Mom & Me Four Archive

..to which I've responded. I've decided to publish parts of my response to her because I think some of what I said may be important to other caregivers, single and not.

    I'm pleased that I passed on some hope to you. From what you've written in your comment, I think I can hand you a little more, the hope that comes from knowing you're not alone: I also have no health insurance, thus have gone without health care since I became my mother's companion, except when I got blood poisoning, which cost a bundle. I also have had to neglect my teeth. I've never been diagnosed as clinically depressed but I've had my moments. I've lived a curious, gypsy-like life, one foot in Hell (courtesy of my Dad, who lived there), one foot in Paradise (courtesy of my Mom, who lives there) and have, against all better advice, insisted on "doing it my own way", which can certainly, at times, turn the world into a Not Much Fun House. My guess is that, at times in my life, if I'd bothered to seek psychological help, I would have been diagnosed as clinically depressed. Everything you've mentioned, in fact, is not at all uncommon among caregivers to Ancient Ones.
    You and I are not very different in many respects. I really appreciate your candor. I've suspected for some time that it takes a peculiar, somewhat marginalized person to decide to do this kind of caregiving as a single person: Someone who doesn't buy into the standard dreams, for whom the standard set-ups aren't a proper fit, someone who cannot ignore the dissonance around her and when she reacts is considered to be somehow psychologically impaired because she isn't reacting the way most people react (which, often, is a type of "bury it" non-reaction). Sometimes I wonder if lots of people who are considered clinically depressed are subject to misplaced concern because we, in this society, don't recognize depression as a legitimate response. My theory is that it's possible that many of the lower levels of depression aren't "problems" so much as "spaces" that give the depressed person some leeway to initially react to stimuli, experience and observe these reactions (which aren't reactions anyone really "likes" to experience but aren't necessarily problems, either), maybe even wallow in them to achieve the most inclusive view, then use them, often in ways that aren't recognized by polite society but usually end up benefitting polite society. At any rate, this is how I handle my own "blues", which aren't infrequent.
    Perhaps, too, people of this level of sensitivity are naturals for elder caregiving, whether or not they "want" to give care, simply because, being so highly attuned to their own psychological mechanics, they are more likely to be able to empathize with someone who needs intense care and respond to those needs more appropriately and compassionately than others. This does not mean that I believe that others shouldn't be involved in caring for our elderly. In fact, I consider that it means that we, as a society, have, for much too long, encouraged and rewarded such a lack of sensitivity and attention toward our elderly that there is, at this time, no societally approved, "healthy" (within the context of our society's definition of health) way to be a caregiver to An Ancient One. Far from being "foolish" (as we are often labeled) for what we do, we are actually brave. All of us go into this being so aware of the "dangers" that we continually look for signs that we, ourselves, are in danger and often assume that we have already been damaged. Yet, we do it anyway. In the meantime, the rest of our society figures it is not at all dangerous to ignore the elderly, even unto death. After all, they're going to die, anyway, and their lives don't register on any approved measurements of productivity...a line of thought that ends in the decision that the death of an elderly person is a "blessing" to them, and to us. Perhaps, at times, death is an all around blessing. I think, though, our society is much too quick to label deaths of the elderly which occur because of our neglect of the elderly as "blessings".
    Certainly, this society has decided, without acknowledgment, that single daughters are "more available" for providing this type of care. This decision irks the shit out of me. However, I am also aware that my other sisters, if entrusted with my mother's care, would have had her in a nursing home long ago because they would not have believed that they could make themselves available to, for instance, closely scrutinize her health care so that her doctors didn't harass her body into very poor health; make sure that someone who truly cares about her is always available to her; alter their lives to include those priorities which are important to my mother, including her sleep priority. Under these conditions, my mother would probably be dead, by now, from an unacknowledged diagnosis of "failure to thrive". I don't blame my sisters for this; I blame our society's belief that caregiving is not a societal activity but a personal one and it is right that members of our society should be left alone to do what they deem best, up to the point of noticeably and seriously endangering both the life and quality of life of the care recipient, regardless of who the care recipient is and what kind of care is being provided. This belief, alone, ensures that families would, of a course, find it beyond difficult to include their elderly in their family circle.
    In the final analysis, I don't do this just for her...I do it for me, too. I believe that my mother deserves every chance to thrive, regardless of the level at which she is thriving. If I was not doing this for her I believe I would be experiencing a level of suffering involving both guilt and anxiety that I might find intolerable. I also would not have learned to accommodate the unusual levels of compassion and remove that have allowed me to feel more, rather than less, a part of life-at-large and more adept at negotiating life on my own terms; this last personal benefit, however, is not one that I anticipated...probably because it isn't recognized as a legitimate goal of society. Too bad. It's one of the best personal accomplishments of which I can think!
    So, will you be okay mentally after your mother's death? I think so. You will have followed your best instincts with determination and precision, you will feel good about what you've accomplished, your relationship with your mother will be clear and completely dealt with and you will be super-aware of many aspects of society that society, itself, refuses to acknowledge. Your life may continue on a peculiar and not-recommended (according to society) trajectory, but you will have confidence in yourself and be satisfied that you are where you want to be, where you "should" be and ready for whatever happens.

