Episode 37 - His 'n Her Getaways

It has been two months since DH and I have had a respite from caretaking.  I realize that many caretakers get little respite at all... so we are grateful for any time we can enjoy away from the duties of elder care. Since our jobs and CeCe's activities also influence our schedule, it becomes even more difficult to find time and coverage to allow us a getaway.  For all of those reasons - DH and I took separate respites the past couple weekends.  DH joined his brothers and sons last weekend in St.Louis, hometown of their favorite baseball team.  They look forward all year to their annual pilgrimage.  From Iowa, Texas, Arizona and Kentucky they come... to bond and cheer on their beloved Cardinals.  DH was gone a little more than 48 hours.

G:  What time will DH be home?

Me:  He went to St. Louis today, remember?.  He'll be home on Sunday.

Sounds so simple doesn't it?  But as with most ongoing discussions with Grandma... the response doesn't sink in.

G:  Did you say he'd be home later tonight?

Me:  No, Sunday.

G:  Where did he go again?

Me:  St.Louis (pointing to the TV) He's at the game we're watching.  There's another one tomorrow.

G:  He'll be home then tomorrow night?

Me:  Sunday

G:  Did you say he'd be home on Saturday?

Me:  Nope... I said Sunday.

These conversations were spread over a couple hours.  With DH out of town, I don't even have a target for my "oh brother..." face.  There are many benefits to being team caregivers, not the least of which, is being able to make funky, eye-rolling facial expressions at the other, when the  ridiculous occurs. 

DH & Co. had a wonderful time.  The Redbirds won both of the games they attended.  On the homefront, I managed to handle both Grandma and a little teenage drama.  I was very happy to see DH return. 

This weekend, I had a 24 hour respite with a group of ladies I seldom get to see.  We met at a hotel/waterpark conveniently located between all of us.  I enjoyed each glorious hour chatting, laughing, sitting in the hot tub and catching up with my friends.  I exchanged a few texts and instant messages with DH... enough to know things were going well at home without me.  I wasn't surprised or offended.  The advantage to separate respites is it requires little planning.  Since one of us is home, we don't need to prepare meals ahead, leave notes or make extra provisions for the unexpected.

Today we are all back under one roof.  We've had our midsummer respites and as always, look forward to our next one. 

This would normally be where "So ends Episode 37..." appears;  however, someone suggested I share this story on my blog, although it isn't about Grandma. 

For the past twenty years, I have been friends with a now 94 year old woman (Libby).  We were neighbors for several years.  One day a few years back, Libby told me about a friend of hers who had lived alone and passed away.  No one found her for several days and it was summertime.  This obviously disturbed Libby... being elderly and living alone herself.  So to ease her mind, I said, "Heck, if that's really bothering you, I'll just call you everyday and see that you are alive.  How would that be?"  Just dandy.  So everyday for more years than I can count for sure... I call Libby.  We chat anywhere from 30 seconds to 5 minutes.  I usually visit her about once a week.

One day last week, the phone rang in my office.  It was the  dispatcher from the 'Help I've fallen and I can't get up' button that both Libby and Grandma wear.  They were calling to ask me to go check on Libby as they could not get a response from her.  I said I would go immediately.  I left work and walked to my car.  I was  wondering if she might be outside, in her garage or if she had possibly fallen somewhere inside.

As I turned onto Main Street, to drive the mile to Libby's house, the thought of something more serious occurred to me.  I prayed I would fine everything in order and the trip would have been essentially unnecessary.  I was careful to maintain my speed within the limit. The business district is only three blocks long, and as I approached the one and only traffic light we have in town, I saw the large delivery truck in front of me prepare to turn right.  As he began his turn... the traffic light turned yellow.  Now it happens (and everyone in town knows it) that "our light" stays red for a couple seconds before the opposite light turns green.  I was right on the bumper of the wide turning truck and made the decision to cross the intersection, just as the light was turning 'pink'.  I knew I had 1-2 seconds of grace (from cross traffic) and the thought of a police officer being anywhere around did not even occur to me.

The cross light had turned green when I glanced in my rear view mirror.  There, I saw one of our City's Finest making a left hand turn to follow me.  "Gee," I wondered, "Was he there when I went through the light?  Do you suppose he was planning to come this way or did I have something to do with his choice of direction?"

I applied my brake as I went down a large hill.  If he hadn't seen me run the light, there was no sense getting on his bad side by speeding now.  I put on my turning indicator as I approached the road to Libby's house.  His rooftop lights went on.  Blinky - Flashy - Blinky.  Yup.  He'd seen me.  I now also realized I had left work without my purse and therefore had no drivers license with me.  I thought, "There's no sense pulling over here when I don't even have my license...."  I continued on.  He turned on the wailing siren.  I pressed the button to put my window down and stuck my arm out the window, pointing up ahead and to the left.  He continued to follow me, lights and siren both engaged.

