Epilogue

     I have not written in this blog for a long time.  Ma went into the hospital at the end of June and has been in an assisted living residence since September of this year, 2010.  The 2 months in the hospital were difficult as I had to refuse to take her home when her immediate physical ailments were treated.  This left me open to all forms of pressure from the "Sisters of Charity Hospital".  They certainly didn't seem very charitable to me.  They tried shaming me into taking her home in spite of my inability to provide her with 24 hour supervision that she needed.  Ma is not that bad physically, but she has vascular dementia.  This affects every aspect of her life and puts her in great danger when she is alone.  Her eccentricities and lack of cognitive ability need some form of regular guidance to insure her safety.  The social workers at the hospital informed me that Ma was incompetent and then wanted to send her home where she would only be cared for sporadically by me.  Quite frankly, by that time I was totally worn out and had nothing left to give.  I hadn't slept soundly in the 6 years I took care of her, the last year taking care of her and staying with my father in his final months of his life.  In the words of "Lilly Von Schtupp", "Let's face it I'm pooped".   The final months of Ma's care included chasing off imaginary intruders and bugs that she saw all over her walls at night.  Kind of spooky and heartbreaking.  The social workers at the hospital suggested that I was treating her with extreme cruelty by not taking her home.  It is hard to hold up under those types of attacks when your focus is on doing what is best for your loved one and you feel guilty as hell already.  Thank God I had the support of my brother who stepped up to the plate and handled the final negotiations when I ran out of patience.

     Ma was placed in a residence 75 miles from where we all live but the people at the facility are awesome.  I don't think I would move her if I could.  In these days of poor eldercare I feel blessed that Ma fell into their care.  They have treated her and all of us with respect and dignity.  Ma is not happy but she is comfortable and has a lot of freedoms she did not have with me in the city.

     Ma was on the "Watch List" for 2 month's as she was considered a flight risk, a wanderer with undefined intent.  Immediately upon being removed from the "List" my brother went to visit and she was not in her room.  He walked the halls and when he was unable to find her he reported this to the nurses' station.  The facility went on high alert and was locked down.  Attendants walked the grounds and couldn't find her and it was assumed she had wandered off.  A second check of her room found it still empty, but on the way out Ma emerged from the bathroom where she was doing her laundry in the sink. She won't use the facility laundry service as she is more than a little distrustful.  I guess that having her ditties in the hands of some imagined pervert is too much for her to accept.  Anything that easy has to have something wrong with it.  So she sneaks into the bathroom and does it herself and hangs them on the back of her tri-fold dressing curtain so no one can see.  Everyone knows and just leaves it alone.  If she wants to get some vicarious pleasure out of breaking the rules that is one that is ok in their book.  Better than if she was running naked through the halls or inciting a riot.  She is described by everyone as a sweet lady with peculiar habits, but peaceful.

     The most disturbing thing to me is the decline of Ma's cognitive abilities.  She is stuck in 1951 and repeats the same things over and over again, each time like it was the first time and I fear she will pass into the locked part of the facility with less freedoms sooner than I am ready for.  Her spirit is diminished and she has a few rehearsed lines granting everyone amnesty for perceived injustices that belie the truth that she is mad about getting old and not being able to do what she used to do.  She is ready to go but her maker hasn't made her reservation for the final ride.  We watch as her life force ebbs away and wish her life had been happier.  The ultimate martyr, giving up her life for her children,  allowing that quest to become the sole definition of her being.  A noble undertaking for a Irish Catholic Maven whose upbringing  insured that responsibility, duty and guilt would insure happiness in the hereafter.  I wish she would have been more concerned with the here, the present, her life.  I would have preferred she lived out loud and fully and her current life came to an end while skydiving or drowning while swimming naked in the reflecting pool at the Washington Monument, something fun.  The loneliness of her decline is intensified by her deafness and her lack of socialization skills.  She has always avoided plain old social contact as some kind of self-inflicted punishment for being Catholic.  God love her.

     We all took the 1-1/2 hour trip to the retirement residence and brought a turkey dinner in for a small family feast.  The staff was fabulous and helped in every way possible.  There is a small kitchen/dining area for private family gatherings and they insured everything was just right for our visit.  Ma was uplifted by the presence of the grandchildren but quickly settled into a disconsolate funk, speaking little and hunched over.  Her appetite is better than I recall and she looks fit physically but I fear for her emotional and cognitive health.  Being deaf leaves her living in her own head,  discerning the intent of all social interactions with a mind that is indeed failing.  What a horribly lonely end to a dutiful life.

    I hope to get to see her at least one more time before Christmas.  On Christmas Eve I plan on brining a small re-plantable Christmas tree for her holiday, in addition to some holiday flowers.  I am the only one in a position to visit that day as my brother and my children have responsibilities of their own.  If I could give her anything for Christmas it would be "One Great Day".  Free from regret and loneliness, free from physical limitations, free for one day to be herself and not thinking about anyone else.  Merry Christmas Ma.

