Episode 64 - Transition - Part 3

I can't remember the last time I shed as many tears as I did Tuesday.  I was exhausted, sad and traumatized and although sleep came, I was wide awake at 3:30 a.m.  That is when I wrote Episode 62.  Blogging is therapeutic for me.  As the words poured onto the page, some of the tension left my body. 

I had been hopeful as we'd left Grandma the previous night.  We had talked about McVille, the care center and "the plan."  I remember when we talked, saying to her: 

Me:  Harriett is at that care center, you know.

G:    Harriett who?

Me:  Harriett.  Your good friend from when you lived in D1.

G:  I don't remember her.

My optimism may have dimmed but my resolve was strengthened.  We were making the right decision - but "right" is not always "easy."

Wednesday morning, DH and I got things around at home to take with us to the care center.  I spoke with them on the phone and with the floor nurse at the hospital.  The care center would like her there by 11:00 - the hospital says we are at the mercy of the doctor coming by to release her.  At 10:00, we decide to go to the care center, take her clothes and survey the situation.  

We arrived and I mindlessly opened the alarmed door, without reading the sign and entering the code to disarm it.  Loud ringing signaled our arrival.  Note to self: Don't do that again.  I know why I had been distracted though and it was because through the window in the entry door - I had seen, sitting at a table in the dining room, none other, than Harriett.  I went over and spoke to her.  Yes, I looked familiar... but she didn't really remember me, my mom or even Sam, who she often looked after.  Still, I told her that Grandma would be moving in later that day and she smiled.  I couldn't wait for these two strangers (old friends) to be reunited.

The room was fine - I marked all her clothing with her name and put them on hangers in her closet.  Her new roommate was there in a wheelchair.  I asked her name.  "I'm Ethel"  We visited with her as we worked and she told us she was only there for a short while - until she was well enough to go home.  I asked her about her family, life and typical get-acquainted questions.  I learned she was 77 years old and had three sons.  As we prepared to leave, I told her we would be back with her new roommie a little later.  Her parting words:  "Does she have her right mind?"  I laughed and said, "Sometimes."

By noon, we hadn't heard from the hospital so we just decided to go and wait there.  We had loaded a TV, stand, and a few other items into the car, to take with us to McVille, after getting Grandma. 

She wasn't in her room when we arrived, but was brought back a short time later (from a CT scan which showed no sign of stroke).  We spent the next three hours waiting... Grandma dozing... watching Food Network.  Occasionally, mention was made of the care center... but Grandma appeared to have forgotten about "the plan."

Since Grandma was a "fall risk," they had an alarm tethered to her chair and clipped to her gown.  She wasn't happy about it. A couple times she took it off.  It seemed to really agitate her.

Me:  Mom - you can't do that.

G:  Yes I can. There's no reason for it.

Me:  It's for your safety.  They want to know if you get out of the chair. 

G:  They can't make me wear it.

Me:  If you want to get up, let's push the button and they'll come help you.

Grandma was good with my suggestion and pushed the button.  I could tell the person responding to it would be the subject of her wrath.  A few minutes later, a young nurse entered:

N:  What can I do for you?

G:  This thing.  (anger rising)

Me:  Yeah... that alarm seems to be really pissing her off.  Can we remove it?  (Shock!  And no - the "p" word is not part of NanaMama's usual vocabulary... but at the moment, it seemed appropriate and added a little levity to the situation.)

The nurse and Grandma both chuckled and permission was granted to remove the alarm as long as we with with her. 

Although she didn't stop by to see Grandma, the doctor did arrive on the floor about 3:00 and signed the papers to release her.  We had left one of our cars in the parkade the previous night so we drove separately to the care center.  Grandma rode with me.  We chatted as we made the half hour trip.  Several times I had to remind her where we were going.  As we passed through Lisbon - her hometown - her demeanor changed. 

G:  What do you think of this McVille thing? I don't think it will work.

Me:  Well for now Mom, it's going to have to.  They wouldn't let you go without a plan... and this is the one we have for now.

G:  I can't live in McVille.  Lisbon is my town. 

Me:  But Lisbon doesn't have a care center.