    Since company left last Saturday, Mom has played with the device almost every day. She never remembers it or suggests it. When I suggest it, the name means nothing to her but after a short explanation she goes along with the idea.
    Sometimes, once she's started, she'll say, "Oh! I've played this before!" Sometimes she'll say, "This looks interesting," as though this is her first time at it. Either way, I always explain the device to her and show her how to play the various games.
    She doesn't play most of the games accurately, but she isn't aware of this. The two she plays accurately are the simple math game and the reading aloud game. She continues to play all the games with which she's presented (the software introduces new games almost every time she plays), regardless.
    I remain a distant-to-close coach when she's using the device. If she plays a game wrong (which is often) I'll try once to explain how to play the game correctly without saying she's playing it wrong. If she doesn't get it, I stop coaching and let her play the game however she wants. The proctor of the game, Dr. Kawashima, is especially forgiving, too, and congratulates her often for simply "being there".
    She continues to find it astonishing that the game remembers her name, especially during those times when she's sure she's never played it. I think this may be one of the reasons the device fascinates her...it always knows her name, addresses her and says something pleasant and encouraging to her.
    She usually spends about half an hour playing before she tires of it. On Wednesday of this week, though, in the evening, she spent forty-five minutes at it.
    I think what she likes best about the device is that it is a computer device. It appeals to her desire to keep up with the latest gadgets. About every other time she plays it she'll say to me, "You should get yourself one of these. I think you'd enjoy it," at which point I show her my profile. I actually haven't played the game since I set up my profile and checked it out for Mom's usage. The reason I haven't played is that it requires enough concentration so that when my mother's awake and I'm keeping half of all my senses trained on her I do poorly on the games. When she's asleep and I'm awake I always have other things I'd rather do or need to do.
    I don't bother to check her Brain Age. Sometimes she'll click into the Brain Age test but, when she does, I treat it like any other game: I coach her a bit, get her going and walk away to do other things, keeping my ears open for difficulties she might run into. So far, this has meant that she's finished the Brain Age test and she's moved onto another game before I am back to see the results.
    I will, of course, continue to suggest the game almost daily and walk her through it each time until she gets to the place where it makes no sense to her, if that day ever comes. I have no idea if it's "improving" her mental capacity. In her case, it's impossible to tell. After every session, though, she's revved, talkative and she has yet to decide to take a nap immediately after the game, which means it hasn't tired her.
    Hmmm...something just occurred to me. Flash back to the phrase above, "...when my mother's awake and I'm keeping half of all my senses trained on her I do poorly on the games." As I was reviewing the sentence while continuing to write, I suddenly made a connection with Dr. Vitaliano's cognitive testing of intense needs caregivers to Ancient Ones (see immediately previous post). Perhaps the "cognitive problems" Dr. Vitaliano notices in caregivers aren't cognitive problems but, rather, a cognitive state in which one's concentration is mostly trained upon one item, in this case the care recipient, so that when the caregiver is tested for brain function, the brain says, "OK. What I'm focussed on (the care recipient) is more important than this little test. No reason to switch concentration. I'll apportion only a little attention to this." It may seem that this condition could be easily overcome by separating the caregiver from the care recipient for a period of time, either when the care recipient is asleep or being cared for by someone else while the caregiver is out of the home. I can tell you, though, even, and maybe especially, during these times, the caregiver is usually super-tuned to the care recipient. When an alternate is caring for the recipient, the caregiver remains engaged with the care recipient, usually on a deep level that might be considered akin to ESP (which, of course, hasn't been "scientificially" documented, probably won't be for some time, and is believed to be a myth rather than a reality), in order to be available for what would be considered inexplicable and, therefore, nonexistent signals that the caregiver (specifically the primary caregiver) is needed.
    Maybe it isn't that caregivers are cognitively impaired, maybe it's that they are continually cognitively super-engaged in the one area that most needs their attention, thus, the brain downgrades all other bids for attention and apportions much less power to all other bids. Perhaps, as well, this is not an "impairment". It's possible that our brains are capable of operating this way for long periods of time without deleterious affect to any part of the brain. Thus, the labeled, "impairment" is actually a case where the brain is presented with a bid for attention that it deems to be insignificant, like a brain function measurement test. Sort of like sorting the junk ads out of the mail and discarding them unopened.
    I wonder: Suppose these brain function measurement tests were redevised to test the brain's level of engagement with caregiving and the care recipient and its level of functioning within this engagement (is this even possible?). Would caregivers then score a great deal higher on these cognitive tests?
    Just a thought.
    Later.

