to see the inevitable, as though we are denying one day all of us become old.
On Saturday, I listened to "The Age of Persuasion" by Terry O'Reilly and Mike Tennant. They discussed how advertisers are currently governed by account managers in their thirties; thus, advertising is mostly youthful. But, the strongest market is actually the baby boomers and they are in their forties, fifties and sixties. Maybe account managers also play on an anxiety baby boomers have about aging? I wonder. Old Age homes have become so prominent and we are so used to thinking the final steps in life involve a warehouse waiting to die, we don't consider the merits or morals of such a choice. The old do tend to be shuttered away to live out the last of their days. The matriarch drives me crazy. Is it because she is old or because she is a demanding mother-in-law? Is it wrong for me to take for a drive? Or is it better to let her sit in her room?
I have been told I shouldn't demand so much from my mother-in-law. It didn't occur to me that I was demanding a lot from her; the matriarch likes going for drives; gas is too expensive to just drive around; so, I take her with me when I have to pop over to the bank, the gas station, drop videos off at the store; it gets her out of the house and the matriarch wants to come. But, I have been told, it is inappropriate for me to take the matriarch out, to take her round to all the stores I must visit, errands I must do. Such an old woman should stay in her room.
Maybe I am wrong to offer the rides to the matriarch...I don't force her to come. I offer her the opportunity of going for a drive and she has the option of saying, "No."
She doesn't.
And, I don't take her shopping or leave her alone in the van for extended periods of time; she comes along to keep me company. I feel defensive because I have been told it is wrong. I shouldn't be taking the matriarch out so much; she could die; she could have an accident; I could have an accident. The point is what? At 99, 11 months and 13 days, the matriarch could die anyhow. The woman can be in her room or she can be out driving around in the world. It isn't wrong to let the old see the world. It makes me more comfortable when the matriarch wants to be out and about; it's better than going for lunch all the time. It is less draining than seeing her sit in her room waiting for visitors that never come--except her family, my parents, the children, my husband and me. It is just weird how used to isolating the elderly society has become; it is as though people don't want to see the inevitable, as though we are denying one day all of us become old.
On Saturday, I listened to "The Age of Persuasion" by Terry O'Reilly and Mike Tennant. They discussed how advertisers are currently governed by account managers in their thirties; thus, advertising is mostly youthful. But, the strongest market is actually the baby boomers and they are in their forties, fifties and sixties. Maybe account managers also play on an anxiety baby boomers have about aging? I wonder. Old Age homes have become so prominent and we are so used to thinking the final steps in life involve a warehouse waiting to die, we don't consider the merits or morals of such a choice. The old do tend to be shuttered away to live out the last of their days. The matriarch drives me crazy. Is it because she is old or because she is a demanding mother-in-law? Is it wrong for me to take for a drive? Or is it better to let her sit in her room?
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Tragedy of Tragedies
The fish'n'chip shop is moving. The matriarch is devastated; the world as she knows it has succumbed and we, all of us, are burdened with change, difference, adaptation.
The matriarch practically yelled the news at me at supper this evening. She shook her head, she raised her arms, she did not know what she was going to do.
My husband clarified the situation by indicating the shop was only moving up the road aways.
But, you never know who the new people will be...said in a hushed whisper. I could not believe how emotional the matriarch was over this sequence of events.
The place is not for sale. Its lease is up. They are moving.
What's that you say? The matriarch cannot hear my husband when she is upset. Truly, she cannot hear anybody. The world is silenced by events affecting her, alone.
The restaurant is moving. It is not for sale. My husband has spoken louder. For, generally a quiet kind of guy, he sounds a bit angry and the children are watching him. I am quiet because this has nothing to do with me. Nothing. And, the matriarch knows it. I don't go to the fish'n'chip place. She knows this without a doubt and I am free and clear from blame. Yes, I know there is no blame, no accusation, but it is a good feeling knowing I am uninvolved. Isn't that terrible? My husband is the scapegoat in this situation and I feel relief?
How do you know there aren't going to be new people?
Of course, there will be new people; the place will be in a new building. That's why they told you where they were moving....You're a regular; they won't forget about you. There is a frustration in my husband's voice as he tries to explain the change in the fish'n'chip restaurant to his mother. I think he is trying to keep his voice loud but not intimidating; he keeps looking at the girls as he speaks. I don't think they care but are worried about the tenor of his voice. Who knows but they don't excuse themselves from the table.
I don't want to go to a new place to eat fish'n'chips.
It's not a new place. It's the old place in a new location. My husband is trying very hard to be patient. When the children were little, he had endless patience with them and I am watching him struggle to have the same attitude with his mother and fail miserably. It is not that the matriarch doesn't understand what is going on--she knows the restaurant is only changing locations, but she doesn't like the idea of change, the role of newness or difference in any way. She shudders.
I don't want to go back there. Is there anywhere else to eat?
My husband thinks fast--faster than I would have.
There's a new place near the old fish'n'chip place. I hear it is pretty good.
You sure? It's a pity they're moving. They had nice waitresses. They always got my hot chocolate with my lunch.
I imagine the new place will be just as good. My husband is relieved, the children are impressed, and I think he has saved the day. The matriarch is satisfied. When she goes to bed, my husband says to me,
I think I am going to take her to a new restaurant; I am sick of fish'n'chips. May as well as make the most of the opportunity.
Change is so difficult for the old; routine is safe. But, goodness, is it boring.
The matriarch practically yelled the news at me at supper this evening. She shook her head, she raised her arms, she did not know what she was going to do.
My husband clarified the situation by indicating the shop was only moving up the road aways.
But, you never know who the new people will be...said in a hushed whisper. I could not believe how emotional the matriarch was over this sequence of events.
The place is not for sale. Its lease is up. They are moving.
What's that you say? The matriarch cannot hear my husband when she is upset. Truly, she cannot hear anybody. The world is silenced by events affecting her, alone.
The restaurant is moving. It is not for sale. My husband has spoken louder. For, generally a quiet kind of guy, he sounds a bit angry and the children are watching him. I am quiet because this has nothing to do with me. Nothing. And, the matriarch knows it. I don't go to the fish'n'chip place. She knows this without a doubt and I am free and clear from blame. Yes, I know there is no blame, no accusation, but it is a good feeling knowing I am uninvolved. Isn't that terrible? My husband is the scapegoat in this situation and I feel relief?
How do you know there aren't going to be new people?
Of course, there will be new people; the place will be in a new building. That's why they told you where they were moving....You're a regular; they won't forget about you. There is a frustration in my husband's voice as he tries to explain the change in the fish'n'chip restaurant to his mother. I think he is trying to keep his voice loud but not intimidating; he keeps looking at the girls as he speaks. I don't think they care but are worried about the tenor of his voice. Who knows but they don't excuse themselves from the table.
I don't want to go to a new place to eat fish'n'chips.
It's not a new place. It's the old place in a new location. My husband is trying very hard to be patient. When the children were little, he had endless patience with them and I am watching him struggle to have the same attitude with his mother and fail miserably. It is not that the matriarch doesn't understand what is going on--she knows the restaurant is only changing locations, but she doesn't like the idea of change, the role of newness or difference in any way. She shudders.
I don't want to go back there. Is there anywhere else to eat?
My husband thinks fast--faster than I would have.
There's a new place near the old fish'n'chip place. I hear it is pretty good.
You sure? It's a pity they're moving. They had nice waitresses. They always got my hot chocolate with my lunch.
I imagine the new place will be just as good. My husband is relieved, the children are impressed, and I think he has saved the day. The matriarch is satisfied. When she goes to bed, my husband says to me,
I think I am going to take her to a new restaurant; I am sick of fish'n'chips. May as well as make the most of the opportunity.