The seven miles from Lisbon to McVille were filled with chilly silence.  I mentioned our having been there earlier and that Harriett was excited to have her there.  Silence.  As we turned off the highway at McVille, Grandma looked out the car window at the snow covered landscape.

G:  This town has nothing for me.

Me:  Mom, you're not going to be part of the community, it will be OK.

G:  I don't think so.

A few blocks later, we pulled into the circle drive of the care center.  Fear could now be heard in her voice.

G:  Oh... this is not a good place. 

Me:  Yes it is Mom.  It's a safe place and for now, it's where you need to be.

Somehow I had enough sense to press in the code, avoiding a fanfare for our entrance. 

Me:  Look Mom...  It's Harriett!  (pointing to the other side of the room)

G:   Yes, I think it is.  I'm going to go talk to her.

A nurse changed Grandma's course as they began processing her in... weight, height, etc.  Many sets of eyes were on us, as the other residents checked out "the new chick."  DH stayed with Grandma as I went to do paperwork with the center's social worker.  He later joined me.

DH:  She's talking to Harriett. 

G:  That's good.  The trip over wasn't great.

While completing the paperwork, the nurse came in and said she was concerned that Grandma's BP was quite high.  I told her it had been elevated in the hospital as well.  She said it was 190/120 and she wasn't at all comfortable with that.  I said to the nurse, "Did I mention she doesn't want to be here?"  The nurse said she'd contact the doctor.  She left but returned a while later... with Grandma.

G:  There you are.  I thought you'd left me.

Me:  No - we haven't left yet.  Just working on some papers.

G:  What kind of papers?  I can't stay here.  Does my family know about this?  (Referring to her grandsons)

Me:  Yes, they want you to be safe and they know this is a good place.

G:  Oh.

Me:  Mom, I'm taking care of some business and I need you to go back to your room.  We'll be there soon.

G:  I don't have a room.

Me:  Yes you do.  It's E3.  Have you met Ethel?

G:  Ethel who?

Me:  Your new roommate.

Grandma and the nurse left and we completed what I considered a massive amount of paperwork.  The social worker said, "It takes some time to adjust." 

We found Grandma out in the dining room, visiting with her new friend, Harriett.  She told me she was ready to go home.  I said, "Well, let's go down to your room then."  She had clearly meant she was ready to go to the car, but begrudgingly got up and walked with us to her room.

When we got to E3, Ethel was visiting with her son.

Me:  Hi Ethel... we're back with your new roommate. 

Ethel:  Who are you?

Me:  My mom is your new roommate.  We were here this morning.  We brought her with us this time.

Ethel:  I've never seen you before in my life.

Uh boy... I guess "right mind" is a relative term.  We made introductions and tried to settle Grandma in as much as possible, showing her where things were and discussing her gliding chair we would bring down.  The objections she voiced fell on my deaf ears as I made the best of this situation with all the strength and determination I had seen my mother model in her lifetime.  Yes, I am a wimp - but even a wimp has her moments.  It was time to be firm. 

Ethel announced it was almost time for supper.  We walked Grandma to the dining room and looked at the beautiful glass bird display.  We found an aid and were given Grandma's table assignment.  We gave her hugs and said we'd see her soon.  Things would be OK.  We would bring Sam to visit.

DH and I let ourselves out the alarmed door and walked to our cars.  I was tired and relieved.  It had been a long week, but the transition from "caretakers" to "patient's family" was now complete. 

So ends Episode 64 

Episode 63 - Transition - Part 2

Grandma wasn't sure why she was at the hospital.  Some of the time, she wasn't sure she was at the hospital or where it was.  She got the same questions from various people.  What year is this?  Where are we?  Who is the president?  After spending what didn't seem a very long time with her, the doctor took DH and I outside her room to say he was going to run some tests but she was mostly showing signs of dementia.  They would do x-rays to be sure she hadn't broken any bones in her recent fall.  She'd be meeting with physical and occupational therapists.  If all went well, she'd be released Tuesday.  Grandma wasn't too keen on spending the night but perked up when they brought her supper.  DH and I left a short while later.  I would be back tomorrow.

