The Wooden Bowl

Someone sent this to me and I wanted to share it because it touched me. Older people are just us....but smaller and slower.

The Wooden Bowl

I guarantee you will remember the tale of the Wooden Bowl tomorrow, a week from now, a month from now,
A year from now.

A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year-old grandson.
The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered

The family ate together at the table. But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and
failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor.
When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.

The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess.
'We must do something about father,' said the son.
'I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor.'

So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner.
There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner.
Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl.

When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometimes he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone.
Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food.

The four-year-old watched it all in silence.

One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor.
He asked the child sweetly, 'What are you making?' Just as sweetly, the boy responded,
'Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up.'
The four-year-old smiled and went back to work.

The words so struck the parents so that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done.

That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table.
For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason,
Neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.

We are all here............

My Mom has a hospice team of 5 people, which does not count her doctor. In addition we have 2 outside paid helpers that come at least 2 days a week, sometimes more. I could make it without everyone. They make life for Mom and me so much easier. It is a scarey thing for me to give Mom a shower because she is so shakey and I can't begin to imagine what would happen if she fell.

The thing that makes life so much easier also makes it so different. I love each and every one of the people who come here, but I remember times when it was Arnie and I or just me...and it didn't matter what the house looked like or if I was dressed yet. I know it doesn't matter now either, but I think it does. They aren't coming to be entertained by me they come to care for Mom.

The first time one of the paid caregivers cleaned the kitchen and did the laundry I was embarrassed, because in my mind she was doing it because I couldn't handle things on my own. Now I am so grateful for the help and I want to cry with happiness when I come home to clean kitchen and stacked and folded laundry.

Herein lies the problem at times. People coming in and out of the house do things differently than I do. So the laundry is folded differently than I fold it. Things are put away in places that I don't put them and then Arnie wants to know where things are and I have no idea.

There are days that the Hospice people overlap and they are happy to see each other and catch up and we all talk together. It can be a little on the loud side,but happy sounds. I want my privacy but what will I do when they no longer come here? They have been taking care of Mom for a year now....and they know the family, my siblings, my neices, my daughter and grand-daughter. I know there will be a time when it is just Arnie and I and sometimes just me. It will be weird. For now, we are all here.

Always something new to learn

I have really been kind of caught up in the day to day things of getting through each day. There have been so many things going on but this blog is about Mom, so I won't go into any other issues .

What I find fascinating is that there is always something to be learned from honest conversation. My Mom's biggest on going problems are digestive....either nothing doing or no stopping. After a particularly exhausting and messy Sunday night, Mom once again told me that if I wanted her to, she would be willing to move to a nursing home.

I responded by saying that I could handle clean up, but what I found difficult was the constant admonishments to lock the door, is the dog fed, did you feed the bird, why is that laying there? Is the laundry folded? She was amazed by that.

Her response was that she is my mother and it is her job to be reminding me of what to do, when to do it and considers that not only her job, but her way of helping. My husband said that it feels like criticism to us, but she again said that she sees this things not as criticism but as a fulfillment of her motherly duties.

Its strange to say, but in knowing that and understanding her viewpoint, it is easier to deal with. Honest talk always clarifies the situation.

Happy Thanksgiving all!

Someone said

I know it has been a long time! I started the blog because I felt I had come through some tough times and learned a lot about myself, life,tolerance, love, and my Mom. I wanted this to be a positive journal of a journey. In many ways, my blogging is my therapist. A road to my own examinations of thoughts and feelings. People can read or not read, or stop in the middle when they find me "too negative."

Lately I am just tired and at night when I finally get into bed, I crash. The rest of time, I find I am compulsively playing cards on my i-Pod and hating myself for it.

I think I had talked to someone about some of the health issues that Mom was having of late and my back and shoulder aches due to her increasing inability to get up and down by herself. I have also been interviewing lots of caregivers so that I am not tied down to one person. I find it kind of stressful to interview (and did even when I interviewed for employees). I have told Mom that she is to be a part of the interview, help me pick a person that she would enjoy spending sometime with.

Anyway the comment was made that I was a "really good daughter." I thought that was nice, but at this time in my life, I wanted to be a really good wife and a really good grandmother. I can't help but be jealous of my retired friends who are taking classes, traveling and hiking. A short trip out to the front of the property to feed the horses can have consequences.

The Last One

Last week, I had to tell my Mom that her cousin Garnet had died.

Garnet was a little older than Mom and had been one of the "anchors" of the family. She always was there if someone needed her. When my grandparents moved to Phoenix after spending their whole lives in Cleveland, a postcard arrived without fail every week with an update on the news in Cleveland and of the family. Garnet was married to the same man all her life and had 2 daughters. She worked at a department store and called my Grandmother every morning before she left for work, my Grandma Sadie would always say before hanging up,"Go make money."

My Mom was blessed with being a part of a very large family. Her father was one of nine, her mother, one of 8 children. Her life, as were our early years, was filled with extended family: grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. I remember wonderful times at my grandparents (her parents) with Sunday gatherings of barbecues, potato salad,jello molds and watermelon carefully cut to look like a basket. These times are a treasure that most kids don't have today. People live far away from their families, for reasons of work or weather.

Mom's cousins have all passed other than Harold Checel in Los Angeles (on her father's side) and possibly a few others that we don't keep in touch with. Garnet was the cousin who nicknamed Mom "Rena Gadena" and for many years I put that on her birthday cake "Happy Birthday Rena Gadena"; she loved that. Mom's brothers are gone and her cousins now too. When I told her about Garnet, she said with a mixture of sadness and wonder "I must be the last one."

I try to put myself in Mom's place mentally at times like this, so I don't just brush her feelings off. I love my cousins...I love my sister and brother. How would it be to be the "last one"? I can't begin to imagine that. So today: call your cousins, your sisters, your brothers....tell them how much you love them and how important they are. We all make up that part of the puzzle that brings our lives into the finished picture. I love you all.

It can always get worse

Last night I was "toileting" Mom, a nice way of saying that I now help her stand up off the toilet and wipe her. It was a funny feeling, like she used to do that for me, and now I do the same for her. It has been a difficult few weeks since Mom was in severe pain a week ago and had a reaction to her pain meds and then developed a bladder infection. She was actually weakened and confused enough that for the first time ever, her nurse suggested that I call my brother and sister and put them on "alert". However, once the pain med patch was removed and her antibiotics started working on the infection, she once again made a rebound.