...as I write. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. Then, with luck, the monsoon reestablishes itself. Heat is relative, though, really, when I think about it. I can remember living in Phoenix year round without a/c, with only an evaporative cooler on its last legs to slake the shriveling heat. Until 1994, all my driving time in the Phoenix Metroplex (which was a lot...Phoenix continues to have a terrible transit system) was done in an unairconditioned car. I vaguely remember priding myself on my skills as a desert heat rat.
    I still haven't taken Mom in for her blood draw. I considered doing that today. She's doing fine. She also, day by day, has expressed a preference for not getting needle-stuck. Since things are going well, despite Mom's and my mutual sluggishness at the moment, I've been inclined to say, "That's fine. We'll see how you feel about it tomorrow." This "tomorrow", which is today, I'm not even going to suggest the blood draw when she awakens.

    Something I've been thinking about lately, triggered by a recent post (the link will take you to the specific post) at The Tangled Neuron: What this kind of caregiving does to a person. It's been on my mind because within the last month or so I've ventured beyond my own sphere, allowed myself to be introduced to a few other caregivers' journals and noticed, without much surprise, that all the caregivers writing these journals are daughters. The post mentioned immediately above is a review of some studies of caregiver health while the caregiver is on the job. The results look grim, not insignificantly more so for men who give care. When I read this post my interpretation of the material was tempered by information I came across over a year ago and wrote about at the time: A study of caregivers who were daughters to the Ancient Ones for whom they cared. A link to a review of the study is in the linked post immediately previous. In a nutshell, the study suggested that, "Well-being and ability to meet one’s basic needs are both higher for former caregivers than for non-caregivers."
    This is important information. What it tells us is that for most of us caregiver daughters, after we're put through the ringer we pop back into shape, typically emerging in better shape than if we hadn't gone through the ringer.
    I cannot deny that caregiving for Ancient Ones, especially those in the throes of dementia, is rigorous. It arouses feelings of anger, depression, stress and exhaution that are unlike any experienced in any other type of work. These feelings are especially tricky for related caregivers because the act of caregiving forces the caregiver to face and deal with (or not, depending on the circumstances) relationship baggage on the spot. They are compounded by both the actual lack of reliable help and appropriate counsel and the caregiver's perception of this lack. It's important to know, though, that there's an excellent chance that, when all is said and done, you'll not only be all right, you'll be better than you would have been if you hadn't been a caregiver to An Ancient One.
    One of the points made in the research cited in The Tangled Neuron is that it appears as though caregivers to the demented are at higher risk for "cognitive problems". This is scary, indeed, so I'd like to temper the fear with some of my own observations:

