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.

...in which the mind is tidying up and throwing away detritous. All I remember is that the actor James Gregory was in my dream in his Beneath the Planet of the Apes gorilla make-up explaining to me that the significance of Christmas lies in pickling thin strips of sour fruit. Yeeks! Talk about Mom's Interests Overload!
    Thus, today's been one of those days for me when I wish I was alone to work it out but, well, no such luck. We haven't gotten anything done. I'm a little surprised. Last night after Mom went to bed and I reported here I was feeling so good I decided to celebrate by blasting spiritual celebrations into my ears: The Hallelujah Chorus by the London Philharmonic, Holy, Holy, Holy by the Martins, Testify to Love by Avalon and In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel. Three are Christian classics but, no, I haven't turned Christian: The Christians just happen to be particularly good at turning spiritual insanity into emotionally ecstatic musical expressions. I guess you could call me metro-spiritual: I'm not picky. I'll enhance myself emotionally and spiritually from any source. So, forgive the bad pun, but I finally retired (around 0300) on a really good note.
    I expected to awaken on the same note. Not that I've been feeling bad, but in need of solitude to shake myself back into some order.
    Hard to say much more. One of those days.
    She did have a Bowel Movement at 1430: Good volume; excellent consistency; easy elimination; very easy clean-up.
    For dinner I served my sausaged up marinara over rotini with plenty of freshly shredded Parmesan.

    This was Mom's first utterance after we finished The Apes quintilogy + documentary.
    I admitted that I couldn't answer this question and I couldn't remember if this thread had been tied anywhere in the series.
    To which Mom responded, "Well, I guess we'll just have to go through the movies again and look for the answer."
    Frankly, I'm hoping she forgets this for awhile. I'm aped every which way and need to be loose. Immediately after she retired, soon after the final movie ended, I tucked the series away in one of the back rows of our collection. I'm hoping the memory gods will leave our house alone for awhile in regards to these movies. I'm sure we'll watch it again but I'm hoping it isn't mentioned for a couple of months.
    Mom had her beloved Costco chicken pot pie for dinner tonight. I couldn't stomach the thought. It's very easy for me to get tired of it. It's soooo salty, the crust is way too sweet, there aren't enough vegetables and the chicken has only the texture of chicken, not the taste. I suppose this is why Mom loves it.
    No bowel movements today, which was a surprise since she's been having dailies for three days in a row, I think.
    I'm doing well, despite the movies and the chicken pot pie, though (I had something else entirely, tonight, which doesn't happen often, anymore, since she's been eating vegetables). Sometime early this evening I realized I was back in The Zone, again, regarding caregiving: That "peaceful, easy feeling and I know [I] won't let [me or you] down, 'cause I'm already standing on the ground." [Thank you to The Eagles] That's how I feel, I realized, grounded. Capable. Sure of myself and sure of our life, regardless of what happens.
    Earlier today, earlier than the above realization, I did something I do occasionally: I visited the most popular NPH site, then searched out a few other references. I do this in order to reevaluate my criteria for having determined that she isn't in need of all the tests nor the shunt treatment for NPH. Today it occurred to me that, considering:

1. All the neurologists who've worked her over in the past three years, most notably the workout she was given in early August of last year which included an MRI and yet another Head CT;
2. The age (all young) of her neurologists and doctors during that episode;
3. And her doctors' eagerness to diagnose something that would allow them to get their hands on some of the wildly misappropriated (in terms of procedures, favoring the expensive and last ditch over the cheap and preventative) Medicare money and have some testing fun in the process;

she isn't suffering from NPH but from vascular dementia. Despite the similarities between the two, we know for certain she's mini-stroked and her demential pattern isn't following that of the typical NPH afflicted.
    I do this with all her conditions every couple of months just to keep myself up-to-date on possible treatments and play the devil's advocate in case newer research presents itself that might show a way to alleviate some of her symptoms and allow her a bit more comfort as she continues.
    Curiously, this evening, we caught a program on PBS Nova, Deadly Ascent, which discussed hypoxia as it applies to high altitude mountain climbing. The thing is, hypoxia is hypoxia is hypoxia and certainly my mother breathes easier at lower altitudes. My mother doesn't suffer from hypoxia because of altitude sickness, but she suffers from it, nonetheless, if conditions are right. The program filled in my slight knowledge about what hypoxia (specifically HAPE) can do and how to treat for the possibilities and the realities. Funny where one gets information about physical problems! Funny, also, considering how many questions I ask of doctors, that no medical professional has ever explained all this to me!
    I'm suddenly tired...
    ...later.

