Mom & Me Four Archive

    I'm sure it will be the first of a few more than a few that will be packed into the period between now and the end of January. This, I realized yesterday, is one of the pleasures of the holiday season, for me.
    She commented on the striking fragrance of the package she delivered to me. "It perfumed my whole van," she said.
    "Bet you were glad to finally deliver it," I said, chuckling.
    "Oh, no, it was wonderful! Especially this time of year when everything is so colorful around here."
    I explained to her that it was a box of soaps. "I use heavily fragrant soaps in my mother's bathroom; it stimulates her nose, always causes her to comment when she's in there, and, you know, with bathing her, we spend a lot of time in there. It also helps mask the odor of her used paper underwear until I can empty the trash can."
    "I should try that," she said.
    With this we were off and running, catching up on each other's caregiving careers. She is the woman I've mentioned, here, who, with her husband, takes care of her mom (87) and dad (89) in home and has been for some years, while she and her husband continue working toward their separate retirements. Her Mom's profile is much like my mother's: Dementia-Lite, "old age" diabetes, slowly increasing physical instability, a few other miscellaneous conditions, one of which is high blood pressure. Her father, other than an osteoporotic upper back, "is fine", although, he too, is noticeably "slowing down". The couple lives in an added on "apartment" which is completely open to the rest of the house, but includes "separate" amenities like a small kitchen, bedroom, a living/entertainment room, even a utility room so they can do their own wash.
    Since our last visit, sometime in April of last year, I think, much has happened in their family. Her mother has "gone downhill" rather quickly in the intervening months: She is no longer able to sew, which was one of her favorite activities. She becomes confused with the machine and, within minutes of starting a sewing project, manages to jam the machine, which frustrates her even more. The FedEx lady told me that she "finally" felt it was time to remove the machine from her mother's line of sight so as to preserve her mother's "sanity". "As soon as the machine was put away," she said, "it's the funniest thing. My mother stopped thinking about sewing."
    "Wow," I said. "Maybe she was ready to go onto something else, but, you know, old habits die hard."
    The FedEx lady nodded. "I worry, though, that Mom doesn't have enough to do," she said.
    I related how, within the last year and a half, I've been learning the hard lesson that being Ancient is more about "being than doing". We sympathized with one another about how hard this is to acknowledge. Curiously, though, neither of us referred to the "sadness" of this, the "loss" of that. This is why I love talking with her. She shares my attitude that these devolvements are just life, you know, when one door closes, another one opens. I find that this attitude is common only among those who have embraced not just the actuality of their Ancient Ones, but their presence, full time, in their lives. Not all in-home caregivers operate from these attitudes but, so far, all caregivers I've encountered with these bedrock perspectives are taking care of their Ancient Ones in home.
    Since we last talked, her parents celebrated their sixtieth wedding anniversary. "We were going to keep it low key," she said, "just immediate family," which includes family in Phoenix and Tucson. Somehow, though, word got around. Pretty soon relatives were calling from all over the U.S. and Mexico (their family is scattered from Seattle to Florida and Michigan to Mexico, literally), asking about the party, inviting themselves, suggesting things they could do to make it better...the event turned into a boisterous soirée with 90 people and a D.J. for back yard dancing. "I took a month off just to prepare, even though we decided to cater it," the FedEx lady said.
    As the event expanded to practically every last dribble of living relatives, the FedEx lady got an idea. "I told everyone to write up one of their memories of Mom and Dad, attach a souvenir and bring it as their gift to them. We copied all the memories and took pictures of the souvenirs. I'm not sure how it happened, but there were well over 100 memories." They presented their matriarch and patriach with the originals at the party and laid out the copies on a table so people browse and read them. When people began to leave, someone came up with the idea of "exchanging memories"; as each person left, they scanned through the copied memories and took one of someone else's home with them. "Even the young ones," she said. "They were first at the table. I guess they wanted to make sure they got their favorites."
    Everyone, of course, had a wonderful time. "My mother was so surprised," the FedEx lady told me. "After the party she kept saying, 'there were no fights!' Whenever we get together, it seems like there's always someone who is upset with someone else and it spills over into the party."