It is strange that for most of my adult life I have complained and whined about the difficulty of being me and living my life. At each junction in the last 10 years I became more and more aware of how ridiculous my complaints were. If God truly has a sense of humor, heaven must be lol-ing and rofl-ing at this time!

Two years ago (or it will be 2 years at the end of October) I went to a caregiver support group, I think I only got there once. Each time I tried to go again, Mom had some issue that by the time it was addressed, I was too late. I remember how I felt depressed and trapped THEN. How little did I know.

The sad part is that I am sure my Mom is not pleased with having her daughter dress her, help her from a chair back into a wheelchair to go to the bathroom, where I pull her pants down and then wipe her. I finish off with special cream because she is so bony and her skin so delicate that just sitting causes her skin to be irritated and frequently to break open. It is harder for her than for me I realize. It is hard for both of us. Yet every time we hit one of the really bad patches, I am scared to death of losing her.

The coziness of caregiving.

This morning I got up and wanted to begin working on some new jewelry in preparation for a fall pre-holiday sale. All summer long I have unable to get into any kind of a creative mode. I can put something together but there is no magic in it. I start to work on something and find I have displaced tools, findings or stones. It is so frustrating. I loved being lost in the creative flow,it hasn't happened in awhile.

I remember discussing this with my Aunt a number of months ago. She is primary caregiver for her husband and at the time we spoke was having some trouble getting into her writers mode. She is an accomplished poet. So this morning, I thought I would see how she is doing. My Aunt is probably one of the, if not the most, beloved people in my life, from the time I first met her. I believe I was 5,maybe 6.

She said that "yes, she had been writing a lot" She finds coziness in the routine of care giving a loved one. A peace in the hours that her husband sleeps and she can write.

It makes me think of the days here. There is a definite repetitiveness of the days, but I never thought of them as comforting, so maybe I need to revisit that. I guess I can accept that my alone time is before Mom wakes and just be in it, instead of worrying if I have enough time to............ and I know that while certain programs are on, I have freedom. I sit with Mom and either nap or read while she dozes through the afternoon. Maybe I need to rethink things and get into coziness instead of concern? As always, thanks Aunt Bonnie for your positive outlook and loving attitude.

Turn about IS fair play....mwah ha ha

Something interesting occurred to me recently, but I just have not had time to write lately.(more on this another time.) Some of these thoughts floated in while we were getting ready for our San Antonio trip. As you may remember, Mom decided she couldn't stay with the caregiver. The woman makes her crazy,or so she said...and I had this huge flashback (not drug related) of my grandfather, her father, and his caregiver. His caregiver was nothing like Mom's. Mom's is healthy, trim, well groomed and just plain fun. My grandfather just did not want his caregiver at all and Mom just had him suck it up. Mom knew she needed that time to herself.

Another memory: the little photo of the Hummel figure that I posted:Mom lived with her parents when my father died. She cared for her Mom and then cared for her Dad, who was not infirmed, but needed to be driven,cooked for.She shopped, cleaned and so on. When Mom met her 2nd husband, Grandpa and Mom broke up housekeeping. Grandpa moved to assisted living (which he complained mightily about) and Mom moved in with her own husband. Grandpa's caregiver suggested that THEY get married and stay in his house. Grandpa had thought Mom and her husband would live in the house with him.

My Grandfather had purchased a Hummel collection for our Grandmother. They were fairly expensive and she had a large number of them, as he would purchase one each time a new one came out. One day, after the house had been sold, Mom came home and all the Hummels were gone. A neighbor said she liked them and Grandpa sold her the collection and the special shelves for $350.00. My Mom was furious. He had never asked her if she or anyone else in the family wanted them.She was shocked and angry.

Flash forward to years ahead when my brother and I were helping Mom and Dad move out of their home. They were moving into assisted living and Mom was not happy about that. After hours of packing, my brother and I decided to take a break and go out for a bite to eat. While we were out for a little more than an hour, an antiques dealer came in. We knew he was supposed to come, but we had thought we would be there. Imagine our surprise to come home and find Dad's grandfather clock (actually given to him by his grandfather), some antique shelves,knick knacks, and an oil painting that had belonged to my grandmother. These pieces had been verbally promised to Dad's daughter and my sister, although there were other family members that would also have liked them. Just like the Hummels......they were gone!

Observations of Orderliness

I don't know if Orderliness is an actual word, but I know I was raised with it. My Mom and her Mom and all down the line always had things in order, which was probably why my birth father's polio/spinal meningitis was such a monkey wrench in life. No one ever really knew how to deal with that one.

My Mom makes me somewhat crazy each night, and I wrote about this before,with her making sure everything is in exactly the correct place before she can go to bed. I mean, there cannot be a wrinkle in her bed sheets, bed pad and so on. All bureau drawers must closed tightly, nothing ajar. Since Mom doesn't want to go to bed much before 11-11:30, I have long run out patience.

When I think of my own children and how this influenced me, I feel sad. When my daughter was born, my Mom said "don't ever take a baby out to a restaurant, they will bother the other people. If you want to go out, call me and I will take care of her." I was always uptight taking the kids out after that. I was also resentful when I couldn't go.(I am amazed and delighted at all the young parents who bring their children with them today. I wish I had the courage to have done that.) Although my house was child proofed, it was also important to have things tidy and put away. Not much of a creative atmosphere for a child.

I guess I am aware of this lately because I am not all that tidy anymore. Since I am always on call for whatever is needed, doing laundry, prepping meals, when and if I start a piece of jewelry or a painting, I often leave it to return to later. I could work in my studio, but then I would be out of the house. If Mom needed me, I wouldn't know.

So it kind of rankles me, when I wheel her into the living room and she remarks as we pass the dining room table, "Ugh, that looks terrible, you need to clean that up." That, being the way I used to make some money. I think that is what made me remember how long this has been drummed into me.

There is certainly the part that I played in younger days: for a person that was such a defiant child,why was I so afraid to lose Mom's approval when I grew up? The answer: who knows? Therapy anyone?

Now where have I been?????????????

It has been a long month for sure. I have had lots of commitments to complete, so I have not had the time to sit and think about things to write about. I have certainly had alot of topics in mind lately and will do a bit more writing this month,or at least I plan to.

