Chatting About Death

So, the matriarch doesn't want to be alive anymore. She told me she does nothing but sleep and eat. I would think she is bored. It's not that there is nothing I can do, the matriarch doesn't want to do anything. She has every excuse going to avoid participation in anything but a meal out. I know that sounds cruel but it is very real and true to our current status. I have offered to take her to card games, to seniors' centres, to hospital visitation; she wants none of it. She sometimes wants to go shopping and often wants to eat out; but, generally, she seems to want to sit in her room. When she talks to me about death, I tell her maybe if she saw more of the world, she wouldn't want to die. The matriarch thinks I mean a trip to Alaska and not the library. I have a very charitable view of the world: you get out of it what you put into it; someone who does nothing isn't likely to have an optimistic perspective. It is very sad.

The matriarch told me of a prayer her mother taught her when she was young; I asked her why she didn't teach it to my husband. My mother-in-law never thought of it. So much centres around her existence and not shared family experiences; sometimes, I think, the matriarch feels left out of life because she must have started excluding herself when she was much younger. I met her when she was almost eighty. Her family in Chatham didn't seem to forget about her; family in Barrie didn't forget about her; and my husband, most certainly, has been there for his mother. I don't know why she has always felt left out. I don't know. I told the matriarch she was alive for a reason; I don't know what that reason is but there must be one and sitting in her room thinking about it probably won't lead to its revelation. She is upstairs sitting in her chair continuing to worry about life rather than live it....not a thing I can do.

Not the Swiss Chalet

This evening, the six of us went to dinner at a lovely restaurant in town. It wasn't quite as nice as the last time we had been there; then, a meal for 8 had been $600. This time, it was a community deal wherein all meals at various restaurants in Barrie were $20.10. I thought for a three course meal: appetizer, entree and dessert, the price wasn't bad. My mother-in-law wanted fish and chips. There was salmon or catfish on the menu both to be served with seasonal vegetables and rice pilaf. Just to be clear, in Canada, seasonal vegetables are root vegetables and, for a difference, a lot of restaurants who serve local or organic, like this one, try to mix it up a bit. Grated beets with last season's green beans cannot be chewed by ninety-eight year olds. I don't know why. Did I mention my mother-in-law wanted fish and chips? The evening was saved by absolutely stunning blackened catfish and incredible carrot cake. I don't think the matriarch quite appreciated the meal nor the experience but the children and my husband got out somewhere other than Swiss Chalet.

True Stories...I Think

Somewhere, out there in the world, a senior's leg is slowly swelling. Diabetic, the the person lives in a home that is not wholly staffed by health professionals, but there are personal support workers. There is a doctor on call and there is a supervisory nurse. The leg has been swelling since November,the same month the family first noticed. There was an appointment made to see the doctor--earliest date: the second week in February. The staff at the home has phoned the family to arrange new leg braces, larger sized shoes, better support socks but no medical care has been offered. No one in the family can afford to take a day off work to take the senior to the hospital to have the swelling investigated. It could be a blood clot and could turn to gangrene. But, it could also be something minor: the discomfort of an allergic reaction. I don't know but the swelling continues as I write.

A family of seven arranged for their elderly mother to live with one sibling while the rest rotated care duties. The mother had terminal cancer. Their father was institutionalized due to illness and the siblings also rotated meal duties so their father never had to eat alone; 3 meals a day, the man had the company of his children or his in-laws. For two years, the family took care of their parents who died within 1 year of each other.

Just somethings I happen to be thinking about....

Taking Things Too Seriously....

