Mom & Me Four Archive

...this month marks a three year anniversary of the beginning of this portion of the journals. As of May of 2007, I will have been journaling continually, here, for four years. As of August, 2007, I will have been informally and formally journaling for, hmmm, I think six years. Wow. I'm especially astonished, realizing this right now, while I am labeling The Dailies, which include such meticulous detail. God, how have I been doing this?
    I believe this effort is a bit touched. Angelically, I hope, but I fear otherwise.
    So, happy birthday to me, and me, and, later, me...
    ...later.

...as usual, on the heels of a visit to the Valley, so, frankly, I'm not sure if it's viral, or a reaction to "the air [down] there"...and, of course, the smoking. I tend toward a combination of the first two, as Mom is having no problems, isn't coldish at all. Just me. And, it seems to have settled in my lungs, although not bad.
    Actually, it's felt pretty good. I've been drifting in and out of naps for the last two days, and probably will for two more. I set Mom up with holiday or animal (or both) fare in front of the TV, stretch out on the couch, the kitties find me and settle in with me, maybe I'll watch the program, maybe I'll doze...I suspect that I've had a fever off and on but I've also been taking ibuprofen, for comfort. Chores and entertainments socializing have proceeded as usual.
    Very low key weekend.
    She's been moving around a normal amount, although last night I fell asleep for about three hours and discovered that she was pretty much glued to her chair. We got her to the bathroom just in time.
    I apologized to her for the lack of excitement.
    "Oh, no problem. I'm plenty excited." Such a wry woman.
    Last night all this relaxation caught up with both of us. She remained up until 0245 this morning, read until 0315. I last remember looking at the clock in my bedroom, on my way between the down, and noticing it was "05:09".
    Very satisfying evening, though. I love those serendipitous late ones.
    Odd, I feel as though I've already been through 2007 and it's time for 2008. Doubly odd because I prefer inhabiting odd numbered years, in age and calendar designations.
    I expect we'll toast in the New Year. I have a bottle of carbonated raspberry...hmmm...and something else cider, non-alcoholic, cooling in the refrigerator for the event. We're not ball watchers. But, we'll probably find some good movies, or, you know, something.
    Although I am becoming increasingly uncomfortable with certain social aspects of caregiving, I seem to be enjoying my mother's company more than ever. This is good. It allows the bugs up my ass to be a bit more tolerable.
    I was awake at 1015 this morning. I know I died soon after I looked at the clock, so I was surprised that I was up so early. I was also in a sweat, so I must have had a fever. I vaguely remember thinking about taking ibuprofen and then deciding against it last night.
    I'm pretty much going to let Mom determine when she will arise today. We've got a commercial pot pie, which requires thawing before baking, for this evening. That baking, alone, will keep her up and alert.
    I've lately been experiencing spasms of, oh, I don't know, emotional overload. I'll be in the middle of a fairly mundane portion of a day and suddenly, "out of nowhere", I'll be beset with a need to weep...not out of despair, but from being touched so deeply. So, I let some tears drop and go on about my, or our, business. I was so seized while I was rubbing my mother's legs down last night, er, make that early this morning.
    My mother noticed. She threw me a "oh brother" look and didn't say anything.
    I, however, was feeling soft and couldn't let the look go by. "It's nothing bad," I assured her.
    She waved away my explanation as if to say, "I don't care. I can't relate, right now."
    It's funny, the older I become, the more I appreciate my father's extreme sentimentality/emotionality. It was much harder for him to express than me. But, I understand more about where he was coming from than I used to. I also understand why my mother dismissed this in him as she dismisses it in me; with the exception that she pays a little more attention to my expressions of these.
    The lady isn't sentimental.
    I think we're cocooned in her for the weekend, through Monday, I guess, isn't that right? You'd think holidays wouldn't affect those such as us, but they do.
    Still no real snow. No In A Christmas Card experience. I'm becoming suspicious of those long range forecasts.
    Later.

    Yesterday, which was supposed to be the big day, although most of the day was cloudy except for a few annoying rays in the early afternoon, right in my eyes, it didn't "snow" until afternoon, just before sunset. It stuck, although it froze. It's pretty outside, today, dusted white, bt it's not really snow, it's a web of heavy frost.
    It's supposed to remain cloudy until this afternoon. Maybe some rain and sleet, here. Probably not, considering the last few days. Oh well.