I turned into Libby's driveway and allowed room for the police car to park behind me.  We both got out of our cars.

Me:  Hi Mark (Police Chief) I'm really sorry about the light back there... I got a call from the medical alert people and I need to check on Libby.  You can give me a ticket - but I really need to check on her first. 

He said he'd go in with me (maybe just to see if my story was on the level or not... in which case, "That will be $120 please".)  I moved my car and for the first time felt very uneasy.  Wouldn't it be just like God to use my traffic error to be sure I didn't walk into a difficult situation all by myself?  I found a dead body once ... I don't care to repeat it. 

I remoted into her garage and was ready to use my key to unlock her back door when I turned the knob and it opened.... a couple inches.  The chain lock was on the door.  I shouted in the door, "Libby!  Libby!"  No response.  I yelled again.  I heard her voice.  I couldn't understand her at first, but it was getting louder.

"This stupid button..."  Libby slides the chain back and opens the door.  "I don't know what is wrong with this dumb thing..." holding the medical alert button in her hands.  She was standing there perfectly intact.

"You're OK?!  Thank goodness!"  Libby looks past me at the police officer.  "Don't worry," I said.  "He's just going to give me a ticket because I ran a red light getting here....  we just wanted to be sure you were OK first."

It all ended well.  Libby was OK ... Mark had mercy on me (didn't give me a ticket) .... and for a few minutes, "Life with Libby" was an even bigger adventure, than "Life with Nana Mama's Mama."

So ends Episode 37

Episode 36 - Good Moaning...

I'm a morning person. Always have been. My Dad used to say it was best to get up and enjoy the day before everyone else got up and ruined it. Once again, I glean wisdom from my father.

I have a morning routine (all morning people do) which includes coffee, Facebook, Bible reading and a few keyword searches on the Internet edition of the newspaper. DH and I have breakfast in the middle of that schedule and by 7:00, I am ready to get up "for good" and get ready for work. The time needed varies depending on the day (shower/washing my hair, etc.) Most days, I'm out of the house before 7:50, allowing ample time to drive the 7 blocks to work, walk up to the building, to my third floor office by 8:00. When school is in session, this drive also includes dropping CeCe off near her school.

Grandma's being here hasn't interfered too much with 'my' morning routine. She gets up to let Sammy outside and then sometimes returns to her basement bedroom. Other times, she gets her newspaper and turns on the TV in the main level living room. DH has the TV auto tuned to the Game Show Network at 7:00 a.m. (Trust me, there are no game shows on at that hour... just infomercials, for which Grandma has a strong liking.) I can run back and forth from my room to the main level several times without being derailed.... usually - but then there are days.

This week we had new flooring installed in our living room. This displaced Grandma, relegating her to the living room in her basement apartment. As I readied the house for the fellow doing our work (JR) I could see Grandma was a little anxious. I got her settled in her living room, tuned in some Gospel music, fixed her some toast with peanut butter and a cup of coffee (she'd already had cereal). 

G: So I'm down here all day and I won't see a soul?

Me: No, you can go upstairs and Ruby will be here later - but I think you'll be more comfortable here with the TV.... and the dogs. 

G: Maybe.

JR had not yet arrived when I left for work. I wasn't really worried about him with Grandma, as he has known her since he was a little boy. DH on the other hand, was concerned JR might charge us extra for having to work with Grandma supervising. (He didn't) but about 10:00 a.m., I got a call from my formerly distressed mother... now happy as a clam in her role of General Contractor. She reported to me about the dogs, and JR and how she would need me to let the Meals on Wheels people know to use the back entrance. 

JR had the job wrapped up by the end of the day but needed to come back the next day to finish some trim. The next morning, Grandma is determined to keep the dogs in the basement. I looked down the stairs from the kitchen, to see her with the tops of two TV trays leaned up against the bottom step.

G: I can't find my rock.

Me: What rock?

G: I had a rock I used yesterday to keep these in place. It's gone.

Me: Where'd you get it?

G: Outside, there was a committee meeting and I asked them for it. I think it said Lisbon on it.

(A light bulb went off in my head, I remembered seeing DH carry a rock back into our office on the main level. I went and retrieved it and held it up to Grandma.)

Me: Is this it?

G: Yes! That's it... where'd you find it?

