Episode 58 - Home for the Holidays

This is my third attempt at posting since my last episode.  DH and I have had the time off from work (between Christmas and New Years).  Each day has brought a new adventure.  As I sit to compose about it... I find myself delving into details that are more ranting than relevant and more frustrating than fun.  In an effort to keep it 'short' - let me summarize.

Grandma had an awesome Christmas with an assortment of gifts.  I had sent the grandchildren a short list of things she could use... and wouldn't you know, most of them honed in on one particular line item: Fruit of the Loom sweats and long sleeved shirts.  Although no one needs three navy blue sweatshirts - who would guess Grandma wouldn't like any of them (pullover style). I think the final count (returned items alone) was four sweatshirts and one shirt.  With her returned funds, we got her a new pair of pajamas and a bottle of her favorite cologne.  Many happy returns!

A few weeks ago, a dowel on my 35 year old Boston rocker broke off the runner, rendering the chair useless.  DH knew its sentimental value to me and said he'd fix it after Christmas.  We put it into our home office which was then beginning to look like a landfill.  The empty spot formerly occupied by the rocker, was filled with a glider we'd exchanged a while back with a similar one from Grandma's apartment.  When DH got around to repairing my rocker this week - it amounted to much confusion to Grandma, who has decided all of these chairs have always been hers ... and since possession is 9/10 of the law - she had concerns.

G:  So what are you going to do with that chair? (rocker)

Me:  DH is going to fix it.

G:  Then what are you going to do with it?

Me:  Put it back here where it used to be.

G:  What about that chair? (the plaid glider)

Me:  We'll probably put it back down in your apartment.  That's where it was before.

G:  That was my grandmother's chair.

Me:  Actually, it is my chair.  It used to sit where your chair (blue glider) sits.  This ottoman matches it, see?  You complained because it squeaks, remember?  You wanted your chair up here so we switched them - but since you still wanted the ottoman, we left it up here.  It's not a big deal, we're still going to leave your chair here.

For several minutes Grandma argued as to whose chair was whose, where they were going, where they had come from...

Me:  The rocker came from Village Carpet - you and Dad gave it to me in the 70's.  The plaid glider is like twelve years old and came from Bill's Brothers (salvage, thus the squeak).  I think you got the blue glider shortly after I got mine, because you liked it so much.

G:  Oh.  Well I just want to be sure that this chair remains mine... and I can take it with me.

Me:  Do you want it back in the basement?

G:  I just want to be able to take it with me when I leave.

Me: Where are you going?

G:  I mean when I move out.

Me:  If you want it in the basement, we'll move it there... not a big deal.  If you want it here, we'll leave it here.  If you have to move to assisted living someday, you can take it.... uh, what do you want me to do with it if you die?

G:  ... then you can have it.

The office (landfill) has been a source of irritation for Grandma for some time now.  It houses a piano, desktop computer, bookshelves, many toys and a spare computer desk.  Up until this week - it also contained the Christmas decoration containers and a broken Boston rocker.  It was by my own admission, a disaster, but I could close the door (out of sight, out of mind).  Except, Grandma couldn't resist making daily comments to us about the state of the room (she couldn't bring herself to call it the "office").  She would remark to visitors, "Don't even think about going in there".  She shuddered when the grandchildren would venture in for a toy. "No, no, no... don't go in there!"  Perhaps fearing they'd become lost.  What's a daughter to do?

The office was on our list of things to do this week.  We took down the tree (goodbye containers) and DH fixed the chair (goodbye rocker).  We sorted, pitched, organized, dusted and recycled most everything.  We still have some sorting to do - but hope to get it completed before going back to work.  One of our biggest problems in the project - was Grandma wandering through the sorted items... moving them about, under the pretense of "where do you want this?"

Me:  Mom - leave things where they are.  I know where things are now - but if you move them around, I won't be able to find them.

G:  Is this mine? (holding up any item she'd run across)

Me:  No - it's ours.  Just put it down, please.

G:  Well I'm going through a lot of papers in my place too.

Me:  That's great. 

G:  I think I'm going to need your help.

Me:  Not now you aren't.  You can see we're pretty busy here.

G:  Yes, I can see that.

Me:  So you work on your stuff and we'll work on ours, OK?

At one point, DH and I decided a break was in order... so collapsed into our recliners (amid the myriad of office junk now in the living room).  Grandma wandered in and moved a sack of cords from her blue glider and sat down.