    Did anyone notice this? I've been forgetting to mention it. It's one of those "little things" that everyone seems to be ignoring and, yet, it seems important for my generation, at least. I read about the possible connection between marijuana use and the lack of development of Alzheimer's, and general dementia, too, as I recall, around the time this probably came out. Read it in Mom's daily newspaper, buried in "Section A". Then, again, heard it on a national news program; probably the evening before seeing it in the newspaper. I remember, as well, a few days later, seeing a very small headline tag running across the default news service on my dial-up ISP home page.
    Then, the story was buried. I wonder why. I'd think there would be lots of other questions worth asking, for my generation, anyway. Questions to which I'd like to know the answers. Like (in no particular order):

• What does this mean for people who interspersed regular marijuana use throughout their lives, probably beginning in their teenage years, with periods of abstinence?
• Is this effect lasting? At what dosages?
• If not lasting, what are the "recommended" dosages at this time?
• Are there any studies beginning or in the works which study reported past use of marijuana against mental acuity in later years?
• What about steady recreational use?
• What about past and/or present use of other "soft" drugs such as acid, mushrooms? Is anyone curious about whether use, either occasional or habitual, for periods or continual, of these drugs affects later rates of senile dementia?
• Is is possible that our generation will either be less suseptible, overall to dementia, or prone to "other types" of dementia, or a combination of both.

    Just thought I'd mention this. I know loads of people in my age group who have used marijuana, recreationally and as a type of self-inflicted psycho-pharmaceutical treatment (sometimes successful). I've even known a few who use it for medicinal purposes. Really. I know there's this scare, right now, about early onset Alzheimer's which is happening to my generation. I know the word "epidemic" is being freely used. Yet, I cannot forget the book on the history of old age. I am bound, now, to put all this in perspective. Perhaps what is happening to our parents will not happen to us, for a variety of reasons. Perhaps this is our opportunity, now, to Seize the Lessons of the Day [lucky us that it happens to be a major lesson in compassion] about caregiving to parents because our care will be completely different, probably much less obvious, perhaps well adapted to our curiously dependent, yet distant, society. Maybe chances to learn these lessons don't come around all that often and we need to take advantage of this.
    Just a thought.
    I'm continuing to label over at The Dailies. It's going to be a long haul. I'll probably begin skipping around, doing other types of maintenance. I remain interested in reading what I wrote so off the cuff on a disciplined daily basis. Very interesting, spontaneous, stream of consciousness observations. Minimum of agony. Maximum of detail. Can be successfully accessed in bits and bytes.
    Later.

...I haven't been making my regular reading rounds over the last few days...I just haven't found the time but I'm not in a purposeful avoidance. I'll be back around soon.

    That site over there, the Daily Tests and Meds site? That is the meat and potatoes of caregiving, or, for the vegetarians among you, the soy and vegetables. For me, reading it is full of mystery; rather, rereading a mystery to which you remember the end (like something by Frederick Neumann) but not how the story got there. I'm working through the lead-up to Mom's low sodium episode. I can see it now. And, I can see why I didn't see it then. Occasionally there are moody, "self-referential" segments in the posts but mostly it's narrative exposition. Numbers. Concrete descriptions. Simple observations. It contains stark time tables, purposely and inadvertently. It is incredibly easy to label, the labels mean something upon which a community would agree and there are many posts, rather than few or mostly one, in most of the categories.
    The snow is supposed to begin tonight and last through tomorrow. Rain is predicted in the afternoon, tomorrow, for Prescott proper, but I'm sure we'll get snow up here. I can feel it. I checked the "local on the 8's" just a few minutes ago and the humidity is 98%. Yes! I knew I was feeling better...although, this time, a little under the weather because of this cold I've got. Not bad, though. Just annoying and making me awfully tired. Thus the odd hours.
    I think I will be insisting on going out in the snow tomorrow morning, if we're not yet snowed in. We could use a few things from the grocery.
    It remains relatively warm. I went out to deliver more garbage to our bins, out on the street, which weren't emptied today. Although I wore shoes, I was in cotton pants and shirt sleeves. It seemed "warm", meaning winter warm, to me.
    I'm excited.
    Later.