So much of our life is centered around our 12 Step programs. They are pretty much who I am and how I live, so it takes up alot of my daily life. I wouldn't change that for anything. Last year we had decided to attend the AA International convention in San Antonio. It celebrated 75 years of AA. I knew it was going to be B-I-G and I thought it would be great to be there. These are held only every 5 years and it takes that long to plan for the 55,000 plus who attend.

I had made the arrangements a year ago and registered as soon as I could. At that time, since Mom was self sufficient in dressing, showering and toileting, my brother was going to come out and be her caregiver. Now these things require another's person's aid. I had lined up our regular caregiver to stay for the 4 and 1/2 days that we would be gone (this included travel time). My brother would come out to visit later in the month.

Mom decided a few weeks before we were leaving that she did not like or want the caregiver that we have had for close to a year...and began to complain about her clothes being shrunk, being forced to eat too much, not liking the food she was given and so on. The beauty of Hospice of the Valley is that we can call for a visit from Mom's social worker to talk over the necessity of our having a life. Mom got teary when she said we had not left her for this long before. She said she would rather be in the hospital then left at home: the social worker assured her that she would not really like that. So did the Chaplain later in the week....and the nurse.... and her Hospice visitor. As Mom talked more and more about how she would rather be in the hospital, she managed to end up with a fever and an infection. My siblings, the social worker, the nurse and my friends all told me that if I pulled out of the trip I would never go away again. Even so, Arnie and weighed the financial losses of not going. I wasn't sleeping; Mom wasn't talking. It was a horrible week.

The turning point was Mom getting better and so,we decided to go. It is hard to believe that we will be 75 (Arnie) and 68 (me) before we get another chance to go to an International.So it did seem important to go now. The anger and resentment I felt over the emotional upheavals of the prior to going were probably not good for any of us. I am grateful to have gone, grateful to all who helped while we were gone and determined to take back a little more of my life. Did I feel guilty? Do I feel guilty? More to follow.

Tolerance and Love

Last week my husband suggested that we make arrangements to pick up one of Mom's friends for the day. He had listened as they spoke on the phone. Since her friend, who is now 82 no longer drives, they had not seen each other in over a year. So I drove into Phoenix, picked up the friend and she, Mom and I had lunch out and then came back to the house.

I had asked some friends over for dinner that night too to celebrate Shabbat. My last words to hubby was a request to clear his computer and papers off of the dining room table so I could set when I got home.

When we walked in, he had removed the front piece of the television cabinet so the
t.v. could be dusted. It was on the t.v. room floor with his tools. He was in the process of washing the floors. I thought I would either stroke out or commit murder. He ends up angry at me for being so demanding and unappreciative. Mom and her friend hastily retreat to the living(if two 80 year olds can hastily do anything).

Things not only ended well that day, with everything being put together and clean but also with a freshly baked bobka (coffee cake) for dessert(made by him, not me).

Here is the point of the matter, my husband could not have been sweeter or kinder to Mom and her friend. He took her home to Phoenix after 8 o'clock, an hour plus round trip. When he returned home, he said how interesting his conversations with Mom's friend were. He had enjoyed her company. We had a lovely evening with our friends too.
All the aggravation of the day was over rode by the kindness this man shows others, there is always something beautiful that outweighs my complaints. That's how it has worked for me for 40 years. Thanks Arnie for all of it.(and for putting up with me too).

I guess I am not ready............

In my quest to find things that re-store me to me (as per new bible Passages for Caregivers). I signed up to take a Souls in Transition class. I didn't realize that the class would be taught by a medium, who communicates with the other side and also helps police find missing people. Two of my friends accompanied me to the class. It was a varied group of people, some were health care workers, some hospice volunteers, parents of murdered children, caregivers who had lost friends and family. The class itself was taught by a lovely and nationally known woman, who I realized later, reminds me alot of Kristen Chenowith.

One of the basic things that she addressed was why some souls seem to linger on,long past the time that even their doctors would have deemed possible. Why? According to our teacher, there are often a number of reasons; she told an amazing story of a woman in a coma who couldn't let go until her brother showed up,she didn't want him to feel guilty about not being there to say good-bye. So often there is a need for the dying to complete something;sometimes there is a transitioning between this physical world and the next:alot of going back and forth and sometimes the people on this plane are unwilling to let go.

As I was telling my sister about the class, I came to the realization that I am unwilling to let my Mom go. Even after some really hard days;after times that I am exhausted beyond belief;being back at this time to daily bed linen changing, washing and sometimes disposing of; after answering the same question over and over; and after taking her to the bathroom over and over.......I still can't imagine my life without her at this point. At some level, according to the teacher,her soul knows that....my soul has made that clear to hers. Do I believe this??? Well, I do believe that I am unwilling to let go and that shocks the heck out of me.

No one gets outta here alive..............

That is a quote from my friend Amy L., but she might have lifted it from Jim Morrison of The Doors...and not sure if he made it up or not or lifted it from someone else.

What a week it has been...I showed my husband THE book (Passages for Caregivers) because I have all of the Caregiver Burnout symptoms. I shared this list with my husband and he has been a sweet support...suggesting that I get a massage and I will... soon, I promise, I know I will...soon. I have done a few things though: signed up for a painting class on a caregiver day,"looking for delight in things I used to love". I am taking a 2 week class about the Soul's Transition in an attempt for spiritual experience. I went to the skin doctor to have him look at a "suspicious skin lesion".

So yes I am trying, but the thing that is sad on many levels is what is happening around me while I am too busy to really acknowledge it. Everyone else is getting older and having their own issues. My life is so wrapped up in Mom that it is kind of a shock. I did mention my concerns about wanting some quality of life with my husband in my last post. We are trying for a few minutes here and there.

Other things are happening though: I have 2 friends with breast cancer;my sister's health is declining and she may have to leave a 48 year career that she has loved; my cousin was telling me about some of her health concerns; my best friends husband is having health issues in addition to her own severe back pain;I was surprised to find that 2 other acquaintances have pacemakers and another has a defibrillator. I mean come on all ready! And last night I had to sleep sitting up because I ate fried food for dinner.

Is it really Uranus in Aries? Or 2012 roaring in? Is it really happening that I am getting older? And that my friends are joining along with me? One of my dearest friends gave me a beautiful bracelet that has the Serenity Prayer engraved in it:

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.
The Courage to change the things I can.
And the wisdom to know the difference. Amen.

Scarey thoughts.........