G:  You have quite a mess here.

Me:  Yup.

G:  Do you think it will all go back in there?

Me:  Everything we need will.

Grandma is distracted by a blurb on television about the book tour for George Bush.  She knows him (of course).  She worked with him 'back in the day', on some insurance business.

Me:  You worked with George Bush?

DH:  Would that have been George W. or his dad, George Sr.?

G:  Well, I knew them both.

DH:  Must have been George Sr. if it was when you were in the insurance business.... but maybe it was with your work with the Republican party.

G:  Oh well yes, that too.

DH gets up and retreats to the kitchen.  Grandma comments how much the blue glider means to her, having belonged to her mother.  I take note that it is only Wednesday ... and am amazed at how much more slowly a week off work goes when it is spent at home with Grandma.  I guess that is an upside to being Home (with Grandma) for the Holidays!

So ends Episode 58

Episode 57 - With every Christmas card I write

When last I blogged, I was preparing to tackle Grandma's "Christmas" gifts.  That was Thursday.  As soon as I posted that episode, I went downstairs and positioned Grandma at the kitchen island.  I had her write her name on the inside of each of the money holders I had purchased.  There were five cards.  It took ten minutes.  That was enough for one day.

The next day, we addressed the outside of the envelopes.  I wrote each couple's names on separate lines of a piece of notebook paper, gave her the stack of envelopes and said "Go for it."  She studied the paper for a moment and then proceeded to write the first grandchild and his wife's name on the envelope.  Knowing how long it took her to simply write "Grandma" ... I knew we were in for a longer session this time.  Not a problem... there was plenty of time before Christmas; however I became distracted (so easy to do 'in the kitchen' the days before Christmas).  A few moments later, I glanced over and saw she was writing the next grandson/wife's name directly under the first names on the same envelope.

Me:  Uh Mom... we have enough envelopes for each couple to have their own.

G:  What?

Me:  You need to use a new envelope with each name.

I grabbed a pen and drew a box around each line on the notebook paper.

Me:  Here.  Just put what's in the box on each envelope, then get a new one.  See?

G:  Oh... OK.

When we had our family gathering yesterday - I passed Grandma's envelopes out to the grandkids.  She barely noted their chorus of "Thank Yous" as she concentrated on opening her mountain of presents.  She did however, take delight in their hugs as they departed a few hours later. 

When "quiet" once again fell over the house, Grandma realized she hadn't eaten lunch and requested a salad for supper.  I fixed her one of my specials and she seated herself at the island to eat it. 

G:  I got to thinking... did we put any money in the kids' cards?

Me:  Yes we did.

G:  I wasn't sure.  I'm glad you remembered to do that.

Me:  I told you I had it covered.

G:  That's good.  I think we had a nice Christmas, don't you?

Me:  Yes I do... we had a very nice Christmas.

And to those reading... I hope you did also!

So ends Episode 57

Episode 56 - It's better to give than receive

It's 9 days post op.  I got the bandage off my foot this morning (replaced with a band aid) and my stitches come out next week.  It's been a long week maneuvering with the clompy velcro shoe (at times, in the snow) and trying to do Christmas things as well.  Gift wrapping was one of the more 'foot friendly' feats and with just more than a day away until Christmas, I've got most things done.

Grandma and I have been having ongoing discussions regarding her gift-giving, for several weeks now.  I assure her I will take care of her 'shopping,' as I have for more than ten years now.  She was somewhat hard to please then and she's no better now.  A few years ago, I convinced her that it would be best to give her grand kids money.  I had enough trouble buying for them myself and it would be easier on all of us if she did.  I thought we had settled this but apparently not.  Even when she would write checks, she wanted a Brinks truck to 'guard the cards' until which time she could ceremoniously distribute them. 

G:  OK, if I give them money, I still want to give them a little something.  Something special that they'd really like.  Can you find something like that?

Me:  Probably not.  Why can't we call it good with the check?

G:  I just want them to have something from me.

Me:  The check is from you.  It has your name on it and everything.

G:  So you're not going to help me?

Me:  Tell me what you want to get.

G:  I don't know... I thought you could think of something.

