Tuesday, October 26, 2010

This n' that

Miss Cathy has been in a pretty good mood lately; she even made me laugh yesterday. I’d come in to say good morning and to open the drapes in the living room where she was sitting by lamplight taking the curlers out of her hair (the drapery rods are almost to the ceiling so it’s a strain for her to pull the drapes back in the morning to let in the light). After her usual, “Good Morning! How did you sleep?” she said, “You wanna go back to Wegmans?”

I had to laugh, and so did she.

I don’t know what’s been going with me the last couple of days though. I’m lethargic and unmotivated. All I do is sit around, eat, read and watch TV.I leave on Saturday for my first “time off” but even that isn’t putting much pep in my step. Maybe I’m feeling out of sorts because I don’t really feel like the issue of where mom is going to go while I’m away is “really” resolved yet. We’ve talked about it twice: when I brought up my trip initially and then a couple days later she sat me down to talk about it again because she said she wanted to understand why she couldn’t stay here by herself.

In that second conversation I did suggest to her that if the idea of being over at Tony’s was so “horrible” then maybe she could ask her girlfriend, Adele if she could stay with her. It “seems” to me that she’s told me that’s where she’ll be instead of Tony’s’ but I’ve yet to talk with her to nail down the details.

I don’t know what I’m afraid of-confrontation? Running down the list (yet again) of all the reasons why it’s not any option for Miss Cathy to stay home alone? Seeing the hurt and disappointment on her face? Coming across as “bossy” or confirming her earlier accusations that Tony and I are trying to control her?

Whatever the reason it’s a conversation we need to have, it’s only Tuesday but still there are other people involved so I need to get this taken care of. Part of me has a sneaking suspicion that she’ll tell me that Adele is “picking her up” sometime after I have to leave for the airport on Saturday morning and then she’ll actually never leave and stay here by herself.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Wegmans

At 7:08am on Sunday morning I was sitting in my car waiting for Miss Cathy so we could go to the grand opening of………wait for it………a grocery store!

I guess there are worse things in life but I couldn’t think of any at that moment. Color me “cranky” but I just don’t think getting up at the crack of dawn to be knee deep in fat-assed suburbanites snacking on “free” cheese and cracker samples is my idea of a good time.

Oh well, I’m the one who asked Miss Cathy on Saturday morning what she wanted to do or where she wanted to go this weekend (careful what you ask….) It was only about a 15 minute drive so I wouldn’t be so bad, I brought some coffee, my journal and a book in case I wanted to just sit outside somewhere and let mom experience the “grandness” of the “opening” by herself.

We get there and sure enough it’s quite the spectacular event, it’s as if Barman and Bailey were in town and these people had never seen a clown or an elephant before. I mean there were police directing traffic (miles before you even got to the joint) and once there I had to drop mom off at the front so that I could find a parking spot that hopefully I wouldn’t need breadcrumbs to be able to locate later.

The store was nice enough but nothing special, think “Costco” meets “Trader Joes”. The employees were bright and shiny, ready to help and put all their training to good use. The aisles were so crowded with grocery carts going this way and that, it seemed to me they could have used a few of those cops inside to direct the traffic to keep things moving.

I caught up to Miss Cathy soon after entering the store (remember, fast she’s not) but I did lose her for awhile when she went to see what all the fuss was over by the broccoli and I went to customer service for our “welcome bag”. I found her an hour later still shopping but she was ready to check out soon after. I did wonder if it got to be a little too crowded and chaotic for her.

As we were driving away mom mentioned that she knew a different way to get home from the Mapquest directions I’d used to get us there. I said that I could go home “her way” and made sure to ask if she was “sure” of her directions and that she wouldn’t get confused.

“No” she said, “I know the way, turn right a the light.” And so I did and so we drove. Since Miss Cathy likes to maintain a running commentary whenever we’re in the car she was sure to let me know when we were driving “pretty close” to where "such and such” lived or where the courthouse she had jury duty was or when we were driving past where she and pop were thinking of moving to thirty years ago, on and on it went for about 40 minutes when she said,” I think we’re suppose to be going north and not south, I’m not sure, maybe you can use your “Mapquest.”