Change is so difficult for the old; routine is safe. But, goodness, is it boring.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Old Age is not for the Weak of Heart
The matriarch got a phone call today from a niece with congenital heart failure; the woman is 80 but, to my mother-in-law, she is her sister's daughter and the last of her generation still alive. A nephew has been diagnosed with leukemia and is still alive but, and of course this is sad, he is dying. The niece has been put on water pills to reduce her fluid and, maybe, she'll be okay. But, the woman is 80 and it is not unheard of for a person of such an age to die. Not that the information is any comfort to the matriarch. She invited her niece to her birthday party and pointedly told her I did not invite her. The niece cannot come but I will send her an invitation. (Just a note, I am now sending invitations out to the party the matriarch is telling everyone we are not giving.) But, really, how can anyone want to live beyond all those who they have known who have lived and died? It breaks my heart listening to the matriarch; she wonders why she is still alive and everyone else is dead. It must break her heart to feel so much loss.
Palliative Care
An interesting article from Margaret Wente on dying in a Canadian hospital
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/opinions/opinion/the-gift-of-a-good-death/article2037665/
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/opinions/opinion/the-gift-of-a-good-death/article2037665/
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Small Victories?
My husband says to me, "So, you're right...and that means what? In all the years, my mother has lived here, you are now right. And, that changes what? What does it mean?"
I cringe thinking he is right and I am wrong--not so much wrong as self-evident, accurate and, of course, irrelevant. The matriarch was spitting out her cereal today and as I watched her, she looked up and watched my daughter. Was the child watching her back? No. Of course, I am surmising the reasons she looked up; there is no way I can confirm my thoughts. But, I think the matriarch knows she is spitting out her cereal because she doesn't want my daughter to watch her. The woman likes the sugary milk remnant in her bowl left after most of the "Sugar Crisp" has been eaten. She likes the sweet syrupy taste. And, she knows what she is doing. She doesn't want anyone to see her spit out the ends of her cereal, the bits and pieces she does not want to chew. Knowledge is Victory!
To what point, of course? Is she going to stop? No. Am I going to confront her? No. Does this knowledge in any way change anything? No. Do I still have to clean the mess up? Yes.
But, why do old people do this? I thought it was frustration; I thought it was an inability to chew; I thought it was instinct. Now, I know they, or rather the matriarch, just don't want to eat what's in their mouth and they spit it out. I wish she didn't. My husband wishes it wasn't his mother; life goes on and the matriarch is not a two year old one can discipline; I am a daughter-in-law stuck cleaning the mess up. Aaargh! And, while I wipe the table and and clear the bowl, I think to myself, at one point, this woman cleaned the mess after my husband when he was a child and my children will have to clean the mess after me and generations have come before and generations will come after....it is a never-ending cycle. Not that this information in any way helps me. I still hate cleaning it up. Probably always will.
And, anyone who thinks "Just don't think about it" must understand that is easier said than done.
I cringe thinking he is right and I am wrong--not so much wrong as self-evident, accurate and, of course, irrelevant. The matriarch was spitting out her cereal today and as I watched her, she looked up and watched my daughter. Was the child watching her back? No. Of course, I am surmising the reasons she looked up; there is no way I can confirm my thoughts. But, I think the matriarch knows she is spitting out her cereal because she doesn't want my daughter to watch her. The woman likes the sugary milk remnant in her bowl left after most of the "Sugar Crisp" has been eaten. She likes the sweet syrupy taste. And, she knows what she is doing. She doesn't want anyone to see her spit out the ends of her cereal, the bits and pieces she does not want to chew. Knowledge is Victory!
To what point, of course? Is she going to stop? No. Am I going to confront her? No. Does this knowledge in any way change anything? No. Do I still have to clean the mess up? Yes.
But, why do old people do this? I thought it was frustration; I thought it was an inability to chew; I thought it was instinct. Now, I know they, or rather the matriarch, just don't want to eat what's in their mouth and they spit it out. I wish she didn't. My husband wishes it wasn't his mother; life goes on and the matriarch is not a two year old one can discipline; I am a daughter-in-law stuck cleaning the mess up. Aaargh! And, while I wipe the table and and clear the bowl, I think to myself, at one point, this woman cleaned the mess after my husband when he was a child and my children will have to clean the mess after me and generations have come before and generations will come after....it is a never-ending cycle. Not that this information in any way helps me. I still hate cleaning it up. Probably always will.
And, anyone who thinks "Just don't think about it" must understand that is easier said than done.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Hamburgers verses Beef Stew
So, the matriarch can't chew. I mean I guess she can chew food but, with no teeth, everything has to be soft, very soft...soupy. It is contradictory to write it but as much as she cannot chew and prefers to eat soft food, the matriarch wants to have a solid food dinner. It is all very confusing between what she wants, what she needs and, ultimately, what she will actually eat and enjoy.
This evening, my oldest daughter made hamburgers. They were really good, took a long time to cook and I made the matriarch a beef stew to eat beforehand. And, she ate it and loved it and spat just a little out. Okay, it is my impression the matriarch loved it because she spat so little out. Yesterday, at my mother's for dinner, the matriarch had fish, mashed potatoes and spinach, all soft and she spat out wads of food. I hate when she does it in public even if it is my parents' house and they don't care. It tells me she doesn't like what she is eating; it tells me she knows the children and I are eating something different to her. My father had made steaks for all of us and they were good, too, but the matriarch cannot eat steak, she cannot eat meat. It is difficult to manage the choices between the matriarch's desires for food she can no longer eat and the soft food she must eat to continue to be healthy. It is ever so much easier for dessert--as long as I put sugar on it, the matriarch will get it down.
Because the matriarch had the stew, she knew we were having hamburgers. She asked me if we were having any of her relish. The matriarch hasn't made relish in years and the last time she made it, she used food colouring to make it green. There is nothing in life like eating phosphorus relish on a hot dog. I told her my daughter had made zucchini relish last year and we were having that.
Would it be good on my stew?
I don't think so. Do you put relish on stew?
I put my chili sauce on my eggs and it was good.
Why don't I put some on a side plate for you?
Put it on bread and butter. I like relish on bread and butter.
Do you ever wonder about people's eating habits? In one way, I know the matriarch misses food she cannot chew; but, in another, way, I really wonder how so many tastes can combine in one mouth. It is all going to the same place but, still, I cannot but wonder.
We ate the hamburgers; the matriarch ate the stew and forgot about the relish and bread and butter; and, we had no dessert. To the matriarch's chagrin.
This evening, my oldest daughter made hamburgers. They were really good, took a long time to cook and I made the matriarch a beef stew to eat beforehand. And, she ate it and loved it and spat just a little out. Okay, it is my impression the matriarch loved it because she spat so little out. Yesterday, at my mother's for dinner, the matriarch had fish, mashed potatoes and spinach, all soft and she spat out wads of food. I hate when she does it in public even if it is my parents' house and they don't care. It tells me she doesn't like what she is eating; it tells me she knows the children and I are eating something different to her. My father had made steaks for all of us and they were good, too, but the matriarch cannot eat steak, she cannot eat meat. It is difficult to manage the choices between the matriarch's desires for food she can no longer eat and the soft food she must eat to continue to be healthy. It is ever so much easier for dessert--as long as I put sugar on it, the matriarch will get it down.
Because the matriarch had the stew, she knew we were having hamburgers. She asked me if we were having any of her relish. The matriarch hasn't made relish in years and the last time she made it, she used food colouring to make it green. There is nothing in life like eating phosphorus relish on a hot dog. I told her my daughter had made zucchini relish last year and we were having that.
Would it be good on my stew?
I don't think so. Do you put relish on stew?
I put my chili sauce on my eggs and it was good.
Why don't I put some on a side plate for you?
Put it on bread and butter. I like relish on bread and butter.
Do you ever wonder about people's eating habits? In one way, I know the matriarch misses food she cannot chew; but, in another, way, I really wonder how so many tastes can combine in one mouth. It is all going to the same place but, still, I cannot but wonder.