Because I always do.... uh ... did.  The last couple years, the money has been sufficient.  This year it is a whole new set of questions, concerns and frustration (mostly mine).  Usually I can walk away simply annoyed... this year, I'm stomping away angry.  (Note: since she's living with us - there's not much "away" to go to and when you are recovering from foot surgery, 'stomping' takes painful  effort.)

I have purchased her cards... I have been to the bank (not even going to bother with writing checks - cash works).  All I need to do is suck it up, go downstairs (I'm now hold up in my room) and make her sign the cards.  It sounds so simple.  Why can't it just be simple?

Oh yeah... I had better call the Brinks truck too.

So ends Episode 56

Episode 55 - Just like the ones I used to know

Today's episode comes to you from the comfort of my bed and the discomfort of foot surgery (post op day 2).  Since I had this same surgery four months ago (on the other foot) - I'm fairly prepared for the recovery and what it entails.

When DH and I left two mornings ago, for the surgery, Grandma bid us farewell as if it were any other day.  No mention of the pending procedure... or comments or questions.  "NM's Surgery" was displayed boldly on the whiteboard in the kitchen but it either went unread or uncomprehended.  Likewise, upon our arrival home... (she was in the basement when I hobbled through the door and into the comfort of my recliner) she seemed oblivious to the fact that anything other than the commonplace had occurred.  This is OK I thought.  I would probably feel more frustration with her hovering over me.

As I hibernated in my room most of yesterday, it was apparent she'd forgotten I was at home (although we'd chatted in the kitchen in the morning).  While accessing my office remotely, I observed she called my work phone twice, leaving messages both times. 

When at lunch time we met up again in the kitchen, she remained mum on my condition.  She chatted about her mid-day meal that had been delivered, the pain she was feeling in her hip, some school supplies CeCe had left out and Ruby's coming to see her shortly.  No "How are you feeling?"  "Is the medicine helping your pain?"  "Is there anything I can get you?"  I wasn't annoyed by any means... I was simply surprised. 

I took advantage of yesterday's peace to compose our family's Christmas letter.  Memories of previous letters flooded my mind, as well as memories of Grandma asking me to write her letter.  No such requests this year... at least not yet.

Some things never change - but most things do. 

So ends Episode 55

Episode 54 - Fa-la-la-la-la ...

It's been 'one of those weeks'.  If you are a regular reader, you may respond, "Aren't they all like that?"  And to a degree, when dealing with Grandma, "Yes they are," but this week it didn't have much to do directly with Grandma... she just made things more interesting.

Tuesday, I had a doctor's appointment.  As I was directed from the waiting room to the examining room, the nurse commented to me, "I had quite a visit with your mother when I called with your appointment reminder." 

    
"I'll just bet you did," I replied.

"Not many people ask me how I've been..." she continued.

"She probably thought she knew you." I said.  (I was actually surprised she hadn't given her my cell phone number.)

Grandma has no set exercise program except for going up and down the basement stairs a couple dozen times a day, half of which are in the evening, after she first tells us goodnight.  She can come up with more reasons to return to the main level or entice one of us to look at something in the basement.  Wednesday, as I put Sammy outside for his last pit stop before bed (Grandma had already retired) I turned around to see she had reappeared in the living room.

G:  Could you come downstairs please?  I ran across a couple of remotes that belonged to Grandma and I want you to look at them.

Me:  Hmmm, I don't think Grandma would have ever had any remotes...

G:  Yes she did... and they are in beautiful condition. 

Me:  I'm sure they are... but whatever appliance they were to, we no longer have.  I think you can just throw them away.

G:  Oh I don't think we would want to do that.  Perhaps the boys can use them. 

Me:  Probably not.

G:  Well, I want DH to look at them.  We'll see what he thinks.  They are awfully nice.

I think to myself, he'll likely throw them away, like he does junk mail, which will not make her happy. 

Me:  You know, DH bought you all the remotes you will ever need.  Just put away any others you run across.

G:  (Retreats)

Thursday morning, I am sitting at work when my phone rings.  A double ring signals off-campus call... I take two guesses on who it might be.

Me:  Hello?

G:  Hi, it's me... your mother.

Me:  Yup, how you doing?

G:  Where are you?

Me:  At work, where you called me.  (I can hear a high pitched Morse Code sounding noise in the background).

G:  Well, I have a problem.  There's a beeping noise coming from somewhere in here and I can't find it.

