Mom & Me Four Archive

    Today's a better bet, since I'm still in it. It seems as though I've been out and about a lot over the last few days, and I probably have, but I can't remember where. I'm not sure why, but I'm spinning through my days in such a blur that, although I'm sure I perform well, keep Mom up as I can, moving, well conversed, we even took a walk on the 18th (although not yesterday, it snowed yesterday and the air was frigid) and have done some outloud reading in two different books, it's as though I haven't bothered to impress the detail into my mind. It's not an intellectual resistance to memory, it's a spiritual resistance. Yet, I'm feeling good, physically. Just foggy. Strange. It seems that a few days ago I was at peace with caregiving, feeling very good. Now I'm in a fog of caregiving. I like fog when it's outside me, not so when it's inside me, though.
    Hmmm...the detail I've been recording here since ignoring The Dailies:

• Dinner last night: My beloved grilled Canadian uncured ham and Jarlsburg Swiss cheese sandwiches with a side "salad" of radishes, carrot and celery sticks and green, pimiento stuffed olives. Later I felt like a piece of home made Granny Smith apple/dried raspberry/toasted almond pie so, of course, Mom had a piece, too. Delicious.
• Bowel Movement today at 1415: Excellent volume; excellent consistency; a bit less than easy elimination; very easy clean-up.
• Dinner tonight: Leftover home made chicken enchiladas.

    Mom is spending, at her pleasure, much time this evening hooked on the History Channel. She has a curious relationship history with that channel. Most of the time she ignores it and I can't even tempt her with the program descriptions. Then, one or two nights a month, she "remembers" that there's a history channel on television (actually, there are several), and she has to watch it from the time the news ends until she goes to bed. Regardless of the program, she is glued to it. It's almost as though, once or twice a month, she recalls vague but glittering details of her place in history and is ravenous for the historical background of her story...although, during those times, she'll watch anything, it doesn't have to apply to her life. She doesn't find the military channels interesting, although she was in the military and taught gunnery and sighting. But plain old amalgamated history is her beverage of choice. On those few nights a month it's like water on a long desert trek to her.

    I just took a short break from this to fold one load of dried laundry, begin drying the last and gather the rest of the dishes up for loading in the dishwasher. The ungathered dishes were all Mom's. She's been leaning over her plate and utensils, deeply involved in a program on Greek history. When she sat back in her rocker I arose and grabbed for her dishes.
    "I'll let you take those into the kitchen only if you'll leave them in the sink. I'll do the dishes tomorrow morning."
    I laughed, merrily and involuntarily. "Mom," I said, "No way! You haven't done dishes, either by hand or in the dishwasher for years. If you did them by hand I'd be afraid you'd collapse at the sink. I don't think you can stand there for a half hour and scrub dishes and pans without collapsing. If I were to let you loose on the dishwasher, we'd probably have to buy a new one tomorrow afternoon."
    She looked at me with pure disgust. "I did dishes just a few days ago," she announced. "And I can certainly stand for a half hour."
    I was still smiling. "Mom, I appreciate your offer to try to lighten my load. But, let's face it, you can't walk a half lap of our driveway with a walker without a rest."
    "Bet I can," she sneered.
    "Well, I'm not taking up your bet. I can't afford to."
    "Well, you've seemed like you need help the last couple of days."
    I didn't realize my fog was obvious to anyone else but me. "The problem, Mom, is that you wouldn't be lightening my load, you'd be adding to it. I'd have to keep my eye on you all the time to make sure you don't injure yourself, the dishes or the dishwasher."
    "No you wouldn't."
    "Mom, listen. Most of the time I'd allow you to think you were capable of doing things you aren't and I know you won't attempt. But, when you are insistent and I know allowing you your way is going to up the ante for both of us, I have to tell you the truth and insist on refusing your generous offer."
    "Well," she responded, not satisfied, "I'll just do them in the morning before you get up."
    I laughed again, delighted. "You never give up, do you, woman?!? First of all, I don't think it's possible for you to get up before me. Secondly, the dishes will be done by then. The dishwasher is filled, I'll turn it on before I go to bed, and they're done by the time you're up."
    "Well, I just wanted to help."
    "I know. I love you for your desire, and for your belief that you can accomplish anything you want. Don't worry about actually doing it. I've got you covered, there."

    We had another episode today which held a message for me. I had to make a drug run for Mom's Macrodantin and Niferex-150. I tried to get her interested in going, plying her with descriptions of the brand new independent pharmacy's building (the only one in town that will order the Niferex-150 for us) with its old time wooden shelves, asphalt tile floors and soda fountain. I sweetened the pot by telling her we'd use the drive-by window at the other pharmacy (which I use becaue of it's flexibility, express refill service and extended hours). While I was describing all this I was putting on her socks and shoes. I didn't wait for an answer. I headed in to select a pair of "go to meetin'" pants for her. When I'd returned, she'd slipped her shoes off her feet. She wasn't having any.
    "Okay, then," I said, I'll go myself. Before I go, do you have to go to the bathroom?"
    "Soon," she said.
    "A bowel movement?"
    "Probably."
    "Okay, well, so I can get my show on the road, why don't you head in? 'Soon', for you, usually means 'now'." It does, anyway, when "soon" involves urination. Usually, "soon" means, "I'm already leaking but I don't know it."
    Mom was amenable. We both, though, learned what "soon" means when it applies to bowel movements. It means "soon", probably 15 or 20 minutes. I felt bad about this. I didn't mean to put the pressure on or make her strain. Both happened. Although she eventually had a healthy bowel movement, I felt bad because she obviously worked at it in order to please me. No one should move their bowels in order to please others. It makes for ditzy digestion. Now, I know. Bowel movements are easier on Mom when I let her determine when "soon" is.
    Later.