Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Handi-parking

Tuesday was a good day. Funny, as frustrating as it was two days ago, yesterday was pleasant and enjoyable.

There don’t seem to be any rhyme or reason for the way a day goes, it just rolls along, rocky or smooth. So, I try to wake up with the same sense of optimism that I had when I was “in my life” before all of this happened but sometimes I lay in bed, still wiped out from the events of the day before and pray that this new day will be different.

Yesterday was a beautiful fall day. The sky was blue; the leaves are changing color and rustling in a breeze that’s indicating falls approach. Maybe that had something to do with how smoothly the day went-or not? Maybe it was “just a good day”. Hell, they can’t all be bad, right?

After I finished up the work I had for the day I sat with Miss Cathy on the sofa to hang out for a little while. We got to talking (rather, she talked and I listened) She told me that she wanted to go grocery shopping at a particular store for veggies so she could make “greens”, a very southern and very tasty combination of mustard, collard and turnip greens with onions, jowls (don’t ask) and neck bones for flavor. I said, “Lets go now!” quite spontaneously and we did.

It was a lovely drive to a new part of town for me. I had the windows down. The wind felt good on my face and it helped muffle the sounds of Miss Cathy’s non-stop commentary on everything from the amount of traffic to pointing out where an old family friend used to live. I would just nod my head occasionally and make a sound like, “oh yeah?” or “really?” or “hmm” to keep up my end of the “conversation”.

The grocery store was situated in a large, new strip mall that could have been located anywhere in America. You know, the ones that are so popular now, they’re all full of the big box stores and fast food joints and a large wine warehouse-depending on if you live in the bible belt or not.

The strip mall also has the requisite amount of handicapped parking spaces right in front of all the shops. Have you noticed that there seems to be more and more rows dedicated to handicapped parking these days. I used to wonder-who are all these crippled up Americans? And why do they rate prime parking? Now that I’ve joined the ranks of the hobbled elite I don’t wonder anymore.

You’d think that having a handicapped tag for driving Miss Daisy we’d have it made. But no, but no-now that I have the ability to be part of the handicapped “in crowd” more often than not I find myself on the outside. I’ll drive onto a lot to find that ALL of the spaces are taken.

Wow! How is this possible? Are there really this many people with special needs out shopping? More often than not, whenever we go shopping it seems that the infirm, obese, wheelies and walkers have all gotten there before us. Inevitably, I drop Miss Cathy at the front of the establishment and go find a parking space with rest of the civilians, walking past the handicapped spots looking at them with envy and longing, pretty much like I did when I was teenager and all the cool kids got the best spots in the auditorium for assembly and I’d have to quickly walk past them (for fear of being spotted and made a target of their ridicule) to sit waaaay in the back, off to the side in the “geek gallery”.

But, sometimes I get to roll onto the parking lot and get a prime spot, right in front. I always remember to display my handicapped tag on the rearview mirror and “able-bodied-ly” walk around to hold the car door open for Miss Cathy so we can toddle into the store together.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Stop rushing me!

“Stop rushing me!” she said.

Miss Cathy has a doctor’s appointment this morning, just checking in with Dr Granite after being off the Adavan for almost a month (personally I think she should have stayed on it, but hey, I'm keeping my opinion to myself lest someone think I'm trying to keep the old lady doped up) She’s usually up and ready to go (anywhere) at the crack of dawn but this morning she was still in bed when I got up a little before 8am. I had to remind her that we had to leave at 8:50am for a 9:15am appointment.

While she was still in her room getting ready I commented that it’s not like her to linger in bed and she said that she didn’t “sleep worth a shit”, that she had dreams all night. “You know what they say about people that dream a lot”, she asked. “No, what do they say?", I asked.

“People that dream a lot are usually depressed.” “Are you depressed?” I asked surprised by the statement.

“I’ve been depressed all my life. My whole life has been depressing, my childhood was depressing.”

Wow! This was news to me. I thought she was “Miss happy-go-lucky, never looks back". I continued to get ready to leave, making a “coffee to go” while she futzed in the living room. She told me that she wanted to go to the bank to get $40.00 so she could stop by the drug store to get the Nasonex that the doctor called in for her weeks ago. I told her that it was probably already sent back because she refused to pick it up originally (too expensive) and they’d already called to say that it would be returned.

