Turning Into My Parents

Wow! It's been a long time since I posted!

I've picked up some hobbies in the past few months. I had tried others--they didn't stick, but boy, have these two! In June, I began researching my family tree. Dad likes to quip that since I started, I've only found one pirate and two horse thieves. ha ha

Then, the beginning of August, I rediscovered knitting. Ahh... knitting. My new comment on life in general is, "I have yarn; I'm happy!" (We won't go into the idolotry contained in that statement at the moment. I'm working on it.)

Anyway, there have been a lot of projects keeping me busy the past few months, but today, my Husband commented that he misses my posts. Aww... it's nice to be missed!

I discovered today that he and I are turning into my parents. I suppose after living here for 18 months, it's bound to happen. lol

All summer, Mom and Dad enjoyed watching Their Favorite Baseball Team. One would say, "Go First Name" and the other would say, "Get a hit, Last Name". It was so cute to see them!

We've been watching the World Series together. My Husband grew up in the city of one of the teams, so we're rooting hard for them! And here we go, saying, "Go First Name" and "Get a hit, Last Name."

Just like Mom and Dad. :)

Mom and Dad's team didn't do very well this year, so my Husband was ribbing Dad at dinner the other night, asking him to root for the opposing team so his hometown team will win. They've been having a lot of fun with that one!

Hoping not to be so long between posts again!

The Eldersitter

Recycled Teenagers

very once in awhile, Mom can be quite stubborn and bull headed.  (OK, every once in awhile? Who am I trying to kid? I just liked this "E" drop cap and had to find an opening word that started with "E"!)

We go to church twice on Sunday's. A couple of weeks ago, we came home from the afternoon service to an irate Dad. "Your mother fell again," he said as we walked through the door. "She fell cleaning up the mess you should have cleaned up."

I had been sick for 5 days. Saturday was the first day I was feeling better, but I still didn't want to spend much time upstairs, for fear of getting Mom or Dad sick. I had noticed there was something on the floor that needed to be cleaned up, but just didn't have the gumption to do it.

Mom knows she isn't supposed to lean over because her balance isn't good and she is prone to fall. But for some reason, she decided she just had to clean that mess up, at that time.

You guessed it. She fell.

She didn't get hurt badly, but she couldn't get up by herself. She asked Dad to bring a chair close to her so she could pull herself up. Instead, my 80+ year old Dad lifted her up from the floor and put her on a chair, straining his back.

I have a troubling tendency to blame myself for things that are other peoples' responsibility. It causes me a lot of anxiety and is one of the things I've been trying to change about myself. The mess she had insisted on cleaning up had happened while I was sick, and it sat there. Why couldn't she have asked Husband or Son to clean it up while I was out of commission? And why couldn't it have waited one more hour for us to get home? I was upset about the way Dad had blamed me for her fall, and I walked away and went downstairs. I didn't realize he had hurt himself. If I'd known, I would have understood that was the reason he was putting the blame on me, and I would have acted differently.

The next morning, he wanted to go to the chiropractor, so I called in. When the receptionist asked what he needed to be seen for, I didn't want to gripe about them harshly, yet I didn't want to make excuses for them and take the blame myself, so I decided to reference an old joke of Dad's. When he was about 60, he liked to tell people he was a Recycled Teenager. So, I told her that I live with a couple of Recycled Teenagers who like to be rebellious sometimes.

I think Dad appreciated my use of his joke.

Long Time No Post!

ikes! Has it been that long since I last posted?!?

Sorry, folks. Things have been crazy busy. I was sick for the better part of a week (stomach flu or food poisoning, not sure which). Then, about a week later, Husband and Son were sick with the stomach flu. Fortunately, we were able to isolate ourselves from the Elders, and neither of them got sick. I can't imagine how awful it would have been for them if they'd had the violent vomiting and overall achiness that we had.

Since my last post, there was an issue with the recycled teenagers. I'll post about that next time. That incident led to Dad having a backache, so he's had chiropractor appointments 2-3 times a week. Add that to Mom's physical therapy once or twice a week and the other appointments Dad has for his chronic pain and abdominal issues, and I spend a lot of time driving them to appointments--almost every week day, plus one Saturday Dad had to go to urgent care for bronchitis.