•     I endured a period of a few more than a few years when I noticed that my memory was not functioning as well as I expected and my powers of analysis were sluggish and sometimes not to be trusted. Amazingly, as I'm approaching the end of menopause my "cognitive problems" have disappeared within the last six months and I've found myself, surprisingly, in possession of a mind even more acute than I'd previously experienced. This is important because I'll bet I'm guessing accurately that most female caregivers to Ancient Ones (and, most of these caregivers are females) with dementia are peri-menopausal. The violent hormone fluctuations of menopause are famous for screwing around with a person's mental functioning. So is stress. So is frustration. So is lack of sleep. So is hit-or-miss nutrition. So is depression. Interestingly, all these problems are also common for parents who are not menopausal; and, who often complain, anecdotally, about the feeling that they are "losing" their "minds"; which focuses serious scrutiny on Dr. Vitaliano's question, cited from The Tangled Neuron post, "How can you take care of someone else when you're having your own cognitive problems?"
      Perhaps we should ask a few single mothers how they do it. How about a mother with a couple (or more) kids and a full time job and a spouse who also works fulltime? How about a stay-at-home Mom who is home schooling?
      I'm the only caregiver I know who has never worried that I might develop dementia later in life, even though I have a history, unspectacular as it is, of dementia on both sides of my family. My attitude is, I might, I might not, no way for me to know this now for sure and, anyway, can't do much about it, now, either, even if I did know, so fuggedaboudit. Why didn't my couple of years of mental lapses scare the bejesus out of me, especially since, during this time my mother experienced her most critical health problems, so far, thus, it was important that my mind function in its superior range? I realized that when I was under the gun to perform mentally, specifically when my mother was being mishandled by the medical-industrial complex, my mind was more than up to the task of dealing. Thus, I surmised, apparently a healthy mind under pressure kicks back in, regardless of the presence the stressors that typically lower mental functioning. It might even be possible that experiencing all these stressors actually trained my mind to work better when stress was at its highest and most focused and superior mental performance was important. I discovered this all of a piece during one particular crisis, my mother's low sodium episode that is documented from the last week in July through the first couple of weeks in August, 2004, in this journal's archives. In a couple of posts during that time, pre-diagonsis, I expressed grave concern about my ability to handle yet another medical-industrially-involved health crisis in my mother's life and hoped that the problem would subside on its own. Once I had to engage with Medicine, though, out of nowhere my Super Caregiver cape arrived and I was a force with which to be reckoned. Surprised the shit out of me. I expected the worst from this episode going in, all conditions were set for an absolutely horrible experience I knew would brand me as a failure of a caregiver, and yet...well, let me tell you in my past words.
      Research of the type discussed in The Tangled Neuron post cited above is important. We need to know what's going on with our caregivers, ALL our caregivers. We need to wonder why, we need to consider options for solving problems, WE NEED TO PAY ALL KINDS OF ATTENTION TO ALL OUR CAREGIVERS. We also need to be careful to note the positives as well as the negatives because, it seems, as in math, "an even number of negatives makes a positive". We need to count on this at least as much as we fear that being a caregiver in "negative" circumstances might turn us into "negative" version of ourselves.
      I am here, Oh Caregiver, to tell you that even when you think you don't have it in you, even when you know that with your next step you're going to fall into The Caregiver Abyss and take your care recipient with you, YOU CAN COUNT ON YOURSELF. You don't even need to believe you can count on yourself. You can, in fact, be absolutely convinced of the opposite. That cognitive-problem-beset mind of yours simply isn't going to listen to your beliefs, your fears or Dr. Vitaliano when they are at cross purposes to what your mind needs to do. I'm living proof that you can count on this.
•     As well, know this: While it appears that lots of research is coming through right now, since our focus has turned to caregiving for Ancient Ones, that highlights the negatives of this experience while it's happening, remember, there are good reasons in this commercialized society of ours for caregiving to be downgraded to a dangerous activity. You simply can't make nearly as much money off caregivers who aren't convinced that they are endangering themselves by caregiving. Remember, as well, statistics are like crayons...you can draw any kind of picture you want out of them. A little gray here, a little black there and, presto, you've got a "problem" that needs a commercial "solution".
      A while back I wrote a pointed response to some literature I received when I registered with the NFCA. It was a response to the overwhelmingly negative slant of the literature that provoked me to realize, care for caregivers is further off than we think. Despite all our present attention to the caregiver situation, our nationally negative attitude toward caregiving grants caregivers only two choices for how to negotiate their job:
  1. Curious psycho-spiritual exercises designed to promote a positive outlook, and;
  2. the advice, "Know that you're being irreparably damaged, go get help [Which you'll probably need to buy and could very well put you in hock for the rest of your life but isn't your life worth lifelong indentured servitude to credit companies?] and if you don't, well, you can only blame yourself. We warned you."
      Sorry, guys, my experience tells me, two options simply aren't enough for me.
•     I know, I know, it's important to be aware of the negative. It's also, though, important to put the negative in context. Sometimes, in context, the negative turns out to be the detour you take to get to the positive. This isn't something that this nation (at least), apparently, is ready to understand and incorporate. How do I know this? Of all the research I've read on the consequences of caregiving for Ancient Ones, with or without dementia, the article published in Caregiver.com is the only positive article I've read. Granted, I don't look for these articles. However, isn't it insteresting that in not looking for these articles, simply coming across them serendipitously and reading them, all but one emphasized the negative consequences, and in a way that leads the reader to believe that she's doomed? Listen to me, Caregiver, when I tell you: YOU ARE NOT DOOMED. I KNOW THIS BECAUSE I'M DOING THIS JUST LIKE YOU ARE, GOING THROUGH THE SAME THINGS YOU ARE, AND I'M NOT DOOMED.