“Ahh, they don’t always send it back.” She said. “Oh really”, I muttered under my breath, “I guess you know everything.”

When I came out of he kitchen to go to the car she shouted, “Stop rushing me!”

“What?” I said, startled. “You’re always rushing me, running around!”she said, quite agitated.

In a flash, I was pissed. “I wasn’t talking to you old woman. I’m just getting ready to go outside. All I did was remind you ONCE that you had an appointment; you can sit here all day for all I care. I didn’t say anything else to you about it.” Fed up, I was getting wound up now, “AND I don’t appreciate your talking to me like I’m a four year old AND screaming at me.”

“Oh,” she said sheepishly, “ well, I didn’t mean too, I’m sorry if I screamed at you.”

“I appreciate the apology.” (I didn't really but it was an autotmatic response) And with that I was gone, outside to sit in the car and wonder what the hell just happened.

Update 10:00am: We’re sitting with Dr Granite and she just asked for some free samples of the Nasonex. She told him that she knew the prescription was at the drug store but she wasn’t sure if they sent it back or not. OMG!

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Joy

“You’ve got to get some joy in your life! I like laughter and to hear some jokes” Miss Cathy said to me this morning. “I like to be happy, you know,” She said.

“I am happy,” I stated with confidence and irritation.” As happy as I know how to be.”

“Well, you walk around here like you’ve died or something.”

Wow! Good morning to you, too. Didn’t we just go through this? Just because I’m not a chatterbox in the morning doesn’t mean “who I am” needs to be questioned on a regular basis. Is this because I don’t feel like exchanging witty repartee at eight am? Or that I don’t think her shtick of hollering, “Here I is!” as she walks through the apartment is funny first thing in the morning. Fuck it, I can’t let comments like that bring me down or mess with my head. Lord knows she’s said worse to me and I’m sure there’s more to come so I’ve got to develop a thicker skin.

Speaking of skin, Miss Cathy follows me around talking until we’re both standing in my little bathroom and she watches as I extract an ingrown hair from my beard.

“One more thing,” she says as she waits for me to finish. “You’re not going to hit me are you” I say (she and my brother have this aggressive way of showing affection by slapping on one another-not my style.) “No, no,” she promises. I flinch a little as she comes toward me. “I love you!” she says as she lifts her little arms up to hug me.

Not the most poignant of moments but I was touched by her show of affection.

Funny, I thought I was being “more” social and trying to interact with her more-especially in the mornings. This is the second or third time my state of “being” has come under question and it’s getting to be a bit much. Last night we had a “moment’ where she asked me how I was “getting along” living here and I told her quite honestly that it’s been an adjustment but I’m doing okay, that I’m happy that I’m comfortable enough to create art which is very important to me and I’m trying to establish some new routines. I asked her how it’s been for her with me here and she said she’s happy that I’m here but she’s used to living alone, too

I was thinking I’d write about our trip to Wal-Mart and Safeway yesterday but now I don’t have the energy or interest.

I don’t know, if somebody keeps telling you that you look like a sad sack, and you have to take the time to dispute it-could you quite possibly be……sad?

Friday, September 24, 2010

This n' That

I keep a log of some of Miss Cathy’s activities like cooking, showers and walking. I even try to write down some of her behaviors so that I can note her progress (if any). She’s gotten to the place where she feels comfortable enough to take a shower by herself, which makes me very happy. Now, all she needs to feel safe is my presence somewhere nearby, instead of me actually having to be in the bathroom with her in case she falls.

She went out about four days ago for a walk for the first time since she got back here in early August. She didn’t go far, just to the circle drive of the next condo complex but it’s a start. The best part (like showering by herself) is that it was her idea.

I made a promise to myself when I moved here to take care of her that I would leave her alone as much as possible, only making “suggestions” –or just flat out telling her what she had to do, only when necessary. It hasn’t been easy for a control freak like me but this isn’t about me and part of what I’m learning is to be “present” and not a “presence”.