One good thing that has kept me from blogging is that I've been doing a much better time taking care of myself. Remember, sustaining the sitter's sanity is one of the most important aspects of eldersitting. I found a show I like to watch on Netflix. I went to the cosmetology school for a haircut and found out their prices are so reasonable, even I can afford to treat myself once a week. The depression/anxiety medication has kicked in, and I can once again concentrate to read a book. And, I'm writing a book myself (a training book for the computer classes I teach).

Additionally, Husband and I are meeting with our pastor for counseling. This is a very stressful situation we're living in, and while I have no regrets, we need to do some work on maintaining our relationship to ensure we don't eventually rue the day we moved here.

So, I've been busy. But, I miss posting, too, and I'm going make an effort to do a lot more of it!

A Near-Death Experience

sually, Mom is up before I am in the mornings. Generally, she wakes up at 7:00. I get up at 7:30, to make sure my son gets off to school and to start or help with breakfast. This morning, I was surprised, at first, to find that she wasn't up. Then, I was terrified.

Did she die in her sleep?

My son and I commented to each other that it was strange she wasn't up. We walked down the hall and peeked into their bedroom. They were both completely still. I decided I should wait until after Son got on the bus before I checked further. He left at 7:55; I decided to wait until 8:00 to check.

Yes, I was scared to look. Wouldn't you be?

Thoughts ran through my fear-ridden mind. What happened yesterday? Did we fight? Was it a good last day, if it was her last day? Looking back, I realized it was. We didn't fight. She got to see my younger Sister. We played some games together. It was a good day.

At 7:58, I heard her close the bathroom door. What relief! She is still alive!

I talked to my husband about it later in the morning. He made two important points:

1. Whom would it be bad for if her last day on earth wasn't good?
   
   Me, of course. She will be in heaven.
2. She could live for 10 or more years, yet. If I try to make sure every day is a good one, it will drive me nuts!
   
   Sure. But I'm not meaning I need to make every day good; I just need to make sure I'm doing whatever I can to not make her days bad.

Death. It's a reality I know I need to face, but one that I am not looking foward to.

What Did She Say??

e had Sister over today, and then took her to church again. We sang another of her favorite hymns--How Great Thou Art--and she was so excited!

She gave Husband quite a scare on the way home when she introduced him to a new phrase, "Holy buckets!" (New to him, anyway. Turns out my family is just quite old fashioned when it comes to our expressions because the definition of "Holy Buckets" given on Wikipedia is from a 1960 slang dictionary.)

Anyway, back to Sister. Yeah.

She has Down Syndrome, and one of the ways that is manifested is in an overly large tongue, which is what makes her speech difficult to understand. Since I grew up with her and was the closest in age to her, I can almost always understand her. I forget that other people can't. Particularly bothersome is the fact that some of her letter sounds seem to come out as other letter sounds. For example, she her L's almost always come out sounding like N's, and sometimes her B's come out sounding like F's.

And that's all I'm going to say.

Holy Buckets!

Doorbells

've mentioned before that Mom is a hoarder.

When I moved back in last spring, the front door (which we rarely use) was completely blocked with boxes of stuff. Papers from two years ago, unmatched socks by the bag, boxes and bags from previously started and unfinished sorting attempts, and an empty video cabinet--while all the DVDs and VHS tapes are scattered around the room.

Once, the screen door locked as Mom and I were going outside to look at something, and we couldn't get back in. Dad was sleeping in the back, and my husband was sleeping in the basement. I went around to the front door and tried to open it. Push. Push. Push. Not enough movement to even get my head through the door.

I had my cell phone, so I tried calling my husband. He didn't answer. So, I called the house phone. Dad didn't answer. I rang the doorbell. Still no knight came to our rescue.

Finally, I pushed hard enough I could get my head through the door, and I hollered, "Dad!!!" He answered, and I told him we needed help. And at the same time, my husband came up the stairs. Finally, we were back in!

So, a few months later, I spent a lot of time emptying that corner, along with the rest of the room. Wow, did that feel nice! Being able to walk through the room and into the hallway rather than walking around through the kitchen. Not having boxes tumble down when their precarious position was perturbed.

Shortly after that, Mom wanted to move furniture around. I'm not sure why, but she decided she wanted the table moved from the dining area side of the kitchen into the back half of the living room. It's no further from the stove to the table, and I figured it would, if nothing else, keep Dad's oxygen hose from tripping us while we're cooking. So, I strapped on my weight belt and got cracking.

