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/

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.

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.

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.

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?

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

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.

You don't have to be Young to Try...nor Old to Give Up

This film looks brilliant:

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.