I pulled into a service station that was closed, and used the Google maps on my IPhone to point us in the right direction. We turned around, 44 miles and 1/2 hour later we were home.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Time off

For some time now I have been planning to go back to Kansas City for a week at the end of October, it would be my first “time off” since moving here to take care of Miss Cathy. I got the idea to take a week for myself every three or four months from my shrink. She suggested that I would need some time that was mine alone, to re-charge my batteries so that I would have the energy and proper mind-set to be successful as a caregiver to my mother. She said that it didn’t matter so much what I did or where I went, the important thing was to give myself some time away from care giving. My sister in law, Suemi, echoed the idea and the literature I’d been reading from the Alzheimer’s Association also seemed to stress that it was important for the caregiver to take care of themselves.

I arranged to have Miss Cathy stay with Tony and Suemi whenever I was gone and started to plan trips to KC and possibly back to NYC after the first of the year. Chad was looking forward to my being back I Kansas City and m New York friends all had a bed or couch I could sleep on when I came their way. Just knowing that I had those two trips to look forward to helped a great deal. Everything was in place and everyone seemed to be on board, except the only person I’d yet to tell my “getaway” plans to was Miss Cathy.

So, yesterday, with some trepidation I told Miss Cathy my plans to go back to Kansas City at the end of the month. I have to say, she took the news very well-initially. The first thing she said was that she was happy I was taking some time for myself and she applauded my being “independent”. She said she understood the desire to get away for a while and seemed pretty happy for me. She then started to talk about how she’d be “fine” alone in the apartment because she was so much “better” now.

Unfortunately, that’s when I had to burst her bubble and tell her that while I agreed that she was much better she still couldn’t stay in the apartment by herself.

When I said that she’d have to go back over to Tony’s house she balked.”Nawww, I’m not going back over there!”

“Wow”, I thought to myself, pretty much the reaction I was expecting-ad the reason I was dreading this conversation. I knew she wouldn’t want to go back over to Tony’s, bitched and moaned the entire time she was over there and she’s been pretty consistent in her vehemence about her stay since coming home. You’d think time would have mellowed her opinion, but, no but no.

I know she had to stay over at Tony’s for a lonnnng time but jeez, it was two months and she was with family-she wasn’t institutionalized. By her reaction and the way she talks about her time over there she’d think she was at Buckenwald-seriously. I don’t throw down the Holocaust card lightly but it’s the only thing I can think of to remind her what “horrible” really is and to put things in their proper perspective.

My God, she was lucky enough to have a son and daughter in law that loved her enough to take her in for two months and listen to her bitch and moan (daily I was told) bout how she “hated’ being there and all she wanted to do was go home.

She looked disappointed that I didn’t agree that she could stay alone but she didn’t get angry or argue (which is what I expected and was the reason I’d avoided telling her my plans earlier). She just expressed surprise given that she’d become more independent and nothing bad had happened in a long time.

I agreed with her that she as doing wonderfully and I was very proud of her but regardless of her progress, she simply cannot live alone ever again and no matter how much she forgets that fact I will have to remind her.

She said she understood what I was saying and she wouldn’t fight what my brother and I thought was best.

To say I was relieved would be an understatement, I’d been walking around for days gearing up for battle and her was the moment and there was no fight.

I suggested to her that maybe this time her experience might be different, she’s more mobile, more independent and maybe that would help her feel less confined and restricted. That seemed to register and she brightened a bit, she said that made sense and she offered that it might not be so bad knowing it would only be for a week and then she’d get to come home again.

Just as she said that there was a knock at the door. It was Adele come to pick her up for an “outing” so she was off shopping and I would get to have some “time off” in the middle of the day.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Deja frickin' vu

OMG, I just had what was almost the exact same conversation I had with Miss Cathy a few weeks ago and a few weeks before that! It was all about my “not seeming like I was happy here”…….what? Again with this? Somebody get me a rock so I can just beat myself to death and get it over with already.

Okay, so the first time we had this talk “maybe” she was sensing something that was there, the second time, not so much and today…well, today I’d just come back from a long walk and was feeling pretty content. It was the first time in about a week I’d had any exercise so I was feeling all blissed out and happy that I’d done something good for myself (and now that’s all shot to shit after talking to her).

We’d still be talking if her phone hadn’t begun to ring. Thank God for whoever was on the other end of the line. She took the call, which was my cue to escape.

Now that I’m safely on the balcony (she wouldn’t dare come out here-too windy) and had a moment to reflect on all that was said I think I’m starting to understand where all of this is coming from-or part of it at least.