    "I wonder," I said, "if it's because your parents were the focus. I mean, you know, during holiday celebrations, everyone is supposed to have the spotlight for a little while, but someone always gets left out, knows, ahead of time, they're going to get left out, someone else can't distinguish between appetizer chips and chips on shoulders, everybody's strung out from the holiday rush, all the 'shoulds' that run rampant during that season..."
    The FedEx Lady nodded vigorously. "We've got a lot of that going on in our family."
    Just about every family does, I guess, no matter what form it takes.
    She mentioned to me, too, that her son has come back to live with them in order to help take care of her parents, especially his Grandma. Although, for the past few years they've employed a housekeeper who comes in during the weekdays, does housework, cooking, and is supposed to provide company and transportation for her Mom and Dad, as her mother's dementia has increased, her lack of affinity for the housekeeper has also increased. She resents the housekeeper's presence, doesn't like her personality, doesn't like the food she cooks, thus, she doesn't eat, during the day, and would prefer to ignore rather than engage the housekeeper.
    "Finally," she said, "I realized that what Mom and Dad need, now, is family. I called my son in Seattle and asked him if he'd consider finishing his school out here in the evening and being with Grandma and Grandpa during the day."
    He accepted. Enthusiastically. "He knows that if he wants to add to his memories of them, he'd better start, now."
    I briefly wondered if this is a realization that comes naturally to families formed out of one of the subcultural concepts of extended family. This family is one of those.
    Both her Mom and Dad have "perked up" considerably since their grandson moved back home. "It's not so much what he does or doesn't do," The FedEx Lady said, "it's that they goof around together. He knows what kind of food Mom and Dad like, that's what he fixes and Mom eats it. They don't just go on business trips, they take little pleasure trips with him. They talk about common experiences. They are all very interested in what happened in each other's lives yesterday, the day before, when they weren't together, and what is going to happen today."
    Wow, I thought. I couldn't have put the importance of family involvement in the lives of its Ancient Ones better.
    "I'm not worried about making it to retirement anymore," she said. She held up two fingers. "Only two more years. My son will finish with his schooling, then, and I'll be able to be at home with Mom and Dad." There was much relief in her voice. The possibility of having to quit work before retiring on behalf of taking care of her parents has been haunting her. "By that time," she added, "[her son] will be so involved with his grandparents that I know he'll continue visiting a lot, no matter where he moves."
    I asked to whom her Mom and Dad were going to travel this year for the holidays, as is the family custom.
    The FedEx Lady shook her head. "Not this year," she said.
    I recalled her mentioning, last year, that the two trips they took were so hard on them she was anticipating that traveling to relatives wasn't going to last too much longer.
    "It's too hard on Mom and Dad gets confused," she confirmed. "Someone would have to travel with them, then return, then go get them. It takes them awhile to recover from the trips, too...they had a good time, last year, but were so tired they both said they wished family had come to them."
    I nodded. Sounds familiar. "So, holidays here, this year?" I asked.
    She nodded and began an excited exposition about visits already planned and parties-in-the-works.
    I chuckled. "More time off during the holidays," I said.
    "Not for me! It's my husband's turn. I've taken just about all the time I can. He's insisting on it. I think he's looking forward to it." She mimed exhaustion, back slumping, arms dangling, head spinning in clock circles. "If I had to take all that on every time a celebration comes up, we wouldn't have holidays!"
    Whoa, I thought. So, maybe I can be forgiven for what has become my dismissal of holidays over the last few years. I'm not just imagining my frustration, nor am I inventing it in anticipation, nor am I being selfishly petty about refusing celebratory delights in favor of avoiding exasperation and exhaustion. It happens even for those who have significant family back-up. "I guess that means we'll be able to keep up with each other over the holidays, this year. That'll be great," I said.
    "I know," she said. "I always feel better when we talk like this. I think about you and your Mom a lot. I don't know many people who take care of their parents."
    "Same here," I said.
    So, for me, for the FedEx Lady...
    ...later.