There Are Just Some Things You Don't Need To Know

Ma has been giving away her prized possessions. Last week she gave one of my daughters a prized charm bracelet. She is constantly rummaging through her little boxes and containers checking on her treasures. I believe she is preparing herself to move on.

Today my daughter came over to pick up a Nordic Trac, it was a great idea to replace the hall coat closet. It became apparent that no one was going to use it for it's intended purpose so my baby girl claimed it. In the course of moving it outside Ma beckoned her to a private conversation where she showed her some lingerie from the 60's and gave them to her. Additionally, she offered some insights on when and where to use it. She graphically described things my father enjoyed and suggested these were things she should consider. My daughter was mortified, she is claiming that her experience was far more embarrassing than my 10 second viewing of Lady Godiva. At least I didn't have to talk to Ma about that experience. As my daughter left the apartment Ma gave her one of those knowing looks exchanged between parties to a secret. I can only imagine her discomfort.

I wonder how many embarrassing experiences are to be had as Ma moves closer to the Promised Land. I know I have seen just about everything I can handle.

IT'S THE LITTLE THINGS THAT DRIVE YOU NUTS

There was a timid knock at the door, before looking I knew who it was. Ma had locked herself out while taking out the garbage. Sure enough, there she stood with the emptied disposable kitchen garbage bag. The 332 conversations we have had concerning the fact that you are not allowed to dump garbage down the chute unless it is in a bag fall on deaf ears (Ma is deaf but multiple letters have been written to her about this). I bought 250 disposable bags this month and if we used two of them I would be shocked.

Today is cooking day. I usually prepare a large portion of something for Ma to sustain herself all week. Today it is chili and I used up all the pyrex containers cooking hamburger and making spaghetti, sauce and noodles for tonight's dinner. In self defense I hurry to do the dishes because I hate having to clean off dried food after Ma has rinsed them and put them away dirty. I should have dried them and put them away also as listening to Ma slam them into the cupboard also drives me to distraction. I usually buy everything in bulk and I had purchased four pounds of spreadable butter in tubs last month. Every one of them has been partially used and has some other foodstuff in the container. One of my neurotic aversions is mixing food, I use two knives to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as finding jelly in the pb or pb in the jelly is repulsive to me, so, I need to buy more butter or do without. I am going to have to hide stuff better. Well, the chili is on and needs to cook several more hours. The noodles and sauce I prepared for Ma sit uneaten, but the uncooked chili has been raided prematurely.

Ma is sitting watching TV as I write. She called to me complaining that it wouldn't go on, I find it unplugged again. It appears that the remote batteries need to be replaced and using the button controls on the front of the set is beyond Ma's comprehension. Remembering that she unplugged the set is also an unreasonable expectation. There is an upside to this story as Ma's volume finger has been disabled with the loss of the remote. No need for the volume police tonight.

Ma is experiencing night terrors again. I sleep on the couch by the door so she doesn't wander off and she has awaken me 3-4 times a night yelling at some unseen tormentor, "Get out of here." This really worries me and if it continues I will have to do something to make her secure.

MY EYES!!!!! MY EYES!!!!!!

Well, my worst fear has been realized. I have found a hobo frozen in a boxcar, seen people shot, stabbed, impaled and had an employee snap his leg in half while working for me. Nothing could have prepared me for today's nightmare.

I went to breakfast with friends and spent some time with them afterward. It was fun as we busted each other's chops for all kinds of social shortcomings. I believe we solved all the problems of the world from Obamacare to the the loftiness of the Spot Coffee on Main St. in Williamsville. No topic is safe with this band of miscreants and malcontents. I felt particularly uplifted by the banter. I left and did some shopping and went home feeling impervious to the ills of the world. I opened the door and was stopped in my tracks dropping the milk and shrieking to Ma to close the bathroom door.