Being “present” to me means being in the moment, realizing what is and isn’t about me, not forcing my agenda or behavior according to how “I” would react if the roles were reversed. Being a “presence” would mean dominating any given situation and trying to control the other person by dictating what “I” judged to be the correct mode of behavior.

She’s doing a lot of cooking since being home, which to me says she’s happy and more her old self. We haven’t had any accidents or fires since last May so that’s definite progress. I did suggest that she be mindful of turning up the heat so high on the stove and showed her the scorched bottom of a skillet that I’d bought that looked like new till she started using it. I’ve found that she can understand something better if I have an example, sometimes even the simplest concepts can throw her so visuals are a very important tool.

She’s even mastered turning off the security system if she happens to get up before me. She struggles with the sequence but she hangs in there till she gets it. Each morning she goes to turn it off is like the first time, so it’s a struggle but she doesn’t give up the way she would have four or five weeks ago-progress, not perfection!

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Miss Cathy

Miss Cathy is the name the kids in the neighborhood used to call my mom. I think it spoke to the fact that they liked her more than most adults but still needed to add a title of respect. Most people that meet Miss Cathy are usually drawn to her; find her openness engaging and her salty talk fun. She jokes that now everybody wants to call her “mom”.

I wasn’t one of those kids who thought his mom was the “most beautiful in the world”. In fact, I used to always roll my eyes and was a little put off by how often I’d hear that come out of another child’s mouth. I mean, how narcissistic is that? If your mom is “the most beautiful mother in the world” and she made you, then what does that make you? I always thought it was a back-door way of telling the world how beautiful you think YOU are-but hey, that’s just the musing of a ten year old me.

Don’t get me wrong; of course I thought my mom was pretty. After watching “Carmen Jones” at eight years old I fantasized that Miss Cathy looked a little like Dorothy Dandridge on the rare occasions she’d get dressed up and go out for the night.

For the most part, I grew up with awe and tons of respect for my mom. I was aware that she not only treated me like a kid (which was expected and I resented), but there were times when she’d take me into her confidence and afford me some benefit that made me feel grown up.

Now, she’s seventy-two and looks less like a 50’s movie star and more like a little, round, brown ball of “everybody’s grandma” or that “nice, little, old lady that you can tell anything to.” Her skin is unlined, satiny smooth with a little luster from the Vaseline that she uses as a moisturizer and general “all-in-one” beauty treatment. Her complexion is a rich, warm caramel. She weighs one hundred sixty seven pounds and stands about five-five -that’s when she doesn’t let the osteoporosis get the better of her and stoop any over any further. She’s lost about forty pounds since the beginning of the year and now she has a lot of sagging skin and little muscle tone due to a lifetime of not exercising. She has arthritis in her right knee and a new, cobalt steel left knee courtesy of surgery in April. She has diabetes, high blood pressure and her Alzheimer’s is stage one, as is her dementia.

Never much of a fashion plate, I do applaud her creativeness each day as she dresses herself in a variety of outfits just to be here at home working on one of her “projects”. I found that to be a significant change because when she first got here she couldn’t be bothered much to change out of her housedress. Suemi, my sister in law used to complain that she’d wear the same thing at their house for days on end-a sure sign she was depressed.

But now, she greets each day in a different over-sized, tee shirt that I designed a lifetime ago but that she’s kept pristine and like new, paired with a complementary pair of long shorts or pants. She’s even reaching deep in her closet to wear things that she couldn’t for years because of the weight she’d gained. She may not be fashion forward but she wears everything with a certain élan.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

To sausage or not?

Oh my, the mornings start pretty much the same round here like they did when I would come to visit 30 years ago. Miss Cathy: bright eyed, chatty, loud and me: contemplating coffee, and trying to “come into the room” peacefully and quietly as I’m gathering my thoughts for my time journal-ling. My tranquility is usually shattered by a piercing, “GOOD MORNING!” coming from somewhere in the apartment followed by any number of questions that inevitably end with the topic of breakfast.

This particular morn she hesitated before she spoke but she asked, “Do you want sausage for breakfast?” I’ve told her since I was early in my twenties that I don’t just pop out of bed thinking about food-if anything in those days I was thinking of a reasonable passage of time before my first glass of wine-but that’s for another blog.