I am still very involved in reading Passages for Caregivers. While it is so supportive of many things in my life right now (the problem of not being able to sleep through the nights, no appetite, or ravenous,feeling guilty about doing anything for myself, being about not having time to myself...)
What is hard right now is that the author is writing about her journey with her husband, who had esophageal cancer, his recurrences and the effects from damage due to radiation. This not only scares the Hell out of me, but also makes me resentful. Will I have time left for him? Will he last longer than my Mother? Will I last longer than my Mother? Will I get to spend time with my grand-daughter before she is too old to want to hang out with me? There are days that I just don't know for sure. Lately this has been on my mind much of the time. How much of me will be left for anyone else, or even me.

I do know that I can't obsess about all this, and I try to breathe and say that I have to live life on life's terms but scarey thoughts do creep in. I go from feeling good and supported to feeling sad and scared.

Its the little things........

Last summer I drove to California to help my sister move out of her home. Actually I was only one of many helpers. The reason I am mentioning this is that driving for 6 and 1/2 hours, alone, with an excellent book on CD and then the same amount of time back seemed like a vacation to me.....and that sounds pathetic, even to me.

I write this because I just went to Los Angeles for about 24 hours to see my daughter perform in a play. I had a wonderful time and enjoyed her company, that of her friends, some great meals out,and of course, the theater. The thought that came to me at some point, filling me with happiness was that the only person I had to be responsible for in the bathroom was M-E. Again, what a pathetic thing to be excited about, let alone even notice.

In my new guidebook (Gail Sheehy's Passages for Caregivers, I became aware of a couple of things: first of all, I almost decided NOT to go away because I was concerned about Mom's getting cared for in the bathroom, even though my husband said he would be fine handling that. I then remembered Ms. Sheehy saying how common it is for caregivers to think no one else can handle things and how important it is to nurture ourselves in all of this time. Wow that is hard, just hard! More thoughts tomorrow or later today on some of the
things that the book has brought up for me. In the meantime, time to set up the bathroom so the hospice nurse can give Mom a shower. Later.........

I am not alone....

Who knew? I just happened to see a review of Gail Sheehy's new book: Passages in Caregiving. Many years ago I had loved her book called Passages that was a road map to growing up and changing in the 70's,I think.

The review itself had so many things that I could identify with about caregiving. I bought the book as soon as I could and have been reading it with a yellow highlighter. I am amazed that caregiving is a job that 1/3 of the population handles at this time. Yet it is not uncommon at all to feel alone in the job, to deny ourselves the joy in life, to not realize the options available to us. I feel validated and understood and that is HUGE! She also says that care-giving actually started in the early days when I was still working, and began to handle the checkbook, the grocery shopping, the doctor appointments and the pharmacy orders. I guess I didn't realize that was the beginning. I do remember a day at their doctor's when the nurse practitioner told me that she was glad I was there. I had driven them that day because Dad didn't want to drive. The nurse said that someone in the family needed to be present to know what was going on.She didn't think that either one of them remembered much when they left the office.

Yet later as things got complicated and more time consuming, I asked if there were any support groups for family members who were still working full time and there were none that the doctor's office knew about. The assisted living facility where Mom and Dad lived had no support group. When I asked the administrator about starting one, he said he would look into it, but he was fired before was able to do anything. The next administrator was no help, and neither was the next and I didn't even ask the next one. I couldn't keep up with all of it myself. It was shortly after that that we decided to move them in with us anyway.

This wonderful life-saving book has all kinds of suggestions and ideas and web sites and services. So in addition to saying "yes, this is huge and overwhelming, and important; I also get some ideas about where to turn for support and relief. I am sure I will write more...but this is enough for right now: Yay...someone knows me and says my feelings are valid.

A Love Letter to my Husband

When I first talked to my Dad about moving in with us, he told me that he had negative memories of his grandmother living with his family when he was a boy. He felt it had been hard on his mother and hard on his parent's marriage. My husband and I thought we would be able to handle this.

I have been married to Arnie for 40 years. We were a blind date, fixed up by our mothers. They said just to show him around Phoenix, I didn't have to marry him, but I never listened to my Mom. People often ask how we manage to stay married for so long in this day and age; my answer is, we over look alot of stuff! We also believe we will never meet each others' needs all of the time. "Some days chickie,some days feathers", a man who used to work for us said.

Anyway, if ever there was something that really made me see my husband, it has been these last few years of care giving. I could not do this without him;some days I can't do it with him. He was amazing with my father in his last weeks, getting up 2 or 3 times a night to change him and help him clean up. He shaved him and cut his toenails. He sat with him all night the last night of his life, because he wanted to be with him.

My Mom is still a very big presence every minute of everyday. My days are basically taken up by moving her from one chair to another, to the bathroom, making a meal, going to the bathroom;laundry, dishes, answering the phone, the door,(mostly in regard to her care giving staff). The times that I go out or do anything without a paid caregiver here are only possible because of my husband. He watches t.v. with my Mom, he cooks for her, he helps her to the bathroom and has even had to go through the changing of her soiled clothes and readying her for bed. Last night, he took the drain out of the sink at 11:30 because she thought she had broken her bridge and lost a tooth. (It turned out she did not,I was actually too tired to to try the bridge in her mouth to see if indeed, it was broken.)

He is actually more patient with her than I am. Although he turned 70 this year and is a cancer survivor, he has never begrudged the tremendous life-style change or lack of attention and companionship from me.

The other evening, on a rare night out,I asked him if he thought my Mom would live a lot longer and he answered that he hoped she would. I asked why and he said because he liked having her around and if she is not in pain and happy to be with us, then he hoped she had some good years left.

He goes into her room each night to tuck her in, give her a kiss and tell her he loves her. Honey, if you read this, I love you! You may act like a grumpy guy, but you are, at heart, just a sweet, loving man. I hope I can give you some good years too. I appreciate everything you do;caring for the animals, the garden, the groceries. You are the best. (And you still make me smile when I look at you!)

Flowers, birds and bees

Yesterday when we were sitting in the living room, my Mom looked out the front window at a Saguaro Cactus and asked what the bumps on the top were. I said they were the buds of the flowers that would bloom in a few weeks.Then I looked out and saw that not all the Saguaros had buds on their top. I pointed that out and said, "wow, are cacti also female and male?"

Mom immediately became her old self and said "All species have males and females, even plants." It reminded me of the many things that she taught us as children. She had so much knowledge of nature and animals. I was astonished when she showed me the "star" in the apple. You can see that when you cut an apple horizontally instead of vertically. I delighted in the snapping mouth of the snap dragon. In Cleveland we could walk in the woods and see the Jack in the Pulpit and different flowers than I have known here in Arizona.She knew the names of all of them.

