Mom & Me Three Archive

As of May 1, 2010...

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 05:24:00 +0000

...Blogger will no longer allow FTP publishing. Updates to this blog, which will probably be few to none, since this section of The Mom & Me Journals dot Net is, essentially, closed by time, can be found at http://momandmethreearchive.blogspot.com. This section of the journal will also remain at in it's domain directory, so accessing links should not present a problem.

So, I was talking to MCF yesterday...

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Sat, 31 Dec 2005 01:02:00 +0000

...and mentioned that I was both surprised and pleased that Mom has not picked up my cold.
    "I'm not surprised," she said. "You're the one who's run down." I hadn't thought of it this way, but that's true. Mom get's plenty of rest, eats well and leads a highly stress free life. I, on the other hand, go into sleep deficit or sleep restlessly on a fairly regular basis, try to eat well but often skip lunch and occasionally skimp on dinner, and while I can't say that I am most of the time stressed to my limits, I am always "on", even when I'm sleeping, just in case. I guess, after awhile, that tends to compromise one's immune system.
    This morning I was talking to MCS. I mentioned to her that, contrary to what I used to believe, that I would be "exhausted" when Mom dies, in fact I'm beginning to suspect that I will probably experience an energy and spirit revival immediately after her death, as many do who are living with Ancient and Infirm Ones. "I'm exhausted now," I told her, "and expect I'll remain that way for the rest of her life."
    This isn't to refute what I wrote earlier this fall, that our life is eminently more peaceful that it has been over the last five years. It is, and I'm definitely appreciative. I worked hard to get us here. Which is the point. I work hard to keep us in this peaceful place, as well.
    This morning I did a little internet research, trying to find information about the history of the nursing home phenomenon, from way back to now. I wasn't terribly successful but in my web wanderings I discovered a book which I immediately ordered: The History of Old Age, edited by Pat Thane; the U.S. publication of his British book, The Long History of Old Age. I was going to order the book through Amazon.uk until further searching led me to the U.S. publication, which is cheaper and will be much easier to acquire. The first review cited here is the one that intrigued me (the second cautioned me about what to expect). My mother and I have had several conversations throughout the years concerning whether it's true that old age is a fairly recent phenomenon, which The Literature and The Media would have us believe. We've each surmised that, although in centuries past, yes, childhood death rates have been high, but it would seem that if one survived childhood the chances were good that one would live to at least the closer reaches of elderhood. It seems that we surmised correctly.
    The reason we've been discussing old age lately is that in one of Mom's recent tabloids [hold on while I reference it: Globe (unfortunately for this referencing, one of American Media, Inc.'s publications that isn't online); January 2, 2006; pg. 55] appeared a short article about Kitty Carlisle, most ubiquitously known for her appearances on To Tell the Truth, also a legitimate star of stage and screen and the widow of Moss Hart. Mom spotted the article and passed it across to me one morning recently at breakfast. It is written in a Ripley's Believe It or Not style with the following information: Ms. Hart, who is 95, is astonishingly alive and active. She is currently starring in a one woman, 75 minute show, My Life on the Wicked Stage, which is traveling across country. A point is made of mentioning that she stands the entire time she is onstage. She continues her active social life, going out almost every night. She discusses her health routine, which includes "eating right and getting plenty of exercise. My instrument - my voice - is inside my body so I have to exercise. I still do 30 leg lifts and get on my treadmill several times a week. I can put my legs over my head and touch the floor." She adds, "People are always saying how good I look for my age. If I knew what my secret was, I'd be the richest woman in the world. I spend about $8 a year on makeup and put Nivea on my face every day and night. That's all I do." She mentions that 17 years ago she had a face lift. Two years ago, "I went to my doctor...and said, 'Surely you can do something to make me look better'. He turned me to the light and said, 'Go home.' I never thought of it again."
    After I read the article I was more curious to see what my mother's reaction to it was than to divulge mine. I finished it and with a smile said, "Well, what do you think about that?!?"
    "I think it's wonderful! Good for her!" There was not a hint of envy for this 95 year old Wonder Woman, nor any regret that her own elderly life was not nearly as astonishing. This didn't surprise me...my mother is an amazingly accepting creature. As I read the article, though, I watched my own reactions: A variety of internal questions formed under the heading of What Accounts for the Difference Between My Mother and Kitty Carlisle? I don't spend a lot of time worrying about these aspects of old age, but when I hear about an 86 year old surfer, or a 92 year old in New England still working full time, or a Kitty Carlisle, it's hard not to wonder why the ambitious, dynamic individual my mother has been most of her life is now 88 with Dementia-Lite, Chronic Renal Failure, Anemia Due to Chronic Disease, in need of full-time caregiving by a dedicated daughter.
    I always finally decide: This is one of the mysteries we are still trying to solve. Wouldn't we all like to live to be 95, as vibrantly as Kitty Carlisle? Why do only a very few of us become Kitty Carlisle? Some of us who try very hard to do this don't make it; I'm thinking of Jim Fixx. Often it seems it is those who aren't working hard at it who accomplish it. This is one of the most mysterious aspect of life, the one we humans have spent an inordinate amount of time trying to understand and, still, all we can come up with is, some do and some don't. It's an incredibly sobering realization, especially when you are a caregiver to An Ancient One. The best bet, I think, especially if one is caring for An Ancient One, is to forget the questions, put the mystery aside while you're with your Ancient One and she is with you. Despite everything one, as a caregiver, attempts to do to ameliorate what one is tempted to consider the "health choices" of old age, my experience has told me that life works better when you follow your Ancient One's determination rather than your own, regardless of where that leads. Consider yourself lucky if you are caring for An Ancient One who is as accepting and regret free as my mother. If your's isn't, though, while you probably cannot keep your Ancient One from their spiritual misery, your path will be easier if you do not join them in it. If you think counseling will help your Ancient One, make sure you delegate this job to someone else. Do not attempt it yourself. If nothing helps, rest yourself in the knowledge that your Ancient One is living the eccentric mystery of her or his elder life in exactly the same way as my mother and as Kitty Carlisle; the fact that he or she remains alive is an indication that they are who they are meant to be.

I'm usually loathe to take cold medication...

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Wed, 28 Dec 2005 00:34:00 +0000

...but when I realized my nose was going to continue running the marathon today I imagined myself dripping fresh cold virus all over the house and decided, not a good idea when living with an Ancient One. So I picked up a generic preparation that contains only ibuprofen and a nasal decongestant.
    So far, though, we've been lucky. She hasn't shown any signs of picking up my cold. I hope this continues.
    The Mom's up.
    Later.

Sometimes I'm a little slow.

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Tue, 27 Dec 2005 15:59:00 +0000

    Although I've alluded to the following in previous reports here, last night I finally understood it, due to a conversation we had prior to Mom retiring: Whether I am her daughter to her remains a mystery but I realized that I am a contemporary. It is possible to be both a child of and a contemporary to an Ancient One.
    The conversation was so insignificant I can't remember the detail. It centered around discussing some aspect of life, mentioned in the news, that has changed drastically since she was raised in Mechanicsville. At one point she asked me to clarify something of which I had no knowledge.
    "If you've forgotten, Mom, then your guess is as good as mine, since I wasn't there."
    She gave me a direct "what's you're problem" look. "It happened in Mechanicsville," she prompted.
    "That's why I have no memory of it, Mom. I wasn't there. You hadn't even imagined having me, probably."
    "Well, then, where were you?!?" She clearly thought I was joshing her and she wasn't appreciative.
    "I wasn't anywhere, Mom."
    "You've said that before. Why do I remember you there?" She still had that "this is your problem, not mine" tone.
    I paused for thought. "Well," I posited, "if reincarnation is true, maybe my essence was there as someone else, someone you knew who was to die shortly and be reborn several decades later as your daughter. Then again, maybe I'm wrong about not yet being a gleam in your eye. Maybe you imagined all your children long before you had them and I was there. All I know, and I'm willing to accede that what I know could be superficial and insignificant, is that I was born to you in 1951 and, after my birth, you didn't visit Mechanicsville again until, hmmm, I think it was in 1995 when you went to Cedar Rapids for that stockholder's meeting."
    She listened carefully. Made no comment.
    "Are you confused?" I prompted.
    She fixed me with a determined look. "No, I just can't figure out how it is that it seems as though I've known you all my life."
    I laughed. "Well, that's easy! Maybe I'm right! Maybe you have known the idea of me all your life and when I was born I became the idea manifest!"
    She laughed, too. "I think you may have something there..."
    Which is the best confirmation anyone can get from my mother.

    This reminds me of the conversation I had with Mom about a week ago about why she asked me to be her companion rather than making arrangements to combine her life with that of one of my married-with-children sisters. I can't remember why it occurred to me to ask her, although it's a subject over which I've mulled many times. I've also thought I knew the answers:

I was the single one which, from the point of view of my mother's generation, means that I was not suffering Caregiver Burnout from being a wife and mother and would probably be amenable to taking care of her, when care would be what was needed;
My life up to that point had been pretty adventurous with no obvious hitches that indicated I wouldn't want to be her companion;
She and I had accidentally (probably due to my single status and her desire to not interfere in the married-with-children lives of her other daughters, although she was always available to help, of which only one daughter took advantage), throughout the years, forged and nurtured a close, person-to-person relationship beyond our mother-daughter status and had included one another in our intellectual and physical adventures;
I had lived in her chosen home, the Phoenix Metroplex, on and off throughout the years and she knew I would have few and easily adjusted qualms about returning, despite my love for my found home of Seattle; thus, the detail of her life wouldn't need to change or would change, as necessary, slowly and easily instead of drastically and with personal upset.