“No”, I said, “thank you, though,” Then, as if on cue she says,” Oh that’s right, you’re not a morning person.”

No shit! What I am is someone keeping track of her bills and managing her accounts along with my brother, Tony who’s taken the lion’s share of that duty. He’s got almost all of her bills set up for automatic payment online and I forward him the few miscellaneous ones that trickle in that I can’t handle on this end.

Everyday I go through the mail and sort out what needs to be filed, paid or looked over: this includes her many statements from Blue Cross/Blue Shield about medical expenses and then there are the ones from Medicaid. This involves close scrutiny of the date, time, service rendered, what portion was paid and if it’s been double billed or a mistake. The trick with these statements is that they can come months after the office visit or procedure so I have to constantly refer back to my “Mom” journal where I track her appointments, notes of conversations from doctor’s visits, stats and observations about her activities and behavior.

As much as I have decried her life as a civil servant she gets the last laugh because of the great insurance coverage she’s amassed. Don’t get me wrong; I have great respect for her work ethic, knowing that she made the best possible choice for herself career-wise given the times that she grew up in. I also know that her choices made it possible for me to make mine. I’ve had a fabulous life and career; free of the constraints of a 40-hour week, doing work that I hate, confined behind four walls. Yes, I‘ve had freedom but now times are hard and I‘ve no health insurance-hey, life is a trade off.

The medical statements are almost a daily occurrence. Miss Cathy’s been in the hospital three times (once for a knee replacement surgery), rehab twice, and twice monthly doctor visits since January BUT jeez Louise-the statements/bills just keep ‘a coming! And some are still dated back to services rendered in the spring. Ninety percent of then are paid-thank God but there’s always that moment when the statement comes, right before you open the envelope that you’re not sure, what if you’ve finally reached the maximum payout and it’s our turn to start emptying our piggy banks.

But, today is not that day-today all I have to do is file and wonder if it’s not too late to get some of that artery clogging sausage.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Well Hung

The other day I hung new silk drapes throughout the apartment. I’d already hung two panels in the living room a couple weeks ago (I was that anxious to start taking down the very old and very ugly drapes that had sadly hung past their prime).

Not to be outdone, Miss Cathy announced that she had a “project”, too. While I was taking down curtains, valances and hardware that weren’t that chic in the 80’s (when they first went up) she was taking all of the pictures off of the étagère to clean them and dust the shelves. She pulled out “Roger”-that’s the name she gave to the Roll-later (a four wheeled contraption that she can use for balance when she’s walking and can also sit on when she’s tired). She’s had it since her first stint in rehab in January. She has a habit of naming things-animate or otherwise, a floral arrangement she received in the hospital after her knee replacement surgery was introduced to anyone who came into the room as “Oscar”. I won’t begin to tell you the names she had for the hundred or so stuffed teddy bears, lions, birds, dolls and sundry animals that used to dominate the living room. She may not remember where she put the mailbox key but you can bank on her remembering each and every name she’s bestowed on something!

So, we worked side by side in harmony for the most part. Peace was guaranteed because I kept refusing her offer to help. We had a surprise visitor about an hour into our work. Mary Rose, Miss Cathy’s cousin or my cousin (hell, at my age I just accept that someone is a “relative” and call it a day) Anyway, Mary Rose has been visiting mom for a few years now. She’ll stop by and chat with Miss Cathy for hours, and mom always loves her company so I was happy she made a “drive-by”.

With mom gleefully engaged with Mary Rose gossiping about family, I went about cleaning windows and windowsills, folding up the old curtains to donate to Goodwill (Miss Cathy’s idea-personally I think they would be better out of their misery in a land-fill). By early evening the windows were dressed in some of the finest silk that Chad’s employee discount could buy at the high-end store he works in part-time.

After Mary Rose left Miss Cathy took several breaks but sat on “Roger” and dusted away till she finished her “project”. All in all, a very good day!






Monday, September 20, 2010

Do you still see a psychiatrist?

Monday is one of my unofficial “day’s off”, when I give myself permission to sleep a little later and make the focus of the day more me that Miss Cathy. I try not to schedule doctor’s appointments or specific errands for her so that I might be free to roam around, read a book or heaven forbid go to the gym-the most active thing I do these days is jump to conclusions.

