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.

Elder Abuse

Probably not a sympathetic post....

In Toronto, there is a horrific case of elder abuse:

http://www.thestar.com/news/crime/article/946088--woman-housed-in-garage-had-box-of-diapers-bucket-of-water?bn=1

Now, the senior citizen involved was suffering from dementia and, while this does not in any way excuse the family, it highlights how frustrating it can be to live with someone who is no longer themselves. Their personhood, in a sense, has been lost. My mother-in-law is perfectly fine but she drives me crazy because she is not the person "I" want her to be and that is not fair to her. I don't know when needing help deteriorates into a complete loss of independence but I can say it is very hard to live within the ambiguous state of helping verses serving. The matriarch sleeps in the master bedroom, we use her dishes, and life, whether we like it or not, in some ways, is orchestrated around her routine. And, this sort of life keeps her alive; it is hard and I don't know if many are willing to live it. It would be so much easier if there was help; my husband is an only child; there is no one else to share the responsibility. And, I think that idea is key. Family is a shared responsibility.

It sounds very conservative, in the traditional family values perspective, to say family membership is a responsibility, but it is. I think we have gotten so use to putting our children in daycares and our seniors in old age facilities we forget those institutions are not there to replace family but only to help with the raising and caregiving of the old and young. A society is judged by how they treat the very old and very young. I think, in fact I deeply believe, we as a society neglect both generations. If there is one thing immigration has done to family, it has allowed people to think distance denies responsibility to blood; in fact, I think it betrays it.

The senior in the article has a second child; where was the help to the family? I know it is not mentioned but these situations arise when one family member, or their family, is left alone to struggle with a senior, with or without dementia, and the burden is very hard. It is no excuse but, while that one adult child did this to the mother, the other child did nothing--including not phone authorities about conditions. That must be acknowledged, too. The state offers all kinds of help to the infirm and fragile elderly. So, there is no excuse for this type of situation to arise. Anyhow, it is a tragic situation.

I must go. We're taking the matriarch to Swiss Chalet, today. The weather has been so windy she hasn't been able to go out much. Now, spring is arrived (almost), I hope she will return to sitting out on the front porch a bit. Let the world know she is still alive in all senses of the word.

Sugar on a Wednesday

My husband has been on holidays this past week and we seem to be renegotiating how things are dealt with in respect to his mother. As old as a parent gets, I guess, they are still a parent and one is still a child--despite the actual ages involved. This brings us, of course, to the topic of sugar.

It's so funny, one thinks, to read me constantly complain about how my mother-in-law is eating me out of house and home; for heaven's sake, she is almost 100, how much can she really eat? When it comes to normal, everyday sorts of things like bread and butter, the matriarch is probably healthier than the average 99 year old floating around; when it comes to sugar, the woman is incredible. She eats sugar on all fruit, desserts, puddings--you name it. This house goes through a lot of sugar. My husband tends to link the children's baking with this vast consumption. I know that is not so but I say nothing. I mean I am really silent on the issue. He thinks what he wants and I do what has to be done and the matriarch just plows through our pantry and everyone seems to get along....Until the day we run out of sugar.

It's a Wednesday. I bought a 2 pound of sugar bag last Friday and it is gone. It is gone in the very real sense of empty sugar bowls and vacuous containers and my husband getting his mother her fruit for the evening and wondering why there is no sugar. He's been home. He knows the children have made bread this week, not cookies or cakes or ice cream. He knows I have been having a fit over other uncontrollable concerns and not eating anything. He knows his mother has been the receptacle of all things sweet lately; he knows because when he is off, it is the one thing he must do--get her fruit and sugar. He brought a bowl of fruit up to her room and she sent it back down wondering where the sugar was. Ever seen a grown man in a panic?

At nine o'clock in the evening, he didn't feel like going out to the store. So he stood there wondering what to do...

I suggested icing sugar.

Now, my husband looked at me and made a face and reacted with words to the effect of "She couldn't possibly want that..."