    We've had some sleet...the wind has picked up...there were a few minutes of sunshine around noon. I'm nestled in, although I don't feel like tights today. We've already had a few tights/huge flannel shirts days, but today isn't yet one of them. Maybe later today.
    Mom awoke around noon. Her bed was dry. When in peaked in on her I knew...
    "I'm goin' back to bed."
    "Well, let's change out your underwear."
    Her nose was bleeding; from a scratch, I could tell, the evidence was all over her right index finger and an alum stick staunched the flow a little. So, no oxygen on the way back. The atmospheric pressure is dropping rapidly. I can see from the way she's walking that she feels it. I told her I'd awaken her at 1400. It's 1438, now. I'm letting her sleep in.
    Looks like we're in the middle of precipitous skies but little precipitation. Ahhh...more this evening. And tonight. let's check on the percentages, which will be p momentarily. 50% chance of mix of rain and snow. 60% tomorrow. At this altitude, chances are any precipitation with be snow, maybe hail and sleet.
    I'm not letting Mom sleep out of concern for continued Christmas trip recovery. I'm being selfish. I'm having a good time labeling The Dailies. It's much, much easier. There is much less a temptation to label solipsistically. I'm starting at the beginning and going forward, except for a few front posts over the last few days. I'm surprised at the wealth of information over there early in the journal. I imagine, although I'm not doing a comparison reading, that much of what I wrote here during that time was thoroughly explained over there, day by day.
    I'm honestly not sure how late I'll let her sleep in. Just depends. She was restless all night and morning. Two bathroom breaks. These, though, are just rationalizations. I seem to need a little more time alone today.
    Later.

...a day or so after my birthday and just reeled to. I'm suddenly aware of and enjoying the holidays, and am excrutiatingly aware of their fleet retreat. Living with the demented will do that to you every time, I guess. Wow. That was a blow.
    Looks like I might be getting some of my beloved inclement weather. It's to gather, today, and I can see that it is. The sun is completely blocked. It's warm enough, though, for me (who is now used to splashes of cold, cold weather barefoot and in shirt sleeves) to walk out in no more than summer clothing to pick up the paper or the mail. Or take out the garbage, last night, although I wore sandals to avoid stickers.
    Last night rain and snow were forecast, starting today. I'm ready. Bring it on. Here's the "local on the 8's": Currently 53°. That's 43° or less in our area. Ahh, yes, I see the precip coming in on raidar. It just isn't hitting the ground, yet, here. We're a little p and away. "Few Showers" by 1400. growing in intensity through midnight. "Snow showers. Tonight." 30% precip today to 60% tonight. Definitely snow overnight. Low only 28°. That's only 18° here. That's actually high for a night low. Ooohhh...."slow flurries Thursday". Cool. Friday, mostly sunny, about 40 here. I'm looking forward to the snow but am mainly focused on the snow. Maybe it'll collect. Looks like some serious homing will be happening. Good. We've got ribs to stew...mmmm...plenty of everything for hibernating, including cocoa, and lots of glipizide.
    I'm wondering if today is going to be another recovery day for her. I think, as of this morning, I'm recovered. Even did something terribly productive, this morning; I found my "old and expired" card holder, which was buried in the bottom of a bottom box in my bedroom, which has become a storage space.
    I found one of Mr. Man's mice for him. I am sure there are several scattered throughout the boxes of papers in the back of my room. I found one, covered with the must of a season about a year ago. He went wild. Literally. I finally had to throw it out of the room to continue my survey.
    Last tax payment due. I should be up to date on the tax paperwork sometime into the first week of January. Ready to send as soon as the last government document comes through.
    I think I am more aware of my mother's age and her frailty, this year than last, especially, perhaps, because her determination keeps her from being aware of either. These are easily slowing years for her, now. Incrementally more demanding for me. Not necessarily in a bad way, just upping the ante at a table where I intend to remain. I did not think that she would be more dear to me this year than last, as last year she had become heartbreakingly dear to me, but, hmmm...oh dear, she is even more so this year. I see, now, that her death will be neither a curse nor a blessing to me. It will simply be the profound transition of a profoundly intimate relationship. I carry an image of her, now, as dust in my arms. Precious, fine, volatile dust. Her spirit, though, I note, remains firmly planted, here. So, it seems, I am yet holding most of the dust in my arms.
    I note, looking out, that, this year, we've had enough storm activity (although not enough storm precipitation) to remove all the deciduous leaves from the trees. Didn't happen, last year. I'm hoping that's an optimistically precipitous sign. We haven't yet had the Christmas Card Snow Storm. I hope that's what's lurking out there for tomorrow.
    This would not be good country for a sleigh, though.
    Later.