As we were trying to figure out where to place all the furniture, I mentioned that since we never use the front door, maybe we could put a piece of furniture in front of it.

"Heavens no! We use that door sometimes," Mom replied, indignantly.

I didn't mention the years the door was blocked before I cleared it out a few weeks prior.

"Oh really? When?" I asked, innocently.

"Well, sometimes people come up to that door and ring the doorbell."

"Huh. I don't know why they would, when the sidewalk comes up to the back door."

"Well, one time the {former, long-retired} newspaper editor's daughter and her boyfriend ran off the road, and they came up to our house to get help. She rang that doorbell."

"She did," Dad interjected. "And I pulled their car out with the old Chevy truck, and she always was real nice to me after that."

I did some mental processing of that information. The year the Chevy truck was traded for the Ford truck flashed through my mind. Then I processed the name of the woman who rang the bell.

She graduated when I was six.

And that was the last time the front doorbell was rung. Well, until I tried to get in when I was locked out the back door.

Going to Church

ow that I'm (almost) my sister's guardian, I'm making changes with her visits home. For instance, she can't be here for long periods of time (i.e., more than 30 minutes!) unless I am. That means each time she comes home for the weekend, she comes to church with us on Sunday. Twice.

At first, Sis was so opposed to going to church with us that she refused to come home for weekends when she was told she'd have to go. But then, at Uncle's funeral a few weeks ago, my husband got to spend a couple of hours with her, just the two of them, and he told her all about the Gospel. When she found out that's what our church is about, she suddenly was happy to go.

We were raised in an ELCA Lutheran Church; now, we go to a Reformed Church. Many Reformed churches come from a Dutch background, while the Lutheran heritage is more German and Norwegian, so the hymns Sis and I grew up on are different than the ones we're singing now. The first service this week, I noticed Sis quietly tried to sing along with the hymns, but they were all unfamiliar, and she can't read music. (Her I.Q. is 42--I'm pleased as punch she can read words!) Then, the last hymn was one she knew: O Come, O Come Emmanuel. And she let the whole congregation know she knew it! What a joyful noise to the Lord that was! It was beautiful! She hugged me after the service and told me she loves our church.

Mornings are the toughest time of day for Dad. His head generally hurts worst upon waking, or sometimes it is what wakes him. So, they haven't gone to church with us in the morning. But this week was the second time they came with us to the evening service. I think they had an idea that our religion was a cult or something, because they really avoided going with us for a long time. Mom finds it strange that my husband doesn't like crosses or pictures and statues of Jesus; he finds it strange that she seems to think the Second Commandment doesn't apply. But, they know now that our church is a good one, and this week, I think they were truly blessed by the service.

I know I was. There is nothing like hearing the Law and Gospel preached by a man of God. Amazing!

Revelation

his week, I've had a revelation for relieving my stress taking care of my parents. I've been playing with them.


Not making fun of them or anything like that. But playing cards. They were big card players in their day, and when I was young, they'd go to someone's house at least a couple times a month to play cards. For many years, Dad hasn't wanted to go places. He's been depressed, but they couldn't find the right combination of meds to help him. Mom doesn't drive, so when Dad stopped going places... her social life almost completely cut off.

I never got into playing cards much as an adult, but my daughter is visiting from college this week, and she loves to play cards with her friends at the dorms. So, she's been teaching me and my son games over the past year, and this visit was no exception. And Mom, in turn, taught her how to play their favorite card game, Whist. (My son had previously learned when my brother was visiting a couple of weeks ago.)

Mom was fascinated watching us play cards Sunday afternoon. She didn't even take a nap! She didn't want to play the games we were playing, but she didn't want to miss out on watching us. So, I suggested we play Whist and let her in on the fun. We've played every day since, and I have been a lot less stressed out this week! My husband has learned to play, too, and let me tell you, he and my dad make a formidable partnership!

I used to work upstairs with Mom and Dad, cooking, cleaning, taking them to appointments, paying bills, and whatever else needed to be done. After our evening meal (is it dinner or supper?), I would immediately go downstairs, to "get away". But I'm finding staying up there for an hour is good for us all.

Adventures in Eldersitting--Overnight Travel, Part 2

o, if you read Part 1, you know how things are going. We went 2 hours from home for a funeral, with the plan to stay overnight--and I forgot Mom and Dad's meds. My Husband, the doll that he is, drove all the way home to get them. While he was gone, my cousin ferried us all to her house. When we got there, I asked my son and my cousin's husband to bring in Dad's oxygen machine, because Dad had used all the oxygen in his two portable tanks.