My Mom had a green thumb and our home was full of plants that often had to be coaxed to stay alive. At our families cottage on Lake Erie she had a garden that yielded wonderful corn and other vegetables. She taught me how to swim and she taught me manners and thoughtfulness. She taught us the joy of family and friends.

We were lucky to have the best of her for so many years. I love the moments when I see her snap back to those times and share her knowledge. They may be brief glimpses, but I treasure them when they pop up.

A degree of understanding.

Sometimes, at night when I am really tired, I get on the verge of being full out annoyed. That would be counter productive and also give me another reason to have to make amends.

My Mom does not like to go to bed until every possible t.v. show has been watched, at least the good ones. Then she has to straighten each thing up in her room, re-comb her hair (why, when one is getting ready to go bed where it will be mussed again? She carefully brushes her teeth. Her pillow has to be in a certain position, and the seam must be at the top with the open end of the case facing the wall. Always. The bed pads have to be re- positioned and smoothed, and not too high up the bed or too low down the bed. Then she gets in, and I tuck her in and put her toy kitty in her arms. I am usually seeing double by then, but try to be patient and not allow any body language to tell my emotions. I want to have her go to sleep with us on the best of terms...so if she were to get her wish and not wake up the next day.. I wouldn't hate myself up for not being kind the night before.

What has allowed me to be patient at this point, is the realization that maybe putting off going to bed until the very last minute, is her way of savoring each last minute of being alive in case she does get her desire and passes gently in her sleep. When I look at things that way, having things just so makes sense. I can be patient forever.

Another Day, Another Play

What a lucky week...I got to go to the theater twice. Yesterday, Saturday, I went to see a friend perform at the Fountain Hills Community theater. I enjoyed it very much, even the long ride, because I rarely get a chance to be alone.

Again, one of the characters had a line that made me think, I am only paraphrasing, but it was about how short life really is and how important it is to live it and enjoy it, as fully as possible. The character in the play had actually quit his job and was happy that he had.

I was thinking of whether I could say that or not. It also reminded me of the conversations I have had with my Mom; she has said repeatedly that she is ready to go because she has had such a good life. She says that she has had two wonderful husbands, she has traveled almost everywhere she ever wanted to, and then said she is proud of her children and grandchildren. She feels complete and happy.

There are still many things I would like to do and maybe I need to thinking seriously about making some plans...

Hello Dolly, I feel lucky tonight.

Tonight I got to do one of my favorite things: go to the theater.

This is another thing I have my Mom to thank for: the love of theater. I can hardly remember NOT going to the theater, but vividly remember the magic of going to summer theater in Ohio with my sister and my parents. (It was a double bonus for me: next to the race track, horses and theater, the only thing better was Cavalia...anyway.) I got an early education in musical theater and the magic of seeing performances right up close. My parents had the recordings of them all and I knew the words to everything.

My cousin and I spent many an hour singing lyprics and performing dialogue down in the rec rooms of our homes in Cleveland. Although I have never performed,both of my children are in performing careers. We also spent time in the Hanna Theater in downtown Cleveland. Her father had the concession there, we could sit in any vacant seats if we sold candy and sodas during the intermission.

I still would rather see a play than a movie. My favorite music is from Broadway.

This was not my original reason for writing though. One of the performers tonight had a line about not having much time with her deceased spouse. She said
10 years together was a very short time. I immediately realized how lucky I have been:I have had 40 years with my husband and so far 63 years with my Mother. I can still tell her how grateful I am for the gift of theater, music and books that she has given to me. I can still say how fortunate my children have been to have had grandparents for most of their lives.

Sometimes in the middle of enjoying life,moments of profound gratitude pop up.

Speechless

Oh course if I really were speechless, I wouldn't be writing. This blog is for me really, because writing helps clear my head a bit.

It has been such a weird day. Arnie and I attended a funeral of a lovely man who took his life 6 days ago. I can't make sense of it, but he felt hopeless and sad and no matter what, just couldn't make life work and thought this was his one last choice.

I am deeply sad for so many reasons. When I am sad or overwhelmed, my first choice would be to sleep (the ultimate form of denial) but atthe very least,to just sit quietly.

My Mother has little short term memory and so none of today means much to her, she can't really remember where I went and why I feel sad or quiet.. and when she asks what is wrong, I tell her I am sad and when she wants to know why, I tell her that a friend died and she asks if she knew him. This has gone on through out the past week and certainly in the hours since I came home. So I just kind of stopped talking about it and act like nothing at all happened....which is a dis-service to my feelings, myself and to my friend...but it is the easier softer way tonight.

Ginger

No story of Mom's life could ever be complete with out acknowledging Ginger. Her boon companion;confident;the real love of life: her cat.

My Mom has always been an animal person and I can hardly remember not having a dog, birds, fish...no rodent pets and no cats, as my birth father did not like them. My Mom used to say that cats are sneaky, but that changed waaaaaaay later.

When my (step)dad and Mom got married, they were petless by choice, but at some point decided they had done enough traveling around and for whatever other reasons, decided to get a dog. They him for probably about 8 yrs I am thinking and he went to the dog park in the sky. Mom was devastated, heartbroken, so much so that it really worried me. She missed having a furry something. My kids decided to get her a cat for her birthday but ended up sending me because they both had to work. I spent only 3 hours at the Humane Society before settling on Ginger.

It was love at first sight for my Mom but my Dad held off, until Ginger came up on the sofa during a ball game and settled in right next to him. That was all it took. She was an unusual cat in that she loved to play ball, came when she was called and loved to snuggle. She played little games when Mom changed the linens. She was loved by all. Not to mention, stunning ginger fur and green eyes. She had her own way about her and if my parents were away too long or Mom was away somewhere, she show her displeasure by biting her. My husband nicknamed her Ginger-Bite-Us, oddly though, she only bit Mom. She did love her though as evidenced by the perfect heart shaped litter box pee....seriously, untouched.