We ate the hamburgers; the matriarch ate the stew and forgot about the relish and bread and butter; and, we had no dessert. To the matriarch's chagrin.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
The Matriarch, the laptop and Immortality
Perhaps, you think this post is about digital pictures. It is not. The unforgivable happened this morning: at breakfast, my middle daughter started showing movie trailers on her laptop to us while we ate breakfast. We never watch television or movies while we eat our meals. The matriarch was ever so impressed this "computer-thing" could show pictures, too. So, while she ate her "Sugarcrisp" and the children their bagels, we watched various movie trailers. I have no idea how the matriarch could see the movies, but apparently she could...and she was very impressed.
I guess the girls need the computers when they go to college.
Yes, but my daughter is starting high school next year, not college, and she needs the laptop for her courses.
You'll be all alone when they go away to college.
Oh, it's years away, yet. I'm not really thinking about it.
You know, I'll still be here. We could out for lunch more.
Shoot me, God, please. There cannot be many people in this world seriously worried about their mother-in-law living beyond 100. There really can't be....
I hope the next 100 is easier than the first.
This is my life, I think to myself. My hundred year old mother-in-law is going to outlive me, my husband, my children and anyone else of whom I can think. And, she is going to do it eating sugar and learning how to use the laptop. She likes the movie trailers.
I guess the girls need the computers when they go to college.
Yes, but my daughter is starting high school next year, not college, and she needs the laptop for her courses.
You'll be all alone when they go away to college.
Oh, it's years away, yet. I'm not really thinking about it.
You know, I'll still be here. We could out for lunch more.
Shoot me, God, please. There cannot be many people in this world seriously worried about their mother-in-law living beyond 100. There really can't be....
I hope the next 100 is easier than the first.
This is my life, I think to myself. My hundred year old mother-in-law is going to outlive me, my husband, my children and anyone else of whom I can think. And, she is going to do it eating sugar and learning how to use the laptop. She likes the movie trailers.
Medicating Seniors
So, the matriarch drives me crazy...but I would never, ever accept she could live under the conditions described in the following article:
http://motherjones.com/mojo/2011/05/hhs-antipsychotic-overmedication-nursing-homes
It is just wrong to somehow think it is acceptable to watch another person be medicated and silenced. How could one look in a mirror?
http://motherjones.com/mojo/2011/05/hhs-antipsychotic-overmedication-nursing-homes
It is just wrong to somehow think it is acceptable to watch another person be medicated and silenced. How could one look in a mirror?
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
What Keeps You Young....
An article from the New York Times about an adjunct professor at Hunter College...I must tell the matriarch the woman is married to a younger man:
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/12/nyregion/bel-kaufman-at-100-still-a-teacher-and-a-jokester.html?_r=1&hpw
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/12/nyregion/bel-kaufman-at-100-still-a-teacher-and-a-jokester.html?_r=1&hpw
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Of Wild Turkeys and Bumblebees
Sometimes it is so hard with the matriarch, I get terribly depressed and then are times I look at her and am stunned by her obliviousness to the world around her. Is it an age thing?
My husband took the children to their piano lessons and, as a reward, was the victim of dive bombing turkey vultures. My youngest came into the house, after the lessons, telling me how her father was afraid to drive out of the piano teacher's driveway, how birds seem to attack them out of nowhere and how her father couldn't believe this was his life. I shook my head knowing that particular feeling, not so familiar with the whole turkey thing. The matriarch listened to the story and then asked me husband if he was going to go shoot some.
"They'd make a good supper."
My husband looked at his mother. We don't even own a gun never mind participate in hunting scenarios. He just shook his head and said there was something good cooking on the stove.
"Well, you know how that is..."
I swear sometimes I could just kill her. When one sees my mother-in-law,one sees a tiny woman with white hair and lovely skin, no teeth but steady gait--an angel of by-gone times. But, then, she talks--about her sore knee and how no one comes to visit her and my awful cooking, although lately she wants me to bake muffins because the girls are into making ice cream which she doesn't like, and how she goes nowhere. And, I am forced to listen in silence thinking, "You have it pretty good, old lady," and swear under my breath.
Maybe the matriarch would be better in the home. She has said as much lately although I don't know to whom she has been speaking. Apparently, in the home, they do things like go out for daily drives and excursions, they have restaurants where one can go out for lunch everyday, they have dances--a word, here, the matriarch has telephoned her friend's widower to see if he needs a hand, a meal, company and has told him it would be no problem to visit but the man has declined--the home is apparently such an ideal place. When I have phoned about the places around here, I didn't quite get the same description. Sometimes I wish people would share accurate information rather than what they would wish for the matriarch.
However....
A massively huge bumblebee was buzzing around the house and my middle daughter came up from downstairs to get her father to kill it. It was incredibly sized, she said. It was humungous.
Obviously, my husband couldn't see it. But the matriarch said it was buzzing in her room, too. So, my husband had to go check out his mother's room and find this massively sized bee; he couldn't but did sit down with the matriach to watch the television. I was not amused and killed the one regular-sized bee I found in the basement with a broom. It has just been one of those days.
My husband took the children to their piano lessons and, as a reward, was the victim of dive bombing turkey vultures. My youngest came into the house, after the lessons, telling me how her father was afraid to drive out of the piano teacher's driveway, how birds seem to attack them out of nowhere and how her father couldn't believe this was his life. I shook my head knowing that particular feeling, not so familiar with the whole turkey thing. The matriarch listened to the story and then asked me husband if he was going to go shoot some.
"They'd make a good supper."
My husband looked at his mother. We don't even own a gun never mind participate in hunting scenarios. He just shook his head and said there was something good cooking on the stove.
"Well, you know how that is..."
I swear sometimes I could just kill her. When one sees my mother-in-law,one sees a tiny woman with white hair and lovely skin, no teeth but steady gait--an angel of by-gone times. But, then, she talks--about her sore knee and how no one comes to visit her and my awful cooking, although lately she wants me to bake muffins because the girls are into making ice cream which she doesn't like, and how she goes nowhere. And, I am forced to listen in silence thinking, "You have it pretty good, old lady," and swear under my breath.
Maybe the matriarch would be better in the home. She has said as much lately although I don't know to whom she has been speaking. Apparently, in the home, they do things like go out for daily drives and excursions, they have restaurants where one can go out for lunch everyday, they have dances--a word, here, the matriarch has telephoned her friend's widower to see if he needs a hand, a meal, company and has told him it would be no problem to visit but the man has declined--the home is apparently such an ideal place. When I have phoned about the places around here, I didn't quite get the same description. Sometimes I wish people would share accurate information rather than what they would wish for the matriarch.
However....
A massively huge bumblebee was buzzing around the house and my middle daughter came up from downstairs to get her father to kill it. It was incredibly sized, she said. It was humungous.
Obviously, my husband couldn't see it. But the matriarch said it was buzzing in her room, too. So, my husband had to go check out his mother's room and find this massively sized bee; he couldn't but did sit down with the matriach to watch the television. I was not amused and killed the one regular-sized bee I found in the basement with a broom. It has just been one of those days.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Tidings of Things to Come...
The 100th Birthday Party that is not happening has grown to 15.
My husband, who has taken time off work to help with his mother, has eaten all my Chipits, the children's Easter Eggs and a number of chocolate bars.
The matriarch was quite insistent about fish'n'chips today; I went to Toronto with the girls.
The children explained to their Dad the rule of "His Mom, His Mess." I know it is not charitable but the children will not, with a stress on the 'not,' clear their Grandma's side plate where she puts the remnants of things she cannot chew.
No one minds turning the television on for the Matriarch; nor does anyone complain when it is turned off; it is a whole other story when the Matriarch expects the channels to be changed. Apparently, it is not fair when my husband has to do the chore, too.
One of the reasons I make a lot of stews and soups is because the Matriarch cannot chew; meat is meat is meat--as my husband has also discovered.
