Tag Archives: Diary

Happy Father’s Day

Posted in June by

“You know, you repeat yourself a lot.” I said, in a matter of fact voice (at least I hope it sounded non-judgmental or bitchy). Miss Cathy had just finished telling me something that she’d told me several times already; in fact I’d already heard the “exact” same story twice that day. I just thought she should know-thinking maybe it was something she didn’t realize she was doing.

“Oh really?” she said, seemingly unfazed. “Did I tell you that I called Adele to wish her a Happy Birthday?”

“No, you didn’t tell me that.” I answered.

“Well good, I’ll try not to repeat that one.” She said and we both laughed.

Cute, right…well, I thought so, and that was pretty much the way it’s been between us since I got back from my little “holiday” last weekend visiting my brother, Tony and his family. I was just gone one night but it gave both of us some time apart to re-charge. While I was away I checked in on Miss Cathy everyday and she was seemed to be having a great time.

I was feeling so “great” about everything that I spontaneously asked Miss Cathy if she wanted to go to the arts and crafts store yesterday to buy some artificial flowers for a vase that Ron (one of her many other “sons”) had given her for Mother’s Day. She’d been talking (a lot) about wanting me to select flowers for the vase because she liked the way I decorated the apartment and “put things together”. Since it was Father’s Day I thought there was a bit of symmetry to the outing and was happy that she accepted the invitation.

She seemed happy enough to be going out, we hadn’t been out together for anything other than doctor‘s appointments so it was nice to be doing something purely social. Since the arts and crafts store has a reputation for discounting things I was hoping to combine two of my favorite hobbies-shopping and bargain hunting.

No sooner had we left the complex and I turned the car in a direction she wasn’t expecting when she said, “Why are you going this way?”

“I’m going to the Beltway” I said.

“The Beltway?!” she exclaimed as if I’d suggested we walk. “Why are you going on the Beltway? All you have to do is get on 193 and take it all the way down. You’re going the long way there but it’s your gas.”

“Well, the Beltway is the way that I know so that’s what I’m going to do.” I said, not quite regretting my suggestion of the outing but getting a feeling I might. The last time she had me deviate from my mapquest printout we were leaving the “Grand opening” of a supermarket (at 7 am on a Wednesday no less), forty minutes into the turn she insisted I make she confessed that she didn’t know where we were going so a fifteen minute drive home took us an hour and a half because I listened to her. I made a vow to myself not to do that again and I was going to keep it.

The drive was quiet, more from the classical station being on and the windows rolled down so that we could take advantage of the cool late morning breeze than anything else (or so I thought).

I did miss one turn but it only added a few blocks to our final destination. For some reason, having Miss Cathy in the car makes me nervous, it might have something to do with the fact that she sits in the car with a death grip on the door handle and her head is constantly whipping looking for an oncoming collision. We’d already had it out about her ‘back seat driving’ so she sat silently (for the most part) but her body language was screaming directions, corrections and suggestions all the way from point A to point B.

Parked and ready to have at the clearance table I spied sitting in the front of the store I was hurriedly putting the handicapped tag over the rearview mirror when I heard, “when we go back just turn right at the light and go all the way down, I’m not going back on the Beltway.” “Makes no sense driving so fast, with all those cars.”

“Where’s that coming from?” I thought to myself but I said, “Well, I’m not going back that way, sorry.”

“See, that’s your problem, you don’t listen.” She said after she finally managed to lift herself out of the car and was toddling toward the entrance. “You just don’t listen,” she repeated,” you have to do everything your way.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” I said to her back,” Jeez, I though I was doing something nice by bringing you out here.”

“I know you’re sick of me, “she shouted, startlingly me by this response, “I know you think I’m a nuisance and you don’t want to be bothered with me, I’ve known that for awhile now.” ‘Well, I’ll get my own damn car and you won’t have to worry about taking me anywhere, I’ll take my own damn self.”