    When I asked my question I also asked her to take some time to think back and try to remember what she was thinking that fateful day when she called me and said, "What would you think about moving back here to live with me? I think I've had just about enough of living alone."
    She took some moments. I waited patiently at her feet, her faithful dog, my eyes trained, as always, on her upturned, searching-the-ceiling-of-her-mind face.
    Finally, changing her view to straight ahead, letting me know that she was satisfied with what she found, she pronounced slowly and definitively, "Freedom of thought."
    A left field fast ball. I reeled. I knew there had to be more behind this response that the surface revealed. I've always considered every member of my born-into family as permanently sloshing about with abandon in The Fields of the Lord of Infinitely Ranging Thought. Except for one friend whom I've had since 1983, I've considered every member of my family my only strongholds for companionship during Discussions of Unfettered Thought. I attribute many rituals of my own unfettering directly to each member of my family. My unfetterings continue through them, as well. I've always felt that each member of my family and I are joined at the hip, working hard and constantly to understand what each is thinking, consider it with and against our own thoughts and absorb and love, with astonishingly respectful equanimity, the details of our inner and outer lives. I learned to do this within my family and count on my family to continually nourish these abilities. I know that my mother feels much the same about our family and The Realms of Thought. Thus, I knew that I couldn't assume anything from my mother's short, pithy response.
    Instead of pointing out that we are a family of free and mutable thinkers, thus couldn't this apply to her living with any of her daughters, I asked, "What do you mean?"
    Again, she took awhile to answer.
    "I knew," she said, "with you I wouldn't be just another member of the family who would be listened to but would be...hmmm...let me think...."
    "Can I help you?"
    "Sure, if you're wrong, though, I'll tell you."
    "Good. ...whose thoughts and feelings wouldn't be hijacked by what would seem to be the more urgent thoughts and feelings of spouses and children."
    "There, you've got it!" She seemed relieved. "Families are so busy, nowadays, you know." An interesting observation, considering that she was born into an extremely busy family and probably passed this trait on to us.
    "And I didn't make a second family."
    "Right."
    "Wow. I never would have guessed that. I thought..." and I felt it would be safe to tell her why I previously thought, of all her daughters, she asked me to be with her, so I did.
    "No, no, no," she said. "When you asked me to consider living with you in Seattle and we realized I couldn't stand Seattle, I expected that you'd decide not to come live with me."
    "Really! Well, you should know, then, once I made up my mind, trying you out in Seattle was just an attempt at an adjustment. I had no intention of not being your companion if you hated Seattle. I just thought, you know, I just thought I'd try. Also, for your information, I haven't regretted leaving Seattle. I miss the weather but it'll always be there."
    "Well, good."
    So. That's the story. I can't help but fill in a little. I'm positive my mother wasn't impugning any of my sisters' characteristics of thought. Immediate families, though, always take precedence over past and future families. When one remains single, as I did, one's immediate family is one's past and future family if they are a part of a family they continue to love and enjoy throughout their lives. Thus, one is free to continue a level of in depth involvement with one's parents and sisters that one would necessarily shave in the face of immediate husbands and children. When relationships with siblings and parents are kept up it is usually through the efforts of the single sibling, if one exists. Otherwise, relationships are stored for use in one's later years. My mother knows how this works. This is what happened between her and her sisters and parents. In her case, the glue of a single sibling didn't exist and, as it turned out, her later attempts to rebind with her siblings were tragically truncated by her brother's and sister's health problems.
    How had I kept up the relationship with my mother while I plied my singular life?

During the periods of time I lived and worked within the Phoenix Metroplex I would make it a point to have dinner with my parents, then my parent, at least a few times a week.
Holidays were always spent with my parent/s.
Occasionally, when in the process of moving to and from other places, I lived with them for short periods of time.
During one particularly cogent period in my late 20s and 30s when I lived close to my parents, my mother and I would meet a few evenings a week to read aloud and discuss books in which we had a mutual interest.
When I lived in Seattle and my mother lived alone in Mesa she would call me every Saturday at 1700 Seattle time for an extended week review. When I brought this to her attention, with much amusement, on the occasion of her not calling me one Saturday and me looking, by phone, all over the Phoenix area for her, wondering if she was all right, she denied, with barely hidden embarrassment, that she habitually called me. When I laid out my concern when she hadn't as proof that she did, she expressed relief that someone knew her habits well enough to worry about whether she was okay. As it happened, she was. She'd been out on the town with her sister.
I've always been in the habit of "saving" snippets of information for her that I knew would pique her interest and provoke discussion. She has done the same for me.
We've had shared adventures, too, some of them illegal, when she's visited me in far flung locations or we've traveled together since I came to live with her.

    Most of all, though I believe the amount of attention I pay to her in her Ancient Years, the willingness (with reservations, including the reservation of my desire for solitude during the holidays and my desire not to negotiate us into episodes that have already proved disastrous) with which I allow her preferences and my inability to consider that her life is impinging on mine are the bedrocks of what she was expressing. It is unusual in the life of a dependent Ancient One to be able to live out one's life precisely as one wishes without feeling that one's life is hampering, is a distraction or is incidental to the lives of others.
    I am struggling, here, not to make comparisons while I enumerate the advantages, to her and me, of the life we lead journeying together in her Ancient Years. I have often, in despair, considered that my mother would be better off surrounded by a family of more-than-one (me), including the young and the middle aged. I have wished that an arm of our family was closer and more able to host my mother when my need for my beloved solitude becomes so overwhelming that my behavior becomes uncontrollably wretched. As well, my continued, fundamental belief is that Ancient Ones both deserve and benefit from frequent exposure to relations of all ages. I still, though, consider myself lucky and blessed to be doing what I'm doing with my mother. I'm sure my mother feels equally lucky and blessed to have her single, family oriented daughter walking with her through her final years.
    Families beget families beget families. In our culture, at least in the WASPish arena, families are, at this time, primarily nuclear. Even though, especially within the last more-than-a-few decades, this nuclearity is stretching to accommodate "blended" families, single parent families and families extended with older and/or abandoned relatives, at this time lucky is the family who somehow manages to produce a single sibling who remains family oriented. Had circumstances been different, had my mother successfully petitioned to spend her last years in the bosom of one of the families that came out of the family she created, I know that she would have been fine and happy. MFASRF, many years ago, upon meeting my mother (she was in her mid 60s at the time) pronounced her "resigned, in the best sense of the word." She is. She takes it as it comes and if I hadn't come to be with her she would have taken it well. Although I have rarely dared to imagine that this life my mother and I lead is my mother's preference and was from the beginning, I have often hoped, against hope, that it is. I'm glad I found the presence of mind and the courage to "ask...
    ...and it shall be given unto you."
    Time to nudge The Mom into her morning.
    Later.

"I think I've had just about enough ham...

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Tue, 27 Dec 2005 06:54:00 +0000

...got anything else for dinner?"
    I (and those of you who know my mother, I'm sure) never thought I'd hear her utter this sentence in regard to ham, especially HoneyBaked Ham. She did, though, tonight. Yes, I had something else: One serving left of a chicken concoction I worked from the picture attached to a magazine recipe that attracted Mom's eye and palate. I mention this here because I don't think I'll be getting over to the Tests & Meds site tonight. Don't expect Stat Ketchup until tomorrow.
    Thus, a few more reminders for myself: Bowel Movement at 1430 today; Very light lunch of cottage cheese at about 1715; Ham for breakfast, yet again, her request.
    I continue with cold. I thought I'd be able to get away with feeling good through the entire infection but about 10 hours ago I began feeling physically bad, in the way colds tend to make one feel bad. Surprised me. None of today's badness is amenable to ibuprofen, as the sore throat and fever were. I'm not a fan of using OTC cold preparations on myself, either. I tried to take a nap at about 1500. I felt as though I could use one, unusual for me, but my nose, which has now graduated to "Running the Marathon" status, would allow me to sleep. So, I've been dragging all afternoon and evening. This hasn't affected my generally good mood, though, which is an unexpected surprise.
    I'm trying hard not to pass this cold on to Mom. I'm keeping our tissues separate; no kissing allowed, which is hard on both of us; I'm indulging in obsessive hand washing and lotion application to keep my hands from cracking; every time I prepare something for her I breathe "in the other direction", which is an interesting challenge. So far so good. She's told me several times that she simply refuses to contract my cold. Good. I wish I'd thought to use this tactic on whomever it was that blessed me with it.
    It's been so long, years, in fact, since I've been at all ill from an infectious disease that I'm feeling rather like a child who's experiencing her first cold. I'd forgotten that I lose my appetite; my skin becomes super-sensitive; I drink water as though it's going out of style; my head feels like it's attached to someone else's body and I'm using it through a LAN.
    Something I've been meaning to mention here of which I was reminded when I mentioned it to a friend: I alluded, some posts ago, to the possibility that I suffer from a type of Seasonal Affective Disorder. I'm only half joking. I'm finding, this winter, which is unusually warm, dry and sunny for this area this time of year, that the sun is irritating me, especially in the mornings when it floods the front of our house and I can't get away from it unless I want to spend all my time in the back of the house, which isn't possible. I remember this feeling during the summers in Seattle. Although they lasted only two months and were what most people would consider perfect summers, after a week of 18 hours of sun every day I'd find this natural perfection tedious and couldn't wait for the other 10 months of the year when Seattle was shrouded in mist. I wonder if anyone's done a study on the inverse of what is considered to be standard SAD: Those of us who prefer gray, wet days and find too much sun troublesome. I doubt that there are many of us but I remember, when I lived in Seattle, reading some commentary by Jonathan Raban, who made the Pacific Northwest his home, that there are some of us who can't get enough of "the gray" [thank you, Seal]; not many, but our preference is at least as strong as the general preference for non-precipitous days.
    Yet one more reminder tick: A few evenings ago I asked my mother if she remembered why she originally asked me to be her companion through her Elder and Ancient years and if so, would she tell me why. I thought I already knew the answer. I was wrong. Her answer startled me. I'll cover that later.
    I think I can get to sleep, now, regardless of what my nose decides to do. Here's hoping.
    Later.