Me: In the office. It's a door stop. Been there for 12 years, and it doesn't say Lisbon... it says Jesus.

G: Oh... well give it here.

Me: OK, but you don't need to keep the dogs in the basement today. JR is done except for a little finish work.

G: But we don't want them on the new floor.

Me: Yes we do... they won't hurt it.

G: Well, I'm glad to hear that. I carried Sam to go outside this morning... it about did me in! (you may recall we affectionately refer to Grandma's dog, as Sumo Sam)

Me: Don't do that again - you're both apt to get hurt.

The next morning, I heard her 'up' through the baby monitor. I remotely started her music in the basement. When I came down to the main level, she was in the kitchen.

Me: Your music is on in the basement.

G: I know… I finally got it. I worked and worked with that button and you said I couldn’t get music, but I did.

Me: No… I did that.

G: You couldn't have. I just did it. I was pushing buttons and all of a sudden, I got it to come on.

Me: Sorry - just a coincidence. It was me.

I'm making my lunch and she starts to complain about her hair not laying right. I look at the clock. It is 7:42.

Me: Here, come over here.

G: Where? Why?

Me: The sink... bend over. I'm going to wash your hair.

With that, I douse her hair with the sink sprayer, put a dollop of shampoo on my hand.... suds her up, rinse it out and grab a towel. I steer her to a stool in the kitchen, tell her to towel dry it while I fetch the hair blower. Ninety seconds of 1800 watt air later and her tresses were again fresh and fluffy. It was 7:47. I grabbed my lunch and headed out the door. I made it to work on time, but forgot my cell phone. I felt naked.

Another morning, while I'm still in bed, my cell phone rings. I recognize the familiar "home" ring ("It's your mom on the phone... don't moan and groan, you'd better answer it now, she'll never leave you alone"). I reach for and pick up the phone from my nightstand.

Me: Yes?

G: Hi, I hate to bother you but I have some questions regarding some papers I got in the mail. Will you be coming home later?

Me: Mom, I'm upstairs in my bed. You saw me a little bit ago when I got my coffee. I was in my nightgown. I still am.

G: Oh, well then, you will be coming down?

Me: It's a good bet.

And finally - this morning, after a restless night - I come down to find Grandma rearranging some things I had put in a specific place, for a specific purpose. I told her, (probably too curtly) to please not do that.

G: I'm always getting in trouble for doing things. I shouldn't talk, I shouldn't help... I don't do anything right... (AUGH! I snap)

Me: Hey! You can knock it off... I have every right to have a bad day now and then and you can't take credit for it. So stop it. 

G: OK.

This was all in one week (and I didn't mention the morning I found the bucket of dog treats in her room). Another story for another day. Day after day - every one is different, and every one is the same.

So ends Episode 36

Episode 35 - Age: is it really just a number?

Grandma lives with rheumatoid arthritis in her back and joints.  Her crippled fingers cannot close in a fist.  She takes medication a couple times a day to keep on top of the pain and I think she's in pretty good shape physically, for her age, though she frequently mentions this ache or that discomfort.

Note I said, for her age.  At 85, there's not much that 'shouldn't' be a tad tender as the body approaches the 200,000 mile mark (and in Grandma's case, it's probably 250,000).  My standard answer to her comments about new found pain... "I've never had this before" is "Well, you've never been 85 years old before."  Actually, most of her maladies aren't necessarily new, she just doesn't remember having had them before.

G:  Look at these veins in my arms... look how big they are!  They protrude terribly.  What do you think causes it?

Me:  You're 85 Mom... your skin is getting thinner.  Sometimes your veins are just more prominent than others.

G:  Do you suppose we should have the doctor look at it?

Me:  You tell the doctor every time we see him.

G:  Oh.

Mom has had an age spot above her left eye for many years.  Sometimes she blames its presence on an injury.

G:  I don't know where I got this mark, but I think it was when I fell down.  It really hurts.

Me:  You've had that discoloration for years Mom... it's just age, you didn't get it falling down.

G:  I did too.  I never had this before.

DH:  You've had it as long as I've known you.

G:  Well, it is really hurting...

Me:  Don't pick at it...

G:  Has the doctor looked at this?

Me:  Yes.

G:  Well alright.  He may need to look at it again.

I wash and style Grandma's hair each week and she checks daily (with a hand mirror) how it is "laying in the back".  Sometimes she asks for my assistance, particularly if she is going to church (where the rear of her head may be scrutinized by others).

G:  Can you cover up that bald spot?

Me:  Mom, it's not a bald spot, the hair just naturally separates there.

G:  Well it looks bald if you don't cover it up right....