Anyway, I’m up late making coffee and I hear Miss Cathy coming around the corner, “Morning! How did you sleep?” “Fine”, I said but of course she didn’t hear me because she wasn’t in the room yet. She asked again and I responded again, this time much lackluster than the first.

“Do you still see a psychiatrist?” she asked. “Uh, no,” I said, wondering where that non-sequester came from, “ I had a “tune-up” in June when I was in KC packing up to come back here but other than that no.”

“Oh”, She said, “I was just wondering because you don’t seem as happy as you used to when you’d come to visit.”

Okay……what am I suppose to do with that? She didn’t elaborate and I didn’t either. Was I suppose to say, “Of course I’m not happy-I’m not visiting! I live here so I don’t get the luxury of indulging your bullshit for a few days then going back to my life free of your judgments, criticisms and constant complaining! No, I’m HERE in a place that was never my home, vacillating on a daily basis form feeling like a parent to a child to maybe myself for a minute or two and that’s when I’m not depressed that I don’t have my life, my apartment, my partner, my things and my fricking day to do as I damn well please instead of tip=toeing around wondering when I’m going to hear “Can you come her for a minute?” so I can fetch you something!”

Of course I didn’t say any of that and I have felt all of that but not lately. I thought things were going better and that I….was…..happy……here.

Friday, September 17, 2010

I walked into the kitchen after not enough sleep last night to find Miss Cathy sitting on one of the barstools with a hot comb in her hand straightening her hair.

While I made my coffee I was uncharacteristically engaged her in conversation. My usual morning M.O. is to make my coffee as discretely, and quietly as possible so I can escape to the balcony, the fresh morning air, time to journal and to write to you.

But no, for some strange reason I was filled with a need to “act civil” and engage my mother in a conversation. I told her that I’d been invited by my new friend, Greg, to a party on Saturday. She asked me to describe Greg and I got a little hung up trying to be diplomatic and not call him “chatty”. Noticing my fumbling she said that maybe one of her “old”, country colloquialisms” might fit. Then she launched into one of her long winded set ups about “terms I may not be used to”, “that they were old and southern”, blah, blah, blah-I made the rolling “let’s get to the punch line” gesture with my hands and said, “Spit it out!”

She popped out with,”Blook and a snag.”

Apparently my Aunt Dorothy (who I’m double related to-she’s my aunt on my mother’s side and cousin on my father’s-I know, country folk, it’s a wonder I wasn’t born my own brother). But, I digress, Dorothy, who still lives in Henderson, North Carolina was talking to Miss Cathy yesterday, gossiping about her cousin Mamie. Dorothy said that Mamie was acting like a “Blook and a snag”.

The rough translation for Northerners or anyone of a post-civil War generation is: uncouth or ignorant.

Through the years I’ve heard most of what I thought were all of Miss Cathy’s “colloquialisms” as she calls them but this was a new one. As the old people in Henderson would say, “I neva heard a such!”

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

I was early this morning because Miss Cathy was up early. Today is voting day and she wanted me to take her. I’m realizing that she gets very wound up the night before she has an appointment to do anything. So, she was up/down a lot last night which kinda interrupted my “down time” because I was very aware of her presence and even though she didn’t ask for anything I was “on alert” that she might, so I wasn’t really relaxed.

I committed to taking her at 9am so I was sure to be ready on time because she had her hat on and was ready to go at 8am. We had abit of a debate back and forth as to whether she needed her voter registration card and it turns out she was right and she didn’t’ need it. At the poling station the people couldn’t have been nicer to us-Miss Cathy especially. A volunteer walked us down a ramp so mom wouldn’t have to traverse stairs and then Margaret, Miss Cathy’s friend from the complex was working there and she helped guide her through the process. I sat on a chair and waited for her and I could see that the electronic voting was a challenge for her but Margaret helped her and even though it took her a little longer than others she cast her vote and on the way out she said, “Well, just like the old folks say-I got that did!”