My plan for Tuesday included a stop at the bank and the assisted living/nursing home located a couple blocks from our home.  My bank business was swift, allowing more time at Cherry Ridge.  I spoke with the manager, got to see a room and was disappointed to learn that there were no openings and in fact, a wait list of 25 people for the 12 units.  The nursing home side didn't even have an opening for a female, but a wait list of 7 or 8 women.  Maybe this was a sign I had been praying for.  There is no room, because Grandma is supposed to stay with us.  I drove on to the hospital.

Grandma lit up like a Christmas tree when I walked into her room.  "There she is!!  There's my daughter!"  She told me she'd slept well, had taken a walk, had breakfast and answered some questions, though she really needed me to help with some of them.  Her nurse came in and said the doctor would be in later, but she would probably be released that afternoon.  A bit later, another staff member entered, identifying herself as an occupational therapist.  She had been the one who posed the questions to Grandma earlier.  We chatted with her for a few minutes, before the physical therapists came to work with Grandma.  Then we moved to a lounge to discuss the results of the morning's tests.

I felt a throwback to the elementary school parent-teacher conferences.  Looking at "my child's" papers, I could see clearly she was not at the top of the class.  She could pick out the triangle... and she knew what year it was (she should know by now... everyone keeps asking and correcting her if she's wrong).  Her comprehension and memory skills were below average if not failing.  She scored 7/30 which ranked in the "Dementia" category.  The OT was sweet.  I shared some stories and tips on how we've kept afloat the past fifty and one half weeks while Grandma lived with us.  As we parted, she told me we were doing a good job and the social worker would work with us to come up with a plan to best keep Grandma safe.

It was probably just past noon when the social worker came into Grandma's room.  The three of us talked about our house, schedule, what Grandma's routine was and so on.   Grandma was still picking at her lunch when the social worker said it had been determined that Grandma needed supervision all the time.  It was not safe for her to be alone.  "We work, but I'm only a few blocks away."  The SW asked me if I thought Grandma knew enough to push her lifeline button if she needed help.  I hesitated.  "No."  Her balance is poor.  She is subject to falls.  She could lie unconscious, bleeding or with broken bones until someone found her.  It was unacceptable and Grandma would not be released until a we had "a plan."

The SW gave me a list of agencies that provide in home assistance.  There were four pages, but none in our community.  No senior daycare where we live either.  I know from experience that Grandma does best with consistent routine and surroundings.  Having someone come into our home would likely be best - but the average cost of unskilled in-home care was $20 an hour.  That would be $160 a day with no provision for evening or weekend activities or respite.  I was numb.  "We need to have a plan," the SW said gently.

Dr. B's (the doctor from the previous night) nurse came in to talk about Grandma's release.  "Do you have a plan?" 

     "We're working on it," the SW responded.

     "I'll be back in a few minutes then," said the nurse.

A few minutes to come up with a plan. A plan that could alter the course of my mother's life forever.

     "I need to use the restroom."  I grabbed a tissue from the box and left the room.  I called DH and Belle's Daddy.  I had one on my cell phone and the other on the lounge's landline.

Me:  They won't left her go until I have a plan.

BD:  We can get a second opinion.  If Grandma was in her own environment, she'd get a lot more answers right.

DH:  There's no room at Cherry Ridge?

Me:  They don't offer 24/7 supervision in assisted living.  She needs more.

BD:  I can come down and have lunch with her everyday.

DH:  Is there any other care centers you'd want to check out?

Me:  I have to have a plan....

Two of the most important men in my life, trying to help me find a solution.  I'm crying.  Another visitor brings me tissues.  Why am I an only child?  I was barely allowed to make decisions growing up... I hate restaurants with menus... I can't decide what to wear and now I have to come up with a plan for my mother's well being.  What happened to my signs?  They have been reduced to a dollar sign and the fact that we cannot afford to bring someone into our house while we work, go to church, volleyball and live life.  We've likely left Grandma in harm's way the past many months when she had been home alone.  It has been a burden I've wanted to carry... but as in the words of my friend a couple episodes ago... I'm in over my head.

DH texted me the phone number to a reputable care center in McVille, a town 8 miles from where we live.  I called and was told they had a room for a female resident. I gave them my name and said I'd be back in touch.

I returned to Grandma's room where she is finishing her lunch.  I quietly tell the SW(through tears)  that I can get my mother into a care center in McVille.  She tells me in that case, Grandma can spend another night in the hospital and be released to go to the nursing home the next day.  This would give me time to get things ready for her move. 