I do my best to direct the hair over "the spot."

G:  I don't know why my hair won't cooperate.

Me:  I think it may be the blood pressure medicine Mom.

G:  What's that have to do with it?

Me:  That kind of medicine sometimes causes your hair to thin.  It's not a bid deal, you have plenty of hair.

G:  I just don't want that bald spot to show....

And then there's my least favorite 'woe' to commiserate....

G:  Look at these veins in my legs.  I don't know what causes it, but they look horrible.  See how they are all blue and right next to the surface?

Me:  Oh Mom, that's nothing... you don't have that many veins and if they don't hurt, what does it matter?

G:  They look terrible.  (that did it!)

Me:  Mom.... stop your complaining.  Look at my legs!  I'm nearly 30 years younger than you - and my legs have many more veins showing than yours.... and I've had them for years!

G:  Ohhhh - Those do look terrible.  Can't you do anything about it?

Me:  I don't know... I guess they never really bothered me that much.... (*sigh*) At least until now.

Grandma has fallen several times - her osteoporosis makes for less than a straight path and she loses her balance when not using her cane (which we constantly remind her to use).  I warn her to be careful so as not break a hip or she'll have to spend a month in the nursing home recuperating. 

When Grandma lived in D1, she would talk about her "funeral file" almost every time we visited ... the purple folder which contains her prearranged and prepaid funeral plans.  We could usually avoid going over the details, but she was definitely preoccupied with her final farewell.  Since moving here, I'm not sure she's even brought it up... much less out.  Maybe she's decided she'll live forever. 

Still, she complains about 'this and that' and what can be done to remedy the situations. 

Me:  Mom... you are 85 years old... your body isn't the same as it used to be.  Heck, I'm 30 year younger than you, and mine isn't what it used to be.  It's just part of the aging process. 

G:  I suppose....

Me:  For goodness sake - the Bible says we should live 70 years... 80 if we're extra healthy.  You've exceeded even that.  You aren't living on borrowed time - you are living on Bonus time. 

And then I did something I hadn't planned.  I told her to pick up her newspaper.  She did.

Me:  OK Mom... I want you to go down each obituary and just tell me how old they were.

G:    Well.... Let's see.  She was 77..... and this one's 81......  here's a 68.....  (and so on)

By the time she finished the last column, she'd read only two numbers greater than 85.  The point was made.  Yes, she's got some physical problems to deal with, but she still has life and breath with which to deal with them. Let's be glad for that.... and at this rate, she could outlive all of the pallbearers in the purple file.

So ends Episode 35

Episode 34 - Cleanliness next to godliness?

We've had a busy holiday weekend with family visiting and more expected tomorrow.  Currently (Monday holiday) we are alone and in the quiet eye of the lovely storm of visitor activity.  On today's 'to do' list, is picking up some recently accumulated clutter and rest.  Late last week (Friday to be exact) we did our 'less than frequent' family cleaning frenzy, which we call Power Hour.  Everyone has their assignments, we crank up our favorite music and then 'go to town'. 

Grandma had not yet experienced Power Hour.  (That's not to say I haven't cleaned since she came ... but it hasn't been the family affair we are commonly known for).  I mentally prepared the duties Grandma would perform and explained to her how our house would be transformed in 60 minutes.  She may have had her doubts but was happy to be considered part of the team.  I think some of the time she thinks she is the only one who 'cares' how things look.

Grandma's usual (self-assigned) duties involve keeping the bedsheets we use to protect our 11 month old furniture, tight and taught.  We could care less... but their being "sloppy" deeply offends her, I guess.  She also picks up the kitchen... creating her own 'order,' each day while we're gone to work.  If there are dishes in the sink - she will wash them as opposed to putting them in the dishwasher.  One of our sons informed me that he observed Grandma "washing" dishes with only water... then drying and returning to the cupboard or drawer. (Eww)

Me:  Mom, if the dishwasher is full, CeCe will empty it.  Don't do the dishes by hand.  I want the dishwasher to sanitize them.

One day I returned home and realized she had done dishes "by hand" again.  I questioned her and she said, "I used soap!"  A few days later, I asked her why she kept moving my dish soap away from the sink.

G:  That's not dish soap.... it says bleach.

Me:  It just has bleach in it.  (and it's a clear liquid)

G;  I didn't know that.  I use the blue soap.  (I didn't realize I had any "blue" dish soap left... but I decide to look further... and there it is... by the coffee pot...)

Me:  Mom!  You're using Windex to wash dishes?!

G:  Hmmm, no wonder I;m not getting any suds.