First of all, I knew something was up when I came back from my walk and she was sitting quietly in her room (the sitting wasn’t a clue but the quiet sure was). I was on my way to my bathroom for a shower when I looked in and saw her sitting on the edge of her bed, slumped over into herself, looking forlorn-not a good sign.

So (against my better judgment, knowing that all my serenity would be out the window the minute I engaged her) I asked her if anything was wrong.

“Well” she sighed, “It just doesn’t seem like you’re happy here.” And so it began-again. I told her that she was mistaken, that I’m just “me” and adjusting as best I can. I stood in the doorway as she launched into her reasons for worry. I stood there for the better part of an hour, listening as she went over old territory and some new, but the bottom line is that we’ve had this conversation before.

Since this isn’t my first time at this particular rodeo I listened differently, past the minutia and details so what I heard was different from the other conversations on this particular topic. I didn’t dispute what she had to say (and I definitely didn’t argue with her) but I didn’t just accept all that she had to say as “facts” either, rather I challenged her to see that what she was talking about were her “feelings” and it didn’t necessarily have to be true, for me anyway.

It dawned on me listening to her this time that she pieces together (or so it seems to me) statements or conversations (out of context) and weaves them into a narrative where the only conclusion that she can come up with is that I must be unhappy or I’d be acting in a way that she, either a) understood or 2) would want me to “be” living with her.

I think she might be feeling guilt over my making the choice to live with her so she’s projecting her own unhappiness of the situation onto me. I also think she’s worried that I’m going to bail on her or worse-stay here and make what time she’s got left miserable.

I’m here because I want to be here (hell, I volunteered) and now that this year has unfolded the way that it has I truly believe that this is where I’m suppose to be at this time in my life. So, I probably need to reassure her more.

The take away for me is that I’m not doing a very good job of giving her a sense of security.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Progress, not perfection II

Miss Cathy seems to have really turned a corner the last few days. Hell, if I really think about it she’s been coming into her own for a while now. Yesterday (and three days ago) she was up early, made her bed, had her bath, done her hair and dressed before I even got out of bed.

You should have seen her when she came out of her room yesterday morning, her hair nicely pressed and curled, red lipstick to match the detail on her white blouse and dark blue pants to complete her look. She was absolutely beaming with health and energy. If I wasn’t such a curmudgeon in the AM I would have given her a big hug, but me being who I am in the morning I did manage to tell her that she “looked great” and that I “loved her hair”.

Add to that the fact that SHE asked me for her meds so she could be responsible for taking them twice a day and I gotta say, I’m impressed-and pleasantly surprised. I still fill up her “7-day a week pill container” and monitor that she’s taken her meds but I don’t hand them out to her and stand over her while she takes them anymore. Now she’s the one who makes sure she has her morning pills with breakfast and takes her Aricept at night, right before sleep. It’s been about a week and I have yet to remind her to take her meds.

More often than not she’ll shout out to let me know when’s taken them, which is annoying but she’s being diligent so I keep my mouth shut. I’ve been trying really hard NOT to make “rules” since we started living together but there are some things that are a matter of survival and sanity-i.e: Miss Cathy has a habit of talking to you even if you’re not around, and if she doesn’t get a response she’ll just talk louder, ultimately screaming out at you and calling it a conversation, it doesn’t matter if she’s in the kitchen and you’re into the bedroom.

I suggested that “if you don’t see me in the room-don’t talk”, it’s gotten mixed results but it’s getting better. I know I sound like a bitch, but still…….

It is amazing to watch her as she “recovers” and adjusts day to day. In the beginning I was quietly (well, maybe not so quietly) resigned to living with and caring for someone who was (for lack of a better way of putting it) about 60% “there” but now Miss Cathy is about 85% her old self. The remaining percentage may be gone or it’s just lying dormant, I don’t know, maybe time will tell. I know that the Aricept is not a “cure” and that she’ll progressively deteriorate but that’s not today. Today I’m happy to report that it’s just great to see her moving through her day the way she is now, she’s just so “present”.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

The power of words

“Do you really hate everything about this place?” Miss Cathy asked me the other morning. I was making my first cup of coffee and she was sitting very quietly in the kitchen (which we all know is very unusual for her given that morning is one of favorite times of day to talk, as are …noon and night, baa-dum-dum).