The SW left and over the next hour, I went back and forth from the hospital room to the lounge.  Belle's Daddy checked the care center out online.  He gave approval on behalf of himself and his out of state brothers.  I went through multiple tissues each trip, returning puffy eyed to sit with Grandma while she watched TV and dozed.  Eventually, I sucked it up and spoke the words I had never wanted to have to say to her.

Me:  Mom, they won't let you leave here until I have a plan to take care of you.

G:  You need to make one.

Me:  They are telling me that you have to have someone with you all the time. Whenever we aren't home.  We'd have to hire someone to come into stay with you.

G:  Who's it going to be?

I cried the entire time I explained to her that as much as I wanted to, I couldn't keep her safe any longer.  She asked me why I was crying and I said because I wanted to take care of you. 

Grandma's response was similar to what any of us (as mothers) would have, seeing our child obviously distraught.

G:  It doesn't sound like you have any choice.  This is best.  I think your Dad would agree.

She was gracious, understanding and empathetic.  I probably could have told her I had to put her in a cardboard box and she would have said OK.  So although I had broken the news to her ... I would later learn her comprehension score had truly been 7/30.

DH came to the hospital when he got off work.  He made arrangements to take the next day off for the "move."  We told Grandma she was staying another night in the hospital, which was met with no opposition as soon as her supper arrived.  Since I hadn't eaten since breakfast, DH and I left at 6:00 to get dinner ourselves. 

The next day (Wednesday) would be hard - though I couldn't imagine any more difficult than this day had been. 

So ends Episode 63

Episode 62 - Transition - Part 1

It's been a hard couple weeks.  A week ago Saturday, DH and I took the dogs to the groomer only to learn that Sam (Grandma's dog) had an open sore and couldn't be groomed. They thought it might be an "exploded anal gland" and I thought I would be sick.  Nothing can happen to that dog.  He is Grandma's BFF. We returned home with one groomed dog...  and one 'not'.  I told Grandma I thought I'd made two appointments, but they only had room for one.  A bald faced lie but she believed me.  On Monday, I took Sam to the Vet and it turned out he had a tumor which had broken open. It was removed and he came home the next day.  They (Sam and Grandma) were thrilled to be reunited.  No one was happier, than me.

The day Sam came home though, Grandma seemed unusually confused.  Although awakened from a nap by a phone call from Ruby - she was disoriented and couldn't place who Ruby was (or who I was for that matter).  She called me at work, per "this Ruby's" instruction and said, "Are you my daughter?"  I can't explain how that feels, although I know many of you reading have experienced this pain.  "Yes Mom... I am."  We talked for several minutes and she finally seemed back in reality.  I made a few calls and eventually got an appointment for her to be evaluated again.  It had been three years since her last one. They gave me the date of February 22.  Seriously? 

A few times during the week, she made mention of the "other place" that she'd been staying... "No Mom... you've spent the past year with us.  You've never stayed anywhere else recently."  This "other place" was what prompted the first evaluation in 2008. 

My oldest son (Belle's daddy) came down and spent his lunch hour with her a couple days that week.  He thought she was fairly cognisant and said they had a nice visit the first time.  The second time ... he arrived to find her lying on the laundry room floor where she had fallen.  She complained of pain in her arm but she could move it, so he put ice on it and called me.  We knew she was down for less than five minutes, because he had called her at that point out, to let her know he was almost there.

One or both of us were home with her all day Saturday, but that evening, we went to a company event for DH's work.  Grandma was in her jammies and happy as a clam with a #1 combo from Hardee's and gospel music on the TV when we left.  CeCe was gone as well.  We locked the front door, as always.  When DH and I returned later in the evening, we found ourselves locked out of the house.  Our usual entrance, through the garage (for which we have an opener) was locked.  I pounded on the door, causing Ginger to go into a Tibetan bark.  Although knowing the windows were locked, DH waded through the snow (in dress shoes of course) to rap on Grandma's bedroom window.  I went to the front and rang the doorbell furiously.  DH yells around that she's not in her bed... more barking... and finally - Grandma opens the door.  "We're in!" I yell back to him.