"I don't know about you, but..."

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Mon, 26 Dec 2005 00:16:00 +0000

...that's a direct quote from my mother; her way of prefacing an opinion upon which she wants either confirmation or argument. I'm using it with the following completion: ...I'm having a wonderful Christmas this year! I think Mom is enjoying hers as well. She certainly hasn't been able to forget that it's Christmas. I turned on the Christmas cable music channel soon after she awoke: I've wished her "Merry Christmas" and "Feliz Navidad" several times; teasing sung every Christmas song I know that's played (and a few I don't know but thought I could wing) to her. I've continued baking. The bread turned out today, after which I used the rest of the pumpkin in a concoction I call "Pumpkin/Apple/Walnut Bread", a quick leavened bread. Sounds delicious, doesn't it?!? It's cooling now. I prepared the crust for the last apple pie: This one will be an apple/toasted almond/dried raspberry pie. When that's done we'll have two apples left for baked apples...or, maybe I'll get ambitious and make a small cobbler or apple dumplings.
    My intention, as usual, is to publish the original recipes. In case you're wondering, most of my baking this year has been non-original recipes, followed practically to the letter with minor adjustments for altitude. Since I haven't done as much as I was planning (which is just as well; since we have little storage room I've been giving most of it away) a lot of the experimenting fell by the wayside. I never got around to the fruitcakes, either, although my intention is to make those and get them out for Easter. I didn't even make my famous German Chocolate Chip cookies. I did make a couple of batches of Honey Bear brownies; I need to record the final recipe before I forget it. Anyway, over the next few days my intention is to publish both my mother's pumpkin pie recipe (which is, essentially, a pecan pie within pumpkin custard rather than sugar custard and so spicy it comes out brown instead of orange) and the pumpkin/apple/walnut recipe at the food site under the title, "I Came in on a Load of Pumpkins". I'll be publishing the magnificent apple pie recipes under the title, "The I Hate Apple Pie Apple Pie".
    In case you're wondering, we don't get each other gifts for Christmas. We have so damned much stuff here that we don't need to be buying ourselves frivolities; we usually get a few of those from other's anyway. If there's anything we do need we just get it at the time we think of it. For obvious reasons, as well, I don't feel the need to give the gift of my time to her; I gift her with this every hour of every day. She is beyond giving the gift of her time to me except by simply allowing me free management rein in her care.
    Two people called this morning to wish us Merry Christmas before I arose. Once I arose, I hit the busy button and didn't really want to stop what I was doing to call them back. Besides, this year, Christmas is really quite a wonderful affair for me. I'm feeling good, I'm not being overly hermitic (yes, "hermitic", not "hermetic"), Mom's doing well, and we've both been spending the day in quietly satisfying pursuits: She's been reading and chatting, I've been baking, singing and chatting. This is as close to my preferred way (for details see the first two paragraphs of In the Spirit of the Holiday) of spending the holidays as I can get right now, and I'm satisfied. I know Mom would enjoy visiting but, you know, she's enjoying herself anyway. A short bout of company is scheduled later this week, which should be fun for both of us.
    The Mom is up from her short nap. She's sampling the pumpkin/apple/walnut bread, which seems a bit mild to me but she's enjoying it. It probably hasn't hit it's flavor peak, yet, which is should by tomorrow morning. In just a little bit I'll be putting together and baking the last apple pie. Considering what time Mom arose, dinner will probably happen between 2000 and 2100. It's all going to be extremely easy and flavorful. Perfect way to celebrate the holiday.
    Later.

Yep, it's Christmas.

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Sun, 25 Dec 2005 17:38:00 +0000

    Mom's still sleeping. I'll give her until 1130 or so; that'll be 12 hours. I'm feeling good. We had a congenial, laid back Christmas Eve: Mom and I watched Miracle on 34th Street (the old one) while I baked, then Mom concentrated on a variety of TV Christmas specials while I continued baking. We've already watched It's A Wonderful Life for the season. This year we watched it on a TV channel. Neither of us mentioned that today is Christmas and we're not traveling or seeing family and friends but neither of us denied it, either. I think we're both well satisfied with this holiday.
    Yes, we'll be having a Christmas dinner featuring, yet again, Mom's beloved HoneyBaked Ham, heated in the oven with pineapple slices. Accompaniments: Nuked yams; either asparagus with Hollandaise sauce or a side salad, depending on what Mom's taste is when I get around to preparing dinner; I'll also offer Mom some of MCS's bread & butter pickles, which I'm sure she'll have. Dessert: Probably the pumpkin pie I baked last night. I'm hoping we'll also have home made bread; the bread machine malfunctioned last night and I had to throw out the unmixed, unbaked contents of what was to be a loaf. I'm going to try again as soon as I finish posting here. The older that machine gets, the more finicky it becomes. Sounds familiar...
    Other than being victimized by a fast, furious cold which took hold sometime before I awoke yesterday morning and kept my throat sore and my nose running all day yesterday, I'm feeling very good. The sore throat is gone today; the nose is running overtime. I'm sure this isn't the flu. I'm hoping that Mom's immune system is up to handling my unavoidable spreading of the cold all over our house. She's in very good health, though, so even if she contracts it I think she'll be fine. Although this one doesn't seem to be tiring me, if Mom gets it I'm sure she'll consider it an excellent excuse to sleep, and I'll allow her this.
    Apropos a suggestion by a reader that Mom and I try a spa day: I had wondered out loud (meaning here) at the time if I could handle a trip down to the Valley and back for such an event, even though the event itself sounds promising. Mom would love it and I wouldn't mind it. As chance would have it, while I was doing car-based errands last week and peripherally listening to the radio I discovered that there is a commercial spa facility up here that offers spa-day packages, so I'll be looking into that. I'm very pleased to have discovered this.
    I've pretty much got my network up, tweaked and running the way I want so that I can transfer files from platform to platform. Time for me to finish off the TOC cataloguing and create the index. Don't expect instantaneous performance, though. January is also tax preparation month and my vow is to get everything into Mom's Tax Man no later than the first week in February.
    Today seems to be a decidedly unmusing day. Maybe...
    ...later.

I've posted Mom's current Health Review...

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Fri, 23 Dec 2005 18:07:00 +0000

...which I fax to the doctor every month. This time I posted it for the date of her Blood Draw. You can access it here. I also decided to include it as one of the Special Posts that is listed at the top of the links section at the main journal. Each time a new health review becomes available the link will be changed to take you to the most current version.
    Because I posted yesterday's meals and stats at Mom's Daily Tests and Meds a few hours before she retired, her retirement information for yesterday is as follows: She retired at 2330; light went out at 2345.
    I'll check back...
    ...later.

Did you notice that I linked an essay...