Ginger was a much loved happy girl for a very long time. She seemed to fit in where ever she was, since she had moved from their home off Ocotillo, to ChrisRidge apartments and finally to my New River home where she let the other animals know who was the boss. She loved being admired,and certainly let us all have equal opportunities to do so. Ginger was either 15 or 22 or 26 depending on the day that Mom was talking about her. I, myself, think that she was 15 and that is nothing to scoff at, but Mom insisted she was 22 or older. Sadly though we had to help Ginger to her final rest at the end of last November. She had started to decline and went into kidney failure. Mom couldn't be with her but I held her as she passed on, gratefully and peacefully and very much a grand lady till the end. She was cremated and waits for her final resting place with Mom.

Alpha and Omega Part 2

We had the pleasure of an over night visit with my grand daughter again. With the 3 of us living together (Mom, Arnie and me) life gets pretty hum drum and repetitive.

When my grand daughter comes to visit, everything gets funnier, livlier and more exciting. She is so creative and the smallest thing has a story to it;everything has a new meaning.

I worry that things might seem scarey to her but she is comfortable with everything wanting to be a part of my Mom's care. She loves Mom's blue bedroom and for some reason finds it a great place to perform.

The photo I have enclosed is Toni singing Mom a lullaby (she asked Mom if she would like one and Mom is not dumb! She agreeed immediately.) Toni started out singing quietly and sweetly, then said "hit it", jumped off the bed and rapped out a lullaby, ending with jumping toward Mom saying "Thank you" and back away again, saying "Good night". We don't have this kind of fun without our Toni. I am so grateful for these times, it makes all of us happy to be alive.

Have a Heart!

In their February newsletter John C. Lincoln had this zinger: " Caregivers who are overly stressed during the time they care for someone will usually die within a year after the person dies". Yikes....in addition, the newspaper last week had an article about stress and talked about Cortisol, the fight or flight hormone. I looked it up on the internet and thought this was pertinant.Cortisol affects sugar levels, bone density,immunity, energy levels, heart functions...and so on. The article also said:
"Prolonged high levels of cortisol can lead to heart disease and other health problems." In addition: "Unfortunately, in our current high-stress culture, the body’s stress response is activated so often that the body doesn’t always have a chance to return to normal, resulting in a state of chronic stress."

And so, you might ask, what causes my stress? Things like being on call 24 hours a day;not finishing most of the things I start, because I need to stop to do something else; not getting to jump in the car to grocery shop, bank, have coffee with a friend without planning for someone to be here with my Mom;answering the same question over and over;having extra people in the house constantly no matter how nice they are;mopping bathroom floors at 11:30 p.m. and ad infinitum. Oh and the added stress of feeling guilty for all the above feelings.

When I finally go to the cardiologist in 2 weeks, I won't be surprised if "something" is going on, but I am stressing over what to do about it. My chest pains are a "pre-existing condition" on a policy that I couldn't afford to keep. My "catastrophic health care policy" which I am hoping will carry me into medicare, pays for the basic stuff,(even if they waive the pre-exisitng)...they pay little for hospital stays, surgery,etc. Least this sound (horrors) political, I might add that yes I have and do look for a job so I could buy better health care. I have tried to apply for weekend or overnight work but have not even an interview.Weekends or nights would allow me to still care for Mom most of the time. Surprisingly when I applied for seasonal at a craft store, although I am a juried painter, I make extra money designing and making jewelry, I can sew,and needlepoint, I never even got a callback for an interview. My husband is a 70 year old cancer survivor, not best job prospect (although I have visions of him driving a school bus: the kids would get to school in record time in additon to a whole new salty vocabulary!)

And the sneakiest thoughts come in: after caring for Mom.....I don't think I want to live long anyway.

The (lack of) ecology in elder-care

Everyday I use these products and most of them many times a day. When I throw away the 3rd or 4th pair of gloves there always a thought that goes through my mind about how bad elder care is for the environment. None of the products are marked biodegradable. The least amount of "briefs" I have used is 2 a day...on a really difficult control day, I have used up to 15. Would not even begin to count the number of wipes I have used in a day. Again, depends on the day and the situation.

Most of the things cannot be used more than once, although I do try when possible. Of course considering what their use is, it is not a good idea to re-use alot of these things anyway.

I don't think there is a whole to be done about it, I just feel sort of like I am adding to the whole situation with the environment, waste and so on....but I have no good ideas on how to change things...cloth diapers again?

where HAVE we been?

I know you were all ready for the next post about alcoholism, and I'll get to that but most folks are asking why no posts this week? So okay I'll tell you about that.

On Monday afternoon after a month of uncontrollable bodily functions(hers not mine), I finally said "enough, I need help!" Mom had lost so much weight and was eating so little that my sister and I thought this might be the end of the journey. (or as people less frightened might say: Death.) So Mom was transported to an opening at the Scottsdale Hospice care center, a mere 80 mile round trip from my home.

My sister had planned on coming in for a visit that week and was allready here; my brother flew in the next day. Mom perked up with so many visitors, that included my son, daughter-in-law and my grand-daughter. The in and out of nurses, volunteers, chaplains and social workers gave her a whole new lease on life. As my brother said
"Maybe she just needed a bigger audience." She was adorable, funny and charming.....and totally symptom free. Go figure.

My Mom has always been a social being so it shouldn't surprise us that she thrived on this. My Dad always said that she could stand in line with someone and be best friends in five minutes.

Yesterday we came home;today,we are again dealing with some of the things that got her there in the first place. In addition, we took the advice of some of my professional advisors,some of my friends who are professionals and my just plain friends: my brother and I went to see a place on the list of group care homes....and they are lovely, with lovely people running them, but at this point, I can't do it. I can still handle everything that needs to be handled here, just not a whole lot else.

It was good to have my siblings here. We can laugh about alot of the past, plan for the immediate future, and disagree but with a sense of humor. I love them. They say how grateful they are for Arnie and I caring for our parents.We had so much of our parents time help in the years that our children were small. Without their help, I couldn't have finished college as an adult. It would have been hard to work a business without them to fall back on. So as this blog says,"Turnabout is fair play" and here I am.

We are not Saints.......

So says the program that I learned to live my life in.We say this line in a reading everytime we meet. And I am saying it because I know I am not a saint, I am just doing what is right and what is the next thing to do.

My defination of alcoholic,(for me anyway):"someone who uses a substance because they think their (pretty darn good) life is intolerable...mostly because of their own inability to cope with life on life's terms."