...for the traveling Christmas here at The Dailies. The link will take you right to it.
    Today has, clearly, been a recovery day for me, too, but, I think, primarily from the cold pill. Some, maybe, from a much more relaxing holiday than I was expecting, and I was expecting a pretty relaxing one.
    Mom continues to talk about the unusually well behaved pet situation this time. Not that it hasn't ever been like that before. They, however, host five dogs, or is it six, three cats, an extremely attentive ferret that enchanted me, a frill necked lizard, two bull frogs, a very large turtle and a salt water aquarium. It was, however, the dogs' behavior to which she was referring. She was particularly taken with their new toy spotted Dachsund. And, Mom was right, Penelope is small enough for us to rifle away in my purse.
    "Our plan is flawless," I teased MCF. "You'll never realize she's gone."
    Mom made over the dog so enthusiastically that I took MCF aside and warned her that I would not take to a surprise dog gift the way we took to the surprise of her finding The Little Girl for us. At that time, we were looking for a cat and prepared, I reminded her. I am not prepared for, nor looking to take care of, a dog.
    She snickered, but she listened.
    I'm still feeling good, particularly since I awoke, a little after 2300, from a three hour (I think, or, was it longer) nap. I had the energy, a little earlier, to rev up for taxes. I spoke with our accountant about a week or so ago. He was, indeed, astounded that I was almost prepared, except for the necessary mailed documents, the last of which always arrives on January 31.
    Oh, my! It's after 0200! I'm tired, again, but not exhausted. I think I'll sleep well. Not that I haven't been, when I've been sleeping...
    Later.

...maybe it wasn't my bravery I lost, but my energy. It's easy to be anxious, downright scared and cowardly, when you're running on empty.
    Somehow, without seeming to and with unplumbed reason, yesterday's visit replenished some of something, and I think it was energy level.
    Just speculation.
    Later.

...After Travel, After Christmas, After Event days over at The Dailies. The immediately previous link will take you to today's continuing serial. I will probably be updating that one later this evening.
    For those of you who are interested.
    Later.

there's a detailed description of my mother's day, yesterday, over at The Dailies, including medication information. I have more to write on aspects more appropriate to this journal; maybe I'll take a moment to do a little more, here, now.
    So, let's see. Christmas [and the Beads of Sweat -- thank you Laura Nyro]. No, it wasn't bad, although I did sweat through the morning routine. She was, as is usual for such an outing as yesterday's, very easy to rouse, once I stage whispered the highlights of our coming day. Her ability to come to on special days never fails to surprise me. She even looked bright eyed and bushy tailed. Her right eye was still a little wide from below, but not above. Her right knee seemed to function just fine, although she always wears some sort of mild knee brace, now, when she's up and around; never to bed or when she sprawls on the couch for a nap.