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Thu, 22 Dec 2005 23:22:00 +0000

...to the title This Isn't Your Mother's Caregiving contained in my December 18th post?
    Blood Draw results are up for Mom's 12/21/05 blood draw. Her hemoglobin is heading back up, as are some of her other indicators. She continues to hold her own. I was concerned about her sodium and potassium and relieved to see that those are remaining within normal range.
    I had a very touchy day, yesterday, due to yet more "breathe through your nose, not your mouth" problems in the car on our way to and from the lab. I finally figured out that the only time she consistently refuses to do this to my terrible distraction is when she's in the car. I considered that it might have something to do with car seats but in the last several months she's spent a lot of time in a variety of car seats, thanks to me renting cars for our Valley trips. Of all those car seats only two have been uncomfortable for her or put her in a position that might (and this is a big "might") compromise her ability to breathe normally: Our truck seat and the Monte Carlo seat. The seat she occupied during the Thanksgiving Trip was a very comfortable one for her. So, that's not it.
    A couple of nights ago Mom awoke about an hour into her night sleep, came out to the living room, settled into her rocker with the intention of discussing what one does when one has lost one's driver's license. For some reason she suddenly remembered that she "couldn't find" her driver's license. I explained to her that she no longer has a driver's license and hasn't had one since she drove into the side of our Mesa house in the spring of 2000. We had a conversation about why she no longer drives, including me reminding her that previous to her final car accident she was having trouble remembering how to drive, anyway, would only drive to and from the beauty shop across the street and that I probably should have revoked her license long before I did. I also reminded her of the 92 year old woman in Glendale, AZ, who, the same year Mom drove into our house, mistook the gas for the brakes while at a Park and Swap, demolished a couple of kiosks and killed a couple of people.
    "We were lucky, Mom. All you did was damage our utility room."
    "I suppose so," she responded, "but I think I should have a license."
    "Mom," I told her, "if you want an Arizona ID we can do that. We haven't gotten you one because you have your military ID and that suffices just fine here in Arizona. But, if you want a state ID we'll get you one. Let's wait 'till after the New Year, though."
    "Will I be able to use it as a driver's license?"
    "No, but, Mom, even if you could, I wouldn't let you use it as a driver's license anymore. You haven't driven for almost six years, now, and I'm not about to let you get behind the wheel of a car ever again."
    "Well, I don't know why. I'm perfectly capable of driving."
    "No, Mom, you're not. And, anyway, you never liked driving, anyway!"
    "That doesn't matter! I think I should have a driver's license!"
    "Well, I can guarantee you that the State of Arizona would be in agreement with me, not you. And, anyway, what do you need a license for? I drive you everywhere you want to go."
    "What if something happened to you?"
    "There are perfectly competent ambulance drivers would could take me to the hospital if something happened to me."
    "And what about me?!? How would I get around if you were in the hospital?"
    "Mom, if I were in the hospital you'd either stay with MCS or MFS, I'm sure, until I was able to be with you, again. If I wasn't able to ever be with you again, one of your other daughters would step in." I didn't mention that there's a possibility that she'd be in a nursing home for awhile. No reason to upset her out of turn.
    "I hope nothing happens to you."
    "So do I, Mom. And, frankly, I don't think it will. I think we'll be just fine, you and me, and I'll be able to take you anywhere you want to go as long as you're around."
    "Good. That's settled. I think I'll head for bed."
    Whew.

    I've some more reporting I want to do, but I'm behind on compiling Mom's blood pressure, blood glucose and health reviews for her doctor. I want to get those out tomorrow. Suffice it to say, I've been experiencing a couple of bad days: So difficult that I've been indulging myself in "What if I just decided to abandon my post?" fantasies. Not that I will. The fantasies seem to take the edge off. I'll explain...
    ...later.

Health Review: 12/21/05

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Wed, 21 Dec 2005 17:42:00 +0000

Faxed to Doctor: 12/23/05

Blood Pressure:
    See attached chart. I finally figured out that taking her blood pressure every time she turned around was part of the reason it was running high. Even though it was hard for me, I took your advice to monitor it much less often. I slowly worked myself back to once a day in the evening every other day. Since I’ve been doing this her blood pressure has been very even, no episodes of high blood pressure and no extra lisinopril has been needed. Maybe I was the cause of some of her high blood pressure episodes because I just wouldn’t leave her alone! What a lesson to learn! Thank you, doctor, for encouraging me to pull back in monitoring her. She and I are both much better off for it!

Blood Sugar:
    Very good control. See attached numbers.

Urinary Issues:
    No change. Macrodantin continues to keep her UTI free.

Hydration:
    No change from last month.

Energy Level:
    She’s staying up more than last month. Although awaking later, she’s retiring much later. Her naps are shorter than last month, too. She’s not getting out much more but at least she’s not in bed as much.

Skin & Circulation:
    Both continue to be excellent. No changes.

Appetite & Diet:
    Both remain excellent. No changes.

Dementia:
    Remains unchanged.

Will & Spirit:
    Remain strong and high, respectively.

Medication & Supplements:
    I’ve boosted her, yet again, to 1 tablespoon + 1 teaspoon Benefiber a day.
    She’s had two 200 mg ibuprofen pills in the last two weeks for temporary knee and back aches.
    I’ve given her 20 mg furosemide twice in the last month for torso and feet swelling that wouldn’t go subside any other way. These are noted on her BP report.
    I’ve boosted her lisinopril 7 times in the last month. These are noted on her BP report. All of these boosts happened before I cut back on measuring her BP. Since then, no boosts have been necessary. She seems to be doing well on 10/mg per day administered at 5 mg in the morning and at night.

CHF:
    Only two mild CHF episodes since last report, both involving the administration of furosemide.

COPD:
    No changes from last report.

Bowel Movements:
    One episode of diarrhea after ODing on some diabetic candy. Continues to eliminate every 24-72 hrs; usually every 48 hrs. Fecal consistency, volume and ease of elimination remain excellent overall.

Additional Notes:

I still haven’t found an available flu shot up here but she seems to be doing fine without it, probably because she isn’t getting out much and although I do get out, I managed to get a flu shot before the shortage took hold.
You will notice that a copy of her test results for her 12/21/05 draw are attached (CBC & BMP). Once again, the lab did not delete [Shiny New Doctor's] order from their system and printed the report to be faxed to him. This time, when I picked up my copy and noticed the error, I stood by the computer person and watched as she deleted the order, then had her pull up your order to confirm that they had your new fax number, not your old one. She said she’d fax you a copy of the report but, just in case she didn’t, I’m faxing you a copy with all this other stuff.
Again, just for fun, I did her BP averages for 11/22/05-12/21/05:
pre-breakfast: 133/66 pre-dinner: 127/63
Chances are, now that I’ve slowed down on monitoring, next month the averages will only be for pre-dinner readings. I might, occasionally, do a run of pre-breakfast or pre-lunch readings but the truth is, she is more likely to get irritated when I take her BP prior to breakfast or lunch so I may stick with just pre-dinner readings.
Also, regarding the slow down on BP monitoring, if I notice more CHF episodes than usual and/or her BP seems to run awfully high during a particular reading, I’ll step up the monitoring (a little) to see if anything significant is happening.

Touching Base

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Mon, 19 Dec 2005 00:07:00 +0000

I've got a few moments (which haven't been plentiful, lately). Following is a list of topics upon which I've been meaning to write, but I haven't had much time to get back here; over the next few days, I hope to complete those I don't get a chance to complete at this writing; check back for links to further material on those that are barely more than a title:

I think I have a type of Seasonal Affective Disorder but it's different than the usual.
Happier Holidays than Usual: I've been doing much better at the holidays this year than in years past but not as good as I intended. Once I went to the shed and viewed the work involved in simply dragging a 75 lb box stuck in the back and surrounded by other boxes out and into the truck, not to mention finding all the boxes marked "X-mas" and hauling those out, as well, I decided, nah, I'm not into that this year, we'll use the small fiber optic tree; which, as of this writing, I haven't yet displayed. Maybe tonight.
This Isn't Your Mother's Caregiving: I overheard a conversation at Walmart about a week ago that's been haunting me since. The chattier of the two participants was the married-with-children sister of a woman who, according to the conversation, is taking care of her the two siblings' mother. The conversation involved the listener commenting to Ms. Chatty that, despite not knowing her, she admired Ms. Chatty's sister for "taking on" the care of their shared mother. Ms. Chatty responded, "I don't know if she deserves to be admired. She's not doing anything more than our mother ever did for us when she was raising us." This reminded me of something I read on a website set up by another caregiver who admonished ALL caregivers to consider themselves "heroes", with which I initially took issue and still do but with modifications since overhearing this particular conversation. I'll write on this later.
Linked to essay on December 21, 2005.

For those of you who haven't been keeping up with the minor detail of our lives over at Mom's Daily Tests & Meds, in brief:

We're both doing well;
Holiday baking has dwindled but is picking up again, now that the weather is more to my liking;
Mom still isn't getting out much but it would be inaccurate to say that she's hibernating;
We'll be going in for her December blood draw tomorrow, which will include a BMP and a CBC, both of which I expect to be within her normal ranges;
I've definitely decided, no traveling over the holidays. Despite the promises of felicitous get-togethers, I simply can't face another intense up-and-down trip, right now and don't even want to try;
Our yard is tucked in for a winter that I despair may not appear this year;
My networking effort has been only partially successful but I'm still working on it and hoping for the best;
The TOC is languishing while I spend most of my "free" time on the details of networking the way I want to network.

I'll try to check in a bit more often than I've been doing, lately.
Later.

Appropos what I wrote last night...