“Well, I wasn’t sick of you till you started all of this,” I said retrieving the vase from the backseat” this day sure went to sh*t in a heartbeat”, suddenly tired of it all. Now that I was getting closer to the sale tables I saw that silk tulips were on sale for 60% off (usually an aphrodisiac for me) but they could have been free and I’d still want no part of them-that’s’ how turned off I was at that moment.

I wanted to be anywhere but there so I started to hand the vase to Miss Cathy and said, “Here you go, knock yourself out, I’m going to be in the car.”

She looked at the vase without taking it and said, “take me back home.”

Since things had been going so well and we’d been getting along so well I was surprised (to say the least) by her outburst. I’m sure it was a combination of her condition, what she perceived as my “speeding” and her inability to control the situation (which makes her anxious and irritable). Still, knowing all of that and remembering not to take her rants personally, I gotta say, it still hurt my feelings.

“Fine by me.” I thought, throwing the vase and what was left of my good mood back into the car.

Happy Father’s Day!

Folding chairs

Posted in June by

Last Friday morning I walked into the kitchen for my usual coffee before my brother and I were headed out for an appointment with a lawyer to go over Miss Cathy’s estate. Tony had come over the night before after work to surprise mom with the visit. I knew she was very happy to have “her boys” all to herself and would be in the kitchen whipping up a fattening, artery clogging breakfast as only a mother could.

So, I wasn’t surprised when I saw Miss Cathy standing over the sink but something wasn’t quite right. It only took me a second to know by her less than usual “peppy” response to my salutation and the way she was slumped over that something was wrong. I went over to her, looked at her face and saw that she looked confused and disoriented.

Perspiring heavily, it looked like she was gripping the counter for dear life so I told her I was going to put the folding chair behind her so that she could sit down. I didn’t know what was going on with her but I knew that it was imperative to sit her down before she fell down. She wasn’t very communicative and her movements were very slow, as if she were trying to show me that she understood what I was saying but her body just wasn’t responding the way she wanted.

She didn’t seem able to move much at all; she just seemed to hang on. Seeing that she wasn’t making much progress on her own I held under her armpits and helped guide her down to the chair as gently as possible, talking to her the entire time, telling her what I was doing and how far she had to go before she was seated, reminding her not to “plop” down in the chair which is her habit.

Once she was seated I was able to look at her more closely and ask her a few questions to determine whether she might have been having a heart attack or stroke. It didn’t appear that she was so I got her a glass of water and wiped her brow and neck. Once I got her to sit down she couldn’t seem to calm down, she squirmed with what little strength she had until finally I was able to quiet her. She then told me that she thought she as going to throw up.

I reached for the nearest thing I could (which was an empty planter) and gave that to her while I went to her bedroom where she told me she had a supply of bags for vomiting. When I got back she had not thrown up yet but she’d dropped the planter, unable to control her fingers. She retched more than she threw up but there was some fluid and it seemed to help her to expel it.

I was able to keep her calm enough to sit for a few more minutes before walking her to her bedroom so that she could lie down. In her bedroom I got her to sit quietly as I debated with myself whether or not to call her doctor but in the space of those moments I took deciding she seemed to get better, I could actually see that the confusion was leaving her face and her movements became more fluid.

We took her blood count and it elevated (222 and her blood sugar is usually in the 140 –to 150 range). By the time we made the first “stick” she was talking in her normal voice and insisting that she wanted to go back in the kitchen to make breakfast. We got her cleaned up and I made the decision not to call the doctor but to tell him abut this episode when we see him next (which will be soon). I watched her as she walked (she insisted that she could walk un-aided) back in the kitchen and I sat with her as she prepared breakfast for my brother and me.

I reminded her that if she had been alone this was one of those occasions when she should have pressed her “medical alert” button and she agreed. But watching her “in the moment” it concerns me now that I don’t know that she would have had the presence of mind to do that. I know for a fact that if I hadn’t come into the kitchen she wouldn’t have had the wherewithal to pull over the chair that was less that a foot away for her to sit herself down.

She may have been able to hold onto the counter until whatever it was, low blood sugar, excitement about my brother being here or just a wave of nausea passed, and then do whatever was necessary to keep herself safe but I don’t think that would have been the case. She very well could have fallen and we would (potentially) have a repeat of the episode that started this entire journey in January of last year when she fell on the bathroom floor and wasn’t discovered for three days.

