Mom & Me Four Archive

    That is a modification of a blues rif my sisters and I made up and sang in the car on cross country trips to the states every three years back in the 60's when we lived on Guam. I modified it because, well, it was too good to be true. Mom's attempt at a nap was interrupted this afternoon because she couldn't stop wondering about all her relatives, where they are and what they've been doing lately. Needless to say, we had yet another Dead Zone conversation.
    She was also concerned about our family business, beginning with the buying of this home, including her stock profile, why she bought this house, why we haven't been down to our Mesa house "lately", why I sold it, talked about how she needed to "go down and see [MA] and get her taxes in (I'm surprised she knew it isn't April, yet), whether we should consider moving back down to the Valley, god, it went on and on. I was pretty cool about it. For some reason, despite continuing to feel a bit shaky all day, I handled all the history repetition well, it didn't bother me at all, in fact I was so into it that I entertained her with stories surrounding the deaths of people: My grandfather's ashes showing up late to his funeral, for instance; the famous, "It's a good thing people in this family die," comment; my father's ashes blowing up in my sister's face during his scattering at sea; her grand nephew's well heard comment halfway through her sister's funeral that "it's time to go, now"; Mom's decision to immediately do several things against Dad's previous wishes immediately after his death like purchase a microwave and replace the dour, rust colored shag wall-to-wall carpet with sculpted off white; the twenty-one gun salute at her brother-in-law's funeral; the fact that his funeral was delayed because the ovens were really busy that time of year; MexFBIL's extraordinary help after Dad's death; her maternal uncle's and aunt's merry attendance at her mother's funeral; on and on and on. I suppose that's why she wasn't interested in reading, tonight.

    As a preview, one of the very interesting sub-conversations MCS and I had yesterday during our marathon phone call was her telling me, while relating a conversation between her and MPS, that she and Ken would not be available to take care of Mom in their home if something were to happen to me, and why. I was surprised at her candor and, frankly, pleased. Although it would seem a contradiction, knowing this actually bestowed a measure of grace on me. Knowing is always better than not knowing, and so much easier to accept.
    As well, she took issue with my superlative that "nobody" in the family visits the web site. I know she does, fairly regularly. MFS used to. I don't know if she does anymore. I faced this head on. Yes, I knew as I wrote the statement that it was not just an angry exaggeration but inaccurate, as well. I apologized. I was frustrated, I said, and angry, and sometimes I do that when I'm frustrated and angry. MCS, in fact, fairly regularly comments on stuff I write. Yesterday she listed suggestions based on the bootcamp description of my day. There were several that were helpful and others that prompted me to explain why we don't do them:

• Have Mom flex her ankles every time she rises from bed (I'm having her do this when she rises from sitting, too, since she sits so much) as this encourages pooled blood in the legs to resume a vigorous track through the body;
• Consider having Mom rest her arm on something comfortable, covered with a pillow, when taking her BP in the morning, as this will help her keep her arm relaxed and keep the pressure of the rest from fooling with her blood pressure;
• When I begin massaging her legs, during the pre-rubdown, consider starting with my palms rather than my fingers, as some people are extremely sensitive to finger touch and using fingers initially will irritate, rather than relax them; actually, my mother loves the finger stimulation, she claims it gives her "shivers up and down [her] spine", which I imagine are the same of what I call "pleasure shivers"; at this point MCS and I speculated that this may be her Ancient orgasmic experience, since she no longer has a sexual partner; I wanted to pass this one on because it may be helpful to others;
• Consider a bathtub spray fixture and an in-the-bathtub seat for bathing Mom; we've not only considered this, we tried it once in a hotel; doesn't work for Mom; she doesn't like being sprayed with water, never has, which is why she's always bathed; now that we sink bathe her and the primary challenge is to keep her warm and comfortable while bathing, the best way to do this is to keep water application to a minimum and make sure she doesn't get sprayed; at one time a few years ago I was considering remodeling our bathroom to include such a set-up for when it became necessary but the sink bathing works much better for her; I mention all this here because one of the primary necessities when taking care of an Ancient One is being careful about setting up necessities before they are necessary; it's entirely possible, as has happened with our situation many times, that the "approved necessities" may not work, for a variety of reasons, for a particular Ancient One.