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Sun, 11 Dec 2005 16:21:00 +0000

...I thought of the following before I drifted into sleep last night:

Suppose, as a child, you were in a situation where someone other than your parents handled you during the times when maintenance was the order of the hour and stress was necessary? Typically you interracted with your parents when you were likely to be "well-behaved" and your parents (and supposedly you) were "free to enjoy" each other's hopefully stress free company? Rather like an extreme nanny situation? With whom do you suppose you would be most likely to bond? With whom would you have the most life enhancing relationship? With whom would you be most comfortable? With whom would you think you would be most likely to form a deep, complicated, productive love attachement? With whom do you think you'd most likely rather spend time? Who do you think you'd trust in a crisis? Finally, who would you prefer to see first upon awakening and last before slipping into sleep?
If we as a society believe that parents, children and relatives are not only entitled to enjoy the above type of commitment but are better off if they do, what makes us think that our elders "deserve" different treatment from their relations? Why do we insist on believing that the older we get the better off we are in the hands of professionals and potential caregivers are better off if they hand the drudgery over to those paid to do it? If we salute parents and relatives who modify their jobs and their lives in order to care for their children in a committed, loving, all encompassing manner (although, of course, in this nation we do not support them as a society), why do we not also salute family members who do the same in order to take care of family elders in this manner? Why do we, instead, encourage such caregivers to hire out the potentially stressful situations and shrug our shoulders in a "well then, you're asking for it" manner when they refuse to do this?

Later.

Today Mr. Everything worked a morning session for us.

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Sun, 11 Dec 2005 07:30:00 +0000

    I spent a fair amount of time outside with him going over the yard, discussing needs and plans, and talking about some inside maintenance as well. After a Costco run while awaiting the running out of Mom's requested extra half hour of sleep, I was back out in the yard talking with him. Somehow one of us broached the subject of Mom and how she is doing. He's been involved in elder care professionally (interesting that he no longer does this) thus he likes to keep abreast of Mom's life. Today I treated him to a running commentary, while he worked, about what conditions have developed in her elderly body, how we're handling them, talked some about the improvement in her health and the evening out of her life since a year ago September. He and I compared notes on the possibility of trauma, as his wife has an uncle in his 70s who was a robust hiker until he fell during a particularly strenuous hike, broke his hip, and has "declined" since. This is my major fear, I explained, and also why I keep very close tabs on her, practically following her around with my nose up her ass, as she isn't as spry on her feet as she used to be. After this I automatically repeated what I've been thinking since some time before her 88th birthday, that I expect her to live into her 90s and her doctor, too, wouldn't be surprised if she did. Although I thought I'd believed this before this morning, suddenly it hit me, while talking to Mr. Everything, that I am, as of today, absolutely certain that there is no reason for her not to live into her 90s.
    It's curious, really. I had no idea that I'd been voicing this as a hope rather than a belief. I think, sometimes, one has to see one's words hanging in the air between oneself and a listener before being able to evaluate them for veracity. I am relieved to note that this hope of mine is now a belief. As such, I think it will have a subtle impact on my mother's plans for her life span, as well. She is, at this point, absolutely capable of at least two more years. When I think about it, she may very well be capable of a couple more beyond that.
    I'm never sure what keeps her going. Tonight, though, I got a clue. Soon after she retired I heard her sneezing and, as is my habit if I hear any sound coming from her bedroom, I checked on her to see if she was okay. She was still awake but said the only thing keeping her awake was her runny nose. My nose has been running all day, too. Today was unusually warm once it got going, I had more windows and doors open than lately usual and Mr. Everything brought a manual lawn mower over to cut down dead weeds and gather them into piles for our compost bins. I think the stirring up of ready-to-fly pollen and seeds and it's distribution into our house through the open doors and windows is probably bothering both of our sinuses. As well, I noticed on my trip to Costco and back that some indigenous plants which normally, by now, would have died down are sprouting as though spring was coming on. The weather has been unusually warm and dry for this time of year. Maybe the plants are being tricked into thinking it's spring, I don't know. But even some of the weeds in our yard are trying for one more run before the freezing nights tuck them in. Anyway, she and I talked about this, in the dark in her bedroom while she snuggled into her covers. While I was there she sighed and closed her eyes, as though signaling me that she was ready to drop into dreamland. As I headed back down the hall into the living room I realized that one of the factors in her absence of reasons to leave her life is that someone is here, someone intimately familiar with her, who not only keeps a close eye on her but responds to almost every sound she makes, regardless of when she makes it, is vitally interested in every detail of her life and keeps her wrapped in a vital human connection.
    I was immediately reminded of an article I read some months ago in an issue of the New York Times Sunday Magazine entitled: Will We Ever Arrive at the Good Death? In the article one particular woman is followed. At a certain point in her story her family determines that it is necessary to place her in a nursing home. One of their reasons for doing so is their feeling that the stress of taking care of her would lessen their ability to enjoy her and she them when they were together. This particular section of the article has been haunting me, mostly subliminally, since my first reading of it but I haven't taken the time to pull it forward and figure out why. Finally, tonight, it hit me: Although you may think that you and your loved one are enjoying each other when you indulge in short visits and leave the caregiving up to professionals, the truth is that without the detail of daily caregiving, including the "stressful" caregiving situations, you lose out on the intimacy that brings vitality to human connection. Thus, "enjoyable visits" devolve into situations rather like being an acquaintance at someone else's birthday party: Yes, they're fun, yes, everyone is pleased, yes, your literal presence brings with it a gift to the birthday person and yes, the gift is appreciated, especially if you took some care in selecting it. But the party has done nothing to strengthen or deepen your connection to the celebrated one. Once the party's over you remain as much of a mystery to the celebrated as the celebrated is to you. Your presence probably has not contributed much of anything that is more than fleeting to the celebrated person's life.
    If you want to "enjoy" someone, you've got to be there through the parties and the perplexities. You've got to join hands with them during the difficult as well as the easy times. When this happens, the smiles you exchange will no longer be polite and perfunctory, they will be spontaneous expressions of the vibrating connection that indicates you have a hand in someone's will to live and they have a hand in yours. There are few things more important or precious than knowing that someone wants to wake up another day because you will be there when they open their eyes; and wanting to awaken in order to interpret the look in their eyes when they awaken.
    Yes, caregiving involves stress, sometimes insane quantities of it that isn't easily handled and that cause us who care for people with intense needs to stumble as we reach out for our care recipients. Passing that stress off onto professionals, though, means that we also pass off the possibility of deep communion that two people enjoy only when they've been through hell and high water together and have managed to find periods of respite together on a serendipitous patch of cool, dry land.
    Yes, caregiving for an intense needs person is consuming. This is also, though, what makes it an intimate, transformative experience. Refuse the maze of caregiving if you feel you must but keep in mind that if you do you are also refusing much of the amazement.

    There are some glitches in my networking project that I'm having to iron out. Finding periods long enough for the uninterrupted concentration needed has been hard these last few days, so other activities, including up-to-the-minute reporting here, continue to fall by the wayside. I am keeping up with an occasional lag of only a day here and there over at The Dailies. If you can't find a report over here, check over there.
    Later.

Just a quick note to note...

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Fri, 09 Dec 2005 20:59:00 +0000

...that I'm very excited! I was up until 0340 this morning installing and adjusting all the software necessary to network our computers and hook them all to our cable internet connection. Today is Setting Up The Network day.
    Although Mom retired at a normal time for her, 2330, in fact, because she knew I'd be up to all hours fooling with our computers, she arose a couple of times in the night and came out to join me, asking me what I was doing, wanting to see what a computer looked like that was installing a new system on itself, discussing all the cords laying about and the connections I was making from here to there to everywhere. I was surprised at her interest. So was she. Thus, she's still sleeping but I'm going to rouse her in just a few minutes, here, at 1400.
    I'm a bit concerned that she hasn't moved her bowels since her diarrhea. I mentioned last night, as we prepared her for bed, that maybe I needed to administer a light laxative. She said, "Wait until tomorrow. I don't think it'll be necessary by evening." I hope she's right. Neither she nor I like to play the laxative game.
    Time to awaken The Mom.
    I've still got a fair amount to do regarding networking so it may be another 24 hours or so before I post again.
    Later.

The Thanksgiving Drive: Not My Finest Hour

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Thu, 08 Dec 2005 16:11:00 +0000

    By now you know that our Thanksgiving visit was spectacular. Very satisfying for both of us. You know why. What I haven't revealed is the horrible parts of the day, the trips down and back.