    

Shanty Caregiver Loses Position To Ma's Little Old Man

     This may very well be my last blog under this heading.  It appears I have lost my Shanty Caregiver job to that little old man that visits Ma and sits at the kitchen table when no one else is home.  She was admitted to the hospital on Monday for breathing problems and a urinary tract infection and when her friend came to visit, floating outside her third floor window, the staff became alarmed.  With a little further questioning Ma revealed that she wouldn't stay in their hospital because of her visitor and the bugs that covered all the walls and her bed.  They seemed to think this was some kind of delusion and called to ask me if this was a regular occurrence and how I had been handling it.  I suggested they put Ma in the hall, close the door, make some noise, reopen the door and tell Ma that you had chased them away.  They asked how long this had been going on and I really couldn't remember.  When you spend years chasing away imaginary intruders and shooing varmints it is difficult to pinpoint where the madness began.  I told them about Ma's TP core collection as I was concerned that they may need to contact their supplier if Ma was to stay any length of time.  They intimated to me that they felt Ma may have misplaced her sanity, I asked them what was there first clue.  They told me she needed twenty four hour supervised care and wanted to know how I was going to provide it.  I told them that since they had made a diagnosis that she needed that kind of care, and I was unable to provided it,  that they were responsible for her well being and couldn't release her.  They reluctantly agreed and set about the task of declaring Ma incompetent so she could be placed in a safe environment.  We are currently awaiting the declaration of incompetence from the staff psychiatrist to start the process.  


     I went to the hospital this afternoon to try and calm Ma down.  It had the opposite effect and she has expressed considerable rancor towards her Shanty Caregiver.  She probably would have made assessments about my lineage if she wasn't so intimately  involved in that reproductive miracle.  She refused to put on her hospital gown and was walking around in street clothes with her house keys saying she wanted a cab.  They have prescribed Haldol a powerful anti-psychotic medication that they assure me will make her more cooperative.  I am really torn as Ma has been declining fast and I suspect that the downward spiral is going to pick up speed.  At some level I feel like I have failed her while at the same time feeling a freedom I haven't known in years.  I am intermittently free, guilty and afraid.  Free to reclaim my life which has been on hold a long time.  Guilty of putting the woman who raised us kids,  with little help while working as a waitress, into a sometimes heartless system.  Afraid of being alone when my time comes, as it does to all.  


     I want to thank all of you for the encouragement and prayers offered during this last two years.  The most difficult time in my life.  Losing my Father and Sister was painful but not as painful as watching Ma decline over these last six years.  The unexplainable fears she experienced, the inability to reason out the simplest things,  the loss of her personal freedoms, and the loss of her dignity.  This offering has been quite cathartic as I had no place to go to express my frustrations.  I explain and reveal myself better in writing than I do in person.  I am thankful to Ma for her insistence on a Catholic education where the nuns honed my writing skills and wit, sometimes forcefully.   All Mothers have a special place in my heart, especially those who get little or no help from absent or disinterested Fathers.  Ma's influence in my life is unquestionable and I guess a little guilt is a small price to pay for her lifetime of sacrifice.  I hope this blog has been a source of comfort and amusement to all who have followed it this year and hope you find my newest offering, "The Mad Rants Of A Maladjusted Miscreant" equally entertaining and insightful.


      

Never, Never, Never, Never, Never, Never, Never,...Well, OK

     As most of you know, I have been taking care of Ma a long time.  I have recently been really concerned with her physical and mental health.  She hasn't been out of bed for four days starting last Thursday and I have been pestering her to go to the hospital and she has flatly refused.  I asked twice on Friday, twice on Saturday and three times on Sunday.  I called my brother to have him talk to her and he showed up about one PM this afternoon.  Before he entered the apartment building I talked to him on the phone and expressed my concern that she would not cooperate with his pleas either, he assured me he would try but promised nothing.  Seven and one-half minutes later he called me back and said he and Ma were on the way to the hospital.  It is certainly in her best interest, but I am kinda pissed that I spent four days begging her to go without any level of success and in seven and one-half minutes he has her in the car and on the way.  I really feel kind of diminished and hurt.  I have devoted six years of my life to her care and my brother, who has young children and can't help often, gets his request met in minutes.  It took longer for Napoleon to surrender at Waterloo than it took for Ma to go to the hospital with my brother. 