In the 24 years I have been in recovery I have learned alot about life and myself. In writing this blog when I first wrote about my Mom, I realized that alot of the stuff that I found intolerable about her, was about me, not her. I never realized that half of the things in life that made me crazy happened because I was pretty crazy myself. I was lucky that I fell into a group of people who taught me how to live, how to rely on a Higher Power, what are the right things to do in most of lifes situations and even more so: that when I don't do the right thing, that is okay too....as long as I don't pick up something to numb myself out. Things that would have been inconvenient and intolerable to me are just acceptable; the problems that I have are pretty much the ones I cause myself, the rest are just life. I know it sounds simplistic but as we recovering alcoholics frequently say "Lets not louse this thing up;let's keep it simple." I am so darn lucky!

So I know this for sure,that if the 2 guys that came up with all this weren't Saints,then just taking care of Mom doesn't make me one either.

Are you nuts?

If anyone had told me that this would be what was going on I would have said "Are you nuts?" as seen above. I am waiting for the Hospice nurse again, God Bless them. I hate, hate, hate that my Mom's life centers around the solidity and regularity of her bowels. I don't how to put it much more delicately than that.

Today we did no bowel meds at all to see what would happen and as Emeril would say "BAM".... and what strikes me as so bizarre is: while I am cleaning I said to Mom "I can't believe how delicate your system is" and she responded,"well you never really appreciated my fraglity" To which I responded in a Southern accent"Why no, I did not realize how delicate and fragile you are ma'am" And we laughed and talked in accents while I cleaned her and the toilet.... and I thought "Wow, who woulda thought"

Tomorrow: tune in for "Hi I'm Gloria, I'm an alcoholic" and why that matters at this point.

Random thoughts

Mom's oldest cousin died last week, making her, I believe the last surviving Stromberg of her generation. She keeps asking me why God won't take her all ready. She doesn't want to be a burden, the few friends she has left don't drive so she can't see them...and even when I offer to drive them to lunch, she says it is too exhausting for her. She does come to life when she sees folks outside of us though, I wish she would want to go out,but it is hard. Sometimes just getting the wheelchair down the steps to the car is a challenge for both of us.

When I remember growing up,in Cleveland Heights, Ohio, it seemed like my Mom could and did handle everything, although my sister and brother say that Dad was the backbone of the family as far as stability went. My father was handicapped though due to polio and spinal meningitis, so even if he may have been the stablizing force, my Mom was the doer. She ran the house and did the daily stuff and kept us going with clean clothes, food and good meals. They were active socially,in school, religious and volunteering circles. They had many friends and we had a big family. It was a great place for a kid to grow up(and did I mention it was the 50's???? nuff said)

The tiny, tiny person that I dress everyday has little resemblence to the woman who ran that 3 story house with 3 kids and a husband who wore a back brace to be able to stand upright. He left us at age 53, having used up every last ounce of energy that he could have squeezed out of his life. Sometimes I just here and just am kind of surprised at fast life moves by.

Things I'd never do

I always had this list of things I would never do: stop exercising, own horses and not have time to ride them, let my hair go natural, drive an old car...and on and on. Of course you know that as I say this, I have all ready succumbed.

If one has agreed to be a caregiver, even though I never thought about this, you will learn to accept doing everything that you thought you could never ever do. There is no one thing that is a deal breaker. Somehow these things have made a stronger, more tolerant person, I am amazed at myself.

Beyond the not yelling or physically harming those that I am annoyed with, beyond the ear wax, denture cream, briefs, hearing aids, nudity, toe nail clipping...there loomed bathroom clean ups, bodily fluids and so on. This is not meant to be a gross you out blog...so enough said. Just let it suffice that God is a great joker: after freaking out at a bathroom beyond my worst imagination and my Mom looking tiny, frail and pale: I prayed that when or if I had another chance, I could be kind and patient, and unbothered. That Great Joker in the heavens offered me a recurring chance for amends for over two weeks. You know what, I did it, I can do it, I can do anything.

That is why I am writing about this, because it is amazing what anyone can do, if they need to. Never say never, because you just limit yourself...(not about the not doing the things that I need to do, I am not proud of that). I am proud of what I can do and what I will do, if and when I must.

I have no idea if anyone reads this, but I have said that I am doing it for me, so I have to accept that even if no one else reads this I am benefitting.

I think of that poetic line "Death be not proud". I think alot of death the past few days because they have been so bad, difficult, different, I don't know what the word is. Yesterday when the hospice nurse left, I told her that this whole thing sucked. The end should not be so hard, and while my Mom really has no bad pain,other than her arthritic shoulders, the end of life shouldn't be about bathroom stuff. About adjusting medications so bowels aren't impacted or so loose as to not be stoppable, robbing the body of any nutrients at all.Pills to make sure that the bladder doesn't constantly leak. A parent shouldn't have to suffer the indignity of a "child" wiping them and a "child" shouldn't have such intimate knowledge of their parent. How long does this go on? Who knows, certainly not the medical profession, certainly not me or my brother or my sister or my husband. Maybe it all seems more glaring after spending time with someone so full of life and joy as my grand-daughter.

The good deaths that I remember: My grandfather, Al Stromberg, died in his sleep the day before his birthday party. He did his sit-ups and weights until the day he died. He was mobile, able and sharp. My Dad, who said "This is my last Thanksgiving." and got into bed on Saturday and slept and passed on Sunday afternoon, never waking again, but the football game softly played all afternoon.

My Mom still wants to dress each day, have her hair combed and if she sleeps, she sleeps in the living room or the t.v. room. Only going to bed after a particularly bad loss of bowel control. Resting for a few hours and then saying that she needs to get up and go into the other room. She says she doesn't know why she is still here, that God has forgotten her, but fights to be present each day.

This is the Alpha and the Omega; the Yin and Yang of our family. My 4 year old grand-daughter Toni-Ann and my 88 year old Mom. (Interesting that Toni-Ann was born on my mother's mother's birthday.)

This was a nice little interlude in all of our lives. A time for lightheartedness, laughter and sharing. I had purchased a child's accordian for Toni and she was showing it to my Mom and then demonstrated it. Later we had a jam session, with me on the "barraca" and little Grandma on a flute. Toni had thought about a parade but we didn't have any floats so the idea was nixed. I think these visits are the things that keep all of us going right now.

Yesterday was one of the days that I go out and do stuff. We have a wonderful woman who comes out on Tuesdays and Saturdays to stay with my Mom. She worked for my sister-in-law's mother. I know that Mom will be well cared for when I go out.