My husband thinks I take his mother too much to heart; of course, she is playing with my mind, he believes, what has she to do? The way my husband sees it people in old age homes are left with nothing to do but aggravate the staff; the matriarch is merely here instead of a home and I am her personal staff of one. Nothing drives a person crazy, young or old, than getting everything they want; it is a legitimate curse the Chinese culture has known about for years. Old people don't suddenly age; they feel the differences in their bodies and get scared about the changes in their brains--growing old is not for the weak of heart. The matriarch has nothing left to do; since her separation in her 89th year (can you believe I just wrote that down?), my mother-in-law's world has shrunk; the children, my husband and I are her world--old neighbours have died or lost contact, family has died and people have gotten sick and occupied with their own interests. And, the matriarch does nothing but eat and stay alive. At least with us, she gets out a bit to see the world as she withdraws. I am judging her. Awful. If this adventure is teaching me one thing it is the reality of age, its burdens and its pains--maybe when it lightens up a bit again, I can make fun of the trials.

Forget the Chipits, It's A Box of Cadbury's kinda Day

To begin, I got into an argument with my dear, sweet old lady of a mother-in-law at breakfast. Oatmeal for breakfast, not a problem; tons of brown sugar in the bowl, check; tea and orange juice at the ready; children at the table, grace said and my mother-in-law waiting. What could she be waiting for? Plus, she was waiting in silence; so, I had to guess. Am I being mean expecting her to tell me what she wants? Then, as I ponder what she wants, the matriarch lifts her bowl, in a unsteady scene reminiscent of that image in "Oliver," except, she still says nothing. No "Please, ma'am, may I have some more," she says nothing and I have to guess: she wants more milk. I feel like an idiot; so, naturally, I ask her why didn't say something sooner. She replies she was waiting for the children to finish with the milk; I say they had; she says she couldn't see that; I say, because, ultimately, I am an evil person, how did you see to put the sugar and milk in your bowl the first time?

I repeat to myself: I am going to hell. I am going to hell.

To apologize for the argument, I offer to take her for a drive and so begins the quest for large sized, man-sized tissues; they are no longer made, at least, they are no longer available in Barrie. I know. For sure. Until one has spent the morning traveling with someone whose world has changed overnight, they may make no comment. This quest has happened before and I know it will happen again; today's, unfortunately, ended unresolved because no where had the tissues. Then, my mother-in-law told me she had enough tissues for another three months. This time I keep silent as in I did not ask why we had to go looking for them in the first place. But, I feel sorry for her because the tissues seem so important. They, some kleenex manufacturer somewhere, used to make them and now they don't and it has changed my mother-in-law's world overnight. She is reliant on these tissues and some person somewhere in the world has decided to no longer make them. So, the matriarch got mad at me and said she used to get them at a particular store. As I am the only one to take her shopping and have been for some time, I know she is talking about an event that happened years ago. It doesn't change the fact that she is annoyed and the store in question doesn't sell these particular tissues anymore. When we get home, the matriarch angrily goes up the stairs and I plow into a box of Cadbury's because it feels more of a box of chocolate kind of day.

Culinary Opinions

On the drive today, the matriarch asked me which meal I thought was my worst; she hates lunch the most. Considering, it is almost always soup, tinned at her request. Not my problem. My cooking is not that bad; although, today had me on the defensive. My husband and children recollected the time my mother-in-law mistook a chicken dish for fish. Admittedly, never a good sign, they all still ate the food and thought the matriarch was hysterically funny. No sympathy there.

My mother-in-law awoke to the startling sunshine in her room this morning; except, my mother-in-law sleeps with closed blinds and the sun was not shining in her room. Then, on our drive, she could not see the very bright day. I know it is not easy going blind but not admitting it is dangerous, too. It takes almost twenty minutes for my mother-in-law to navigate from my front door to the van without help. Of course, she will take help if it is thrust upon her but she is not happy; the matriarch doesn't want to admit she needs help; she still likes to believe she is independent. On last night's news, she heard about some seniors in their nineties and early hundreds; they were in good health, one with glasses, the other's sight still good, and enjoying life. My mother-in-law called them old. She in no way viewed them as compatriots in the fight to endure.

The Matriarch and Piano

After today's piano lesson, the matriarch asked each of the children how they did, did they pass their respective songs and were they assigned new ones. The children were impressed she was interested. Apparently, my mother-in-law still likes to listen to them practice although she no longer sits in the family room. It was nice to know.