She was very happy that she’d voted, after all these years she takes the right to vote very seriously, as do I and I could she that she felt a great sense of accomplishment by completing the act. Maybe now she can relax and take a nap.
My friend William came over to take me out on Sunday. I was so excited I felt like we were 17 again and one of us had a parents’ car so we could go to “the Mall”. When he arrived I was soooo ready to leave but he wanted to spend some time with “Mom”. I don’t know what I was thinking-he’s know my mother since were in 7th grade. Of course he’d want tot talk to her, they’re so close she calls him one of her “sons” for God’s sake!

I was so impatient and anxious to go that I tried twice to suggest we be on our way and both times I was met with, “Stop rushing!” I was so embarrassed that I went to the dining room table to work on some artwork while they kibitzed.

I think I’d built up this time as being all about “me”. I see William so rarely that I didn’t want to share any of his time with Miss Cathy. “It’s always about her”, I thought, knowing that I sounded AND was acting like a child.

Once we were finally on the road I calmed down and instantly relaxed. Other than a brief tour around the neighborhood and a short sofa-shopping excursion with the upstairs neighbor, Ron I’d not been out of the apartment to socialize.

We headed to a friend’s place that William wanted me to meet because the guy is a fellow artist. Upon arrival it turned out that Greg, our host was having surprise belated birthday dinner for William, which was great. Greg, and his friend Mike couldn’t have been nicer and I had a wonderful time. I felt like one of four guys sitting around sharing a meal, having great conversation and a lot of laughs-especially when William went down memory lane and recounted several of out adventures together through the 30 plus years we’ve known each other.

I didn’t think about Miss Cathy or my new life much at all-other than an 8:30pm call to make sure that she had something to eat and took her meds. I just felt like ”Ty” and not a caregiver and someone in the circumstances I’ve chosen. No, I was just a guy, hanging out. When we left around 10:45pm I couldn’t thank our host and William enough for the evening, I was as high as if I’d done drugs and we all know I haven’t done that since the 80’s. I thought the euphoria of my “big night out” would last me all week but unfortunately reality settled back in by Monday evening.

While I was aware that taking a break, and getting away for awhile was important intellectually-I had no idea how much it would/will help me emotionally.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Miss Cathy was up early this morning dusting. She said yesterday that she was going to “sleep in” but the thought of dusting was so pressing that she was compelled to get up, like a kid at Christmas, except there was no tree-just dust bunnies. I have to admit that when I came into the living room with my morning coffee that I could see that all the faux wood surfaces were gleaming, even without her telling me. Although it looked good she wasn’t satisfied because she couldn’t get the top off of the “lemon scented” Old English furniture polish, so she wanted to go over everything again so it would have “that lemony smell.”

I opened the bottle for her, the twist and turn top got the better of her, after seeing how easy it was for me to take the top off she said, “I see, said the blind man-couldn’t see a thang” “That pretty much describes you”, I said as I walked back into the kitchen to re-fresh my coffee and I heard her laughing. It’s a good morning

Friday, September 10, 2010

I asked Miss Cathy if she was excited that the new couch was being delivered today and she said, “Not really.” I had to giggle. She said she felt better about it when she realized that I paid cash and wasn’t incurring debt on my credit card.

WAlittle later we’re sitting here in the living room waiting for the new couch to be delivered and she tells me that she’d rather have the “other” sofa that we’d looked at in the store-WTF! I asked her why she waited till the DAY the new sofa is being delivered to share this tidbit with me and she had no response. When I asked how long she's been thinking about this she said, “A couple of days."

So, being the people pleaser that I am, I'm on the phone all morning trying to cancel the delivery (and not incur a $100 delivery fee and 10% re-stocking fee) and BUY the other sofa to make her happy. Only to find out AFTER they cancelled the delivery that they couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't be charged the delivery fee since the sofa was already on the truck for today AND I'd have to pay a new delivery fee of $100 for the other sofa...........so, I had to call back and luckily got them to confirm that they will be delivering the original purchase-Oye vey!!

Like they say-“No good deed goes unpunished”

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Miss Cathy seems to be taking to change quite well. Not much is different but she seems to be on board with the things that have happened.

Back in May I did a deep clean and before she even came home from my brother’s after not being here for 6 months and the biggest thing I did was to pack away her collection of about 100 stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes that were dominating the living room and put them in storage.