This is not a kind post, I know. It is the world to which my husband has returned after a winter respite at work. I don't know if old people are aware of their tyranny at times; I don't know if I begin to resent someone for the very fact they are old; do I expect the matriarch to know she is being difficult? But, then, is she really all that hard to deal with considering she is 100 years old? She cannot publicly complain about the party she is not having because her sister-in-law keeps inviting relatives the Matriarch thought were already dead. Go figure.
My husband, who has taken time off work to help with his mother, has eaten all my Chipits, the children's Easter Eggs and a number of chocolate bars.
The matriarch was quite insistent about fish'n'chips today; I went to Toronto with the girls.
The children explained to their Dad the rule of "His Mom, His Mess." I know it is not charitable but the children will not, with a stress on the 'not,' clear their Grandma's side plate where she puts the remnants of things she cannot chew.
No one minds turning the television on for the Matriarch; nor does anyone complain when it is turned off; it is a whole other story when the Matriarch expects the channels to be changed. Apparently, it is not fair when my husband has to do the chore, too.
One of the reasons I make a lot of stews and soups is because the Matriarch cannot chew; meat is meat is meat--as my husband has also discovered.
This is not a kind post, I know. It is the world to which my husband has returned after a winter respite at work. I don't know if old people are aware of their tyranny at times; I don't know if I begin to resent someone for the very fact they are old; do I expect the matriarch to know she is being difficult? But, then, is she really all that hard to deal with considering she is 100 years old? She cannot publicly complain about the party she is not having because her sister-in-law keeps inviting relatives the Matriarch thought were already dead. Go figure.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Old, Blind and Alone
Not a nice description of the matriarch is it? How does one make life better for such a person?
Ultimately, life is about living, I think, and not being entertained, so no matter how many times we go out for lunch, the spa, the hairdressers, there are only so many activities I can encourage the matriarch to do, there is only so much entertainment I can offer. There is a reality to the fact, all individuals live most alone in their heads; they can easily choose to participate in the world or not,but life is governed by how we, individuals, choose to see the world and how we choose to participate in it. An old, blind senior is most responsible for how they see the world--though, I might be responsible for almost everything else from hygiene on, the matriarch is the one with the world view.
Two things happened recently that have motivated me to think about how things work in this world. We went to Easter Dinner at my parents' house; they gave the matriarch a basket with chocolates. A lovely thought. Both before and after the meal, the matriarch discussed her desire for Werthers' caramels (No surprise) as a gift from my parents. So, obviously, she was disappointed. My point is the matriarch expressed no desire to share Easter with her son, grandchildren, or my parents--it's a given, I don't count; she didn't ask me to buy cards or chocolates, no mention of anything at all. But, the matriarch was very focused on what she would get--like a child at Christmas. And, I think it is very easy to write this kind of thought off as the activity of a self-centred senior; perhaps, I should have reminded her of the holidays. But, the matriarch knew it was the holidays; she knew it was Easter, she knew to expect candy. When my mother-in-law complained to me about no one buying her her specific type of candies, I remarked she had made no thought for anyone else over the holidays.
The matriarch was smart enough to reply by saying she was old and no longer thought of anyone else. What do you say to that? Is it true?
The second event involves my girlfriend's grandmother in a home after a stroke has left her unable to communicate. The woman understands everything but responds with a gibberish that is heartbreaking. And, she gets very angry, almost violent, when she realizes no one can understand her. Yet, her grand-daughter, my friend's daughter, has visited the woman once a week, every week for the past eight years. I think that is so admirable. But, then of the 7 days in a week, the woman only has a visitor 1 day. Other than that, she sits in her room, unable to communicate and with no one with whom to visit. Can I criticize the situation?
So, the matriarch is a selfish old so-and-so; but I try my best; the old lady in the home is alone in her misery but her grand-daughter tries her best. Do old people also have a responsibility to temper their anger at their individual situations? Growing old is not for the weak of heart.
Ultimately, life is about living, I think, and not being entertained, so no matter how many times we go out for lunch, the spa, the hairdressers, there are only so many activities I can encourage the matriarch to do, there is only so much entertainment I can offer. There is a reality to the fact, all individuals live most alone in their heads; they can easily choose to participate in the world or not,but life is governed by how we, individuals, choose to see the world and how we choose to participate in it. An old, blind senior is most responsible for how they see the world--though, I might be responsible for almost everything else from hygiene on, the matriarch is the one with the world view.
Two things happened recently that have motivated me to think about how things work in this world. We went to Easter Dinner at my parents' house; they gave the matriarch a basket with chocolates. A lovely thought. Both before and after the meal, the matriarch discussed her desire for Werthers' caramels (No surprise) as a gift from my parents. So, obviously, she was disappointed. My point is the matriarch expressed no desire to share Easter with her son, grandchildren, or my parents--it's a given, I don't count; she didn't ask me to buy cards or chocolates, no mention of anything at all. But, the matriarch was very focused on what she would get--like a child at Christmas. And, I think it is very easy to write this kind of thought off as the activity of a self-centred senior; perhaps, I should have reminded her of the holidays. But, the matriarch knew it was the holidays; she knew it was Easter, she knew to expect candy. When my mother-in-law complained to me about no one buying her her specific type of candies, I remarked she had made no thought for anyone else over the holidays.
The matriarch was smart enough to reply by saying she was old and no longer thought of anyone else. What do you say to that? Is it true?
The second event involves my girlfriend's grandmother in a home after a stroke has left her unable to communicate. The woman understands everything but responds with a gibberish that is heartbreaking. And, she gets very angry, almost violent, when she realizes no one can understand her. Yet, her grand-daughter, my friend's daughter, has visited the woman once a week, every week for the past eight years. I think that is so admirable. But, then of the 7 days in a week, the woman only has a visitor 1 day. Other than that, she sits in her room, unable to communicate and with no one with whom to visit. Can I criticize the situation?
So, the matriarch is a selfish old so-and-so; but I try my best; the old lady in the home is alone in her misery but her grand-daughter tries her best. Do old people also have a responsibility to temper their anger at their individual situations? Growing old is not for the weak of heart.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Live to be 100
An interesting article from the Guardian about centenarians; 1 in 4 children under the age of 16 have a likelihood of living to be 100 years of age. It is an interesting article and while it discusses the material concerns of the aged it fails to discuss the social ones. I cannot help but think of seniors who live their lives without concern for others and then need help...You know what goes around comes around and I keep having this concern for how people who put their children in daycare are surprised when their children put them in seniorcare. The matriarch drives me crazy and, sometimes, I feel like I am in this unending spiral of not doing enough for her and living with the guilt of it all, but, really, isn't it better for her here than elsewhere? I tell myself that everyday and bring her cookies to eat at night....
http://www.guardian.co.uk/science/2011/apr/19/live-to-be-100-one-in-four-britons
http://www.guardian.co.uk/science/2011/apr/19/live-to-be-100-one-in-four-britons
Sunday, April 17, 2011
It's Not Fair Living With a 100 yr. old Susan Lucci
This is not "All My Children," but the wiles of a 100 year old living her own soap opera is enough to drive anyone crazy. It's age, it's senility, it's dementia--no one ever comes out and says "Sometimes, she is just plain mean." No one ever says that and I am asked by my husband and daughters to just bite my tongue and forget, things cannot possibly go on forever. That all depends on perspective and from where I am sitting, I think "Yes, it could so possibly."
The matriarch told her niece in Southwestern Ontario I wasn't putting on a party for her 100th birthday because I needed the money to send my children to school.
I said no such thing I told her.
Well, that's the reason, really.
No, it is not. I asked you about a reception; I asked my husband; I was just going to put one on but my daughters said you wouldn't like it. We are going to the Keg at your request. Did you tell your niece you've invited all your nieces from Barrie? That my husband is paying for them to have dinner? Did you say anything about that?
Well, no, but really a reception would have been too expensive.
