A few days ago, we moved my mother into our home. It was a day I knew would undoubtedly come but not one I necessarily looked forward to. Grandma has been slipping the past couple years, both mentally and physically. She suffers from rheumatoid arthritis, osteoporosis and confusion. Because of the advancement of those conditions, my husband and I decided she should no longer live alone in the senior housing complex she has called home the past eight years. For both financial and faith based reasons, we chose bringing her into our home for the time being, over assisted living or a nursing home.
Our two story home has a full finished basement. Along with both a storage and mechanical room, the basement has a family room, bedroom and ¾ bath. An ideal set up for semi-independent living quarters. So we would go from being a family of three, with one dog… to a family of four, with two dogs…. (Yes, Grandma will bring along her 30 lb. Shih Tzu, ‘Sumo’ Sam).
“The Move” from point A to point B was only a distance of about two miles. My husband borrowed a truck and one of our sons assisted with the move. I had already taken care of the details such as newspaper delivery, mail forwarding, Meals on Wheels delivery, etc. I was careful to choose only the furniture needed to create a similar atmosphere here, as that of her previous apartment. This is one of those “less is more” situations. We’ll continue to empty her old apartment over the next few weeks.
In order to accommodate her furniture, it was necessary to get rid of the furniture we currently had in the basement. I insisted (to the chagrin of the husband and son) to bring our furniture to the main level until we were able to find suitable homes for them. It didn’t seem possible to make her new quarters appear “comfortable” with twice the furniture that should be there; however there was obviously no room “upstairs” for an extra sofa, loveseat and recliner, so they were ‘piled’ into the dining area. I posted photos and “for sale” on Facebook and they were (thankfully) gone in 24 hours.
That first morning though, while eating breakfast, she (Grandma) noted the furniture stacked beside the island counter where she was sitting.
G: What are you going to do with that furniture?
Me: Sell it….
G: Why? It looks pretty good.
Me: Well, it was in the basement and we need to make room for your furniture.
G: How much are you asking?
Me: $125
G: Oh. (pause) I’ll buy it.
Grandma was sitting in her new living room while my DH was working on installing the now needed handrails on the basement stairway. He stopped what he was doing to assist her with the television. (Her senior complex had cable TV, we have a satellite dish) As she slowly channeled through the various stations, she stopped: “Oh look! It’s Power Juicer!” Sitcom? Documentary? No, it’s one of Grandma’s favorite infomercials. She’s happy. We also have found that Grandma loves any commercial with a dog in it. She took me by surprise though, when while watching GSN (Game Show Network) she looked over her shoulder toward our den, and told me a cat was playing the piano. (Yes we have a piano, no we do not have a cat.) I told her perhaps she was hearing the clock chime. I later realized she was probably commenting on another commercial and with the theater speakers in our living room, it likely sounded ‘authentic’.
Grandma had been living alone, so the fact we must leave to go to work and school as well as other events and appointments hasn’t been of great concern for us. We know there is going to be a period of adjustment as she become familiar with the house and becomes comfortable. We were gone much of yesterday to our daughter’s volleyball tournament. Before we left, my DH made her breakfast. She said she couldn’t remember when she had last had eggs (it could have been yesterday, she may not have remembered) but that’s due in part to the fact that she doesn’t cook.
G:“This was just delicious…now where do I pay for my meal?”
Me: You don’t pay for your meals Mom… you live here.
G: Oh. Well how long will I be staying?
Me: Hopefully until you die. That’s the plan… you’re going to live here as long as we can take care of you.
G: That long? Well, I didn’t tell my family how long I’d be here.
DH: We are your family…
G: No, my ‘other’ family.
Her other family is news to me, but if by chance one of them is reading… feel free to send me a check and sign up for a weekend of respite care! Before we left for the tournament, she asked me five times “What time will you be home?” and as I was rushing to get out the door, she told me not to forget to clean the kitchen before I left.
Grandma’s dog, Sam is obese. Actually, he is morbidly obese. He should weigh just half of his current statistics. This is due in part to Grandma feeding him an abundance of treats as well as sharing much of her own food with him. Our goal is to get Sam’s weight down. Poor guy did not realize he was heading for the Biggest Loser Ranch when he set foot in our house. I took him for a walk on Day 2. He limped back to the house after a not so brisk 100 yard stroll around half a block. Grandma comments that our dog Ginger is “so skinny” (she’s of normal weight). Our secondary goal is to not let her (Ginger) gain too much weight. So far, she’s lovin’ Grandma being here. Sam may be intruding on her space… but at least he brought a human food supply to share with her.
There’s a certain level of stress associated with any change to a family unit. For now, I’m choosing to deal with my stress through writing and the drinking of a little wine. I in no way wish to dishonor my mother by anything I write, but sometimes, a little humor can make a situation much easier to handle!
I’m referring to this chapter of life as “A New Adventure”. So ends episode 1.
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