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?

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.

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.

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

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?

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.

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?

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....

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.

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.

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...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.