     It is kinda like Dad's final months when the German Blond Beauty Gretchen was his hospice nurse and I  would talk to Dad about his declining condition and tell him of observations I made and he would ignore me.  Then the Blond Bombshell would tell him exactly the same thing and he would report it to me like it was the first time he heard it.  Do Shanty Elder's automatically discount their primary caregivers observations out of spite or is it that I have become a noisy gong that sounds regularly that is never heard?  I lived in South Buffalo near the steel mills much of my life.  I went away for several years and returned to find I had trouble sleeping due to noise from a drop forge that had been operating since I was a child.  After one month I didn't notice it anymore.  Have I become Ma's drop forge?  I know she is angry at me at the loss of her independence.  We have had several "Come to Jesus" meetings over the last few years when her anger at me turned outward in some delusional rant.  The last time she exploded I told her, "You are up to your ass in buttermilk and you complain like your being poisoned".  She usually quiets for a month or more when I invoke her "Almighty Jesus'" name.  I know she is grateful for the attention I pay to her needs but she resents it at the same time.  She acts like a petulant child who pushes his parents to the limit just to see them dance.  Maybe I am not the Ringmaster in this delusional circus, but merely one of the acts.

     I must confess that I see that the end is nearing and I feel deep fear and inadequacy at the prospect of her dying under my care.  With Dad it was a fore drawn conclusion that he was going to die and I eventually reached a place where I was comfortable with it, additionally Dad and I  had the same plumbing.  Mothers are special creations to their sons.  Madonna's that are above being female, they are completely holy.  Ma's delusional forays leave me impatient, agitated and feeling guilty.  She doesn't have a terminal illness with foreseeable outcomes, she will expire without warning in some ungodly situation where I will have to do and see things no son should ever be exposed to.  I must confess I relish her admission to the hospital today and might be in a place where I need to put her into a assisted care facility.  I guess I just want my life back.  I have taken care of others for too many years and need a little TLC myself.

     I feel guilty about the way I am thinking.  I am torn between concerns about whether I am being selfish or objective.  What is in Ma's best interest at this point.  She doesn't take medicine without being cajoled.  She doesn't eat properly.  She has delusional episodes.  She costs me more in TP expense than I have spent on myself my entire life.  I am confused and concerned about what my family will think of the callous way I will have to act in order to pull off putting her in a home.

  

Check That Door Again....It Might Be Locked

     I came home after work, put my key in the dead bolt that wasn't engaged.  When I placed my key in the handset I found that it too was not locked.  Ma makes at least 20 trips to the door every day and night and whatever the position of the locks she reverses them.  Some times the door is not locked at all, sometimes it is half locked, and sometimes she gets it right.  I know when she is particularly agitated because she puts a kitchen chair in front of the door so, I would guess, she could pretend to hear it when that dastardly old man tries to come in and sit at the table.

     There is a light switch by the entry door that turns on a wall light above the kitchen table.  Often when I try the switch the light does not come on.  I replaced a perfectly good bulb and the light still didn't work.  I began to suspect what I found to be true, that was that Ma crawled over the kitchen furniture to turn the light off at the fixture.  The logic baffles me, why would you climb over furniture to turn off a fixture that has a wall switch in plain sight.

    The TP core collection grows faster than I can throw them out.   What is she saving them for, I am afraid of the answer for that one.  I left for work having seven full 1000 sheet rolls in the closet and returned to find 6 cores and 1 roll.  Certainly better than 7 cores and 0 rolls.  What the heck is she doing with that paper.  I am afraid to ask.

16 Rolls And What Do You Get...

     I put a brand new roll of TP out this morning and found only a core when I returned 10 hrs. later.  I have been looking for the elephant I know Ma has hidden somewhere all year.  There must be some large being that Ma is cleansing with TP for some rescue group.  It is the only thing that explains this unnatural use of TP.  Either that or she is rolling them out the 9th floor window in celebration of some event I am unaware of.  Their are plenty of parades in Disneyland and Ma has been dancing with the Fantasia mushrooms all year.  Perhaps Disney has a parade around the ring road at Marine Drive when I am away at work, that would help explain the TP loss if Ma was using it as confetti to greet Mickey Mouse and Goofy, especially Goofy.

     Ma engages me in some deep conversation everyday and complains that she can't here my response.  She hasn't heard my voice, particularly low, in 5+ years.  Today she wants to get some Father's Day cards for the men in the family and she vacillates between wanting to go herself and having me do it for her.  At this point I believe I will do it myself, it seems the path of least resistance.  She is aware that she cannot go anywhere by herself and is afraid of being anywhere in public where she may be required to interact verbally.  Kinda scary.

     I guess I should be glad that Ma is current and knows what day is coming.  It has been a long time since Ma has cared what day it was.  She forgot my birthday and all the kid's birthdays so far this year and her sudden burst of awareness is quite welcome.   I kept her medicated through my sister's death,  funeral and for about 2 months afterwards.  She then became depressed, which I believe is quite normal for all she has been through this last year.  I believe she is breaking through her lethargy at this point.