    Well, I've gotten that out of my system for the time being. I have a feeling I've got a few more things to say on this but caregiving is distracting me (uh oh, Dr. Vitaliano, you'd better stop me before my caregiver cognition endangers my mother) so it's possible that this post will be edited for inclusions. In the meantime, it occurred to me that it would be a good idea if I listed, to the right in the Mom & Me Too Special Posts section, the post which discusses the positive study, if for no other reason than that I tend to go back to it every six months or so and, with it listed, I won't have to search for it every time I want to refer to it.
    Whew. Glad that's over.
    Later.

    The thing about dementia is, no one will ever write the book, "I Developed Dementia and It's the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me". No one will ever record, first hand, the inspirational impact of being demented. While it's true that Diana McGowin, who developed Alzheimer's, wrote a book, Living in the Labyrinth, about what it is like to have it, at least for the first years, I read the book some years ago and I don't recall that she had anything to say about the experience that would allow a reader to feel that, for all the negatives, there is something positive about having dementia and having no way out of it. No one will ever write the definitive stage play about what it's like to fight back from elder dementia, as someone did about fighting back from a devastating, massive stroke because there's no way back from elder dementia of any type. No one will ever say about Alzheimer's, as Steven Hawking has said about ALS, that having contracted it allowed him to develop in a way he never could have imagined, wouldn't have been available to him otherwise and he would never have wanted to miss. Someone locked in the furthest reaches of dementia will never be the next Christopher Reeve, who became a master of advocation and production after having suffered almost complete paralysis.
    That's the thing about dementia, right now. No court can legislate the reinclusion of the demented into society the way the courts have been able to legislate the reinclusion of the physically disabled into society. No change in prejudicial attitudes toward the demented is going to allow the demented more access to personal development, productivity and prosperity. Until we find absolute ways to prevent and cure dementia there's no way to overcome it nor any way to utilize it in the service of one's life.
    Later.

    I decided, yet again, to put off awakening my mother today...although, it's not so bad, today. Her light didn't go off until just before 0100 this morning.
    I wanted to read through the journal posted by my last commenter, Karma. She is a young woman who is struggling with being a caregiver to a mother who was recently moved to the Alzheimer's wing of a nursing home from her own home AND doing this long distance while working hard to establish her chosen career AND make decisions about how to find a life partner and create her own family. One of the reasons I find this journal interesting is because it is not by a baby boomer. Her parents, though, are on the elder end of the baby boomer generation, thus, this is about boomer children taking care of boomers. Thank the gods. It's important that the world know that it isn't "just" us baby boomers who are dealing with caregiving to extended family, especially parents and grandparents. As well, reading this journal is like peaking into our boomer future.
    So, I'm on to awakening my mother for the day. We'll probably be gearing toward a blood draw tomorrow. Mom has nixed the idea for the last few days but mentioned last night, when I told her what the day of the week was, that "Thursday sounds good." I'm not sure why she felt this, except that "tomorrow" probably didn't sound so good, regardless of the day of the week.
    Later.

    Last night, just before retiring, a friend asked me to edit 50 pages of her novel, the swatch of which has been solicited by a publishing house as a possible candidate for publishing. Before 2002 I used to do this a lot. Then, you know, things got hectic and "taking in work" didn't work out.
    It's been so long. I so enjoy doing this sort of thing. I'm familiar with the material and wanted to see it in its latest version. And...in a lower voice...ooooh, again, I find myself needing to steal some time alone (stealing it being different than taking it, as stealing it implies that I might be letting my care recipient down as I snatch time from her). So, I'm stealing it. Despite that my mother has earned sleep merits beyond her wildest dreams over the last two days. Despite that a word from me, especially at this time of day, and she'll usually rouse. Despite that rousing is good for her.
    When she is up, she is alert, although physically sluggish. She's showing good posture upon awakening and when bathing, too. I know she needs more stimulation than I've given her yesterday and today. I know she should be up. I know I should be engaged with her. Yet, here I sit, the editing work done (and enjoyed ever so) looking at the clock as it blips to 1:49, thinking maybe she'll feel like sleeping till almost three again today.
    Just thought I'd mention it.
    Later.