    She had to be reminded more than a few times, "Who these people are." After maybe four repetitions, two in the bathroom during our short bath (she hadn't leaked through although, to her credit, she had awakened for a bathroom call at 0445), I told her, "You'll recognize them when you see them." I was right about this.
    Whenever we visit, relatives or friends who seem like relatives, or anyone else, for that matter, she always takes on a "I'm a WAVE, I'm so cool, it's the 1940's and a cool time to be a live and a woman" attitude, especially if there are cigarettes. The more pleasurable the experience for her, the more exaggerated this personality. It's a delight to see her this way. You'd swear she was visiting while on leave from her squadron.
    Lot's of times I play the straight buffoon to her generous employer role: She doesn't need me, but aren't I handy, although a little over solicitious; she's keeping me off the streets, see...not for my protection, but the protection of others. Yesterday, for some reason, this perspective didn't come up, but once: While I was cleaning up the bathroom after one of her changing-underwear foray's, I heard her say to MCF, off hand and with decided irony, something along these lines of: "Isn't that sweet, what she does for me." Translation: "I can't seem to get rid of her, so I put her to work."
    I laughed out loud in the bathroom. With absolutely no irony.
    MCF's house has a high dining table with bar stool sized chairs. Although they give Mom's knees a workout, she loves these chairs. She loves being elevated into and slightly above the crowd. They also work well with the peculiar hip cocking that goes along with her WAVE personality. And, astonishingly, she cannot only slide easily and securely off the chairs, but onto them, as well. She gets irritated, in fact, if someone tries to help along her slow but sure process of adjustment.
    The ride down was not hard on her. The ride up was. I'm pleased to report, though, that the car seats in this particular car we rented, a Dodge Stratus, were completely comfortable. She didn't complain of hip pain either way, nor leg nor back pain. She did have some residual "back twinges" after working so hard to get into the house, but those disappeared as she relaxed. Her extremely casual positioning in her rocker, almost laying out, reminded me of a recent article I read, I think in the New York Times, that seems to be the only news I read even slightly these days, that a study by orthopedists (can't remember any of the citing details) that for people with back problems, particularly those related to the spine, "they" have found that this position actually stretches and eases the spine, sometimes irritating the tail bone, sometimes not. Since Mom no longer has a tail bone, I reflected that I now understand why this position is so comfortable and why, if her back is going to "give" her "fits", it's usually because I've directed her into sitting butt out, back held high. Ridiculous, I realize. She can't really hold up her back well, anymore, without much effort. I also realized that this is the cause of some of her breathing "problem" in the more formal position; because she hunches, upright, her lungs are compressed.
    We were gifted with a major display of rich lotions, probably enough to last at least half a year. I actually, now, depend on Christmas to restock us with lotions. Mom has become refascinated with candles, too. I mentioned this recently to them. Turns out the daughter makes candles, very elegant, handsome, fragrant ones. We came home with a nice collection of those.
    Although raconteur-ish, yesterday, Mom was also visibly tired all day, although she faked it well. I think her impromtu, long nap on the sofa in front of the TV surprised her, but this is an optimal napping environment for her, molded during long years of taking an hour's nap in the afternoon while we, her children, were arriving home from school and livening up the house. She would turn the TV on because she knew one of us would turn it off and she'd awaken. Yesterday, the rest of us ignored the TV, so it remained on. Once she awakened, though, and rejoined the noisy, cozy social life at the table, including overseeing a Canasta card game, she slipped back into her 40's costume.
    I had unusually high hopes for this visit, I discovered about 12 hours prior to the trip. It seems I was counting on it to wash away some of my caregiver angst. Actually, I was expecting it to wash away all of it. This didn't happen. But I was able to relax in a way I'd forgotten I could and that, I'm finding, has worked wonders, particular in revival of spirit. Beneath my high hopes, as well, lurked a dread that I would be disappointed. How much, after all, spiritual or not, can be accomplished in a 6.5 hour visit?
    I was, though pleasantly surprised, and remain so. My energy is surprisingly high. The surprise is, I didn't realize it had dropped so low. Thus, I found myself sketching plans for at least one spring visit, perhaps another later spring visit of them to our property to plant bulbs. My suggestions were met with enthusiasm...no set plans, though.
    We discovered, as we approached our driveway from the street, that I had inadvertently left our small, fiber optic tree on all day. It was dark when we saw it, clearly, twinkling through the window. We were delighted.
    I wonder when I absolutely have to have the car in. I've got a few in-town errands to run and using that car would be very nice. I'll call at 0800. It still has plenty of gas.
    I want to:

• Pick up cranberry scones;
• stop by office supply, get appropriate envelope for the history of my mother's private stock, mail that to MCS;
• OJ pick-up not necessary;
• staples pick-ups not necessary;
• no Rx's due for refill;
• plenty, with variety, to eat;
• oh, yeah, make some Ranch dip for the veggies;
• sausage this morning, again? no, bacon;
• let Mom sleep until, oh, maybe start checking on her every half hour from noon on;
• anticipate slooooow arousal but be prepared for small surprises.
  