I didn't know Ma made like Lady Godiva when I wasn't expected. I viewed first hand where all the TP was being used. I was deeply shaken, NO MAN SHOULD EVER HAVE TO VIEW HIS MOTHER'S UNCLAD BIRTHDAY SUIT! When my Father was expiring and getting weak, he fell into the tub and I had to pick him up, pull up his pants and put away his ducket. The family jewels were something I had never intended to view, let alone put away for him. There was a certain pride that we were men who did not have to whistle and look away at a public urinal, but I could have happily lived a lifetime without that experience. Now Ma parading around in the altogether is way, way over the line. I have always had a fear that Ma would expire in the tub and I would have to drain the water and cover her up. I have come to know that I was right, it is a really disconcerting experience to see, even briefly, Ma in the altogether. I hope she doesn't want to talk about it as I am sure she is as embarrassed as I am. This has got to be some kind of cosmic joke. My greatest fear realized just when I thought I was on top of my game.

I have been pretty content lately, feeling that I had ..... Hold that thought, I have to go turn the TV down to a level that will allow me to think. ... turned a corner with my acceptance of Ma's eccentricities. I am glad that life offers continual educational opportunities to expand my horizons and be humbled by my experiences.

I would have never chosen the path I am on. I have always envisioned this portion of my life as a full time Mardi Gras. A time to be enjoyed with little or no responsibility. This is more difficult and frustrating than raising a brood of kids. I can only imagine that my parents were and are as frustrated by the loss of their independence and dignity as I am. My mom wished me a Happy Birthday today, 12 days late, and was genuinely hurt that she didn't remember me on that day. She is way to busy preparing for her next life experience to have to worry about such things.

HOCKEY TONIGHT

Every time I watch a hockey game I think of my Dad. The last months of his life were spent with me in front of the TV on nights when there was a hockey game. I miss those times. I hope the Sabres play better than they did the night Dad passed.

Ma's recent behavior gives me pause. She is not really interested in much other than TV, bologna sandwiches, cereal and eating ice cream. Ma must think we are back in the Great Depression as she is saving milk from her morning Cheerios in the refrigerator. Well it is certainly better than when she was stuck in the 50's, a lot less delusional rambling. I try not to call these things to her attention as she embarrasses easily when questioned. I don't believe she knows why she does these things. She is still hyper vigilant about locking the door. Last night she checked the locks when I came in and again unlocked the doors assuming she was locking them. This morning she left a note asking me to lock the door when I left, something I do every day without being asked. These notes are becoming more frequent and I wonder what is motivating her concern. Is someone tormenting her when I am not here? Or is it just a natural paranoia that goes with her dementia? I really don't know, but I lean towards delusional paranoia.

Everything is really quite normal (?) at this time. Ma has eaten two pounds of bologna, two half gallons of butter pecan ice cream, left seven bowls of used cereal milk in the refrigerator, and used 7000 sheets of TP in the last 5 days. It is amazing what you get used to as you care for your parents. It is like when your kid's finally make you brain dead as they grow up and you figure that if they aren't killing each other then how bad can it be (?). You reach that place with your elder that if they remain clothed and don't dance the Lambada in the courtyard, things are ok.

Another Day in Elderville.

Thank God for friends who help you look at things from an entirely different angle. I was riding with friends to an early morning engagement when I started whining about Ma forgetting my birthday. A dear friend pointed out to me that she had been trying to forget the day I was born for 57 years unsuccessfully and had finally accomplished this after 58 years. Hard to argue with that kind of logic.

The truth is Ma is diminishing. She is mired in the recent loss of my sister and father. Her logic is spotty at best and she is in a transition to the next plane. She has lost the will to live. She sits with her shoulders slouched and her face is haggard. She talks to my father and sister constantly when she thinks I can't hear. The fat lady is warming up to sing Ma's song.

I am not sure exactly how I feel about the inevitability of Ma's moving on. I would like for her to pass peacefully in her sleep but don't want to be the one to discover her, but there really is no one else. I feel very strongly about my Mother's dignity, I don't want to find her in some state of disrepair or in an undignified position. I can't think of anything more undignified than being in the necessary room at the time you get called to move on. I have seen some horrific things in my lifetime and was not as deeply affected by them as I think I will be at my Mother's final time. She has given so much purpose to my life, given me an identity as a "good son", I wonder what purpose I will find after that time. Of what purpose will I be when my job is done? Will I find another to care for? How will I define myself in my minds eye?