Everyone was upset.  Grandma said 'someone' told her she was supposed to lock that door.  I reminded her it was the only way we had into the house.  DH said he was going to take the lock off the door.  Frustration, irritation and fear.... Grandma said she woke up "scared" because she couldn't find us.  She knew (or had known) where we were going.  She had our cell numbers.  But when she woke up 'afraid' she picked up the house phone, and called the house phone, leaving a message on the voicemail.  Her last words as she went back down to her bedroom... were "I hope you're happy, because I'm not."

I had called her church's driving ministry earlier on Saturday to let them know she wouldn't be going to church on Sunday.  Between the increased confusion and her fall, I thought it best she stay home.  She wasn't up yet when we left, earlier than usual, for our church.  When we returned... she was not to be found, but according to our phone log... she had called her church at 9:00 and they returned her call at 9:13.  Though some days she's not aware of the day of the week... she apparently knew it was Sunday... and that there was no one's name on the whiteboard, letting her know who'd pick her up.  She took matters into her own hands - and "got herself" to church.  We were home the rest of the day, watching football.  Grandma made us smile as she sang the National Anthem before each play-off game.

Monday morning, from work, I placed a call to Grandma's doctor.  I made an appointment for that afternoon and asked that the doctor give me a call before that time.  When he called, I relayed some of the past week's incidents to him.  "I want to be sure she doesn't have a broken bone from her fall.  I don't know if she is safe to be here alone.  I want someone else to tell me if she can't live with me. I don't want to be the one to send her to a nursing home."  I was emotional.  This isn't the way I wanted it to be.  I wanted to take care of her until one night, while she was sleeping... Jesus let himself into our locked house and took my mother to heaven.

At the appointment, Grandma's doctor asked her if she'd ever considered assisted living.  Grandma told him she lived with me and I assisted her.  He explained this would be a place where there were others her age she could "hang out with."  Although Grandma asked about what it would cost ... she was open to the possibility.  In the meantime, the doctor wanted to put her in the hospital overnight for some tests.  We would take her there when DH got home from work.

I told Grandma we should wash her hair so she looked nice for the hospital.  She didn't seem to care, but let me suds her up in the sink.  I took the brush and hair dryer and proceeded to style her hair.  Tears rolled down my cheeks as I thought, this might be the last time I "do" Grandma's "doo".  It was a job I hadn't been that comfortable with a year ago... and now it was second nature.  We packed a few items for her overnight stay... and when DH arrived home - the three of us went to the hospital.

So ends Episode 62

Episode 61 - Absolutely shocking

We watch alot of TV.  It's cheap, mindless entertainment.  Our primary genres are reality, drama and sports.  Add to this an occasional sitcom and our daily dose of All My Children.  We have accepted the fact that Grandma doesn't do well with crime dramas or the news and steer clear of them when she is viewing with us.  Of course, when she has her say - it is 'all Gaither, all the time' and we do our best to oblige her when we aren't watching ourselves.  In the basement, she has a large screen television with a looping dvd of six hours of gospel.  Sometimes she will choose to go down and watch her music rather than watch what we have on, but other times, she remains in the main level living room.

G:  What's this show you have on?

DH:  All My Children.

G:  There isn't any music on?

Me:  There is downstairs, but we're watching this now.

G:  I didn't know if there was any music on up here or not.

DH: (pauses TV)  You have music in your living room or we can put a different program on in your bedroom if you want...

G:  Maybe later.  (DH unpauses TV)

G:  (loud *sigh*) I can't believe the things they put on television.

G:  (louder *sigh*)  Are we going to have supper? (DH pauses TV)

Me:  We are going to have supper in a little while. Do you need a snack?

G:  No, I'll be fine.  I didn't know if we were going to eat tonight or not.

DH:  We eat supper every night.  (unpauses TV)

G:  I think (pause TV) I'll go upstairs for a little while.

Me:  OK, we'll call you when supper is ready.  (DH unpauses TV and Grandma exits)

We resume viewing only to be interrupted minutes later by Grandma's voice. (pause TV)

DH:  Yeah?  What do you need Grandma?

G:  Oh nothing, I was going to ask you about something but now I can't remember what it was.