    I'm beginning to rethink my label strategy. I had a much more sensical strategy laid out in MySQL with many fewer labels. I'll have to check back into that before I go back and relabel these posts. You may have noticed over the last few posts that I''ve been paying little attention to labels. For those of you who receive me through feeds, you might get some duplicate alerts over the next few days.
    Hmmm. Well, I guess...
    ...oh, yeah, a Merry Christmas was had by all. And, Mom didn't ask after [long time live in friend of family], "And, now, who was that nice young girl that left before dinner?" Nor did she questions MCF's and MCFS[ister]'s relationship, as she usually does. Of course, she been on increased iron since the last time we saw them. It seems to have reduced her dementia by about a third. Amazing what effect appropriate physical attention can have on the brain.
    So, anyway, yeah...
    ...later.

    A moment of silence for "I Feel Good"...horn section and arrangement included.
    I thought he was older than 73 by maybe a decade. CHF by way of pneumonia. Wow. He's another one. Thank you, Mr. James Brown. His death provoked me to rexamine Steve Irwin's life. Or, maybe, examine afresh. He was controversial, no doubt. So was James Brown. In more than music. Something niggled at me to remember that Irwin has/had often been considered ADHD, or whatever it is. It occurred to me, today, that he wouldn't have done what he did without his disease.
    Today is the first day I can remember that I've considered that, for some people, 73 is Ancient. From what I read about his complicating conditions, 73 was Ancient for James Brown. Disease, dysfunction, god, sometimes I think we have no idea what we're talking about, although I have to agree that we've scratched the (under) surface of where we're attempting to go and what we'd like to do.
    At 73 my mother wasn't Ancient. Elderly, hmmm...let me think. When was that? 1990. That was the year I moved to Seattle. She was independent, busy, but not so busy that she couldn't fit in a curiosity excursion to Seattle to get an idea of where I'd be living and why I loved it, if I was destined to love it (I was).
    She lived alone in the manufactured home [community] in which she was more than comfortable, she was peripherally involved. It was during this absence of mine that she blankly instituted the 1700 Saturday phone calls. It was my agreement to become her companion that ended my stay in Seattle. When I returned to the Phoenix Metroplex (the Mesa part), she and I continued to live independent lives out of one home, signed off with each other in the morning, reunited in the evening, sometimes went to an event or a movie or ate out. I don't think she'd suffered her mini-stroke, yet, but I think that was only two years down the road.
    And, now, here she is, 89. Running quickly through what I can remember of the last several years, I think she began to phase into Ancienthood and what is was going to mean for her around the age of 79. That was the year I stopped working outside the home. We began to travel, though, extensively, only about half the travels to visit relatives. We hosted her cousin-in-law and her cousin-in-law hosted her. Although I was her very casual full-time companion, she retained her ability to travel and was socially savvy. She'd enjoy two years of really good health until things began to, well, sag, give way, get tired, lean toward Ancienthood.

    We did, by the way, have a jolly, well enjoyed Christmas. We arrived back home about three hours earlier than I anticipated, but we were satisfied with the visit and eager to be home.
    It was a work-out for Mom. She was a trooper. She, literally, physically, wore out on the trip back up, but I could see this creeping up on her this afternoon at MCFs and had the sense to steer her toward the car while I knew she was still mobile. She was only barely mobile coming up the steps into our home. No collapsing, though. We took it very slow and with much intent.
    She took a regular-sized nap at MCF's, falling asleep soon after the beginning of a movie they wanted us to see. It took her a long time to awaken after a healthy lunch. She wasn't hungry for dinner then, but was ready by the time we arrived home. After dinner and some coffee she had to go to the bathroom, assumed she would have the full cooperation of her legs, as did I, but they were a little wobbly. She used me as a walker going into the bathroom, but that was the last time she did.
    I asked her, somewhere in the middle of her dinner, in a friendly way, if maybe she'd be interested in me pushing her to move a little, just around the house, some of those walker laps in the hall, so that she'd be a little prepared for our next planned visit to the valley sometime in March for an as yet unscheduled doctor's appointment.
    She looked up at me, guileless, and said, "No." She shook her head. The matter was closed.
    Actually, we'll probably, in the next few days, have spontaneous spurts of energy and movement and day dreaming about getting out which may lead to something.
    I tried to push an adult buffered aspirin on her, but she repeatedly told me that she "doesn't hurt", she was "just stiff". I'd think, Oh, yeah, 89, going on 90. Of course. And I'd trust her sense that sleep would do the trick.
    At 2230, when I kissed her good night, she said, "Let me sleep in tomorrow."
    "Well, how about, no later than 1400?"
    She glared at me, astonished. "Why!" she demanded.
    Hmmmm, I thought. We'll take it as it comes. That's how we left it.
    She did smoke, but very little, after a brief period of initial chain smoking. I saw to it that she was moved away from the triggers and put back on oxygen 2/lpm continuous several times. Her nap allowed for a good oxygen bath. Afterward, although evidence of smoking was littered throughout the house, she smoked no more and asked for no more cigarettes. Not even tonight here at home.
    She read for 15 minutes. Her light went out at 2245.
    We had a very good, interesting day, today.
    And James Brown died. Wow.
    More...
    ...I'm sure...
    ...later.