     Ma's health is still suspect and I just gave her some of the magic, sleepy time cough medicine as she is  not sleeping due to her hacking.  She still claims she has a cold, same story since December, but her COPD is getting worse and I think she will be on oxygen before too long.  She is taking her other meds regularly since our "Come to Jesus" meeting last Sunday when I read her (wrote her) the riot act and threatened her with full time in-patient eldercare.  This is the second time we had this conversation over the last year and each time it has insured an immediate change in attitude.  This "Coming to Jesus" thing really works as getting an old Irish Woman to stop complaining is at least as powerful a miracle as the parting of the Red Sea or making a blind man see.

    

An Apothecary Discussion

     Came home from a weekend away to find all of Ma's meds not taken.  At first I thought My brother had not come to check on her, but he did and said she refused to take the medication.  She seems to think that her medicines are the cause of her forgetfulness.  So upon returning from work this evening we had a "Brother Love, Come to Jesus Meeting" concerning her medications.  At first she denied not taking them and later relented and again blamed the medicine for her logic and memory loss. I wrote her a letter, in bold 22 font courier lettering, the only way to communicate with someone who is severely hearing impaired and near blind.  I reviewed my efforts in regards to her medications outlining how I had taken them all to the local apothecary to determine if they were appropriate, not improperly prescribed, and not mind altering.  I got the impression that she felt I was medicating her unnecessarily.  While I must confess that I delighted in the fact that her cough medicine makes her drowsy an puts her to sleep, I am very cautious concerning her medications, all for her heart and aricept for her dementia.  All very necessary for her to stay alive and as current as possible.  I guess I'll have to stop giving her the cough medicine which is the only thing that affects her adversely.  I went on to tell her that it was unfair that I cannot go away for a couple of days and have her cooperate with my reluctant assistants.  She moved right to Irish Guilt, saying that maybe I would be happier if she were in an old folks home.  Sure, pull out all of the stops to try and make me feel responsible for her belligerence.  The truth is it is probably her next stop if and when I can no longer guarantee her health and well being.  I will not tie her down and force medicine into her but will send her where she can get the medicine she requires.


     Ma cleaned the apartment in my absence, if that is what you call it.  She moved stuff around and used 9 rolls of brawny hand wipes and put all the refuse under the sink in her special place.  I spent two hours cleaning up after Ma cleaned up and must confess she has become a major source of aggravation.  She also hand washed her undergarments which were hung everywhere in the bathroom.  There are some things a son should not have to see.  I rewashed the dishes, dumped the uneaten cereal she saves, and generally cleaned up the mess made over two unsupervised days.  


     I would like for Ma to expire quietly and peacefully in her sleep.  I don't want to subject her to the humiliation of a Nursing Home and I sure to want to see her have a meltdown with her delusional visitors while I am away.  Life is surely comprised of two childhoods, one of fearless youth with good times and a sense of invulnerability.  The other, a fearful desperation worsened by diminishing abilities and mobility.  It is difficult to watch and more difficult to participate in. 

Stop Looking For Logic In A Delusional Worldgringmaster

     Things have been going pretty good lately.  I find less angst toward the daily challenges of my eldercare world.  I seem to have transcended into a lethargic state, much like a punch drunk fighter.  You get hit with so many lefts you find yourself hoping for a right.

    Today started as almost any other, me in the bathroom when Ma decides to knock on the door to see if anyone is in there.  She then goes to the door and tries the lock, returning to bed until I leave.  This morning on my way out I noticed an unusual amount of TP cores in the linen closet and took them to the kitchen to dispose of them.  While in the kitchen I noticed the the garbage had been emptied from the time I went to bed to the time I got up.  Curiosity killed the cat and I am at least that curious so I began looking for things that were out of place or unusual.  There was an empty plastic bottle in an unusual place so I opened the cupboards in hesitant expectation.  I was right, it is Christmas every day with Ma.  I then opened the cupboard under the sink and found a collection of plastic containers that food was packaged in, cellophane bags from cereal boxes, plastic bottles  and empty food boxes neatly arranged like a shrine to the cockroach gods.  Containers sifted from the garbage pail to save them for some higher purpose.  We don't have cockroaches, but they will be well fed when Ma convinces them to move in.  I am really through trying to find reasonable (or unreasonable) logic behind my regular discoveries as it just defies explanation and understanding.  Crazy is Crazy!!!  Trying to find palatable reasons for insanity will drive you insane.  At that point you go from being Ringmaster to being one of the acts.

     I am going away this weekend and I just want some peace of mind.  My brother and daughter are going to look in on Ma and I hope she doesn't think they are the little man who has been sitting at our kitchen table.  The thought of Ma chasing them down the hall with a shoe is hilariously tragic.  Who knows what I will find when I return.