On labor Day I hung new silk drapes to replace the old, polyester drapes and valance that had been hanging in front of the balcony sliding glass door for at least 15 (maybe 20) years. I put the sofa and loveseat on Craigslist and a woman is coming to pick up the sofa (a free items since it’s damaged) on Thursday and if the loveseat doesn’t sell the Salvation Army is coming to pick it up along with two big boxes of donations on the 16th.

The new sofa that Miss Cathy and I picked out together at The RoomStore will be delivered on Friday so that’s when I think some real changes will begin to happen. I’ve got to get curtain rods to hang the new drapes on all the other windows but that project is on hold until I can finish creating some new art for my poster publisher.

I was drawing for the first time last weekend and it felt great. I set myself up at the dining room table-not the most creative spot but I made it work. I turned on Itunes and tuned out everything around me and just got lost in creating. I had been worried that I wouldn’t be able to draw in this environment. So, it felt wonderful to know that I can work-even here.
Yesterday was a pretty good day, it was a holiday-labor Day and it seemed that Miss Cathy and I were busier than usual so the irony of the day and our labors was no lost on me. While I was out buying a new sofa mom was at the apartment shampooing the carpet. She managed to clean the hallway before the machine started to “act up” and she stopped but I was surprised at how much cleaning she did.

I worked in my room on some new artwork for a few hours then came out to the living room to hang out with Miss Cathy for awhile. I decided to iron the new silk drapes that I’d bought in KC with Chad’s discount at Restoration Hardware while we chatted. Not to be outdone, mom brought in some mending she needed to do. So there we were, her sewing and me ironing. After I was finished ironing I swapped out the old drapes for the new ones above the balcony sliding glass doors.

Miss Cathy didn’t say much about the drapes, later when I was talking to Chad about the changes he asked what she thought and I couldn’t give him an answer. But, at the end of the evening when I went in to give her meds she made a point of telling that she thinks the drapes are “gorgeous” and that she “really loves them!” Her approval made me happy and we chatted for a little but I was trying to be conscious of not getting her too wound up-very much like with a little kid at bedtime, you don’t want to get them too stimulated or they’ll have a hard time going to sleep, if at all. Sure enough the talking was giving her a second wind so when I told her I was leaving to take a shower she said, “I want to take shower, too.” Oh boy, it’s going to be hard putting baby down now! Nighttime is suppose to be my time-the deal is (in my mind) that after I give her meds at night I’m off duty and she was messing with my system.

So, I swallowed my resentment and helped her with her shower first then had my own, but I knew my solitude was not to be for awhile. She came into the kitchen after me and asked for a chicken salad sandwich after she saw that I was eating chicken. “Sure” I said, “I can make you some.” We chatted little while I made her sandwich, she ate half and then said,”Okay, you’re rid of me now, I’m going to bed, you won’t have to worry about me anymore tonight.”

Sunday, September 5, 2010

So, I wake up this morning and no sooner do I have my coffee in one hand and pills in the other when Miss Cathy announces that “she” needs to drive by the VFW because she’s thinking she’d like to participate in one of their parking lot “yard sales”. My first thought is how much work this is going to be for me and her use of the first person singular does not go unnoticed.

I give her the pills, listen for a minute then continue with my morning ritual of watering the plants and sitting out here on the balcony to write to you. When I go inside to freshen up my coffee she tells me that she needs to get the roasting pan out from under the sink so she can cook the meatloaf she’d been putting together.

This time I couldn’t let the I slide by without saying something. “What you mean is that you’d like for me to get the pan for you,” I said, “ Oh, isn’t that what I said?” she replied.

“No, you actually do that a lot, you say “I” instead of asking me to do something for you.”

“Al-righty then I will. Can you get the roasting pan out for me please.”

I know, part of me feel like an asshole for clocking her about semantics but come on, it gets to you after awhile……..someone constantly talking about “me” and “I” when you know that “you” are going to be the one to “do” and “get”. I don’t know if it’s the illusion of independence or the unintended omission of my existence by the statements that bother me more.