I just do errands or appointments. Sometimes I meet my husband for dinner and a movie. This past month we have had dinner at friends' homes. That has been wonderful to do that too. For the past almost 2 years our lives have revolved around my parents.

So when I get in my car, driving down the freeway, I feel exhilarated as I think " I feel normal" and then I start to feel guilty, almost immediately. It is just a mix of emotion. Originally I would go out and talk about my Mom, her problems, my problems with her problems and people would ask how I am and I would tell them how my Mom was.

Lately I have worked hard at asking what other people are doing, responding to things outside my house, there is a world out there. I am trying to be normal in or out of the house. But then again, what is normal?

Today is Saturday and I am going to continue the little story about the move, so at some point I can go on to present time. After Dad's surgery he was moved into a rehab. center to try to get him back on his feet again. At 93, this is not an easy task. He was hopeful he would be up and about and back with his family as soon as possible. He was determined not to die there.

In the meantime, I completed the move and supervised the remodel. Mom moved in almost a month before Dad was released. Although I thought they would want separate rooms, since this was what they had had before, Dad made it clear that he wanted to sleep with his wife. The little room they were in was pretty crowded. It was sad to see them reduced to such a small space. Dad was content but hated to be dependent on others for his every need. The Sunday before Thanksgiving, he told us that he hoped the family would all be there because it would be his last Thanksgiving. I asked if wanted me to call to call Hospice and he said yes. He died the Sunday afternoon that followed Thanksgiving. My husband, brother, sister-in-law and my Mom were all here.

My husband had been a devoted caregiver, getting up several times a night to change the bed, the disposable briefs and so on. He knew things were not going to last long and he had been happy to do what he could.

I didn't get to write yesterday, it was a challenging day. I sometimes wonder if people think that caring for Mom is a daily whirl of sitting around, eating bon-bons and watching t.v. all day? So not true.

Yesterday there were at least 10 phone calls from her different members of her Hospice Support team, including meds delivery, and stool sample pick up. Most people call for a heads up and then for directions because they get lost. I call a few people myself, including my sister and brother. I dress Mom except on the days a nursing aid comes to shower her. I toilet her and make sure she has something to eat and drink. I also have birds, horses, a dog and a cat. Every now and again, I complete a piece of jewelry to sell and finish a book and so on. Without my husband, none of this could be done. He is a great partner and co-caregiver.


Yesterday was a really good day until about 3 when Mom got sick again, losing everything she ate and becoming so weak she had to go to bed again for a 2 and a half rest. "Everything" she ate probably amounts to a couple of tablespoons of yogurt, a quarter piece of thin sliced bread and whatever I could get her to drink. Gone are the days of 160 pounds, my Mom now weighs somewhere in the 80's. Tomorrow I will get back to the saga of how it began...for now, this was yesterday

The Plan??????
So the plan,came to me when I lost my job due to economic slowdown in 2008. I thought (and I knew was true, since I was writing their checks) that since their rent at assisted living was $2495.00 per month,a 2 bedroom apartment that included a meal a day for both of them. We needed to pay for 24 hour care for 6 months after Mom's stroke at $2500.00 per week. This later went down to 8hrs a day but still costly.In addition we paid for house cleaning and laundry. I still traveled a 60 mile round trip to shop, write checks, do errands, and generally check in to see how things were going. Up to the time of "the Plan" I was doing while working full time. My husband also stopped in 3 days a week.

If for no other reason than financial, moving here and sharing our house payment would save them THOUSANDS a month. It seemed like kind of a fun idea too. We would be hanging out. My Dad was against it though, as he said he remembered his grandmother lived with them and it caused too much friction between his own mother and her.

So lots of discussion, discomfort, no real arguing and one day while cooking some dinner in their apartment, Dad said out of nowhere, "Okay, we will live with you, I think you can handle it". So now began the rush of finding someone to come out and re-vamp the guest bathroom for handicapped use.Should we make my art studio into a guest house?Should each of them just take one of the extra bedrooms. How fast can all this be accomplished? One of the most important issues was that each person have their own television, which was accomplished with little difficulty.

But even our best laid plans go awry. Before the move even begun, before the handicapped toilet was purchased, Dad fell in their home and broke his hip. He was 93 years old. That happened at the beginning of September, during a televised Diamondbacks game. He had decided to walk into the kitchen for a cola and didn't want to bother to with his walker.

Sadness started early

When I think about how I feel tonight, since I know my Mom is failing, I am sad...but the truth is that I felt sad awhole lot earlier than this.

My Mom was always a person who knew what to do, who had an idea, and a plan. She usually was more than happy to share it with me, and at the very least, let me know what was wrong with mine, and how I might fix it. You might think I am being a wee bit sarcastic....and maybe I am, but there is a huge amount of truth in this. She always had great ideas and was a good sounding board. My Dad, who was actually a stepDad, but was part of my life for longer than my birth Dad, was a witty and sharp man. He was someone I played golf with, he was my husband's best friend, we traveled with them and spent alot of time with them. They enjoyed great friends of their own and lived a full and active social life.

About 4 or 5 years ago, all this changed. Maybe it changed slowly but it seemed pretty fast to me. Suddenly I was writing the checks, the banking, the book keeping; I was changing the light bulbs, doing the laundry, the grocery shopping. Sometimes I opened the door to their apartment to find both sitting there, sleeping so soundly that they never heard me come in.

Mom no longer had good ideas for me;she didn't much care what my "problems" were. My Dad told my husband that he just couldn't physically handle the trips down to the DiamondBacks games. My husband eventually gave up the tickets as no one else was as
good a sports companion.

And I would drive home after my afternoons of service there, wondering where my parents were. Sometimes I would just come home and lay on the bed looking at the ceiling because it all seemed too overwhelming. The sadness started then...now its just different,because things are not as hugely different as they were. I am used to it, if that is at all possible. Today she is still here.

First Ever Blog post

3/9/2010
I have thought alot about writing a blog because living with a parent in a complete roll reversal has been such a journey. So many intense feelings and learning experiences. So many things I never thought I would do and learned to accept doing.

When I have talked about this with other people my age, it seems like many of us have chosen to live "intergenerationally", for a variety of reasons.

For us, it was a mixture of finances and convenience. At the time of the original move, we lived a 60 mile round trip apart. As my parents independence lessened, we spent alot more time driving. So back in 2008, this idea came to me, "with a few changes to the house, Mom and Dad could live with us, we would all save lots of money and they would always have someone around." More on the process at the next post.