Anyway, I was wrapped up in my own thoughts so I wasn’t focused on her but something made me stop to take a good look, maybe it was the silence, I don’t know. I could see that her body language was off; she was drawn in on herself, her eyes downcast as she sat there with a curious expression on her face. I asked if she’d slept “alright” to which she replied “yes” and when I probed further and asked if something was wrong she made that statement.

I had no idea why she would say that until she explained that it’s what I’d said last week when I was washing her hair in the kitchen sink. She said that it had bothered her ever since I first said it and she wanted to know if that was how I really felt. She went on to say that there was nothing more she could do about the apartment, that she did the best she could with what she had and that she was sorry to take me away from my life.

“Wow!” I thought to myself looking at her. She’d been carrying those thoughts around waiting for the right time to bring it up to me. From the look on her face she was very upset so I knew the first thing I had to do was to reassure her that I was “just talking”, that I was “just blowing off steam” and bitching about the poorly designed faucet fixtures and NOT my decision to be here with her.

I told her that I was sorry if I caused her to think that I was unhappy, that in fact I was starting to feel more at home, grateful for our routines and happy that she was doing so well. I went on to explain that sure, I did hate the design and poor quality of some of the things in the apartment but wasn’t her fault. And if I bitched or complained it was just out of frustration or something said in the heat of the moment. She seemed to accept that explanation and visibly relaxed before my eyes.

We talked a little more about the difference between blowing off steam and revealing our true feelings, and I promised that I would be clearer in the future about which I was doing.

What I realized is that I need to be much more careful about what I say and when I say it. I’m never sure what she’ll take to heart and what she’ll dismiss. In the past (which was not too terribly long ago) we’d just say things to each other; mother to son, friend to friend, one opinionated adult to the other, words thrown about with abandon, little thought to their impact or long lasting implications. If there was a misunderstanding it would be cleared up in time but both of us seemed to be more interested in being heard than the other’s feelings. While she’s still verrrrry opinionated, she’s more sensitive than before and more often than not her defenses are down. I am continually surprised by how quickly things have changed and I have to be mindful of the power of words to hurt and heal.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Zones

It’s getting colder out here in the morning on the balcony. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to come out here to greet the day in solitude and be able to write. It’s funny, I was just thinking about how “space” used to be at a premium when I lived in New York, too. I had a tiny studio apartment in Greenwich Village the size of most suburban living rooms. Although the kitchen and bathroom were separate I thought I’d never get used to living in what was pretty much just one room.

But, like most New Yorkers, I adapted in time and started to use what I called different “zones”, predetermined spaces around the apartment used for specific activities during certain times of day. Since I lived and worked in the same space it was very important for me to not just sit in the same spot all day (or heaven forbid, lay around in bed which took up most of the space till I got a Murphy bed years later).

In the mornings I’d have coffee and journal at the table by the window, work at the drafting table all day, meals at the table then relax and watch TV on the bed in the evening (which served as my “sofa” until I turned it down for sleep).

That worked for twenty plus years in a space way smaller than Miss Cathy’s two bedroom condo so I’ve found that I’m using the same method of moving around through my day here in the apartment. But, as large as the space is and no matter how much re-decorating and editing that I do it still feels like Miss Cathy’s place to me-and lets not forget the fact that she’s toddling around in/out of the rooms so there is little to no privacy.

Right now, I start the day outside on the balcony, there are the plants that Chad put out here back in May that make it very inviting and the bench my Pop built years ago is a rocker so it’s comfy and relaxing. I sit out here, write, meditate and watch people as they come out of their apartments ready to start their day; late for work, rushing kids off to the school bus and occasionally there's the odd person doing the walk of shame (if I get up early enough on the weekend).

After writing and coffee it’s inside to give Miss Cathy her meds with her breakfast then off to my bedroom where I work for a few hours. I’ll come out about 1pm or so, hang out with mom a little then run errands or do something with/for her. I’ll work in the dining room on the table in the afternoon for a couple more hours while Miss Cathy watches TV, cooks or takes a nap in her room. I’ll spend the evening either in my room or in the living room, alternating where I eat my meals.

Miss Cathy and I rarely eat together and never in the dining room. It’s not avoidance so much as it’s different schedules and body clocks. She’ definitely on the early bird track food-wise and usually has her dinner by 3 or 4pm- I’m lucky if I’ve had lunch by then.