I am really confused about who I will become when I don't have the protection of my identity as Ma's caregiver to shield me from the world. She is my job, my sense of self, my excuse for not living fully. Her care gives me an escape from every difficult social situation, every invitation that would require commitment to some emotionally demanding liaison. She has been, as always, my greatest defense against emotional involvement. It is time for me to move on with my own life.

The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same.

Took a little inventory on Wednesday of items in the house in anticipation of going shopping. 6000 sheets of single ply TP and two 1/2 gallons of ice cream in the house. Friday morning, 1000 sheets of TP and no ice cream. How could anyone use that much TP and eat that much ice cream??????? I am always caught up short when I review how much TP Ma uses in any one week. Assuming the average old person goes to the necessary room 3 x a day and uses 30 sheets at any one "sitting", 5000 sheets, the amount of TP now gone and assumed used, Ma should have been good for at least 400 trips to the necessary room with a 500 sheet buffer. Yet, I had to hot foot it to the local store and get an additional 4000 sheets to hold her over until I get to the store. Thank God the store I do most of my shopping in has packages of 30,000 sheets or my life would consist of running to the store 3 times a week for the precious commodity.

Ma has a lot of physical problems in addition to dementia. High blood pressure, hardening of the arteries, diverticulitis, and COPD. She is not supposed to eat a lot of dairy. Ma loves ice cream, and if it makes her happy I will provide her with that treat regardless of what the Doctor's say. I wonder if ice cream has ever been sighted as a cause of death on a coroners report? I wonder if I can be arrested for elder abuse for getting Ma her "fix". I can see the headlines now "Shanty Eldercare" provider given 3 years for assault with butter pecan. Ma's eyes lit up and she jumped out of a chair to greet her supplier when I got home. She wasn't hungry but managed two trips to the freezer for dishes of ice cream. This is worse than raising kids, you can yell at your kids. You can yell at Ma too, but she won't hear you and she really doesn't care to hear you caution her about her precious frozen delight. I just keep an eye open for the police for when Ma blows me in.

A Lock, A Lock, My Kingdom for a Lock!

My Mother forgot my birthday. Five days have passed and not a single word about her and my special day. She has been with me from the start and her failure to acknowledge the day brings two thoughts to mind: She is angry with me for some unreported infraction against her or she really hasn't got a clue. I could probably deal with her being angry, but have trouble digesting that she really may not know. The people at work had a surprise birthday cake and celebration for me, I really thought I had evaded that acknowledgment, and I brought home birthday cake with salutations on the frosting but it didn't jog her memory. She was happy that she could now feed her sweet tooth, but her memory of my day never came up. I cannot comprehend emotionally that she would forget our day, but I must confess that I certainly believe it is true. Kinda feels inexplicably lonely to think your life is of such inconsequential importance to the second most involved person in your being. Thank God I can intellectually accept her inability to grasp current events due to increasing dementia which minimizes my hurt.

Her sister's husband passed last year on March the 16th, the day before my Father's passing. Out of respect, and an attempt to get Ma involved with something, I initiated a phone call to my Aunt and put Ma on the phone. We spent hundreds of dollars on this phone which has a digital screen so you can read what the other person is saying, Ma insists on trying to hear the other person. She spends 15-20 minutes of every phone call switching ears, turning the hearing aid on and off before finally succumbing to reading the infernal screen. Then the delusional ramblings begin about my Father, my Sister, my Cousin who had a serious brain injury at Christmas last year. The conversation is predictable as she says the same things over and over again. My Aunt is frustrated by my Mother's ramblings and eventually hangs up and Ma continues to talk until at some point she realizes she is talking to herself and then goes to her room to cry.

I have begun to feel increasingly concerned over Ma's safety. She tried to check that the door was locked from outside the apartment and timidly knocked to get me to let her back in. The idea that you would check the door locking from the outside is kind of disturbing. She is getting up 2 - 3 times a night to check the locks, from the inside most of the time. I am questioning my ability to care for her much longer. I could not live with myself if I was negligently responsible for her being injured. I am not sure I can live with myself if I put her in a skilled nursing facility. I can't really win, damned if you do and damned if you don't.

IT'S BEEN A LONG YEAR.