A reception would have been a heck of a lot cheaper than dinner for 14 at the Keg and accommodations for your in-laws. Did you say your sister-in-law is coming into town for the dinner? Did you tell your niece we are arranging for a bed and breakfast? Did you invite your niece? (Yes, I know I got a little hot under the collar!)
Well, no, I didn't do that. I was a little upset about my nephew. (The nephew in Chatham, ON has just been diagnosed with terminal leukemia. The matriarch just found out and I do feel sorry for her; yet another of the third generation is dying.)
But you weren't upset enough not to make up a lie about my children.
The matriarch then tried to tell me I didn't understand; all I could think of was the daring to use my daughters as an excuse, to outright lie about them.
You know, my husband would never begrudge you anything...if you wanted a party, you would have one. But to tell everyone, I will not throw you one and then tell my husband, You don't want one. Well, that is just not fair.
Please note at no time during this discussion did the matriarch apologize. I feel awful and regret just not putting on a reception. Had the matriarch not first explicitly told my husband she didn't want anything big for 100th birthday, it probably would have happened. But I have already invited her Barrie nieces to dinner at the Keg; I cannot afford both a dinner and a reception. It didn't even occur to me to invite the family in Chatham; it's not like they check in the way the family in Barrie does.
But it seems to me the matriarch wanted the drama--suffering from boredom, perhaps? I don't know. But it is terrible to know I am the one to have to face people knowing what the matriarch has said about me and my family. Once, my mother asked me if I thought the matriarch was scared of me. The question bothered me to no end; I kept thinking in my head about everything we do and I honestly don't think she could be frightened. But, now, I am beginning to realize the power of a 100 year old woman over my life; and, I am very scared.
The matriarch told her niece in Southwestern Ontario I wasn't putting on a party for her 100th birthday because I needed the money to send my children to school.
I said no such thing I told her.
Well, that's the reason, really.
No, it is not. I asked you about a reception; I asked my husband; I was just going to put one on but my daughters said you wouldn't like it. We are going to the Keg at your request. Did you tell your niece you've invited all your nieces from Barrie? That my husband is paying for them to have dinner? Did you say anything about that?
Well, no, but really a reception would have been too expensive.
A reception would have been a heck of a lot cheaper than dinner for 14 at the Keg and accommodations for your in-laws. Did you say your sister-in-law is coming into town for the dinner? Did you tell your niece we are arranging for a bed and breakfast? Did you invite your niece? (Yes, I know I got a little hot under the collar!)
Well, no, I didn't do that. I was a little upset about my nephew. (The nephew in Chatham, ON has just been diagnosed with terminal leukemia. The matriarch just found out and I do feel sorry for her; yet another of the third generation is dying.)
But you weren't upset enough not to make up a lie about my children.
The matriarch then tried to tell me I didn't understand; all I could think of was the daring to use my daughters as an excuse, to outright lie about them.
You know, my husband would never begrudge you anything...if you wanted a party, you would have one. But to tell everyone, I will not throw you one and then tell my husband, You don't want one. Well, that is just not fair.
Please note at no time during this discussion did the matriarch apologize. I feel awful and regret just not putting on a reception. Had the matriarch not first explicitly told my husband she didn't want anything big for 100th birthday, it probably would have happened. But I have already invited her Barrie nieces to dinner at the Keg; I cannot afford both a dinner and a reception. It didn't even occur to me to invite the family in Chatham; it's not like they check in the way the family in Barrie does.
But it seems to me the matriarch wanted the drama--suffering from boredom, perhaps? I don't know. But it is terrible to know I am the one to have to face people knowing what the matriarch has said about me and my family. Once, my mother asked me if I thought the matriarch was scared of me. The question bothered me to no end; I kept thinking in my head about everything we do and I honestly don't think she could be frightened. But, now, I am beginning to realize the power of a 100 year old woman over my life; and, I am very scared.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Book Review
Susan Jacoby was on "The Current" one morning this week; in her book, "Never Say Die," she writes about the realities of aging and the deceptions with which we currently live. It is not that she argues one cannot have a healthy old age, but that the body ages despite any attempt to thwart nature. I think she articulates a lot of what I am watching my mother-in-law go through and how people react to her and how I react to people who worry about aging. Anyhow, I anticipate Jacoby's book because of the reviews. It is reassuring to have someone share the same view.
Review: http://www.cbc.ca/books/2011/04/dont-believe-the-hype-susan-jacoby-tells-the-truth-about-aging.html#socialcomments
Review: http://www.cbc.ca/books/2011/04/dont-believe-the-hype-susan-jacoby-tells-the-truth-about-aging.html#socialcomments
Sunday, April 10, 2011
It is hard to write about the Old
Nothing happens when one lives with a very elderly, old person. I know that sounds trite, but, really, what can be done?
Aside from going out for lunch which, God knows, our family and my husband, in particular, have done to extremes, there is nothing else to be done. The matriarch wants for nothing, the doctor does not need to see her--she is not sick, on pills, or anything else, we do the blood tests at his request, but really, does the lady even have to be on blood thinners--we do the spa, the hairstylist, routine trips to my parents' house, the odd visit by the matriarch's sister-in-law who, despite expectations, is coming for her birthday, and the constant, never-ending purchases of Werther's candies and potato chips. I believe I am becoming bored with my own routine. And, I live it. Is it wrong to say I am tired of waiting for her to die?
It has been 3 years here and 10 years on a weekly routine at the matriarch's own house. Am I judging her life? Am I allowed? What else is the matriarch supposed to do? It is inhibiting and, yet, I am sure it is worse for her; can you imagine her life? Especially if the children and I didn't make the effort? I cannot imagine what it is like in an old age home...all those seniors living beyond their best-before dates. It must, at times, be dreadful. And, yet, I sit here wondering what else the matriarch could do to make her life more meaningful...my husband corrects me..who am I to say her life has no meaning?
This afternoon, I caught her eating pepper out of the pepper shaker in her room. You know you watch someone and wonder do they know what they are doing? And, she sneezed and twisted the lid back on the shaker tight. I stood in the doorway so she couldn't see my shadow until she turned directly.
Everything okay?
Yep. Just getting myself some pepper.
So, the matriarch knew what she was doing; yes, it was an odd thing to do...and, yet, is it really crazy if she knows what she is doing and accepts the consequences? So, am I being judgemental or beginning to accept I am living in a madhouse? It is one, right? That can't possibly be normal behaviour...it can't possibly be normal to accept it. I wish I knew what the definition of normal is because, lately, I can honestly say I feel as though I am grasping at straws in an attempt to find it.
Aside from going out for lunch which, God knows, our family and my husband, in particular, have done to extremes, there is nothing else to be done. The matriarch wants for nothing, the doctor does not need to see her--she is not sick, on pills, or anything else, we do the blood tests at his request, but really, does the lady even have to be on blood thinners--we do the spa, the hairstylist, routine trips to my parents' house, the odd visit by the matriarch's sister-in-law who, despite expectations, is coming for her birthday, and the constant, never-ending purchases of Werther's candies and potato chips. I believe I am becoming bored with my own routine. And, I live it. Is it wrong to say I am tired of waiting for her to die?
It has been 3 years here and 10 years on a weekly routine at the matriarch's own house. Am I judging her life? Am I allowed? What else is the matriarch supposed to do? It is inhibiting and, yet, I am sure it is worse for her; can you imagine her life? Especially if the children and I didn't make the effort? I cannot imagine what it is like in an old age home...all those seniors living beyond their best-before dates. It must, at times, be dreadful. And, yet, I sit here wondering what else the matriarch could do to make her life more meaningful...my husband corrects me..who am I to say her life has no meaning?
This afternoon, I caught her eating pepper out of the pepper shaker in her room. You know you watch someone and wonder do they know what they are doing? And, she sneezed and twisted the lid back on the shaker tight. I stood in the doorway so she couldn't see my shadow until she turned directly.
Everything okay?