I know that the slightest interruption (good or bad) in her routine can cause a change in how she acts or responds, from something as very subtle as her demeanor changing to something like what happened on Friday. I don’t know if that was the case or not, that’s something I’ll talk to the doctor about.

After all the bickering, boredom and cost to my personal life its moments like last Friday that remind me why I’m here and I’m grateful that I can be. Like my friend William says, who takes care of (not only) his mother but his father as well, “It’s an honor to be able to spend the time with them and to do whatever I can to make there lives more comfortable after all they’ve done for me.”

Give me my flowers as I live so I can smell them

Posted in June by

I took Miss Cathy to another funeral this morning. They seem to be one of the few things she gets dressed and leaves the apartment for these days. Hey, I’m just glad she’s getting out and “getting some air on her” as she used to say to my brother and me when we were little and she wanted us out of the house (and out of her hair).

It’s a fact of life that as you get old-old people around you start to die. Years ago, I remember asking my Pop about death and dying after so many of his friends crossed over. There was a period of time when it seemed that almost every time I called home he (or they) were going to a funeral. At the time this phenomenon was specific to Pop because he was considerably older than mom so they had friends almost a generation apart.

As a former New Yorker, where going to a shrink is as common as getting your bagel with a “smear”, I was prone to “navel gazing “ and introspection after my time on the couch so I asked him how he “felt” about his peer group passing on. He looked at me as if I wasn’t as smart as he’d given me credit for and said, “Well, how do you think I feel?” “ After your last friend dies all you’re doing is waiting for your turn.”

Now I’m wondering if Miss Cathy is thinking the same thing because the mood has been a little funereal around here. It doesn’t help that the sermon she was listening to yesterday on Sunday morning television was all about “Love, peace and passing on”.

She doesn’t get maudlin and she’s not a very sentimental person but every now and then, she gets reflective-especially around occasions like the one today.

So, yesterday, I was surprised when she stopped me as I walked through the living room, past the reverend and his sermon, on my way out to the balcony to enjoy the cool morning air. She said she wanted to tell me that she never forgot a trip I made in my car from Kansas City a few years ago when I drove nonstop and slept in my car for a few hours before getting here as soon as I could.

She said that it touched her heart that I would show my love for family by dropping everything and doing what I did. I told her it meant alot to me to hear her say that. I started to well up watching her get misty-eyed.

“I believe in letting people know what they mean to me while they’re around to hear it”, she said, “some people wait till it’s time to go to a funereal to let what they feel be known.” “I don’t believe in all that, that’s just a “show”.

Then she looked me in the eyes and said, “Give me my flowers as I live so I can smell them.”

Good night moon ( Good morning Miss Cathy)

Posted in May by

I was in my room writing when I heard Miss Cathy moving around in her room and then I heard the sounds of her shower coming on. I looked at the clock and thought it was odd but went on about my business for a while longer. I got up from my desk to go get something to drink and as I passed by her doorway I could see her making up her bed.

“Good morning!” she said full of her usual morning cheer.

”Good evening”, I corrected her thinking she was making a joke. I started to continue on down the hall until I heard her say, “what?” “What time is it?”

“It’s 8 o’clock”, I answered. “ 8 o’clock in the morning right?” she asked looking puzzled.

“No, it’s 8 o’clock at night.” I said chuckling.

“Well, damn Sam, I thought it was time to get up, Oh well” “It’s Sunday-right?”

“No, it’s still Saturday, you’ve been asleep for about five hours, you took a nap.”

“Oh, okay, well, I woke up and I thought it was getting light outside so I just got up and took a shower thinking it was morning.” “ I guess I really f*cked up, didn’t I?”

We both laughed and I said that it was an easy mistake to make. Since it twilight it could have appeared to somebody just waking up that the sun was coming “up” instead of going “down”.