Miss Cathy, on the other hand, spends her mornings in the living room, watching Judge Joe Brown or the weather channel (got to keep up with what’s going on outside). She takes her blood sugar levels, eats breakfast and takes her meds. She’ll toddle around with a project or two then she’ll nap in her room till early afternoon. Then she’s back out to watch a little Bonanza or to talk on the phone in the living room in the afternoon before cooking something for us for dinner. We might go out to run some errands for her and a couple times she’s even taken a walk by herself outside. After an early dinner on her lap in front of the TV she retires to her bedroom around 6 or 7pm to watch a little more TV before her nighttime meds. I usually turn out her lights at 8:30 or 9pm.

It’s been a couple of months now and this seems to be the way we’ve found ourselves living together. It wasn’t discussed or planned; it just came to be as we found ourselves in this space day after day. We’re both in the “zone” she and I, each to his own and sometimes together.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

This n' that

Chad is coming on Sunday, staying overnight on a layover from a job in Mississippi. We’re both happy that he’s coming for a visit and Miss Cathy is very excited to see him again. She met him for the first time back in May when he drove from Kansas City with me so that I could be with her through the knee replacement surgery and month’s stay in rehab. He was here for just a few days but he “had her at hello” when I brought her home from rehab and she saw that he had decorated the balcony with palms, ferns and pots and pots of brightly colored flowering plants. She’s talked about him nonstop ever since.

I think I’ll suggest she make her tilapia and greens for dinner on Sunday. I don’t think he’s ever had one of her meals. Planning and cooking the dinner will give her a “project” for the next couple of days.

Chad had suggested taking us both out for a meal. I’m all for it but I know how she feel about restaurants so I didn’t say much in response. It’s a strange position to be put in, here someone is suggesting something nice that they’d like to do for your mother but I know that she doesn’t like going to “sit down” restaurants, so what do I say? Believe me she’s only been to a few and none of them have been Lutece or “Le Fancy-smancy” but she has this thing about tipping-she doesn’t like to do it (not that she’s ever had too).

Years ago, after I moved away from home as a teenager and discovered that the world of fine dining did not consist of sitting in a pre-fabbed plastic booth, eating burgers and fries off of trays with plastic utensils I thought I’d bring some of my sophisticated new world back to Miss Cathy but that didn't go over so well. I don’t know if she thought I was “putting on airs” (well, I did go through a pretentious self centered phase) or if she was just uncomfortable in the circles and settings I tried to expose her too but she was very vocal about what she did and did not like and one of them was eating in restaurants.

“Why do I have to leave money for them?” she’d say, talking about the waiters. “Because that’s the way it works,” I always respond, “they live off the tips that they earn, that’s how they make a living.”

“Well, I just don’t like it.” “Besides”, she continue, “ I don’t like to go out to those places because sometimes you don’t know if they’ll have food that you want to eat.” “And, I don’t know that they keep themselves clean enough or if they clean the food good enough.” (Please, someone get me a rock so I can beat myself to death and get it over with right now!)

The irony about the tipping issue is that I’ve never seen her so much as reach for a check. She’s not the one putting down the 18% so what's she got her panties in a wad about? I don’t know, I just don’t get it-same thing with her hate of the self check out in grocery stores. She swears she’ll never use them because they “take jobs away from real people (as apposed to fake people?)” and “they should be paying her if she has to ring up her own purchases in a store”.

Like I said-I just don’t get it, its Miss Cathy logic-works for her, perplexes the shit out of me.

When I told her about Chad’s offer she said what she always says-as if I’d never heard it before and I needed to be enlightened by her logic. I tried to remind her that this was someone trying to do something nice for her so “stop being all poopy about it and just go if he suggests it.”

Maybe I’m being selfish, maybe for once I don’t want to run out to buy her a meal from some fast food joint or eat dinner off a tray in the apartment, maybe I’m the one that wants to go sit in a restaurant and have somebody bring things to them.