I turned 58 yesterday (Sat 3/13). Last year I went out with friends, leaving my Brother to take care of Dad. I returned home around 1 AM and the process of Dad's final day's on this plane began. I have to confess I have been a little distracted the last two weeks in anticipation of the first anniversary of Dad's passing on St. Patrick's Day. I haven't felt like writing and I have been very intolerant of other people. The blessings of maturity have prevented me from saying too much, lest I hurt my friends and family with some unwarranted tirade. Thank God Ma is deaf.

I have always responded to emotional crisis by withdrawing and becoming hyper vigilant and self protecting. I react decisively and without regard for anyone else when so challenged. I don't like to be comforted during these times, I keep people at a distance, almost like I will fall apart if someone touches me. I see a lot of that in this time of introspection, I am someone who must work through these things alone, in my own way. Writing helps me as it is like a release into the ether's of otherwise unspeakable feelings and emotions.

My friend's father passed last week and the parallels of our lives and situations is uncanny. He took care of his dad for many years and the emptiness and sense that you have lost a piece of yourself seems to be universal. It is like you have lost your identity while gaining great insight into the inner complexities of your loved one. I was/am humbled by my father's faith, integrity and toughness as was my friend at his Dad's passing. I had the privilege of visiting his Dad a few weeks before his passing and had the same impression of him as of my own Dad. They really developed character in those WWII era personalities. Both men had character and were characters. They remained tough right to the end, no whining about being sick, no blaming God for the painful realities of a diseased body, no loss of that charmingly dark sense of humor that the Irish are noted for. They were men I admire. At times I wonder if I will go out whining like a newly acquired puppy on his first night alone or like these men. I have a lot of work to do to be like that. A lot of growing up to do.

Because of my own introspective discomfort I have become hyper sensitive to Ma's experience and her regular foibles. She is talking in her sleep to someone and is often disoriented. She has been crying a lot and I don't know how to comfort her other than to leave her alone. I have never been overly affectionate with Ma and I really don't understand her way of looking at things. I am more like my father, a prisoner of guarded emotional expression. The things I do regularly have become more difficult in these last weeks and some minor, almost undetectable level of self pity is just below the surface. I have to remind myself that I have the life I have chosen and just do the things I need to do to make her journey to her final reward as pleasant as possible. I must confess that I have a more than usual aversion to cleaning the toilet, bleaching the stains out of the sink, preparing food, and listening to Ma's disjointed logic and repetitive reminiscing about her life in the 1950's. I am truly frazzled. In this life I have taken many lonely journeys within my own consciousness and it never matters whether I am alone or with friends and loved ones, I scrutinize and evaluate myself in private. I believe I have been blessed (cursed?) with an objective ability to define who I am and to be accepting of all my personal eccentricities and shortcomings. I like that work eccentric, it is a nice way to say neurotic and flawed.

I am of that age where I, too, am getting short (running out of time) and wonder if I have done enough for others to have someone around to clean my toilet and listen to my disjointed ramblings. I hope to be blissfully unaware of my limitations and surroundings when that time comes. These experiences with my parents have become the fabric of my life. There hasn't been enough time to really involve myself in my own life and I hope not to regret that as the years pass.

Latchkey Elders

Ma began an obsession with locked doors a couple of years ago. She likes to feel safe, but the mechanics of the dead bolt, hand set and chain are out of her skill set. She is as likely to unlock a door if she is convinced it is not properly secure as she is to lock it. It is a 50/50 proposition. She has, in the past, barricaded the doors to her home with furniture. She has become hypersensitive to her personal security. Today, I lost my house keys. I left them in the mailbox. A kind neighbor took the keys and attempted to return them to me at my apartment. Ma was the only one home. She turned the Good Samaritan away in a less than polite manner. She is convinced that someone was attempting to scam her. Who knows what she thought she heard as she peeked through the peep hole and saw the woman with the keys. Hopefully she was not too insulting or vulgar. Yea, Ma now regularly uses vulgarity when she feels threatened. The words, I would never use myself, flow from her lips like a sailor that has been at sea for a year and has learned he won't be allowed a Liberty when port is reached. I wasn't aware that she even knew the words she uses. For Ma's security I have her keys on a fluorescent floating device with a license plate with her first name, apartment building, and my phone number on it. Maybe I should have gotten one for myself.