...I'm not sure what kind but probably cerebral. I noticed, this morning, that your right eye is wider than usual and you're having a little more trouble picking up your right foot than usual."
    "I like the way you put that, an 'event'," she said.
    "Well, that's why I had you smile this morning before you bathed." Whenever I ask her to smile, she knows why I'm asking and usually gives me an exaggerated, thin lipped version, which tells me all I need to know. As well, her speech wasn't affected by whatever "happened".
    "Yeah. Don't worry about it. It's happened before. It'll happen again. No reason to go to the doctor about it. They'd just exhaust us in the ER, try to talk us into an observational stay, wrack up lots of medical charges for tests and, finally, tell us, 'nothing seems to have changed, it's probably a TIA.'"
    She laughed. "The old TIA trick," she said.
    I laughed. "Yeah. No reason to bother about this. They wouldn't change your treatment or anything. You've had these before, you'll have them again. I'll probably recommend to your doctor that we up your lisinopril dosage [with which I've been intending to experiment and finally started last night], but you're on plenty of anti-coagulant supplements, so there's no reason to put you on one of those medical ones. It's just one of those things that's happening to you because you're old, Mom."
    "Well, in that case, I won't get any older."
    "Good idea."
    This is why I'm letting Mom sleep in, today, even though she retired, last night, earlier than has been lately usual. I managed to keep her up until close to midnight, but it was a minor struggle past 2230. "I know you're tired Mom," I remember telling her, "your body's reconnoitering because of the 'event'. But, we don't want to add insult to injury, so I need to make sure you're minimally hydrated, which has been hard, today, since you had such a long nap." She did. I didn't worry about that, either. I knew what was going on.
    I noticed, last night, a feeling of peace embracing me after I'd explained all this to Mom, then continued about my late night choring duties. I stopped for a moment to analyze it. I think this is what happens when you've journeyed with An Ancient One for a long time, as I have with Mom, closely observed all her changes, minimal and maximal, seen That Ancient One through everything, including the intimate stuff, like bathing and boweling, that one usually only attends when someone is very young, monitored this and that, achieved a level of involvement in The Ancient One's life that is intense but accepted and comfortable. You don't get crazy, anymore, when you notice an "event". You don't panic and call on the Med Squad, because you know that'll be an unnecessary adventure and they'll come up with nothing that will be helpful to them or you. You change your monitoring a bit, help a little more when Your Ancient One is moving, pull back on keeping them awake in order to give them plenty of room to incorporate the event and its wake...and, as I did last night, you smile; and nod; you realize this is one of the benefits of Advanced, In-Home Caregiving, that you are protecting Your Ancient One from the enforced ignorance of the pros, who would either not have noticed, thus not have tightened their monitoring and possibly have precipitated a fall or applied agitating harassment to keep The Ancient One performing at Institutional Standards, or who would have noticed and gone overboard in their research of The Ancient One's body, thus agitating The Ancient One...
    Days like yesterday are the reason I continue my journey with my mother. People get old. Bodies break down, often easily and incrementally. No reason to get excited. Every reason to relax, enfold Mom a little more tightly, for a day or so, in my literal and figurative arms, enjoy her company, let her enjoy mine, and, as well, sit back and enjoy the ride.
    I expect that, after an easy yesterday and an easy today, she'll be rarin' to go at 0600 tomorrow. I told her that if she feels, for any reason, at any time, that she just isn't up to the trip, we can cancel at a moment's notice.
    "It's Christmas. No chance of that."
    This is her desire and intention. I'll do everything I can to make sure it is also her reality.