...much to my surprise and her shock. Snow still bordered our yard and she was sure it was going to be too cold to move. Fooled her! I bundled her up in a coat, she wore her usual sunshade hat and once out refused gloves (I was in shirt sleeves - the sunshine was so intense it was that warm on concrete). We did the driveway three times (no, we didn't go anywhere else). She's taking fewer rest stops; one after each "lap", this time.
    We started the last movie of the Apes series when we returned. We made it about 1/3 of the way through before she started looking at the clock and checking her watch.
    "Got a date?" I asked.
    "With my bed."
    "We can pause it and pick it up later if you want."
    "Oh, this is one of those things, not on TV?"
    "That's right. We own it."
    "Oh! Good! Then we can start it over this evening if we want."
    "We could do that, too."
    "Remind me later."
    "You got it."
    Things are going well today. I'm feeling good despite the disappointing mini-low and the relentless sun.
    Later.

...January 16th, that is, and I didn't have the energy to fight it so she slept a lot. She only got in 12 hours, exactly, last night, then decided to take a nap three hours after awakening and slept for just about three hours. We did manage to watch two Apes movies, though. It occurred to me, about halfway through the second, Conquest of the Planet of the Apes, that this little festival of ours was ironically appropriate considering that it is the MLK holiday weekend. One more to go, the last in the series, Battle of the Planet of the Apes. I imagine we'll get that in sometime tomorrow. Mom is really into this, more than I can remember seeing her into anything, lately.
    I forgot to mention: Last week I stopped by our oxygen supplier and asked about masks instead of cannulae. I was told that this was a horrible idea. Masks cause the client to continually breathe in their own exhaust and can severely deter the effectiveness of oxygen therapy.
    Needless to say, over the last few days she hasn't been using much oxygen since she's been fairly immobile. I'm hoping to get her moving around tomorrow but it's brrrr-cold out there. I'm loving it but Mom is not a happy camper. The cold isn't friendly with a touch of spring or fall, anymore. It's a frigid cold. Because we don't have a central air system (thank the gods, actually, on this one) I always have at least one window partially if not fully open. Over the last few months she hasn't noticed when she strolls by that window (it's usually the kitchen window). Today, after bathing, she shuffled through the kitchen, stopped dead in her tracks and said, "There's a window open. I can feel it. I don't know where, but I'm going to find it and close it."
    I told her it was the kitchen window, explained why it had to be open, showed her that it was just "cracked" and assured her nothing else was open.
    "Well, I don't think it's necessary."
    "In that case, Mom, go on into the dinette and you won't feel it."
    Which is exactly what happened.
    She had a Bowel Movement again today at 1520: Fairly good volume; excellent consistency; very easy elimination; very easy clean-up. It surprises me every time I find myself boosting her Benefiber® and discovering that the newly adjusted dose is exactly what she needs. I'm wondering what dose she'll be taking when she plateaus.
    For dinner I gave her a choice of chicken/Parmesan ravioli with tomato/basil marinara or Canadian ham and Jarlsburg Swiss cheese sandwiches on sourdough with mustard and V-8 juice. She chose the latter. I was pleased. It was my yen for Jarlsburg and Canadian ham that led to this sandwich interlude in our diet. I'm considering a Cobb Salad tomorrow with both ingredients. Every once in awhile I just have to have Jarlsburg Swiss and after awhile of Mom's favorite hams, all sweet, I have to remind myself of what merely smoked ham tastes like.
    I've got lots of business to handle tomorrow morning out of the house before Mom arises. I'm not sure if I'll be able to get her moving. The temperature is supposed to be in the mid 50's downtown, which means high 40's here. I'm thinking, if the cool weather continues for awhile, she might go back into hibernation mode. If that happens I'll absolutely create a modified exercise program for in the house and maybe even have her walker up and down the hall. But, as always, we'll see...
    ...later.