Yep. Just getting myself some pepper.
So, the matriarch knew what she was doing; yes, it was an odd thing to do...and, yet, is it really crazy if she knows what she is doing and accepts the consequences? So, am I being judgemental or beginning to accept I am living in a madhouse? It is one, right? That can't possibly be normal behaviour...it can't possibly be normal to accept it. I wish I knew what the definition of normal is because, lately, I can honestly say I feel as though I am grasping at straws in an attempt to find it.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
A New Movie
Some might find this interesting:
http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/independent/howtoliveforever/
Don't understand how people who strive to live forever can be anything but selfish....
http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/independent/howtoliveforever/
Don't understand how people who strive to live forever can be anything but selfish....
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
It's my Birthday
Yesterday, at the hair salon, the stylist asked the matriarch what she was doing for her birthday.
Nothing....no, I think they're taking me to The Keg.
The stylist looked at me and shook her head. I know it is the matriarch's 100th birthday; I know I should be planning a reception at a local restaurant or a hall; I know all these things. Of course, when I discuss the situation with the matriarch she doesn't want anything. She doesn't want a reception. She doesn't want a party. My husband is making her go to The Keg. With the children, my parents, her nieces and their husbands, her sister-in-law and her husband--if, after last visit, they show up.
At dinner last night, I again asked the matriarch, in front of my husband and children, if she would like to have a reception at the local Lions' Hall; it's an old one room school house, not very big but would be a nice place for a reception. We could serve sandwiches and tea, the children could make a cake.
I told you I want nothing.
My oldest daughter looks and me and asks why I keep going on about grandma's birthday? The woman has told us more than once she wants nothing.
Later, my husband talks to me after dinner, when the children aren't around and the matriarch is upstairs.
You do realize all of her friends are dead? No one she knows is around anymore.
I say, even if it is just family, it would be a nice thing to do.
My mother wants to go The Keg with all of us, that's enough. That's what she wants.
Then, why does she keep telling everyone I am doing nothing for her birthday?
Nothing....no, I think they're taking me to The Keg.
The stylist looked at me and shook her head. I know it is the matriarch's 100th birthday; I know I should be planning a reception at a local restaurant or a hall; I know all these things. Of course, when I discuss the situation with the matriarch she doesn't want anything. She doesn't want a reception. She doesn't want a party. My husband is making her go to The Keg. With the children, my parents, her nieces and their husbands, her sister-in-law and her husband--if, after last visit, they show up.
At dinner last night, I again asked the matriarch, in front of my husband and children, if she would like to have a reception at the local Lions' Hall; it's an old one room school house, not very big but would be a nice place for a reception. We could serve sandwiches and tea, the children could make a cake.
I told you I want nothing.
My oldest daughter looks and me and asks why I keep going on about grandma's birthday? The woman has told us more than once she wants nothing.
Later, my husband talks to me after dinner, when the children aren't around and the matriarch is upstairs.
You do realize all of her friends are dead? No one she knows is around anymore.
I say, even if it is just family, it would be a nice thing to do.
My mother wants to go The Keg with all of us, that's enough. That's what she wants.
Then, why does she keep telling everyone I am doing nothing for her birthday?
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
A Surreal Moment in Time
We've run out of salt and not just because of the frequency of kitchen fires. So, we went to the doctor's to make sure the matriarch was still okay (she's putting salt on her potato chips), arranged for some blood tests re: sodium blood levels, and heard the doctor mention from now on, it would be a quality of life issue.
You think?
Then, he and all the staff made a point of coming to shake the matriarch's hand to wish her a Happy Birthday.
The matriarch was suitably impressed but when we got to the car, asked me if the doctor had forgotten her birthday is in June. Why would they be wishing her a Happy Birthday the end of March?
She wondered if he was getting old what with the forgetfulness and everything.
What exactly do you say to this?
The doctor does not want to see the matriarch unless she is sick because there is nothing to be done for a healthy 100 year old. Do you understand what I am saying? He fully expects her to die before the next annual checkup...I'd like to think I could agree, but I want to see the surprise on his face next March when we do show up. Heaven forbid.
But, the thing is the matriarch, like any one of us, does not think about dying. I think she should...though when you really think about it that is my hang up not her one. I don't think about my own death; well, actually, I do but I don't anticipate it. For some reason, I have a hard problem with the matriarch not anticipating her own death. She gets up everyday with the anticipation of what the day will bring. She is looking forward to the girls' piano recital this weekend. She is looking forward to lunch out with my husband tomorrow. She is planning for her birthday all ready. She sometimes still mentions a trip to Cuba. For someone who doesn't do a lot, she sure as heck has a lot of plans.
You think?
Then, he and all the staff made a point of coming to shake the matriarch's hand to wish her a Happy Birthday.
The matriarch was suitably impressed but when we got to the car, asked me if the doctor had forgotten her birthday is in June. Why would they be wishing her a Happy Birthday the end of March?
She wondered if he was getting old what with the forgetfulness and everything.
What exactly do you say to this?
The doctor does not want to see the matriarch unless she is sick because there is nothing to be done for a healthy 100 year old. Do you understand what I am saying? He fully expects her to die before the next annual checkup...I'd like to think I could agree, but I want to see the surprise on his face next March when we do show up. Heaven forbid.
But, the thing is the matriarch, like any one of us, does not think about dying. I think she should...though when you really think about it that is my hang up not her one. I don't think about my own death; well, actually, I do but I don't anticipate it. For some reason, I have a hard problem with the matriarch not anticipating her own death. She gets up everyday with the anticipation of what the day will bring. She is looking forward to the girls' piano recital this weekend. She is looking forward to lunch out with my husband tomorrow. She is planning for her birthday all ready. She sometimes still mentions a trip to Cuba. For someone who doesn't do a lot, she sure as heck has a lot of plans.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Old Money
Brilliant video:
Whatever you think of the video, it is lovely to see old people involved with the young and not forgotten.
Whatever you think of the video, it is lovely to see old people involved with the young and not forgotten.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
The Weekend such as it was....
Akin to blindness, there is an element of obliviousness which must fall into most lives. Genderly speaking, it is this obliviousness between husbands and wives and how they view their children that determines power structures in a family. I have not mentioned before my children are daughters; they steam roll their father and they are really good cooks...for the most part. To be fair, I don't usually leave the kitchen when one of my daughters is attempting to make supper or bake or knead bread. Admittedly, I might be at the table reading a book but I am there, there in an omnipresent way and available to help when needed. My beloved husband? Not so much.
This past weekend was a doozy because I was not there, my husband was and so, too, the matriarch for good measure. It is terrible to admit my daughter set the oven on fire again; same child, same Yorkshire puddings, same reason--no cookie tray beneath a pan overfilled with oil. What does a man do when faced with this dilemma? First, he was on the computer in the basement and when my daughter yelled down to him, she needed some help, he took his time coming up the stairs. The child is pretty smart--previous experience, you know--so she turned the oven off but then, like me, she opened the door to the oven....I think you can imagine the rest. My husband freaked. I believe I should highlight he is not usually the panicking kind. He shut the door to the oven, yelled to the girls to get out of the house, and went upstairs to get his mother. He, fortunately, remembered the cat. (Please note, fire is still burning in the oven--door closed).
I have the van because I am spending a couple of hours undisturbed at a bookstore. Alone. He has the Honda CRV--which the matriarch cannot get into. So, he lifts his mother into the car, turns it on for heat, puts the 12 year old with the cat in the front, the others in the back and then returns to the house. I come home with the expectation of a nice roast beef dinner to be ready and wonder why the family is sitting in a running car in the driveway. Apparently, my neighbour is wondering the same thing--more about that later. I go into a smoke infested house to see my husband putting rock salt--y'know the kind for driveways--on a fire in the oven. Aside: this is never, ever a good idea. What is on the rock salt begins to pop in my oven and there is a pungent odour emanating from the stove.