•     It seemed to me like Mom slept a lot more than usual but last night when I reviewed stats as I was entering them over at The Dailies I noticed that she slept about the same. On Friday she didn't even take a nap. Her bedtime moved back and her arisings moved up but she'd already started to creep up to 14 hours-sleep-time alone in the weeks before the visit.
•     Mom's blood sugar ran a tad high but that was mainly lagging medication management. She ate well...hearty and not too refined. As is usual during visits, I became distracted enough to mismanage her hydration into a minor dehydrated state which showed up, yesterday, as a headache upon awakening. It disappeared during breakfast and fastidious water torture but reappeared later, so I not only pushed more liquids but gave her a second adult buffered aspirin. She took a nap, but nothing unusual. She seemed to be feeling chipper last night. 'Early' bedtime again.
•     Mom was very aware of and interactive with company. She had no problem remembering who they were and asking after them. She, as usual, displayed a wry perspective of her and my relationship and a few times sought to belittle my role but this time I wasn't bothered [Maturity encroaching, perhaps?]. She did not venture outside. I'm not sure why. I invited her several times, as I, MPS and MPNC spent a lot of time outside, but, this time, she didn't budge. Might have been that we were doing a lot of walking around the property. Might have been the weather. It was pretty volatile and during the visit we got the heaviest, longest rain of the monsoon season.
•     Apples to Apples. Yes. That's curious. We played it twice, once Thursday evening, with popcorn, and once Friday evening before dinner.
      Let me describe the game, as well as editorialize on it. It is amazingly uncompetitive. Much of it relies on judgment and interpretation. The rules are extremely flexible and The Judge (which changes with each round) can be as silent or loquacious as she wishes. Having said this, here is a description of the game:
  • The game consists of two sets of cards, one marked with green apples, the stack of which sits central to the players, and one marked with red apples, from which seven cards apiece are dealt to the players and from which the players replenish cards as they are used.
  •     The Judge for the round deals out seven Red Apple cards to the players and turns up a Green Apple card in an area central to the players. It contains a word with a definition, sometimes cultural, sometimes dictionarial. The players each peruse their Red Apple cards, each of which contains a word with a definition, blah, blah, blah. Players must choose, from their seven cards, a card which they consider a match, an antithesis or somehow evocative of any aspect of the word on the Green Apple card. This card is then laid 'at the feet' of the Green Apple card in the middle, face down.
  •     The Judge collects the offered Red Apple cards, shuffles them out of her line of vision then reads them. She judges them according to her own preferences and selects one that she thinks best evokes, for her, the word on the Green Apple card.
  •     The Judge's Selected One collects the Green Apple card she sufficiently evoked and becomes The Judge for the next round.
  •     The Judge may or may not explain her choice; may or may not reveal the other offerings; may or may not defend her choice. Being a verbal family, we tended toward extemporaneous oral explanations.
      The game is highly subjective and provokes both thought and conversation. Despite it's subtlety, because my mother is not at all inclined toward anxiety at any time, I do not hesitate to introduce new experiences, even though I think they might be a little over where her head is presently at; thus, I didn't consider not allowing Mom in on this game. You just never know. As it turned out, she was both successful and found the game frustrating. She truly played the game from her 88+ year old sink of remembered and manipulated images, and, as such, make some startling connections, always provocative and shrewd, as well. The thing is, once the game gets going you get a feel for what each person, as judge, might prefer, thus, you began to hone your offerings to The Judge. Mom discovered and overtly referred to this strategy once, when teased as to why she was winning the game.
      Oh. I forgot. The object of the game is to collect the most Green Apple cards. This means, of course, that, pre-game, a limit must be set. We didn't do this and stopped playing, both times, when people got tired of it, although the shortest session was about an hour, I think.
      Mom's behavior was priceless. She fussed over her cards and truly acted at sea for most of the game. She had to be coached, each round, to place her own cards down and attend to the offerings; to not turn all the offerings up; to keep her own cards hidden. Then, she had to make a subjective decision. This is when she suddenly morphed into Ms. Keen. Her eyes narrowed. She studied the cards and you could see her relating to each word, even if she was having a hard time making out the relationships. Then she'd throw out her choice, offhand, as though she'd given it no consideration. She played exactly the same as player as she did as judge.
      See, though, this is the thing. The game leaves a lot of leeway for interpretation. So much so that it is possible that my mother was not playing out of some deeper wisdom (or, at least, treasure trunk). Maybe she was playing at random and the rest our our interpretive little minds were filling in the blanks in her mind. At any rate, she hung in both sessions. She did not, though, find the game amusing, although, I have to say, it certainly opened her eyes for awhile. However, when I pointed out that the game is not fit to be played by two people, my mother responded, "Thank goodness for that!"
      As to whether the game would be appropriate for your mother, Deb, that's a hard call to make. If the reason my mother took to it is because she is not inclined to frustration even when she's frustrated, then I would say, no, probably not a good idea. I don't honestly don't know if my mother will ever play the game again. She didn't have a bad experience and she was certainly alert, engaged, working and finding it somewhat pleasurable, but well, her frustration toleration level was reached both times. At this time I am not considering buying the game for us.
      The other question, of course, is whether your mother would be uncomfortable allowing the subconscious collection part of her brain free reign. Although my mother was perfectly able to do so, she wasn't comfortable doing it. I think her discomfort arose from her inability to "watch what she was doing". This may be a disablement of dementia.
•     Before the visit was over Mom was forgetting it. Both Friday night and Saturday morning she thought MPS and MPNC had gone. Nor did she utter any preference toward their presence or absence.
•     I learned exactly what it is that I find the most unbearable about in-house visits:  My inability to procure alone time in the morning when I first awaken. Although I don't consider any of my time, now, truly alone time, as I do not live alone and my senses are critically tuned to my housemate, even when she is sleeping, especially in the early morning or late evening, I am able to grab some more-than-marginally-meaningful alone time. When people are staying at the house, well, I can't. I don't have free movement through the house; freedom to manipulate sounds and lights; the ability to fool within my mind while unobstructed (as possible, anyway, with my mother always in the mute foreground) by the presence and thoughts of others. It is frustrating for me. I mentioned this to MPS.
•     I also talked about a lot of stuff related to me being the Mom Caregiver in the family, inarticulately and with much confusion. I guess, for that stuff, it just wasn't the right time for expression, but I think my obvious struggle forgave any missteps or clumsiness. I may write more about this later. I'm sure I will. It requires refinement, though. It's hard to remember what you don't well express.