Me:  *sigh*  (hoping there's enough alcohol in glass cleaner to sanitize my dishes.)

Back to Power Hour...

DH and I had taken Friday off work.  We had plans to golf and shop before Power Hour, which would be just before suppertime.  As we finished breakfast (I'm still in my pajamas) I say to Grandma, "Would you like to go to Ace Hardware for me?  I need some furniture polish.  You will need to cross two streets but it's OK since we are home." 

G:  Yes, I can do that.  I'll have to take my pusher (Grandma refers to her roller walker with padded seat and basket carrier as her "pusher").

Me:  Of course.  If you go up A Ave. you'll see Ace a block to your left.  Do you want me to write out directions?

G:  No - I can find it.  (Obviously since she 'found' it a couple weeks ago)

Me:  Do you think you can make it there and back in 15 minutes?

G:  Yes, why?

Me:  Because if you aren't back in 15 minutes, we're coming to look for you.

G:  Oh.

There's a sparkle in her eye and spring in her crooked step, as she dresses and gets ready for "her errand".  I cut the ad from the weekly flier, circle the product I want and put it in an envelope with $1.25 to cover the .99 sale price.  On the outside of the envelope I write: Kathy, Russ, Keith and Andy (the employees with whom she is most familiar).  I also write her name and our phone number.  Sounds like overkill for a two block, quarter hour errand - but worth it to give her the satisfaction of doing something on her own and "helping," which she loves.

DH is working in the garage as I take Grandma out to get her pusher (also parked in the garage).  She has her marching orders (the envelope) in her pant pocket.  The three of us stand in the driveway as though we are parents sending a child to school.  Grandma begins to turn right and DH stops her. 

DH:  You want to go up A Ave Grandma.  There's no traffic that way.

G:    Why can't I go this way, it's closer.  (True, maybe 50 yards)

DH:  But the other way is safer.  (Grandma is still persistent)

Me:  I guess it doesn't matter that much which way she goes...

DH: *sigh*

And she's off.  She heads down the alley driveway to a business (closed today) parking lot directly behind us.  She will turn right onto the sidewalk at the end of the parking lot and Ace will now be one and one half blocks away.  I check the time and return to the house.  DH steps back into the garage.

Inside, I go directly to the telephone book.  I'm going to call Ace Hardware and inform them that Grandma is on her way.  They all know her but I think it would be wise to let them know Grandma has mission instructions.  As I'm looking up the phone number, I move to the area of the dining area where I should be able to see her walking by (a block away) soon.  I find the number, but still no Grandma in view.  I hear a voice from the back door.

DH:  She's down! 

DH had just stepped out from the garage to be sure she turned the right direction and saw her on the ground.

The two of us are now sprinting to the end of the parking lot where Grandma is now sitting up, the pusher toppled to the side... and northbound traffic is stopped.  I recognize a co-worker of mine (who also knows Grandma) who is first on the scene and a truck driver coming to her aid as well.  It appears that Grandma hit some loose sand, which caused her to lose control of her pusher.  She seems to be OK, (no broken bones) so we help her up.... retrieve her pusher... thank the Good Samaritans and walk back to our house.  Grandma is in tears.

G:  I can't do anything.  I just wanted to help you.

Me:  Mom, you do help me.

G:  No I don't. I'm a burden. 

Me:  You're not a burden and I just wanted to let you do something I thought you'd enjoy.  This is my fault....

DH:  She should have gone down A Ave. 

Me:  I know that.... (of course, had she fallen on that route, 'help' would not have possibly come so quickly.)

We go in the house, check out Grandma's bumps and put ice on her shin and lip.  She also scraped her elbow.  How fortunate though, to not be bleeding or have broken bones! 

G:  What about the furniture polish?

Me:  I'll take care of it.

G:  I'm sorry.

Me:  No, I'm sorry...

By the time Power Hour rolled around, Grandma was ready to go to bed.  We told her goodnight, as we geared up to do battle with our household dirt.  CeCe used the feather duster in leiu of having furniture polish.  DH cleaned the kitchen... I did the guest room... CeCe and I each took a bathroom.... she vacuumed.  We handled it readily and were done in no time. The house was a solid 7 on a clean scale level of 1 to 10.  Totally acceptable to my standards.

Grandma is still sore but enjoyed our guests and looks forward to their return and more coming tomorrow.  The house's clean level 7 has probably digressed to a 6 but I'm hoping Grandma is getting the greater importance of the 'company' rather than the 'condition' of the house.  I'll likely still do a quick 'once over' later today.... just give me a bottle of Windex, I hear it can clean anything.

So ends Episode 34