Big mistake.

When Hubby and I loaded the machine into the van, we hoisted it in without removing the tubing that connects the main machine to the secondary machine that fills tanks. When the guys removed it from the SUV at my cousin's house, the tubing got bumped just right, so that the fitting that connected the tubing to the machine broke.

None of the kings horses and none of the kings men (nor any amount of super glue or gorilla glue) could put Humpty together again.

The main oxygen machine still worked, but required that Dad be sitting within 40 feet or so of a plug-in. The cemetery was right behind the church, but not that close. So, now what?

My cousin and I called some friends of theirs who own a welding shop. They thought they might be able to help, so we went over. Unfortunately, the oxygen tanks used in welding don't have the same type of fittings that medical oxygen tanks do; nor did they have any means to fill a tank.

So, I called the hospital in that town. Yes, they had an oxygen tank we could borrow, but they suggested I call his home medical supplier, because Medicare only allows one company to bill for oxygen supplies. When I called the supplier, I was told they couldn't do that, and we'd have to pay for it ourselves. But, we could go to their sister company an hour away to get a replacement part.

We left a little early for the funeral so we could stop at the hospital to get the tank. We paid a $25 rental fee, and left a $100 deposit to ensure we'd bring it back. We all cried through the funeral and the interment. Then, after we ate with the family, I said goodbye to my Husband again as he drove the hour to the sister home medical supply company. They lent him a tank to get Dad home, we returned the rented tank to the hospital, and all was well.

Interestingly, the hospital sent back Mom and Dad's $25 check. That was pretty sweet of them.

Repetition

t's funny listening to Mom and Dad talk to each other sometimes. Neither of them can hear very well. Dad's voice has changed so much that the gruffness makes it hard to understand. And Mom always thinks she's talking louder than she actually is.

One day, I heard them discussing a magazine.

Mom: Do you want this?

Dad: No, but the grandson (speaking of my son) might.

Mom: What did you say?

Dad: The grandson might.

Mom (looking around quizzically): I still can't understand what you're saying.

So, I step in to try and help.

Me: He said "The grandson might."

Mom: I can't understand you either.

Me (after trying a couple more times, then gesturing to myself): My son... He might like it.

Mom: Oh, yes, OK.


Then this morning, they were talking about going out to eat at a restaurant that gives Veterans a free meal on Veteran's Day. My husband and I aren't going to be home that day, so I suggested Dad might want to take Mom out for a meal. I asked if they were planning to take my son with them for dinner or go at lunch time while he's in school. First, Dad corrected me, saying that he'd be eating dinner while my son is in school, but they could take him along for supper (welcome to Rural America). Then Mom joked and said, "We'll take him with us for supper and make him watch us eat."

Dad didn't hear her. So, I got to watch the exchange again.

Finally Dad heard what she said. Then, he quipped, "That's when he'd grow a long arm." He knows my son well. :)

Happy Veteran's Day, and to all who have served or are serving our country, many, many thanks!

Adventures in Eldersitting--Overnight Travel, Part 1

o, we went to Uncle's funeral. This is the first time we've gone anywhere overnight. Dad really wanted to drive two hours up on Thursday for the visitation (3-8 p.m.), drive two hours back, and then get up Friday morning and drive two hours again and get there in time for the family service at 10 a.m.

I have said it before, and I don't mind admitting it again--I am so not Superwoman.

Dad didn't want to stay overnight because he is on oxygen full time, and between his two portable tanks, he can get about 8 hours of oxygen. We assured him that we could load his oxygen machine into the van and that it would be much better to stay up there overnight.

Ya know, if I'd listened to him, I would have been tired, but I would have avoided two other "adventures" that I could have done without.

First--I have never packed for Mom and Dad before. That was quite an experience in its own right. Get the Depends pads for Mom. Don't forget denture cleaner for Dad. (Dad has full dentures, but only wears the top plate, so the bottom one needed to be left at home in its bowl of water. As I've been cleaning, I keep running across yet another blue plastic denture bowl Dad got from a hospital stay. There were a ton of them, and I've been recycling them rather than allowing them to continue to be collected. Do you suppose I could find an extra one when it was time to go?)