What are you doing? I ask my husband with smoky eyes, coughing and with a "why aren't the windows open" sort of addendum. He has shut the windows to prevent oxygen from feeding the fire and when I say the house is filled with smoke, I am talking about both floors and all the rooms, he looks at me as though this makes perfect sense.
My husband tells me his mother said rock salt would be as good as table salt.
Why wouldn't you use table salt? (Fire still going on in the oven--fed by whatever is on the rock salt; I have stopped my husband from putting anymore on to the flames.)
Couldn't find it.
This is a very specific gender difference between men and women; there is always salt in this house, much like sugar. One might have to move a jar of peanut butter to see it, but it is always there. We empty two boxes of table salt onto the flames and get the fire out. We also open every window in the house and shut off the furnace. We stand out on the porch airing our eyes and breathing fresh air. After last time, my husband purchased a fire extinguisher; but, then, he stored it in the garage--which, if you are in Ontario, at this moment, is not a good idea. It froze and, thus, was completely useless.
At this point, the daughter who inadvertently started the fire gets out of the car and wants to know if she can go to her room.
The house is too smoky, I say, and she bursts into tears because her sisters have accused her of trying to burn down the house.
That's not true, I say. Let me go talk to them.
My youngest then hops out of the car with the cat and reveals the cat is trying to eat grandma's coat. I cannot make this stuff up. And, Grandma wants to go up to her room and asks when is dinner going to be ready?
No Yorkshire pudding for dinner, but the roast is already out of the oven and the vegetables are cold but edible. And, we can save the muffin tins used for the Yorkshire puddings because my husband pulled them out of the oven when he opened the door to put the rock salt in. I make a gravy to heat everything up when we eat.
It is Saturday and we obviously miss Earth Hour but to be fair, technically, there was nothing on in the house.
The next day, leaving the kitchen mess still there and my husband off on an appointment to do with work and not play, I encountered my neighbour at a Math Tournament for the girls. He is a Russian Mathematician and has gotten the children involved with all kinds of Math contests. We say hi and he comments on how big the children have gotten and how they grow up so fast; it is a strange sort of small talk considering we live across the street from one another. Then there is a silence.
I didn't know your youngest could drive...
She can't.
I didn't think so when I saw the cat but your husband was acting so weird yesterday. Did he tell he lifted his mother into the car? I think she could have gotten in on her own. But they went nowhere. He just kicked everyone out of the house, I watched him check all the windows and they sat in the car till you came home. Is everything okay?
What do you say when your humiliation has become public? But, note, this is another gender difference. No woman of calibre would ever ask publicly about the machinations of family life; she might be discreet, she may even gossip, but she would never ask in a public forum within the hearing of other people, other mothers and fathers about a strange family situation. I didn't tell the neighbour about our Saturday adventures. I didn't want to and I dread cleaning the kitchen this evening. The mess is not pleasant and I am hoping my husband's obliviousness can last until I paint the kitchen ceiling. Or rather, my obliviousness should last until he paints it.
This past weekend was a doozy because I was not there, my husband was and so, too, the matriarch for good measure. It is terrible to admit my daughter set the oven on fire again; same child, same Yorkshire puddings, same reason--no cookie tray beneath a pan overfilled with oil. What does a man do when faced with this dilemma? First, he was on the computer in the basement and when my daughter yelled down to him, she needed some help, he took his time coming up the stairs. The child is pretty smart--previous experience, you know--so she turned the oven off but then, like me, she opened the door to the oven....I think you can imagine the rest. My husband freaked. I believe I should highlight he is not usually the panicking kind. He shut the door to the oven, yelled to the girls to get out of the house, and went upstairs to get his mother. He, fortunately, remembered the cat. (Please note, fire is still burning in the oven--door closed).
I have the van because I am spending a couple of hours undisturbed at a bookstore. Alone. He has the Honda CRV--which the matriarch cannot get into. So, he lifts his mother into the car, turns it on for heat, puts the 12 year old with the cat in the front, the others in the back and then returns to the house. I come home with the expectation of a nice roast beef dinner to be ready and wonder why the family is sitting in a running car in the driveway. Apparently, my neighbour is wondering the same thing--more about that later. I go into a smoke infested house to see my husband putting rock salt--y'know the kind for driveways--on a fire in the oven. Aside: this is never, ever a good idea. What is on the rock salt begins to pop in my oven and there is a pungent odour emanating from the stove.
What are you doing? I ask my husband with smoky eyes, coughing and with a "why aren't the windows open" sort of addendum. He has shut the windows to prevent oxygen from feeding the fire and when I say the house is filled with smoke, I am talking about both floors and all the rooms, he looks at me as though this makes perfect sense.
My husband tells me his mother said rock salt would be as good as table salt.
Why wouldn't you use table salt? (Fire still going on in the oven--fed by whatever is on the rock salt; I have stopped my husband from putting anymore on to the flames.)
Couldn't find it.
This is a very specific gender difference between men and women; there is always salt in this house, much like sugar. One might have to move a jar of peanut butter to see it, but it is always there. We empty two boxes of table salt onto the flames and get the fire out. We also open every window in the house and shut off the furnace. We stand out on the porch airing our eyes and breathing fresh air. After last time, my husband purchased a fire extinguisher; but, then, he stored it in the garage--which, if you are in Ontario, at this moment, is not a good idea. It froze and, thus, was completely useless.
At this point, the daughter who inadvertently started the fire gets out of the car and wants to know if she can go to her room.
The house is too smoky, I say, and she bursts into tears because her sisters have accused her of trying to burn down the house.
That's not true, I say. Let me go talk to them.
My youngest then hops out of the car with the cat and reveals the cat is trying to eat grandma's coat. I cannot make this stuff up. And, Grandma wants to go up to her room and asks when is dinner going to be ready?
No Yorkshire pudding for dinner, but the roast is already out of the oven and the vegetables are cold but edible. And, we can save the muffin tins used for the Yorkshire puddings because my husband pulled them out of the oven when he opened the door to put the rock salt in. I make a gravy to heat everything up when we eat.
It is Saturday and we obviously miss Earth Hour but to be fair, technically, there was nothing on in the house.
The next day, leaving the kitchen mess still there and my husband off on an appointment to do with work and not play, I encountered my neighbour at a Math Tournament for the girls. He is a Russian Mathematician and has gotten the children involved with all kinds of Math contests. We say hi and he comments on how big the children have gotten and how they grow up so fast; it is a strange sort of small talk considering we live across the street from one another. Then there is a silence.
I didn't know your youngest could drive...
She can't.
I didn't think so when I saw the cat but your husband was acting so weird yesterday. Did he tell he lifted his mother into the car? I think she could have gotten in on her own. But they went nowhere. He just kicked everyone out of the house, I watched him check all the windows and they sat in the car till you came home. Is everything okay?
What do you say when your humiliation has become public? But, note, this is another gender difference. No woman of calibre would ever ask publicly about the machinations of family life; she might be discreet, she may even gossip, but she would never ask in a public forum within the hearing of other people, other mothers and fathers about a strange family situation. I didn't tell the neighbour about our Saturday adventures. I didn't want to and I dread cleaning the kitchen this evening. The mess is not pleasant and I am hoping my husband's obliviousness can last until I paint the kitchen ceiling. Or rather, my obliviousness should last until he paints it.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Glad I Was Not There
So, the matriarch's sister-in-law came for a visit-not lunch, a sit-down, have a cup of tea, chat for the afternoon kind of visit. The matriarch was having none of it; they said they were going to take her out for lunch and she intended to go for lunch. Call it the tyranny of the old...and the selfish.
Fortunately, my husband, my children and I were not invited. Sometimes the silence in a house completely yours is just rejuvenating.