Prologue:
    When my mother is on tanked pulse oxygen regulated by her breath she sometimes indulges in mouth breathing for no other reason than that the cannula continues to feel to her like a nose invasion. Her mouth breathing usually occurs when she is uncomfortable, tense (for either good or bad reasons), she has a cold or is particularly weak. When sleeping she uses the concentrator so that if she should begin to mouth breath it won't make much of a difference in the amount of oxygen she receives. Sometimes, if her discomfort or weakness is extreme, I'll move the concentrator around the house and use it on her during the day if she's in need of oxygen. When she uses the pulse regulator I've become so used to listening to the timing of the puffs and reminding her, sometimes as much as a couple of times a minute, to "breathe through your nose, not your mouth" that this chore is autonomic. Thus, she's also gotten so used to me reminding her of this that she relies on my reminders. Somewhere in her mind she knows that if she is paying no attention to her breathing I am and everything will be all right. Lately, within the last couple of months, though, I've experienced blips in which I become irritated with constantly reminding her to breathe through her nose. Thus, I've found it in our best interests, in order to keep the level of irritation to an absolute minimum or stop it altogether, to sometimes use the larger "C" tanks during the day if she's on oxygen and dial the regulator to 2/lpm continuous. I still occasionally have to remind her to clean out her nose and keep her mouth closed when breathing to make sure she gets a full 2/lpm most of the time, but not nearly as often as with the pulse dial settings. When we travel to the Valley and back oxygen is necessary, as her body doesn't adjust well to the changes in altitude anymore and even traveling down to an area where she usually doesn't need oxygen creates a certain amount of stressful breathing until her body adjusts, usually by the time we "land".
    Unfortunately, because I was caught up in trip preparations on Thanksgiving morning (poor excuse, but there you have it), I didn't take any of the above into consideration. When we left the house at 0900 I hooked her up to an M-6 with the pulse regulator at 5/lpm, assuming that this would allow her, between her bouts of mouth breathing, to get at least 2/lpm per minute regulated. We'd gone through all our C tanks previous to the trip and a delivery wasn't scheduled until Friday. The M-6's will deliver oxygen for an hour at most on 2/lpm continuous flow. Even on as high as 5/lpm pulse we get a good three hours out of an M-6 tank, which covers the trip in question. Besides this, since I knew she would probably be doing some mouth breathing, I figured that we'd be fine with just the M-6s going down and up and I knew, since she was in good health, that she wouldn't need oxygen once her body settled itself in the Valley.
The Trips:
    The short version is that at some point after we'd been on the road for a little less than an hour, without notice I fell over the edge.
    The long version: My habit of reminding her to breathe through her nose suddenly morphed from benign and automatic to treacherous and resented. My voice became tighter and harsher. I began to pick on other inconsequential habits she has when we're driving: Balling up the tissues she uses and throwing them on the floor; telling me she isn't thirsty when I remind her to sip from her water bottle and refusing until I order her to drink; repeating over and over that she's "never been on this road before". Within 15 minutes my frustration level was so out of control that I blurted, menacingly, my voice low and loud, "Close your fucking mouth and breath through your fucking nose."
    I hate it when I allow myself to be driven to the point of cursing at her, especially when I use the word "fuck" and its derivatives. However, in answer to Dr. Phil's perpetual question, "And how is that working for you?" the truth is, it worked on the Thanksgiving trip exactly the same way it works when we're at home: Just fine, thank you. Through the rest of the trip I did not have to remind her to breathe through her nose. Problem solved, right?
    Not quite. I was emotionally devastated that I'd allowed myself to devolve to this state and I began to weep silently and uncontrollably. My mother was aware only of the fact that I was stone silent through the rest of the trip. She didn't realize I was uncontrollably weeping, tears streaming down my face and staining the front of my shirt, until we arrived at MCF's house and I pulled off my solar shades, my usual habit before we exit the car.
    I could see her taking note of my state but she said nothing.
    By the time we'd arrived at MCF's house I'd realized that I seemed unable to stop weeping. I decided just before we pulled into MCF's driveway that MCF's sister and her guests would not appreciate a guest who was weeping uncontrollably. When MCF met me behind our car to help me unload the pies I'd baked I sobbed to her that I was completely undone by our trip down, couldn't seem to control myself and that perhaps the best action was for us to deliver the pies to her and head back to Prescott.
    Luckily, she would hear none of this. She and her daughter settled us in their home, took me aside and by the time we all were due to leave for her sister's had managed to help me work myself into a tearless holiday state of mind. They were both completely understanding about the stress I was feeling. Neither of them belittled me or told me to buck up.
    So, we went to her sisters. As you know, both my mother and I had a wonderful time, so good that we promised to come back for Christmas. I gave no thought to the impending trip back up the mountain. There was much help getting Mom in the car, for which I was incredibly appreciative and which put me in an even better mood. I hooked her up to oxygen and off we went.
    Before we were out of the city the trip up had morphed into an extended replay of the trip down with additions: This time my mother couldn't keep her hands off the cannula cording. I found myself not only constantly reminding her to breathe through her nose but to keep her hands off the tubing, as well. My irritation worked itself into distress (without tears this time...I was determined not to inhibit my night vision with weeping) before we were out of the city. Finally I said to her, "Okay, look. I can't continue to do this all the way up, reminding you to breathe through your nose and leave the cannula cord alone. It's endangering my ability to drive safely. If you don't get enough oxygen or you end up disconnecting yourself, oh well."
    She did disconnect herself from the tank during the steep seven mile climb from Black Canyon City to Sunset Point. I could tell because she began to pant heavily. I realized, in part because we were climbing into thinner air and in part because the few cigarettes she'd had throughout the day had somewhat compromised her breathing, that we were going to have to stop at Sunset Point and reconnect her and that it would be best if I suck it up and continue my reminders to her once she was reconnected.
    Sunset Point is not someplace you want to stop on Thanksgiving night. The parking lot was already full of semis and cars nestled in for the night. I drove past all the cars and pulled along the sidewalk on the south side of the rest area, turning on the hazard lights so people would avoid hitting us while I reattached Mom's oxygen and gave her a stern lecture (which, in hindsight, didn't help) about how I needed her cooperation.
    Within a minute after pulling along the sidewalk a DPS patrol car pulled up behind us. "You can't park here, M'am. This rest area is full. You'll have to move on."
    I explained the situation to the officer, telling him that I was almost ready to head back onto the highway. He understood, protected us from the traffic of others driving through the area looking for a place to stop and we were shortly on our way.
    I was fairly successful in controlling my irritation and remaining even-keeled throughout the last hour of the trip but I was miserable. Mom, however, was fine, even though she continued needing reminders to breathe through her nose and leave the cannula cord alone.
    Although I can't say that the trip dimmed the felicitous Thanksgiving get together experience, I realized I had to give serious consideration to how I could avoid some of the tension that we'd both experienced during the actual trip and whether I wanted to do this again on Christmas.
    MCF had offered her home to us, suggesting that we sleep there Christmas eve so that I could have a chance to unwind. I considered ways that I could keep myself from having to remind Mom how to breathe oxygen: The obvious and most promising tactic would be to make sure I brought C instead of M-6 tanks and dial her to 2/lpm continuous while driving there and back. I wasn't sure about the cannula situation but figured I could talk myself into not becoming irritated and simply pulling into the closest exit, reattaching her and continuing, if necessary.
    I also thought about all the work and supplies it would take to spend a night in the Valley with friends: Bringing both regular sheets and plastic sheets; making sure all our bathing supplies were packed for the next morning; making sure our hosts didn't mind if we cleaned out a tank of hot water during her morning bath, a bath which would be necessary; bringing at least three extra sets of clothes, just in case; packing along all the other "just in case" supplies on the out chance that they might be used; performing all the chores I normally do for my mother at home in an unfamiliar environment; packing a futon and my bedding so that I could sleep close to my mother in case she needed to get up during the night in unfamiliar territory; the likelihood that I would get very little sleep and be tired and touchy the next day; negotiating two visits, both of which would be necessary if we were there: One to MPS and her family, since we didn't see them over Thanksgiving (which was a horror of miscommunication all around) and one to MCF's sister's house; all of this followed by the final trip up, when both of us would no doubt be tired and touchy.
    I factored in a few other aspects as well: 5 (at least) tense, possibly horrible hours in the car versus 8 hours visiting on Thanksgiving versus probably about 16 hours visiting over a Christmas trip; the fact that this would be the third trip in less than three months (the first being her doctor's appointment November 1st); the drain on me of taking these trips; the drain on Mom, despite her enjoyment of the visits; my usual heightened tension during the holidays, anyway, not being a holiday person but, at least this year, trying to honor Mom's holiday desires and habits.
    I realized I had a choice: I could try hard and possibly successfully to negotiate yet another holiday trip using all I'd learned from the disastrous part of the Thanksgiving trip to ameliorate any tension problems that might occur, thus honoring Mom and her holiday desires, or I could call it a day, do my best up here in a familiar and relaxed atmosphere to honor the holiday for Mom and hope that, if people want to see us, they work a low-key visit to us into their schedules.
    I've chosen the latter. Most of the time in this caregiving journey I can negotiate tensions without too much of a problem. I'm fully aware of my contribution to any tension I experience and I know how to stop, breathe and evaluate any problems I'm having in order to change course. I also know that when I'm experiencing a particularly tiring and busy period my tendency is to allow my difficulties full sway for at least awhile so that I can observe the onslaught of my strictly emotional reactions without any attempt to reign them in for any reason. The more tired I become, the more likely I am to want to allow myself this sway. I suppose I could use this holiday as an opportunity to figure out how to handle future holidays with much more glee and elan but, you know, I'm already tired, this year, I don't feel like being the cooperative caregiver. I'm already doing a lot of activities I've avoided over the last few heavy-duty-health-negotiation years: Holiday baking and the passing out of home made treats to acquaintances and friends up here; holiday shopping and mailing; focusing on hauling our 75 pound tree and decorations out of the shed and putting it up (which hasn't yet happened but I'm planning on doing soon); making sure I don't hibernate to the point of alienating family and friends...this is about all of which I'm capable this year.
    What it comes down to is this: One can only give care out of who one is. If one is left alone to give primary, secondary and tertiary care without the help of family and community one finally realizes that one can't always take up the slack and remain sane and relaxed. One finally has to chose: Honor family and friends or honor circumstances that ensure one will be remain as sane and relaxed as possible. Once again, this year, I choose the latter.
    Maybe next year.