...this weekend. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be...oops! I guess I showed my hand. I noticed the series of movies (the old ones) at Costco Saturday when I took a quick trip for supplies. I considered getting it. My mother used to be such a fan of the movies that she taped (very badly) all of them off TV and reminded me of her "treasure" many times soon after I came to live with her in 1993. The series on DVD was cheap enough. I considered getting them but wasn't sure that she would even remember her infatuation with the movies so I decided to ask her before purchasing them, although I noticed that only three sets were left.
    I shouldn't have bothered to ask. When I mentioned the series at breakfast she looked at me as though I was crazy not to have snatched it up. When I told her there were only three copies left she said, "Well, I guess you'll have to go back and pick up a set today." Just like that. So I did.
    Before we began our festival I joked to her that I guessed over this long weekend we'd watch so many Apes movies that I'd be screaming and she'd be wishing they'd made 10 instead of 5. Good sport that she is, she laughed. Oddly, though, I'm enjoying myself. Naturally, our first was the original. Then, though, I decided to queue up the last DVD of the series, a two hour docutainment production hosted by Roddy McDowell about the making of the film series. By the time it was over I was ready for and looking forward to the rest of the films. We've got two left for tomorrow. Mom is ecstatic. I'm enjoying myself, much to my surprise.
    We took a break this evening, watched Saved!, which played just before The L Word. This week's episode wasn't as Mom-watchable as last week's. Too much sex for her. During one particularly hot scene Mom said, in her jesus-fucking-christ voice, "What is the point of this show, anyway?!?" You haven't lived until you've had her ruin a perfectly amiable viewing of anything with this interjection.
    Weekends are an interesting phenomenon in our household. As you may be able to imagine, most days here are like weekend days for both of us. However, when we run across mention of "long weekends" on television, Mom always sighs as though she's been working the mines for months and says, "Thank goodness!" She's so funny! Tonight on her way to bed, having heard, once again, while waiting for the local weather and hearing, once again, that tomorrow (today, actually) is a "holiday", she said, "Tomorrow would be a good day for both of us to sleep in."
    I laughed. "Mom," I said, "you sleep in almost every morning."
    "All the more reason to enjoy tomorrow morning, then."
    At some time while we were viewing movies and the show, tonight, it snowed. Not much, but everything's covered. I was sorry I missed the event. There is something about watching snow (or rain) fall, standing out in it, that resets me. It doesn't look like we're going to get much more. This snow will probably be gone by morning and the next seven days promise more sun, although much cooler temperatures. Looking at the snow outside, though, I can feel myself relaxing to a level I haven't yet experienced this winter. Even Mom stood at the window for several minutes, gazed at the scene and said, "A nice change."
    Earlier today I heard Seattle has been experiencing a 27 day stretch of rain that broke sometime this weekend. I withered a little. I wish I'd been there for it, washed out roads, mudslides and all. Rain will fall, again, within the next 24 hours. I've been so parched lately that I've been indulging in fantasies of putting Mom in a respite home for five days (the minimum amount of time any of the respite homes here will take someone) and scooting off to Seattle just to fool around in the rain for awhile. But, you know, knowing that the respite care would be exactly the same as what she received at "one of the better" skilled nursing facilities without the imperative of prescription therapy, knowing, as well, how confused she'd become because I wouldn't even be visiting every other day, I couldn't do that to her unless it was absolutely necessary and it's not. It's just not.
    Stat reminders:

• Dinner Saturday night: Chicken enchiladas.
• Just because I wanted it for breakfast this morning and Mom loved it: Grilled uncured, naturally smoked (no nitrates or nitrites) ham and Jarlsburg Swiss cheese sandwiches on sourdough bread with a taste-through veil of spicy mustard.
• Dinner Sunday Night: Chili dogs using kosher polish sausage, good home made chili that was left over, lots of chopped green onions, lots of grated sharp yellow Cheddar cheese on Bouille whole wheat rolls.
• Bowel Movement today at 1305: Fairly good volume; excellent consistency; very easy elimination; very easy clean-up.

    I'm planning another interview for tomorrow if Mom seems up for it. This morning (Sunday morning) she talked, once again, with much enthusiasm while we were bathing her that she thinks she'll "teach again next year." I didn't break into her fantasy, I let her roll with it. I occurred to me during our conversation that this would set up a great interview about her teaching career and her thoughts about education, both formal and informal, in general, and would also fulfill her desire to talk on record about "what I do." The Apes movies, though, got in our way. I suggested the possibility a couple of times but she didn't want to stop watching movies. When she finally needed a break for apes, she opted for television instead of recording. Maybe tomorrow. I'm up for this one.
    Speaking of the podcast, it looks as though, without trying, I'm gathering enough material so that I'd have a fair chance of being considered for listing status with iTunes. Setting up my RSS page to include all their requirements was a breeze. The interviews are taking a different tack since the Who Am I? cast and I think I can legitimately argue for sociological interest so I'm hoping that will spark their interest. I already have three episodes and by the time I get around to petitioning for listing status I'll probably have four or five and will have established that Mom & Me - The Podcast will be updated regularly. The last requirement I took care of tonight. iTunes states that they give preference to those podcasts that include "a robust image", "at least 300px x 300px" as an advertisement. This requirement stumped me until I had an inspiration tonight that I created and I think is the perfect image for this cast. I'm displaying it here. The B&W headshot on her lower abdomen is a headshot of me cut out of a group picture taken when I was in the fifth grade of a chorus I belonged to at that time that put on concerts and musicals. When I was trying to think of some kind of appropriate image that headshot of me came to mind because, although it was taken a couple of years earlier than the picture of Mom, I've got the same kind of expression as she has. The belly placement of my head indicates that I'm her daughter. Our expressions are a perfect representation of the tone of this journal and of how we both, separately and together, look out on life: No window dressing, just the "if you're going to study me then I'm going to study you" essence, m'am. It should be "robust" enough for iTunes. Of course, there's no guarantee...and, as well, I've got a list of other directories to petition, once I find some time...
    ...later.