I guide Grandma around the house, listening as she enters each room.  We eventually determine the 'dot dot dot' sound is coming from the basement smoke detector.

Me:  I think the battery is running low - can you take it out?

G:  How do I do that?
Me:  Can you reach it?

G:  Not without standing on something.

Me:  Never mind.  Can you shut the door and we'll take care of it when we get home?

G:  I guess so.

Me:  Just turn the music up louder.  (That should appeal to her.)

As I returned to my work, it occurred to me, that low battery signals emit a single sound at regular intervals.  This alarm was churning out a rapid successions of beeps with only a second or two in between.  I called DH and gave him the lowdown.  "You'd better go home and check on it," he said.

At home I find Ruby has arrived and she and Grandma are sitting in the living room, music blaring.  "I came home to check the alarm," I shouted.  I went to the basement, and shined a light up toward the alarm on the wall.  A red light was flashing next to the words: "Go to Fresh Air". 

I went up to the main level and placed a call to Alliant, our gas and electric provider.  The dispatch person said she'd send someone right over.  I had pulled the battery to stop the incessant beeping... and made chit chat with the two Gospel Groupies in the living room, while I waited for Mr. Alliant. 

He arrived and after checking out the house with his "CO meter" he said we weren't in any danger.  He got a reading of 6 or 7 parts per million but wasn't really able to find any leaks.  He suggested we call our furnace man.  I was glad Ruby was there, as she was able to distract Grandma, who very much wanted to be involved in the mystery and investigation.  "Don't worry Grandma... the furnace man is coming tomorrow, you'll have ample opportunity to annoy assist him."  When DH got home from work, he put a new battery in the detector.  Silence. (So, maybe a failing battery can have more than one sounding signal... who knew?)

Friday morning, just before DH left for work - Grandma came up from the apartment to report the toilet wasn't flushing properly and the water was rising.  DH grabbed the plumbers helper and headed down the stairs returning a short time later.

DH:  It's really stopped up.  I'll have to work on it when I get home.  Tell Grandma to use the bathrooms upstairs here.

A couple hours later, the soft sound of Christmas music playing in my office is interrupted by the double ring.

Me:  Hello?

G:  It's me... (I once again hear a shrill high pitched sound in the background.)

Me:  What's that sound Mom?  Is the detector going off again?

G:  I don't know what it is but it's been going for several minutes. 

I direct her around the house again, feeling a little deje vu from the previous day.

Me:  Walk over by the TV in the living room.

G:  OK.  Can you hear it?

Me:  Oh yeah... loud and clear.  I think it's the battery backup.  Can you move the TV stand?  Put down the phone and try.

She returns a minute later.

G:  Can't budge it.

Me:  I'll be right there.

I make the seven block trip in a couple minutes.  I enter the house and go directly to the living room, move the TV stand and push the power button on the UPS.  The sound stops.  I turn it back on, move the stand back and prepare to exit when Grandma says:

G:  The furnace man left a paper.

Me:  I know... I talked to him on the phone.

G:  And it doesn't smell very good down there.

Me:  What?

G:  It smells bad.... in my apartment.

My instincts told me to run (quickly) and get away.  My sense of duty forced me down the stairs to discover the sewer had backed up.  I returned to the main level.

Me:  Stay out of the basement.  Just stay up here today.

G:  Well now that that whistle stopped, I can probably do that.

I got in my car for the drive back to work.  I called DH. 

Me:  Call a plumber... Call Roto-Rooter... Call someone...

DH:  OK.

By the time the work day ended, the toilet was running again and all that was left was the clean-up.  Yuck.  But we attacked it full throttle and had it done before suppertime.

I don't have many weeks like this, I'm happy to report.  And I can only hope next week is smoother, as I'm having surgery on my other foot.  I can't say I'm looking forward to the recovery (you may recall Episode 39) but the surgery itself isn't too bad.  I'm certainly glad the surgery and this week didn't coincide!

I was thinking though... wouldn't it be cool to have a magic remote control (that maybe belonged to your great-grandmother?) which just fast forwarded through all the crappy times in life? (Yeah... pun intended.)

