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.