Of course it makes sense that this is happening now. It’s all this at a time when she’s doing great, I mean the doctors all think so and I can see that she sharper than a month ago. So, I guess it stands to reason that the more she’s like her old self the more she’s going to want to do and be like her old self except I am the one who’s now her arms and legs.

I think what I mind is that she seems to want to “have her cake and eat it, too”. She wants to toddle around like an old lady, not do much in the way of exercise or walking to strengthen her muscles so she can do more for herself, but, at the same time her mind is clearer so she has no problems coming up with things she’d like to do but not much thought (seemingly) into the fact that I’m the one that has to do all this stuff.

I really don’t know why I’m bitching or surprised by any of this-what did I expect? I knew she wasn’t going to be bedridden? I knew (or thought) I knew how demanding and difficult she was/is? I guess I just need to keep writing to you to vent because that’s all it is.

At the end of the day I’m going to get the pot, look for the “thing”, wait for her to do “whatever” and carry/lift/open the things that she needs-I just gotta remember to have a better attitude about it!

Update: As I sit here writing I smelled something burning, I get inside and Miss Cathy tells me that she just burned some bacon she had cooking on the stove………..and the beat goes on.
What can I tell you, the routines seem to be set now so the days are starting to blur. Except for the occasional doctor’s visit (like yesterday morning) there isn’t much variation in our day.

The reality is that Miss Cathy is more and more like here old self-whether that’s a good thing is debatable.

Dr Joly, her orthopedic surgeon met with us yesterday (after keeping us in the waiting room for an hour) to check Miss Cathy’s’ progress with her let knee replacement. He said that what she was “feeling’ was the best indicator of her progress and nothing else. When I asked about the things that I thought she was doing wrong or “her way” he didn’t see anything wrong with her behavior and supported her. She still wants help in/out of the shower, the doctor said that it’s okay for her to use any means or method she fells necessary until she feels confident enough to walk on her own and confident in her balance.

So, it seems that the doctor vindicated her yesterday, it wasn’t what I wanted to hear but hey-I can dish it out so I gotta be able to take it. Now l just have to back off correcting her and let her do whatever she feels works for her while she heals. And I’ve got to “take it on the chin” now she feels vindicated by doing things her way and listen to her saying, “See, I know my body” “The doctor’s don’t always know” “They have to follow certain things but I’m 72 years old and I don’t need anybody telling me what I need to do”. Which is kind of a contradiction because it was the doctor’s supportive statements that she was looking for to validate her behavior-but, that’s just between you and me.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Miss Cathy was up early this morning, dressed in a nice black and white ensemble: white hat, black oversized tee with one of my graphics printed on it, white “Capri” pants and black naturalizer shoes and a Hunter green purse for a dash of color. Adele is coming to take her out to the Salvation Army to donate more of her stuff-some clothes, old purses and stuffed animals. I guess they’ll roam around afterwards, or at least I hope they do till early afternoon, which will give me a respite from having to work in my little room.

I was happy yesterday that mom was so engaged in putting together her things to donate. Unfortunately, it necessitated my having to go over to the storage unit in the 98-degree heat to find the stuffed animals, rugs and box she needed. Valuable lesson to remember: while you’re care-giving YOU will be the one that has to do the lion share of the work whenever your loved one gets a bee in their bonnet to take on a project-the trick is not to get too resentful about it.

This is true of other “projects” or “chores” as well. I was the one who had to get the vacuum cleaner put back together after she “cleaned” it and I was the one who actually had to vacuum because she was too tired after cleaning the vacuum, and so it goes. Hey, her intentions are pure and you can see that she’s clearly trying to do things on her own but more often than not she requires help.

I can see that it frustrates her and I’m trying not to let mine show, too.

I’m finding the tricky part is shifting gears and helping when I’m in the middle of something myself-like trying to just sit and relax, at the end of the day, watch TV or read a book. My demeanor seems to depend on how much I’ve already done during the day: how many times did I hand her the phone, bring her something else, look for something, listen to a story I’ve already heard……you know, the usual things that make up a day or evening but at a certain point I start to feel like it’s “time to punch out” but this is a job with a never ending shift so I’m still trying to reconcile taking time for myself, when or what’s appropriate to say “No” too and what boundaries to put up.