So ends Episode 54

 

Episode 53 - Memories light the corners of my mind

I've long been known for having a good memory.  Sometimes I'm kidded about it...  sometimes I'm called upon to remember something significant.... and sometimes  it's a curse.  I think this was passed on to me genetically from my Dad.  I recall his once saying:  "September 15.  Nineteen years ago today we put in the shower stall at the old house....  I took a shower and went to a Booster Club Meeting."  At that moment, I knew where I 'got it' - and there was probably no escaping it.  I was destined to remember trivial, non-essential information, which battled within the confines of my brain with the academic and intellectual facts that might have brought me worldly success... but the trivia won.

What, you ask, does this have to do with Life with Nana Mama's Mama?  This, I reply... is the curse.  In the aging process, we all get more forgetful.  My memory certainly isn't what it used to be, and I readily admit when I can't remember that  "I don't have a clue."  On the other hand, if I'm certain of something... I'm willing to die for my cause.

Mom didn't share Dad and my "gift".  She was so busy all of her life juggling her many interests and activities - she was lucky to remember what day it was or where she was to be at a given time.  She lived by her calendars.  One in her purse and another on her office wall.  Things have changed drastically now - and most of Mom's days are pretty much the same.  We keep the white board in the kitchen up to date so she knows what to expect, but that deals with the present.  When it comes to the past, Mom has very different memories.

For instance, we have four Snuggies - those lovely 'armed' blankets.  Several times she has remarked about the one she had when she lived in D1. 

Me:  You didn't have a Snuggie Mom.

G:  Yes I did.

Me:  Not until you moved here.

G:  I did too.  Several of us shared it at the complex.  I don't know what became of it.

Me:  I cleaned out your apartment, there was no Snuggie... but we have plenty for you to use.

G:  But I had one.  I know I did.

And then there were the slippers.  You may recall a couple months ago, our buying her a couple pair of slippers.  She's been wearing the moccasin style ones since the day we brought them home.  Yesterday she insisted she'd had them for years.

DH:  We bought you both of those slippers.

G:  Not these (holding up the moccasins).

Me:  Yeah, we did.... bought them both at the same time. 

G:  I've had these for a long time.  I don't even remember where I got them.

Me:  We got them for you... at Walmart... a couple months ago.

G:  I wouldn't mind another pair.

One day she commented about a sweater she had on.

G:  I thought I'd wear this today.  I know I wear it a lot, but I like it.

Me:  It looks very nice.

G:  I think my mother gave it to me.

Me:  No, Grandma didn't give it to you.  I think Darlene did.

G:  She did?  I don't think so - I think my mother did.

Me:  Nope.  Grandma's been gone a lot longer than you've had that sweater.

This last conversation occurred during Thanksgiving week, when our kids from Kentucky were visiting.  Our daughter-in-law (DIL) is a hospice chaplain and visits patients daily, in their homes.  She says visiting us (Grandma) is sometimes like being at work.  A while after the sweater conversation, she and I were visiting (out of Grandma's earshot).

Me:  It's just really hard to have the same conversations, over and over.  And I don't know where she comes up with some of her memories....

DIL:  One of the women I work with went to a seminar recently dealing with dementia.  They recommend just agreeing with the patient unless to do so would endanger them.

Me:  I've heard that before - it's just so hard when you're living in reality and they're living in fantasy.  It's frustrating.

DIL:  I'm sure it is for you, but the subject might be dropped easily by agreeing.  Like when she said her mother gave her the sweater, you might have said, 'perhaps she did.'

The DIL didn't say it to me ... but I have said it before,  "It is the kinder thing to do."  I thought I was kind... but I prove myself wrong time and again.

We returned to the living room.  The conversation turned to the dogs (a subject on which Grandma is a self-proclaimed expert).   Grandma reported that Sammy was downstairs sitting in my Dad's chair.  (My Dad has been gone nearly 30 years, his chair slightly less).  "That's nice,"  I replied.  She changed the subject to Thanksgiving and how "when she was having coffee with the girls" someone had said such and such.  (Mom doesn't have coffee with anyone but us)  "That's nice," I replied.  I looked at my DIL.  Is she taking note of my kindness?  Does she see how I'm 'letting it go'?  Does she sense my blood pressure rising?  No.

Kindness is not always what you do or say.  Sometimes it is what you don't do or say.  I'm not a poster child for this virtue, but I'm trying.  The stress so often associated with the holidays is self-imposed because we try to create beautiful memories for our loved ones.  My loved one has no trouble creating her own.  My job is to let her... to keep her safe and happy, because...

"That's nice."

So ends Episode 53