Me:  Well if you think of it, write it down right away.

G:  You're still watching this?  What is it?

Me:  All My Children

G:  It's not a good show.

Me:  Probably not...

G:  What's wrong with the picture?

DH:  I just paused it. (unpauses TV)

Grandma is familiar with the "pause" button, which she refers to as "11" (think about it...).  Sometimes I'll start a recorded show for her and leave the 'complicated' remote on her footstool.  I'll tell her:

Me:  OK Mom, when you are ready to sit down and watch your music, press the button in the middle. (I used to put rubber bands on either side of the pause button, to make it obvious for her).

G:  Yes, I know how to do that.... I push eleven.

Back to AMC... the hour long soap takes approximately 38 minutes to watch, skipping commercials.  When Grandma is in the living room, it usually take a little more than an hour.

G:  Is that Erica? (pause TV)

Me:  Yes it is... you used to watch this show Mom, remember?  Erica was on it then too.

G:  I thought so.  (unpause TV) 

G:  The man who brought my lunch today was sure nice (pause mid sentence... unpause)

G:  The dogs were very good today (pause/unpause)

Me: (to DH) Maybe we should just watch this later.  (DH turns up the volume)

Now, I've watched AMC since I was 16 years old (when it first came on the air).  Many of the character feel like old friends and if I could spend a day anywhere... it just might be Pine Valley.  Is it too much to ask for 38 minutes of mind wasting drivel?

G:  *TSK*  I guess I'll go back upstairs (remember, she means the basement).

DH:  (pauses TV)  OK - we'll call you for supper. (unpause)

We're down to the last few minutes of the program when Grandma enters again, this time holding something in her hands.  (pause)

G:  Can I ask you something?

Me:  Sure.

She crosses over to where I am sitting and proceeds to sit down in the child's rocker that sits by my recliner.

G:  Do you think I can fit in here?

Me:  I don't know.  I wouldn't try it.  (She then squeezes into the "Baby Bear" chair, which fits snuggly around her rear end).

Me:  Mom, if you get stuck in there, it isn't going to be pretty....

G:  (laughing)  I don't suppose so.... Here, I want you to look at this (handing me the aerosol can she has in her hand).  What is it?

Me:  It says Static Guard.

G:  For my hair?

Me:  No... more like for your clothes - like if they are clinging due to static.

G:  But it would work for my hair wouldn't it?

Me:  I wouldn't think so.  Why would you want to put it on your hair?

G:  To keep it nice.

Me:  That's not what it's for.  (At this point my mind wanders back to grade school when we'd rub balloons on our hair to create static electricity to make the balloon become like a magnet... maybe she has a point.)

G:  Can I use it?

Me:  Oh I don't care.  Close your eyes when you spray it ... we can always wash it out.  Right now, we just really want to finish this show and then have supper... OK?

G:  That's fine... (retreating)

Me:  (to a dozing DH) Turn it back on please... there can't be too much left....

G:  No there isn't.  I saw it earlier today.

So ends Episode 61

Episode 60-She ain't heavy, she's my mother

I know it's been a while since I've blogged.  As I stated in episode 1 and have restated face to face with those who read regularly, I never intend to dishonor my mother.  She gets confused... she gets frustrated... her confusion frustrates me.  I try to see the humor in these life situations, reminding myself that this is part of the aging process.  There are many octogenarians who are fully lucid all the time - but there are also those in their 60's and 70's who suffer the same condition.  It sucks, but it is what it is.  Perhaps Grandma used that same phrase when I was a teenager: "It sucks, but it is what it is" (OK, probably not.)  The fact of the matter is, she's my Mom and we're doing what we feel called to do.

A couple weeks, ago a friend said to me that she thinks I'm in "over my head."  As I look back over my life I can barely see a time when I wasn't in over my head.  I occasionally  'long' for a time, in the water of life, to touch the bottom or back float peacefully.  Will it ever happen?  Grandma is at a point in her life now, where she no longer has things to do, to worry about or to make happen.  She wanted to go outside and sweep the porch after a snowstorm yesterday while DH was blowing snow.  We informed her that was not an option.

G:  I'm not good for anything.