Anyway, next is medications. We were planning to stay at a hotel, and the last thing I wanted was to have their meds packed in a suitcase at the hotel and need some of them while we were at a restaurant. So, I put them in Mom's purse. But, she had just switched to a smaller bag, and objected to having them in there. I put them in my purse.

Mom wanted to take a bag of letters with her, in case she had time to work on them. No, I'm not talking about letters she wanted to write to family or friends. I'm talking about Publisher's Clearing House letters.

As I was walking out the door, I was so concerned that I not forget any of their stuff that I managed to leave without my own purse! Yes, the very same purse that I'd put their meds in!

We didn't have Mom and Dad's meds, but I did have those PCH entries. (She never once looked at them while we were gone.)

When I realized we didn't have the meds, I called the pharmacy. The tech I talked to figured it was pretty important they not miss their meds for a day. I told my husband that I was going to drive back home and get them. He said, "No you're not. I am going to go get them." What a doll. :)

With a 4+ hour trip ahead of him, Hubby couldn't make it back before we'd have to leave the funeral home, so we discussed going to a hotel and getting rooms, and finding someone to bring us there after the visitation was done. When my cousin heard that, she insisted we could stay at their house. Alan thought about stopping there to drop off our stuff on the med run, but my cousin said we could just transfer everything into her SUV, and she'd get us there.

That was a mistake. But, you'll read more about that in Part 2.

Stress Relief

I am not a spokesperson for the company I am about to name, but their product is an incredibly effective natural stress reliever. It's actually called Natural Stress Relief, made by Life Extension.

Ever since I moved in, my mom and I have been battling over the number of supplements she and Dad take. (There were over 50 of them a day!! But that's a topic for a different blog entry.) However, during a particularly stressful week at the end of a time my husband had been gone for 17 days visiting family in another state, I started taking the Natural Stress Relief. Over the next few days, I noticed I wasn't as grumpy or anxious--but I attributed it to his coming home, not the pills.

I finished a 30-day supply of the pills and thought, "I don't need those anymore." But soon, I was feeling overwhelmed and yelling at people again.

We got some more of the stuff. I don't know how it works, but it works. It seems better for all involved for me to continue using it.

The Trouble with Hearing Trouble

Mom and Dad are both hard of hearing. It makes things interesting around here.

I think Dad can hear better than Mom, in spite of being completely deaf in one ear. But he gets so absorbed in whatever book he's reading or show he's watching (with the volume too loud for Mom's taste, of course), he doesn't hear because he's not paying attention.

I've learned with him that I have to get his attention before I start talking to him, and have been trying (unsuccessfully) to get Mom to do that consistently, too.

Mom, on the other hand, can't hear very well, even with her hearing aids, but thinks every word that's spoken is directed at her. My husband and I will be talking in a different room, and she'll holler back, "What? Did you say something? If you're talking to me, I can't hear you!"

Maybe we'll have to start prefacing private conversations with, "We're not talking to you, Mom!"

Adjusting to Life in Rural Town

We live on a farm a few miles outside of Rural Town. A short jaunt brings us to Big Town. A looooong jaunt brings us to Big City.

My dear husband grew up in Another Big City. He is not accustomed to life in Rural Town. This became quite clear on a recent solo trip to he made to Rural Town. After telling a clerk the reason for his visit, he was told that he would need to talk to the proprietor, who was not in. Satisfied with that, Hubby turned to leave, but was halted by the following exchange:

Clerk: So, how's your father-in-law? (This caught Hubby off guard in itself, because he didn't know the woman from Eve, but she didn't even say the relationship, she said Dad's name.)

Hubby: Umm... Did you know he's in the hospital?

Clerk: Yeah, my husband heard it come over the [Rural Town Emergency Medical Services] pager.

Hubby: Oh, well he seems to be doing better, and should be able to come home tomorrow.

Clerk: Good, glad to hear it. Are you living in Rural Town?

Hubby: Umm... No, we are living out on the farm with them.

Clerk: Oh, that's great. And you have one child going to school here?

Hubby: Umm... Yes.

Clerk: I saw you at the school open house the other day. And at the Bar and Grill last Friday night. (Yes, Rural Town not only has a Cafe, it also has a Bar and Grill.)

Hubby: Oh, I see.

To me, having grown up in Rural Town, an non-momentous conversation. To him? I'm sure he felt like Big Brother was watching him, very, very closely.

I'm sure he'll get used to it. :)

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