We had an amazing day, yesterday.

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Thu, 08 Dec 2005 14:39:00 +0000

    All holiday shopping and mailing was finished. Although she had no desire to get out, citing the cold, she was up a lot, felt good and we had a great day. I went over the lists of stuff we were sending to my sisters, which included a copy of the video Antonia's Line. She couldn't remember that she'd seen it so we watched it again, always a pleasure for me. Afterwards we talked about how this close-knit yet amazingly open community of related family and friend family was much like Mom envisions her own family; she being the Antonia-matriarch, of course. Interestingly, there were no regrets voiced about the differences between her actual situation and her imagined situation.
    We both retired at the same time: 2315. I was really tired so I have no idea when her light went off but I suspect it was shortly after I settled into bed, as she was tired, too.
    I will be posting about Thanksgiving: The Down Side shortly. My plan, after that, for today is to update the system on this computer then, set up a wired home networking system that'll allow me complete access, regardless of what computer I'm on, to those aspects of recording Mom's and my journey that I necessarily have to do on Windows software (keeping track of her blood glucose for the doctor). Some parts of the procedure will involve blocks of time during which it would be best if I can concentrate completely on computer stuff and not have to deal with the daily observation of Mom. I should be able to accomplish some of the stuff this morning (like clearing this computer of miscellaneous stuff I don't use and setting it up to easily receive the updated system). Other parts may have to wait a day or two.
    Well, better get on with it.
    Later.

Laid-back day...

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Mon, 05 Dec 2005 07:12:00 +0000

...as you can read in today's Non-stat Day post over at the Test & Meds site. We just sat back and enjoyed each other's company and a moratorium on me chasing her around with the statting meters. Her suggestion.
    Although it's cold, I'm going to try to get her out and moving a little this week on principle, although I'm not sure it will work. I'm not going to push it. I'm past that, now, at least for the time being.
    One of my plans is to hit the storage shed and pull out the Christmas tree and decorations. Time to get those up, clean carpet or not. Our neighbors have trimmed their house with their usual lights and Mom has noticed and admired them through her bedroom window every night before retiring. The background memory of the display keeps her bugging me about "our tree" during the day. It's time.
    No phasing today other than normal short term memory loss. That was a surprise because she was in almost continual memory phase almost all day, yesterday.
    Not much else to report, except all the stuff I've mentioned in previous posts but haven't gotten to, yet. Maybe tomorrow?
    Later.

Thought I'd mention, while I have a few moments...

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Sat, 03 Dec 2005 23:35:00 +0000

...today's Breakfast Stats post contains a rundown about an interesting little phase Mom experienced throughout her "morning", in case you're interested; not too much different than normal, but I concluded from both parts of it that today I'm not one of her daughters, although I'm not sure who I am. At least, during these phasings, I remain familiar to her. That's a relief.
I'm hoping to have some time to report in depth about a few items later today. Despite Mom having a prone day, today (the above post explains why), my attention is turned to a variety of things that need to be done or topped off.
Later.

Yet another advantage of living with An Ancient One...

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Thu, 01 Dec 2005 23:03:00 +0000

...is that certain movie reviews come into sharp perspective because of the constant stream of Animal Planet and National Geographic programs flowing through one's home. Day before yesterday the much awaited by Mom movie March of the Penguins arrived in stores. I had to make a supply run to Costco and picked up a copy of the movie. I noticed the blurbs on the cover, "Astonishing! Unbelievable! Riveting! Amazing!" and thought, whoa, this must break new ground in animal films. Well, it doesn't. Although we will keep the film because Mom found it as entertaining as watching the two aforementioned channels, by the end of our first viewing Mom thought she was watching television. Nothing about the movie is astonishing, unbelievable, riveting or amazing to anyone who watches animal programs regularly on television, including the excellent narration by Morgan Freeman, the mind boggling photography, the story of the life cycle of Emperor penguins, the landscape footage, nothing. I'm surprised that film critics across the board seem to lack exposure to animal footage and filming techniques. While it's true that filming in Antarctica, one of the top few harshest environments on earth, had it's special challenges that allowed for the invention of groundbreaking filming techniques, if you watch animal shows regularly you are aware that every wild environment has challenges that require photographers to invent and adapt and reconnoiter their equipment on the spot.
    Today's Breakfast Post contains a rundown on a recent injury I sustained and my mother's and my efforts to live through the healing. Although telling about it was prompted by my mother's blood pressure this morning, my mother's reaction to my injury all day yesterday and today has rent my heart. This part I didn't talk about at the previous post. I empathize to the nth degree with her fears. Despite her independent spirit, she is, now, extremely dependent on me physically. When I can't squat and rise, thus turning bathing into something of a physical comedy routine, when I autonomically wince going up and down our steps, when I know better than to try to bend my right leg into the position required to drive, thus can't, for instance, pick this or that up from the store at my mother's request and when I am overly cautious with my mother when she moves around because I'm using the knee bandage instead of her (this episode has taught me that we need two) and I want to make sure that she doesn't do anything that might cause her to fall because I wouldn't be able to squat to lift her off the floor, all of these contingencies bring into laser-sharp focus how much we both count on me to remain healthy and free of injury. Even, as in this case, when I know that within a few days I'll be good as new, my mother experiences anxiety over my temporarily lowered ability to tend to her in a care-free (hyphen important) manner. This, in itself, is an excellent reason for our society and others who are currently ignoring their Ancient Ones and those who take care of them to turn in on themselves and consider how important it is to incorporate those in the advanced stages of aging into some kind of a framework that does not allow for the intense isolation most caregivers now experience. While there are some (on the lower end of "some") resources available, while there are pockets of different cultural communities here and there in our nation that silently require all their members to incorporate their Ancient Ones into a strong caring and support network, for most of us caregivers in this nation (including parents, by the way) support requires that we do the footwork. Unacceptable. When one's feet are positioned firmly toward an intense needs Ancient One, attempting to turn toward support often causes us to loose our footing with our Ancient One and someone risks, well, a knee injury, figuratively and sometimes literally.
    While I'm on the subject, although I know caregiver support groups function well for some people, let me tell you why many of us caregivers don't "take advantage" of these opportunities. One reason: When I can maneuver a few moments to myself the one thing I don't want to do it focus on caregiving. I don't want to focus on anyone else's caregiving and I don't want to focus on my own caregiving. I always have it in the back of my mind, anyway, even if I am doing something that appears not to be related. I certainly find it therapeutic to write about my experiences here; I even relish the opportunity and miss it when I can't "get back" here on my fairly regular schedule. When I'm with other people, though, even caregivers, I don't want to talk about caregiving. I want to hear and ask questions about someone's recent brain surgery, as I did the other day. I want to joke about almost anything except caregiving. I want to hear political and spiritual opinions, especially those with which I don't agree. I want to notice someone's jewelry and comment on it. I want to relate the story of my many-be-earringed ears. I want to laugh with a stranger in a parking lot over a bizarre bumper sticker. I want to fuss and flirt and engage in fanciful talk. And, I do. I do not, I repeat, I absolutely do not want to talk about caregiving, unless it's with people like my treasured Fed-ex delivery lady with whom I've forged a share-stories-of-taking-care-of-parents relationship. Although I suppose this could be considered a type of caregiving support "group", it is completely informal and we talk about other things. As well, she and I are honed in on each other and only each other when we cross each other's paths. Since our "meetings" aren't planned there is always an element of delighted surprise when we get a chance to chat. We both turn back to our lives feeling revived. And, we don't have to practice polite and often fake compassion for several other people while we are indulging in real, focused compassion for one another. Finally, our meetings usually take place when I am in the middle of caregiving. Thus, I don't have to set aside precious "time for myself" in order to talk and listen about caregiving.
    For caregivers like me, and there are many, communicative caregiving support works best (for lots of reasons) on an informal, day-to-day, surprise level.
    The Mom's up from her nap.
    Later, by surprise.

Something I've been meaning to mention for over a year...

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Wed, 30 Nov 2005 07:34:00 +0000

...an interesting little Dementia-Lite glitch.
    When my mother was in the hospital and skilled nursing facility last August I removed all her jewelry, which included her engagement and wedding rings. The day she left the skilled nursing facility I brought these items with me so she could leave fully bejeweled. She put on all her jewelry herself. A month or so later I noticed that when she replaced her wedding rings she put them on her right hand. I mentioned the discrepancy to her and, said that I found the misplacement interesting because in some cultures when someone is widowed they move their wedding rings from their left to their right hand.
    She was startled; not that I reminded her of Dad's death but that I thought her rings were on the wrong hand. Not only did she insist that she had placed them correctly, she "remembered" that the rings had never left her hand "since the day your father put them there" and that she had worn them in the medical facilities. Although this particular pair of rings is her second pair, the "upgrades" which my father purchased for her on Guam several years into their marriage, and, as well, every time she's been hospitalized since we've been living together I've been entrusted with keeping her jewelry, I didn't argue.
    To this day, her wedding and engagement rings remain on her right ring finger.