Things have been a bit tense lately. It's not so much the matriarch is a burden but more my burden. My husband has expectations for how things should be for his mother, which is fine, but he doesn't seem willing to do his fair share to carry some of the load. And, I have told him as much. Yes, I know having to do lunch once a week with his mother at the same fish'n'chip place is a never-ending chore, but it is only one day a week. The other six days are my responsibility. And, I have told him I need help. Some of the matriarch's expectations have to give way to compromises; am I being unfair asking an elderly woman to expect less? Her care is fine but I would like to be able to get out more; I would like to be able to go to a bookstore and not have to leave her sitting in the car while I nip in for a few minutes. I should be able to go out to a store and not have to take her with me. I should be able to take the children to the movies and it not be a secret from grandma. The compromises are not unreasonable. A simple conversation should enable them; but, I think my husband is afraid of his mother.

Do we become so set in our ways as we age that we are incapable of compromise? Do I want to admit the matriarch is something of an oligarch is this house? I don't know how who we are, our actual identity, becomes entrenched in the person we become but I wonder about a seniority being, literally, a life of having needs fulfilled and doing nothing for others. It's a weird kind of selfishness, I think. It is as though one expects their old age to be payback for the unselfishness of youth; does that make sense? And, I think there are some natures incapable of debating this issue, of saying to a parent, "You are asking too much of my wife, my children." But, then, what do you do? Put a parent in a home knowing it will lead to a life without the simple strawberry snacks and probably death?

But, back to the sugar; my husband took the advice, put icing sugar on his mother's defrosted strawberries, made a kind of thin syrup and the woman ate it. She ate it to my husband's chagrin. In the kitchen, he made faces because the very thought of how sweet such a snack would be was unbearable to him.

Do We Ever Admit to Being Old

So, here's the thing...the matriarch did not want to go to the spa this month. Not a big deal, I thought to myself, then I walked in on her cutting her own nails while sitting in her rocking chair. And, I looked at her and thought a number of things but said, aloud, "Don't you think we should take a visit for a manicure?"

"Nah, it costs too much..."

"But you can't cut your own nails."

"I do well enough." I guess so if one doesn't mind jagged, pointed, half-cut, knives at the end of one's fingers. The spa, for a once a month treatment, including pedicure, is not that expensive. It's a nice place; the people who run it are a Chinese family who make a big deal out of the matriarch's visits and usually give her a discount. Everything is done properly and the ladies usually paint flowers on the matriarch's nails. It is quite nice. I don't know what has gotten into the matriarch that she doesn't want to visit. For a side comment, I am not going to participate in my mother-in-law's grooming and she doesn't want me to do as much. But, we are back to the reality that my mother-in-law doesn't want to go to the spa.

It is her choice.

As much as I want the woman to go to the spa, I cannot force her; I can conjole, encourage, suggest but I cannot make her go if she does not want to go. And, this is the problem, if that's what one wants to call it, of aging. Do we ever admit that we are incapable of making choices on our own? Can one just make a decision for another person despite their wishes?

I am just talking about a spa and the matriarch doesn't have any money per se, but the same principles apply to parents who lend money to irresponsible children or who refuse to admit a house may be too big for them or a situation unacceptable. I know in my mirror I see myself and sometimes I cannot believe I am 42; I imagine the matriarch must half-look in the mirror and wonder, disbelievingly, that she will be 100 this year. I cannot imagine what she thinks. But I do know she can do whatever she wants...if she wanted to leave neither my husband or I could stop her, if she wanted to get married again, she could. And, while you may think, that such things would never happen, this is a woman who got married post 85 and then divorced 6 years later.

There are these conflicts in my mind; I know there are older people who are just fine, I also know there are older people who aren't but the problem exists with the older people who think they are fine, but are not. Do we ever admit we need assistance? And, does needing assistance mean relinquishing independence? And, then, which is what I struggle with most of all, does providing assistance automatically mean the assistant is supposed to be on call 24/7? It is all so confusing and there is no set rule for a general practice. I am not supposed to resent the matriarch but I absolutely do when she just expects certain things until she doesn't and then gets mad at me for not knowing. The key, of course being, how do I know if she doesn't tell me? What obligations are there, in old age, to tell people what one wants and needs as opposed to expecting them to know? And, the crux of the problem, I think, are these questions really connected to old age or are they hold overs from the characters we develop when we are younger?