    We had another important sub-conversation about Mom's nature and each of our perceptions of it, during which we discussed what I had written in a post last May about my understanding of Mom's mothering technique, which seems to me much like an animal's. MCS agreed with me. In discussing our experiences of this perception of my mother, though, we differed. I was surprised to discover that MCS had always wanted a relationship with Mom much like those she saw between some of her friends and their mothers: Her explanation of this used the example of a mother and daughter shopping together, comparing clothes and prices, giggling and laughing together, having a mundane experience that promises a later blooming into close friendship when the child reaches adulthood. I was amazed by this. I told her that, for me, what could be interpreted as Mom's distance was a gift. Since it was, as a child, my nature to spend as much time alone as possible amusing myself, yet, I was a cowardly child who, in public, needed to maintain such strict physical closeness with my mother that for years I feared I'd never be prepared to live on my own, her mothering technique worked very well for me. I asked MCS if her experience of Mom's mothering technique made a difference in how she mothered her own daughters and she replied that it made an enormous difference. She consciously worked (and works, with her granddaughter) to form bonds with her daughters that insure active emotional attachment, rather than the passive emotional attachment that my mother practiced. We also agreed that this was a habit of mothering passed down to Mom through her family and confirmed for one another our perceptions of Mom's mother not being particularly maternal. MCS had an acute experience of this when she stayed with our maternal grandparents the summer before she went to college in the states. Come to think of it, I'm wondering, now, if this may be why Mom remembers her experience living with her uncle and maternal grandfather with much more, hmmmm, enthusiasm, I suppose, than she remembers living at home. Maybe living with these two was more emotionally active for her than living at home. "I must remember" (a phrase frequently used by my mother; usually accompanied with a finger vigorously wagging in the air in what I imagine she assumes is the general direction of her conscious memory) to ask her about this. I wonder, as well, how my other two sisters experienced Mom's mothering technique. I remember mentioning to MCS yesterday that it was precisely this technique that allowed me to not only not feel at all pressured into marrying and having children but it also allowed me to always feel completely comfortable with my penchant for a solitary life. I remember finishing off by saying something along the lines of, "I shudder to think what sort of problems I might have had to negotiate if Mom had been different." Funny how the varying personalities of children within one family change the perceptions of the mother as they experienced her. Interesting, too, now that I consider it, that of the four of us, I'm the one who's her final companion. Weird how those things happen.
    I've been thinking, since our extremely edifying conversation, that I'd like to poll my other two sisters about their willingness to take care of Mom if something should happen to me that would render me unable to see her through to her death. I spent some time this evening designing the question in what I hope would be an unintimidating fashion. I am quite relieved to know MCS's position. Although she gave me her reasons, those don't matter, despite the fact that they could be considered highly legitimate. Just knowing, one way or another, has helped me locate myself in this journey in relation to Mom and the possibilities. I considered that the best way to ask is to pose that Mom probably has no more than a good five years in her, possibly less. Although my intention is to be here to her end, it would help me considerably to know what sort of instructions I should design in the event of my untoward inability to see her through to her death. Regardless of what those instructions might be, whether someone or no one would feel adequate to the task of caring for Mom in their home as a part of their immediate family, for me, knowing ahead of time and being able to write a sort of advance directive as to what to do with Mom if I couldn't be here until the end would, I think, considering how calming it was for me to discover MCS's intentions, completely relieve any anxiety I now have about this. Somehow, the calming effect also strengthens my resolve to be here with Mom right through her last breath. I think some of my frustration and anxiety that I refer to as caregiver burnout (although there is an element of burnout in it) is an oblique expression of my anxiety over not knowing my sisters' individual willingness to step in and care for Mom if I should be unable to continue, thus not knowing where Mom would "end up", so to speak. Even if I were to discover that she would probably end up in a nursing home if I was unable to continue, well, knowing is better than not knowing. To quote myself from What if I Told You..., "The unadorned face is always less upsetting than the mask."

    Although I recorded Mom's bedtime tonight as 2338 over at The Dailies, she arose a little after midnight to discuss, yet again, where all The Dead are. She remained up discussing the fates of her relatives until 0055 this morning, then headed back to bed and read until 0110. So, arising time for later this morning has changed, which is just as well. With any luck I'll be heading out to a lighting specialty store to see if I can replace the fixture cover.
    Life is fucking amazing, isn't it.
    Later.