We’ll see, when I reluctantly told Chad about her "restaurant views” (just to prepare him) he started to back off the idea so who knows what will happen.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Progress, not perfection

Miss Cathy’s recovery has been a slow and interesting process to watch unfold. The fact that her cognitive and problems solving skills are impaired never seems consistent. She’s confused by some things and re-masters others without a problem. For example, it took her several attempts but she’s mastered the ability to disarm the security system (a new skill set) but she still fumbles with unlocking the front door (something she’s been doing for decades). She no longer confuses how to operate the washer and dryer but recently she broke two can openers (one electric and the other hand-held) because (I’m convinced) she just didn’t know how to use them properly.

She tells me that she’s doing her leg exercises (in her room) but she’s only been outside to walk twice in two months. The doctor’s said that it could take up to six months for her to walk properly after her knee replacement surgery but I see her toddling around four months later, still holding onto the wall, a door or something to help her balance as she moves from place to place as if she just left rehab. But, to be fair, she is on her feet for longer periods of time before she’s exhausted and has to sit down. I don’t know, it just seemed to me she’d be stronger and capable of more by now.

Actually, it’s not that-I thought SHE’D have wanted more for herself by now, that she would have worked harder to be more independent. I mean, hell, Liza Minnelli had a hip replaced and Lord knows she’s had a rougher go of it physically than Miss Cathy and she was on Oprah the other day singing (badly) and moving around the stage trying to kick up her heels like the old days when she was "Liza with a "Z". Granted, Liza claims to be sixty-three which is almost ten years younger than Miss Cathy and Liza’s a rich, pampered entertainer……..but still.

Hey, Miss Cathy’s no slouch, she may not be rich but like others of her generation she’s got great insurance. She was in two top-notch rehab centers for a month each but she was so hell-bent on leaving that she NEVER fully co-operated or took advantage of the physical or occupational therapy. I remember people in the rehab that were older than her that were recovering from knee replacement or WORSE and they didn’t complain half as much. And believe, me nobody cried or complained as much during physical therapy sessions as she did. Something in her (other than the Alzheimer’s, I think) just gave up. My brother wonders if we were seeing her for who she is for the first time and not who she’s always told us she was-I don’t know.

Now, it’s hard to tell what’s dementia and what’s her-maybe it’s all the same?

But, she taking her shower without my aid and she hasn’t had any falls or accidents while I’ve been out of the apartment lately. I started teaching at the School of Art + Design at Montgomery College last Friday so I’m away for four hours during the day and I was concerned at first but now I’ve got my fingers crossed that she’ll be okay alone while I teach.

We’ll just take it day by day, a week at a time and if something does happen I’ll have to make arrangements for someone to be here with her, maybe her girlfriend, Adele can come visit on Fridays.

In other areas she’s great, she’s talking to friends on the phone and several people have come by to visit her. She has her “projects” to keep her busy and she’s usually cooking up a storm. There have been times lately when she’s so much her old self that I wonder if I made a mistake leaving my life to be here. Maybe Dr Granite was right and it’s delirium (a temporary condition) that she suffered from and NOT dementia, which we all know just progresses.

I don’t know, what I do know is that when I ran this theory by my brother,Tony he vehemently disagreed. I’m not sure if he was just trying to reassure me that the situation is real or if he was panicked that he’d saddled with Miss Cathy. Bottom line, no matter how high functioning she appears one day, there’s always tomorrow and the doctor’s all agree that her days of living alone are over.

So, it’s a mixed bag….progress, not perfection.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

I don't like that kind

When Miss Cathy was in rehab after she’d been discovered lying on the bathroom floor after three days back in January and then again in May after her knee replacement surgery she lost a lot of weight. It was hard to get her to eat the entire time she was in the hospital and no better the month(s) she was in rehab. She was depressed and so anxious about “going home” that she had little appetite, so the battle to get her to eat continued.

All told, she’s lost about 40 pounds since January. When she came home to stay she weighed 167 pounds and was very weak. For her height and age the weight loss should have been a good thing but she was very lethargic and hadn’t really followed the therapists instructions to exercise so the weight loss was more of a burden than a joy.

Since she’s been home her appetite has improved and the amount of food she’s eating has increased week by week. Where once I had to remind her to eat and coax her to finish she’s now eating with gusto.

We go out grocery shopping together but I will venture out on my own, returning home with things that are reminiscent of my old life and the way I used to live and eat.

She’ll say, “Oh, I don’t like that kind”, to which I usually reply good naturedly, “Good, because I didn’t buy this for you.” It could be something like Edy’s French Silk -low fat ice cream (my personal fav), multi-grain wheat bread, salads and low fat salad dressing, pepperoni pizza or low fat Fig Newton’s-any number of things.