Why Suzanne Somers is Wrong and Aging is Awful

On January 4, the matriarch telephoned her friend to see how the woman was doing and found out she was in hospital and wanted no visitors. Today, she telephoned the woman's husband again and found out her friend was dead; she had died three days after the last phone call. What do you say to comfort someone who looks at you and says, "There's no one left. They are all dead. I have no one left to call."

For the most part, the matriarch is well; she is confusingly blind but she is able to walk, manage the stairs, take care of herself and watch the news. So, I make her meals but she does know who Stephen Harper is, Dalton McGinty and she could vote if she really wanted to vote. The matriarch can tell me when she needs candies or chips; she is not too good with the fresh fruit in her room, but can certainly make her bed. I don't know what really amounts to self-sufficiency but my heart goes to someone who is the last of her kind, whose friends have all moved on...

I think Suzanne Somers is wrong; living a long life is pointless if there is no one with whom to share it. Whatever I really think of the nature of the matriarch the point is, at one time, she did have friends and now they are dead. And the matriarch is still living. All alone.

The Oldest Canadian Dies

A charming 112 year old from Manitoba dies:

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/prairies/woman-believed-to-be-oldest-in-canada-dies/article1882322/

And assistance...

There is a great government program available to assist with the caretaking of fragile seniors...it will help with housework, keep seniors company, do hygienic care...

They don't do lunch.

And, so the matriarch has absolutely no interest. When I talked to her about maybe going for a bit of a break, she asks why? She doesn't need one.

Of Children and Old Women

The matriarch broke wind at the blood clinic, today, continuously, and I cringed and the nurse pretended not to hear. The whole time the blood was being drawn, the matriarch made her presence known. But, she did not seem to know what was happening--it was as though she could not hear it happening. I had promised to take her to the bank with me but, once settled in the van after the clinic, I said to her

I think you need to go home.

Why?

It was an embarrassing pause. And, of course, I could not tell her.

It's too cold out and my husband wants me to do some running around. You need to go home.

Suffice it to say, I got her knickers in knot and she was not happy with me. But, once I did deposit her at home, she rushed up the stairs as only a 99 year old who has to go the bathroom can. I hate monitoring other people's bodily functions. So, I went to the bank and when I returned home, the children had made lunch--including toast and honey for grandma and cookies.

The point about the cookies is the fact they were marshmallow, chocolate covered ones. And, as I write this, I begin to suspect we, too, may have a problem with sugar but I digress. The children being children, of course, lunch was lively, exuberant. Then, I started doing the dishes and they started eating the cookies, making sure Grandma had her share. And, I am standing there at the sink, watching them, the eating area being on the other side of the counter, when the first cookie goes flying at my middle child's head, chocolate and marshmallow eviscerated from the bottom but this biscuit somehow landing on the table. As I contemplate the reality of this, and the reaction that my children (!!!!) could possibly be having a food fight in my kitchen (!!!), the second cookie, really more a slightly, chocolate-covered miniature flying saucer goes flying across the room...and lands in the matriarch's tea. This, of course, brings silence to the table as the children all look to their grandma and see what she will do. I have mentioned we pretend she isn't blind and not deaf and I have two minds as to whether or not she is completely oblivious but even I was wondering if she noticed the cookie having dropped into her tea. It did splash before it sank--I mean there was some tea on the table around the cup.

But, I couldn't let her drink it and spewing dagger eyes at my children, I said to her:

Here, let me get you a fresh cup.

Why? I don't need another cup.

And, she breaks wind again. And, my oldest child is trying not to laugh and my younger two are snickering and their grandma begins eating another cookie. So, I take the cup hoping to get a fresh cup and tea poured before she notices and, of course, I fail; I see her hand stretching out for the cup which is not there; the hand gropes around the table and my youngest pushes the cookie plate before her, so my mother-in-law takes another cookie as though she has forgotten the tea. But she hasn't; she reaches for my child's milk glass and says

This isn't my mug.

I have poured the tea into another cup and say, handing it to her,

No, here it is.

And, she breaks wind again and the children erupt into laughter and, for the sake of this blog, I will say I discipline them. But, really, we are all headed this way...tooting and eating cookies and pretending we are still familiar with our very old bodies.