Just wanted to check in...

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Tue, 29 Nov 2005 16:44:00 +0000

...and let you know that I'm hoping to do a catch-up post here later today. Aside from being pretty busy the last few days, I've also been engaging in some deep thought prompted by our Thanksgiving adventures and misadventures. I wanted to work my way into my usual less removed state before I wrote about what happened and my reactions.

    I've been adding minor detail about our days over at Mom's Daily Tests & Meds if you want to check up on how Mom's been doing.
    Must take a short shopping trip.
    Later.

The visiting part of our Thanksgiving trip was super-splendid.

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Fri, 25 Nov 2005 20:57:00 +0000

    Mom and I, separately and together, had a wonderful time with MCF and her extended family (and friends), who are marvelous hosts and know how to do a in-and-out door, watching-football-and-visiting Thanksgiving get together. As well, as you may remember, this was the family of MCF, who took care of her Ancient One father until his death. All their family, while still sometimes frustratingly unavailable for MCF, were much more available than my family is (not calling a fault, just stating the truth, mind you) for me, so everyone involved in the family who was present was auto-tuned to my mother as An Ancient One and, while I was also well tuned to her, I was able to relax. My mother shimmered and shone, as usual, made a new friend and spent the afternoon developing all kinds of plans for our yard based on what this family did with their yard. Today she continues to talk about various aspects of the get together in glowing terms.
    A bizarre glitch occurred on our trips down and back which I almost allowed to take us out of the running for the gathering, but somehow MCF and her daughter came to my rescue lickety-split when we arrived, which I wasn't expecting, and saved my and my mother's day. I'll explain later. There is more to tell about the party, too, and some hard caregiver realizations I had, but I'll discuss those, as well...
    ...later.

Traveling with you in your Ancient Years is all about just-in-cases, Mom."

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Thu, 24 Nov 2005 05:52:00 +0000

    This was my reply this evening to her comment that the list of things to take on the trip tomorrow, which she insisted I read to her (as self-elected Trip Supervisor she demands that I keep her apprised of all activities and preparations leading up to trips) as we contemplated tomorrow's journey, had "an awful lot of just-in-case items on it."
    She's having a little trouble remembering that it's Thanksgiving (which is fine with me, my preference is to forget holidays) and who we're visiting but becomes excited all over again when I remind her. If you don't like holidays and have to do them anyway, it's best to do them with someone who's resume includes a long stint as Mrs. Holiday.
    When I confirmed that Ancients seem to specialize in "just-in-cases", she laughed and said, "Yes, that's part of the fun of getting old," without irony, I might add, which surprised me. My mother is nothing if not ironic and never passes up an opportunity to acknowledge genuine irony.
    Gotta love that woman's spirit.
    I'm pleased with the products of my baking, today. Everything came out of the oven without hitches. I won't be able to treat the cheesecake to it's preferred 24 hours of refrigeration before serving but I think it will be scrumptious anyway. The pecan pies were a breeze. Too bad I don't like the idea of pecan pie. Mom was so taken with the results that at one point this evening she arose from her rocker and headed into the kitchen.
    As per my usual precaution, I asked, "Where are you going?"
    "To get myself a piece of pie," she said.
    "Whoa, whoa, whoa! No you're not!"
    She took offense. "Why not?!?" she demanded.
    "Mom, let me put it this way. If you take a piece out of either pie or the cheesecake before we deliver them to MCF tomorrow and I'm forced to either bake another or show up without everything requested, I'll never forgive you."
    She did a double take. I rarely express myself this strongly to her. "Well!" she said. "I'll have to wait with the rest of them, is that it?!?"
    "That's it, Mom. Said and done."
    "Such a shame to let those pies go to waste."
    "They won't be going to waste! You can have a piece of all three of them tomorrow after dinner! I promise!"
    "You can be awfully snippy when you're baking, you know."
    All I could do was laugh.
    She headed back to her chair, still nursing a snit. The pies will be well hidden tonight before I go to bed. Not that I expect her to awaken in the middle of the night and rummage through the kitchen. But, you know, just in case...
    ...later.

I feel as though I am, oh, say 9 or 10...

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Wed, 23 Nov 2005 06:59:00 +0000

...and tomorrow is a holiday, which is synonymous with no school, so I can stay up as late as I want, relax, do whatever I want, sleep in tomorrow...I'm even drinking coffee tonight, at this late hour, so I can enjoy the evening and myself into the wee hours.
    The two pies I'm making tomorrow are pecan; one is chocolate pecan. That's what was requested. I've purposely shied away from pecan pie: No fruit, seems like it's just pecans and sugar; I prefer my nuts straight and my sugar very light. Preceding the two recipes I found in Joy of Cooking, though, was the following blurb: "The filling of pecan pie is actually a sort of custard composed of sugar, butter and eggs..." Ah, I'm thinking, custard. I like the challenge of cooking an interesting custard. I also like the challenge of making food that I would not normally eat, just to see if I can do it well. The pumpkin cheesecake, of course, is something I love, so that will be fun to make. Mom will busy herself supervising, as she loves to do when cooking and baking are being pursued in the kitchen.
    I think I'll put some more cataloguing under this journal's belt tonight.
    Later.

Although she was feeling good when she awoke...

gailraehudson@themomandmejournalsdotnet.net (Gail Rae) — Tue, 22 Nov 2005 22:40:00 +0000

...this morning and awoke on her own much earlier than the last few days, she wasn't up to a trip to the grocery for supplies for our pie baking spree tomorrow. This worked out well. The grocery was so crowded that aisles were regularly blocked and the deli area, where she would normally sit out a busy market, was chock full of companionated people with the same idea. She did, however, remain awake of her own accord while I shopped, looking through our selection of cooking magazines and watching Animal Planet.
    I'm thinking, so we don't have to get an unusually early start on Thanksgiving, that we'll probably sack our first visit plan for Thanksgiving Day which involves visiting relatives for brunch. I think Mom's going to be moving slow. I talked to MPBIL early today about this and he understands. He's enduring a sinus infection and MPS has a stubborn cold. If we don't make it for brunch at their house I don't think it's going to be a problem. I think the day will be easier on both Mom and me if we don't try to hit the trail at 0700 and accomplish a lot in a short amount of time. MCF's family may as well consider themselves our family, anyway, so we'll definitely be celebrating with family.
    On the holidays I much prefer visiting to hosting, now. The amount of work remains the same either way, really, although the type of work differs. When visiting, I hone my attention more acutely on Mom by a power of three; when we're hosting it's by a power of two. Juggling all the supplies with which we travel is worthy of a Las Vegas acrobatic act. Unfamiliar surroundings mean that I have to be aware of where she is at all times, what she's doing, be ready to help her negotiate her way around an unfamiliar environment and try to anticipate what she might do next. When we're hosting all the extra work involved causes my temper to wind tightly from trying to keep everyone from "helping" me into a lot more work than is normally necessary. When people (family, actually, related family) visit for the holidays there is a silent assumption, which I have to fight, that all the routines, restrictions and reminders that keep Mom in peak condition can be dispensed with. I end up countermanding everyone's else's assumptions about what Mom can/should and can't/shouldn't do. When we're visiting, hosts tend to step out of the way and ask me first if this or that is okay for Mom. I'm not sure why this happens but it does. Although either way it's a trick for me to relax for moments here and there and enjoy the company of others on holidays because of keeping my eye on Mom, it's definitely easier when we're visiting.
    Truthfully, visiting MCFs is always easier on me than visiting related family. The reason, I believe, is because they took care of their elderly father in their home for some years up to his death. They get it. They get everything about it, including all the peculiar-to-holidays caregiving challenges. They've developed the eccentricities of the senses that caregiving for An Ancient One catalyzes. They understand that I'm going to have my primary sites constantly on my mother and they instinctively pitch in. I know that if I don't notice a possible haywire moment they will. Thus, I relax more around them.
    As well, this holiday none of them is sick. This bodes well for Mom.
List of stuff to take:

Plastic sheet in case Mom decides to nap (unlikely but it's a good idea to be prepared).
Lots of paper underwear, both sizes.
Mom's favorite brand of diet rootbeer.
My bubble water.
The flavored faux creamer that I contiually forget to give to MCF when she's here.
The pies and cheesecake.
The whipping cream for the pies (check with MCF on this).
Two gallons of water just in case (always a good idea in the desert).
Change of clothes for Mom, just in case.
Mom's meds.
Baby wipes, just in case.
The back dated gossip tabloids we've collected for MCF and family.
Two M-6 canisters and one C-4 canister of oxygen, just in case. She probably won't need oxygen down there but you never know.
The walker. I think we'll be able to do without the wheelchair. If we take the cane Mom won't use it. She hasn't gotten used to it yet.
A can of V-8 juice and maybe some yoghurt for Mom to snack on, just in case there is a long time between major feeds and she gets hungry.
Big ice chest for the water and spoilable food. Oh, yeah. Gotta remember to get ice. Maybe we'll do that on the way out.

I think that just about does it.
Later.