    So, hmmm, a second cup of coffee now, I think. I'm letting Mom sleep in for awhile today. Technically she didn't actually approach sleep until some time after she retired and her light went out. She's been waking up earlier, though, lately, so we'll see.
    Later.

    Grandma's still recovering from your visit, as I'm sure you know...I'm still ruminating about it, but I knew you'd be checking in soon, so even though I'm still silently savoring aspects of your and your mom's recent visit I decided to write you a personal note about how much I, and we (yes, Grandma enjoyed the visit, very much, I'm sure you could tell, even though she has already forgotten most of it) enjoyed having you and MPS here for a couple of days. Here, in the journal, this bread-and-butter note to you will also serve to update others while I organize my thoughts about other, less personal-to-you aspects of the visit.
    I can't believe we got the hardest rain we've had all season while you were here! Thanks for bringing that with you!
    Grandma is having a recuperation period today. She awoke earlier than usual but with a headache. She seemed fine after hydration and breakfast, then began complaining of the headache again. I gave her another adult buffered aspirin and she prescribed "bed rest". I know you're grinning at that! Anyway, our weather is pretty iffy, today. Sun and steady pressure was predicted but there's a storm coming in from the southwest, which is nice for me. Not so nice for Mom's "poor old bones". And, guess what. Mr. Man is sleeping with her! The pictures came through, so I've included a few of the good ones that I knew you'd like. This seems like a good place to insert the photo of Mr. Man. If you click on the thumbnail you can go to a larger version.
    One of my favorite visit times was playing Apples to Apples with Grandma. You know, I don't think she consciously knew what was going on, but her subconscious was kicking in frightfully well and she was playing from her depths like a demon. Amazing that she won one the first game. I think the only reason she faltered in the second is that she tried to think about what was going on and that confused her. That's probably why she doesn't like the game, despite the fact that she does well and it works with her dementia. Oh. I forgot to ask...who won the Sorry game you guys played while I fixed the salmon dinner? I heard you guys pampering her. I don't give her no quarter with that game, MPNC. I'm telling you, the woman knows what she's doing when she plays that one.
    So, to be fair (The Little Girl would insist on it), here's the best picture of The Little Girl. She was so funny this weekend. She was pissed, but she was not about to be supplanted! And, the business about not releasing Mom's rocker! I guess you know, I went to Costco in your wake as you left town yesterday. I noticed a baby rocker made out of small wood logs and bought it for The Little Girl. She's used it, some, and has marked it thoroughly. I'm sure it will be used again. Once when Mr. Man was in it she spit him out, then walked away from it. But, right now, as I type this, I'm looking at The Little Girl snoozing in Mom's rocker. With luck, she'll be done with her nap before The Mom awakens.
    Your mom was going on and on about how she didn't want to leave. I don't blame her. I don't really get out on our property all that much as it is. When we have visitors they usually insist that as much "our" time as possible is spent out on the property. I don't blame your mom for wanting to live on our property. I want to live on our property, and I do! Anyway, I'm "enclosing" a few of the better property pictures, which I'll scatter throughout this letter, as I reminisce for you about the visit. The first is the area right behind my bedroom bordered by that narrow, sunken path (where all those spiders nest). Enchanting, huh! You know, although your Mom went on and on about how much she loved the property, and I know you like being up here and visiting with us, I never asked you your opinion of the property. I can't remember if you were there when I was telling your mom the clean-up I've intended this year and the brick "road" I'm going to sink to the mail box and the place where we put the trash bins. I would appreciate any suggestions your peculiar perspective would reveal.
    Don't know why I'm thinking of this right now, but I should go out and check the ant hill...see how it survived the storm and the car tires. Hold on...it's is about a third larger than before...still tilting the same direction, still full of busy, busy workers.
    Oh, here, this one, MPNC, is the area to your right as you walk straight out the back Arcadia door, that little "inlet" where the irises usually bloom every year. This year, for the first time, the javelina chomped them down to the ground just before they bloomed. I guess those buds are tasty. On the middle left you can see the Quail Den.
    I want to mention to you something about yesterday, a weird little thing, MPNC, but it's been plaguing me since it happened. Remember, yesterday morning, when you asked for an egg?
    And I said, "Sure, there's a boiled egg in the refrigerator door, to the left."
    And then mention was never again made of an egg and you. It got lost in the clatter of your leaving preparations.
    Well, I noticed that it was still there last night. You know, when I saw it I realized, this is probably what happened:

    You probably wanted an egg fried in the bacon grease, right?
    And I was thinking, MPNC=vegetarian=no bacon grease.
    And, when I mentioned the boiled egg, then turned away to something else, you probably thought...yuck. I want a grease-fried egg. Never mind. We're getting ready to go, anyway.
    And, as I turned away I was thinking, lucky thing we had an extra boiled egg so MPNC can have the egg she wants this morning without any fuss.

    And then, I saw, you didn't eat the egg.
    MPNC, I think what really happened is that you got lost in the leaving shuffle. I'm sorry. Next time something similar happens I'll ask you, "Not fried in bacon grease, right?...Yes?...Okay. You got it."
    So, this one, MPNC, is the path leading up to the middle platform where the third compost bin (which you can see behind the brush on the right of the picture) sits. The picture is intriguing, I think, but doesn't do the area justice. You can't see, in this picture, the steep angle of the path up to the platform. But, it's a cool picture and certainly looks like our property.
    I'm sorry we didn't get around to showing you the Brain Age game. It's an interesting little diversion. It's funny, MPNC, how her memory runs, now. Although she hasn't played it for two days I couldn't lay a bet as to whether she'd remember it. It won't matter, though. She likes it and when it's "new" she likes it just as much as when it's "old".
    Although it rained while you were here it's too bad we haven't yet gotten enough for the wash to run. Here's a picture of the wash taken from on top of the culvert, showing both avenues: The dark hole beneath the tree trunks middle left and the gully middle right. At the front you can see the tip of the culvert lining that steers the wash underground.
    Mom has lost all that fluid she retained the second day of your visit. I was surprised how much she slept while you were here but, you know, I'm a little slow on the uptake. Seems to me, if I'm to be objective, I have to admit that she's been doing this through visits, now, for at least three years, maybe more. Why else would MPNP come up with the label "offline" for her years ago?!?
    I'm drinking chocolate velvet/caramel truffle coffee (freshly ground, of course) with pumpkin pie spice and rum extract added, and thinking about all the coffee we drank while you were here. Should have buzzed you up good for the movie!
    This morning while bathing Mom said, "When was the last time we saw MPS's house?"
    "Oh, wow," I said, "I don't know...maybe a couple of years?"
    "Seems like we could use a visit, see if they've done anything." She still, by the way, talks about the carpet-over-carpet effect of a couple of years ago as though it's new.
    So, I don't know, it sounds like maybe we might be up to planning a day visit. I was thinking next fall during your break; or, that might be a good time for you guys to come up here and cool off. Who knows...one thing I do know is that I sure enjoyed spending time with you, MPNC! You never fail to continue to steal my heart! Oh, and, loved the outfit! --The Aunt Gail