And, they got lost. I believe I have mentioned before that the sister-in-law is in her eighties, has had cancer recently and really, in my opinion though my husband from childhood recollection disagrees, has the patience of a saint. My husband drew a map of how to get to the fish'n'chip restaurant; his Uncle promptly misplaced it. The matriarch said not to worry, she knew how to get there. Yes, yes, I know we should have just gone along and had lunch with them and done the driving. Life sometimes conspires to make one do what has to be done. But, then, there are these moments when glances meet and a husband and wife silently agree: over our dead bodies, are we leaving this house.
They were gone for over three hours with the matriarch navigating their travel throughout the city of Barrie. She is blind, you know; you'd have thought the sister-in-law and husband would have given up or faked the place being closed...any excuse. But, God love them, they really did try. Of course, they failed miserably. And, the matriarch got mad at them and they left quite quickly after lunch at a nearby family restaurant.
It wasn't quite the same, you know. The matriarch told me. I knew where I was going. They just didn't listen.
I nod my head at her, trying very hard not to laugh. People often think if they were in charge, life would be so much easier. They could handle the matriarch better. I think not. She is just very old, I don't even know if she qualifies as "fragile elderly." The woman won't admit to being blind. She takes very mild dementia pills. She knows who the Prime Minister is, the date and how much money she has in her wallet. She refuses to leave the house for respite care. She is an individual and no one can take that role away from her no matter how difficult she may choose to make life.
The sister-in-law didn't phone when she got home. My husband figures the matriarch's birthday will be the last we will see of his Aunt. So much for respite opportunities.
Fortunately, my husband, my children and I were not invited. Sometimes the silence in a house completely yours is just rejuvenating.
And, they got lost. I believe I have mentioned before that the sister-in-law is in her eighties, has had cancer recently and really, in my opinion though my husband from childhood recollection disagrees, has the patience of a saint. My husband drew a map of how to get to the fish'n'chip restaurant; his Uncle promptly misplaced it. The matriarch said not to worry, she knew how to get there. Yes, yes, I know we should have just gone along and had lunch with them and done the driving. Life sometimes conspires to make one do what has to be done. But, then, there are these moments when glances meet and a husband and wife silently agree: over our dead bodies, are we leaving this house.
They were gone for over three hours with the matriarch navigating their travel throughout the city of Barrie. She is blind, you know; you'd have thought the sister-in-law and husband would have given up or faked the place being closed...any excuse. But, God love them, they really did try. Of course, they failed miserably. And, the matriarch got mad at them and they left quite quickly after lunch at a nearby family restaurant.
It wasn't quite the same, you know. The matriarch told me. I knew where I was going. They just didn't listen.
I nod my head at her, trying very hard not to laugh. People often think if they were in charge, life would be so much easier. They could handle the matriarch better. I think not. She is just very old, I don't even know if she qualifies as "fragile elderly." The woman won't admit to being blind. She takes very mild dementia pills. She knows who the Prime Minister is, the date and how much money she has in her wallet. She refuses to leave the house for respite care. She is an individual and no one can take that role away from her no matter how difficult she may choose to make life.
The sister-in-law didn't phone when she got home. My husband figures the matriarch's birthday will be the last we will see of his Aunt. So much for respite opportunities.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
You Must Understand She's Old
It begins with a glass of water. Everyday, after breakfast, I bring my mother-in-law a glass of water up to her room. There are ice cubes, the water is cold and she likes to drink it as she eats her potato chips and Werther's for her mid-morning snack. Usually, in the afternoon, the matriarch sleeps; no need for a glass of water and, if I am not home, she has her own bathroom with a sink and she can easily re-fill the glass if necessary. She almost never drinks water in the afternoon; I say almost never because of what happened yesterday and how such an act can drive a person (ie me) crazy.
After lunch, the matriarch took her tea to her room, had more chips, still had the glass from the morning if she needed more water and seemed quite settled. I told her I was taking the children skiing and would be back in a few hours. We live quite close to the ski hills; we go skiing regularly; this was not an unusual event. When I returned home, not even an hour later because it was so cold, the matriarch told me I had left her without any water.
"What happened to your glass and tea cup?"
"I brought them downstairs while you were gone."
"Why would you bring your dishes downstairs and not get yourself a glass of water?"
Implicit in the matriarch's behaviour was the expectation that I would be there to get her what she wanted when she wanted it....even if only a glass of water. I know the woman is 99 but she did not reach that age not knowing how to survive. She also did not reach that age being stupid. It is such a silly act. And, obviously, an act trying to focus attention on herself. It is an act that is a sample of the frustration of living with a senior illustrates. How do we become this way? Why does it happen?
I don't like sympathizing with abusive children of seniors. I hated reading in this morning's New York Times about how people take financial advantage of the elderly. Of course, I am against all that. But I also wonder how one is expected to deal with the habits of the elderly who have become quite selfish. I don't know how to prevent it within myself--God knows if I become like my mother-in-law, I want my children to put me out of their misery. It is just I know seniors who aren't this selfish and I know seniors who are on their way to becoming like this...Is it a world view? What determines the ability of someone to still be unselfish and compassionate as they age?
Demographics determine the changing priorities of society. So, I understand as the baby boom ages, there will be a change in the way seniority is experienced. But, I worry, as the most selfish generation in mankind's history ages, if things will get better or drastically worse. Children institutionalized in daycare centres are hardly going to think twice about institutionalizing their parents and the baby boomers were the first generation to really utilize daycare centres. I mean they were the parents of the first generation of "latch-key" children; children who were expected to entertain themselves in front of a blasting television. I cannot but worry what those children will do to their parents in old age. But I digress...
The matriarch will get her glass of water this morning and I will keep my mouth shut. If there is one thing I am learning it is I have the ability to overcome this and demonstrate to my children there are important lessons to be learned with a single glass of water. I might have to reach a bit to find that level of stoic but caring and unselfish silence, but damnit, I will find it.
After lunch, the matriarch took her tea to her room, had more chips, still had the glass from the morning if she needed more water and seemed quite settled. I told her I was taking the children skiing and would be back in a few hours. We live quite close to the ski hills; we go skiing regularly; this was not an unusual event. When I returned home, not even an hour later because it was so cold, the matriarch told me I had left her without any water.
"What happened to your glass and tea cup?"
"I brought them downstairs while you were gone."
"Why would you bring your dishes downstairs and not get yourself a glass of water?"
Implicit in the matriarch's behaviour was the expectation that I would be there to get her what she wanted when she wanted it....even if only a glass of water. I know the woman is 99 but she did not reach that age not knowing how to survive. She also did not reach that age being stupid. It is such a silly act. And, obviously, an act trying to focus attention on herself. It is an act that is a sample of the frustration of living with a senior illustrates. How do we become this way? Why does it happen?
I don't like sympathizing with abusive children of seniors. I hated reading in this morning's New York Times about how people take financial advantage of the elderly. Of course, I am against all that. But I also wonder how one is expected to deal with the habits of the elderly who have become quite selfish. I don't know how to prevent it within myself--God knows if I become like my mother-in-law, I want my children to put me out of their misery. It is just I know seniors who aren't this selfish and I know seniors who are on their way to becoming like this...Is it a world view? What determines the ability of someone to still be unselfish and compassionate as they age?
Demographics determine the changing priorities of society. So, I understand as the baby boom ages, there will be a change in the way seniority is experienced. But, I worry, as the most selfish generation in mankind's history ages, if things will get better or drastically worse. Children institutionalized in daycare centres are hardly going to think twice about institutionalizing their parents and the baby boomers were the first generation to really utilize daycare centres. I mean they were the parents of the first generation of "latch-key" children; children who were expected to entertain themselves in front of a blasting television. I cannot but worry what those children will do to their parents in old age. But I digress...
The matriarch will get her glass of water this morning and I will keep my mouth shut. If there is one thing I am learning it is I have the ability to overcome this and demonstrate to my children there are important lessons to be learned with a single glass of water. I might have to reach a bit to find that level of stoic but caring and unselfish silence, but damnit, I will find it.
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