Actually, it doesn’t matter what I bring into the kitchen because she’ll say she doesn’t like it but give her a few days (or hours) and she’s either eaten whatever I haven’t or she’s asking me to share it with her. She’s become very much like a “child” to my “parent” in that regard.

And, like a child I have to remember to not resent her when I open the fridge all ready to eat the last “whatever” I bought so that I can watch way too much television in my room, only to find that she’s eaten it. I remind myself that there were many a day when my brother and I were kids (and we were never “little” -big, brown balls of fat is a better description)………. anyway, there were many a time I’m sure she looked in the fridge or cupboard for a treat and believe you me, we never gave a thought that she might have wanted “one” or “some” so there was “none”.

She’s even commented several times that our roles are reversing, that she’s following me around like I used to follow her when I was a child and that she’s as “worrisome” (her word) as I was then, too. She calls it “payback”.

So now her eating is what I call a “luxury” problem. It’s not that she eats too much, although she’s bordering on it sometimes. Remember, on top of everything else going on she has diabetes, too. She doesn’t always make the wisest food choices for someone with a blood sugar problem. She’ll tell me that she wants to “treat” herself and I’ll find donuts or cinnamon buns in the shopping cart and nothing she buys is ever fat-free, low sugar or has a sugar substitute.

Or, heaven forgive me, if she hasn’t put it in the cart when we’re shopping together she’ll send me out to buy her an apple pie or buttery pound cake. And you know what, I do it because I’m happy to see her eating and enjoying herself. I figure there’s plenty of time to suggest moderation or to just flat out refuse to buy any sugary treats for her.

After all, if she wants another apple pie I can always say, “I don’t like that kind.”

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Crock'd

You never know what you’re going to get when you go shopping with Miss Cathy. It’s never going to be like the old days when I’d come visit for a week or more and we’d go shopping. We’d laugh, buy and talk, talk, talk. No, those days are gone, what used to be “normal” has been replaced by the “new-normal”. But, I need to remind myself that it doesn’t mean that it can’t be fun, that sometimes there are sparks of what it used to be like to go shopping together, it’s just different.

What doesn’t vary is that Miss Cathy is now verrrrry slow; slow to get out of the car, slow to walk into the store, slow to make up her mind about a purchase and to pay for it. Any noise or sudden movement usually causes her to stop dead in her tracks till she can decipher what’s going on around her-then she might proceed. It doesn’t matter if she’s in the doorway or the middle of the aisle, she will stop on the threshold or block the flow of traffic so other shoppers cannot get their carts past her.

After being chastised by her several times I have learned to say nothing when this happens and let her deal with the people around her, more often than not they give her a “poor old thing” look and move to accommodate her. All the while she’s pretty oblivious of inconveniencing anyone lese and will usually blame them if challenged.

Anyway, we went to Macy’s not too long ago because she wanted to activate her store charge card. Years ago I’d suggested she get a few credit cards and make small purchases to establish a better credit rating for herself. She’s from that generation that always paid cash when possible and shied away from credit cards, so she was surprised when she found out that can work against you (in some perverse way) with the credit reporting bureaus.

So, off we went to Macy’s to buy a new crock-pot to replace the one that I either threw away or buried so deep in storage that it may as well be in a trash bin. We get to the store and she asks a saleswoman where the crocks pots are, the lady very nicely and (confidently) tells her that they are “straight ahead”. After I thank the saleswoman and we walk away a little and Miss Cathy says, “I want to know where the crock-pots are, are they right or left?”

We haven’t gone far so I’m dumbfounded as to where this is coming from, it’s not like we’ve wondered around the store for hours, we weren’t that far from where we asked the saleswoman for directions. When I remind her that the saleswoman works here she says, “She doesn’t know, I asked where the crock-pots were and she just said ”straight” ahead.”

“So”, I say as gently as possible for someone who wants to take the nearest dress dummy and hit her over he head with it, “Why don’t you just assume that she knows what’s she’s talking about because she works here and you don’t.”

“Just because she works here doesn’t mean she knows everything.” She states as a matter of logic-her logic.

“Okay, have your way, you always do.” I say and walk “straight ahead” right to the crock-pots display.