Me:  Mom... you are good without doing anything.  You don't need to do anything.  We want to take care of you.... but that means keeping you safe.  If you go outside in the snow and fall and break your hip... we can't take care of you.  You'd have to go to the nursing home.  We don't want that and you don't either.

Grandma lived her whole life in 'over her head' ... maybe she complained about it sometimes, but it was who she was and what she did.  Maybe the nut doesn't fall far from the tree.  The tasks I choose to undertake are much different from those Grandma chose.... but it's who I am and what I do.  DH and CeCe are along for the ride.  I couldn't possibly do this alone.  We have always realized the time may come when we will no longer be able to care for her in our home.  I always pray when that time comes, it will be shown to us clearly.

I said to my friend:  "I just know it's part of God's plan right now, for her to be with us."  She responded:  "Do you think it's God's plan... or is it yours?"

And once again I can see the humor in life's situation...

Me:  Uh... I'm pretty sure it wasn't mine. :-)

That's OK - we're doing fine... Just living one day at a time with NanaMama's Mama...  cuz she ain't heavy... she's my mother.

So ends Episode 60

Episode 59 - Resolution, picture hangers & cake

One of my resolutions for this January, is to cut down on clutter around the house.  Being home over the Holidays provided the opportunity to get our home office organized.  It also brought to my attention, the need to run a tighter ship with less 'stuff' and papers (of any variety) lying around the house.  Grandma takes it upon herself to 'tidy up' loose items.  At first glance, things look to be in perfect order; however, upon looking for "something you knew was there yesterday" - good luck.  One day over Christmas break, I became distraught over a missing postcard.

DH:  When did you last see it?

Me:  I had it yesterday.

DH:  Where did you have it?

Me:  I don't remember, but it was in plain sight. 

But no longer.  We burrowed through piles of papers, the results of consolidated stacks.  Recycle, file, recycle, recycle, pay a bill, recycle, recycle... no postcard.  We had made our way through all the possible stacks (and even went through the recycle bin a second time).  Nothing.  My frustration turned to defeat.  As I  began to redirect the processed papers, I stopped at the basket holding the Christmas greetings we had received this year, and prepared to deposit the cards that had been in the papers we'd gone through.  Hmmm, could it be?  I took the cards from the container and sifted through one by one.  Aha!  Postcard!  I immediately sat down and took care of the business I should have tended to days before.... and mentally noted my first resolution for the New Year.

Also during the break, we managed to finally hang the family photographs in Grandma's apartment.  DH and I were able to get several groupings on the wall before Grandma came down and joined the project.  Although she occasionally found fault with our methods, she appeared genuinely pleased with the completed results.  Her random confusion as far as "who was who" in the photos, I wanted to chalk up to the addition of DH's sons and their families.  Although she sees them regularly, their names may have slipped her mind.  Not necessarily so... she was having trouble with all of them.  Upon looking at an 8x10 framed photograph of my three grown sons, she exclaimed: 

G:  There's one missing.

Me:  No, they're all there.  (DH and I wonder if she is thinking of one of his boys)

DH:  Those are the three boys NM gave birth to.

G:  I thought there was another one.  His father was an electrician wasn't he?

Me:  I think the pictures look great don't you?

I noted another birthday this week.  It happens annually, right after New Years, without fail.  I'm past the "woo hoo, it's my birthday... let's celebrate" time of my life... but I don't think I was ready for the "my mother forgot it was my birthday" time either.  She was usually the first to call me each year and sing Happy Birthday.  She would give me a card with a check neatly paper clipped to the inside...and say, "let's go out to eat", but this year, it was "just another day" to her, as it is becoming to me.  DH came home from work and baked me a cake.  There were several birthday cards in the mail for me and a couple gifts sitting on the island in the kitchen.  Finally after supper, she said to me. 

G:  Is your birthday December 3rd?

Me:  No.  It's January.

G:  I couldn't remember if it was December or February.

Me:  Nope.  January.

DH:  January 3rd.

G:  What's today?

DH:  January 3rd.  It's her birthday.

She didn't say Happy Birthday or ask how old I was.  She didn't sing to me.  The next day, she and Ruby enjoyed the birthday cake DH had made... and when I came home from work, I found my birthday cards all stacked neatly in a pile. 

So ends Episode 59