I really didn’t know she’d been in that deep of a sleep (or that she’d slept so long). I had been walking past her room for hours making all sorts of noise so she must have been out like a light (how she got so tired from a day of eating breakfast and lunch and watching TV in the living room is the real mystery to me-but I digress).

For someone who is constantly saying, “I rarely take naps in the afternoon” –guess where you can find Miss Cathy most days by 2 pm-in bed taking a nap. Hey, whatever makes her happy and she does seem happy, so, I say, “nap away”.

And contrary to what she also says about having a problem sleeping during the day (or at night after a hard day napping) she doesn’t ever seem to have any trouble “going under”.

I’m just happy I don’t have to read, “Good night moon”.

He said, she (thought) she said

Posted in May by

I came home late the other night from one of my cater/water gigs and sure enough Miss Cathy was awake and ready to share whatever “goodies’ I brought home to eat. I was so busy working that by the time I got to the kitchen the only things left were “greens” (a mix of kale and turnip greens) and Mac and cheese (all that was missing was the fried chicken to round out a good southern meal).

While I warmed up the food Miss Cathy was all excited to tell me that my ex, Chad had called to talk to her. Before she got into what they talked about she made a big deal of telling me that she was “half asleep” when he called so she didn’t recognize his voice right away but soon they were talking up a storm. Between mouthfuls of food she proceeded to tell me everything that was going on in his world (all of which I already knew) but it was great to see her so happy so I just let her talk (for a little while at least). She was obviously touched by his thinking of her and that meant a lot to me, too.

The next night Chad and I talked, catching up on our weeks’. Towards the end of our conversation he asked me if Miss Cathy told me that he had called. I told him that she had, prattling on and on and that she was so excited he’d thought to call to talk to her. He listened, then asked, “was that all she said?” and with some hesitation in his voice he said, “I have to tell you something that I think you should know.” He told me that at one point during the conversation that mom was at a loss for what she was trying to say and that the pause became long and bordered on uncomfortable.

He said that it was as if while searching for the right word she got lost in thought and confused about not only the word that she couldn’t remember but the topic as well. Chad said that he didn’t know quite how to handle it so he tried prompting her with a variety words thinking it would help “jog” her memory but then he was worried that “all the words he was throwing out at her” might be further confusing her.

What bothered him the most (I think) was when she finally “found” the word she was looking for it was “car-pooling” which had nothing to do with the subject they were talking about but Chad played along as if that was the topic at hand.

He said that he mentioned it because he wasn’t sure Miss Cathy would. I told him that she hadn’t mentioned that part of the conversation and that I understood all too well what he had experienced and I was grateful he told me about it. Thankfully it’s only one a few signs she displays that there’s anything wrong with her. He did the right thing by trying to help her remember what she was trying to say and that there is no “right way” to be in those moments.

It wasn’t until the next day when she brought up the conversation again, that it “clicked”. She said,” I don’t know what he must think of me, he must have thought I was drunk or something because I was “half asleep” when he called.” “I was laying there and I just couldn’t get myself together.”

That’s when it dawned on me that she had known something was “amiss” during their conversation and she was genuinely concerned with what had happened and how she came across to Chad. It also sounded to me like she was “covering her ass” with a convenient excuse (which to be fair) “half asleep” might possibly account for her not recognizing his voice at the beginning of the conversation but not the uncomfortable pause and use of a word that had nothing to do with the topic which was deep into the conversation.

I find it interesting that she knew that it happened and chose to find a way to blame her confusion on “sleep”, instead of attributing it to her condition but I’m used to that by now. Whenever anything occurs it’s never her fault or a result of her dementia, there’s always another explanation or place for blame. She may not remember what she said but she knows how to cover things up-or so she thinks.

Blame it on the a, aa, ak, uh alkaline

Posted in May by

I finished my first week working as a cater/waiter last Thursday, which was good because I couldn’t have worked one day longer. If I thought it was hard to run a 10k (back in the old days, after a night of serious disco dancing and drinking) well, standing around holding trays full of drinks and being “in service” makes that seem like a cakewalk.

The job is not without it’s perks; I’m getting out of the house, (re) learning my way around Washington DC, I’m getting a behind the scenes look at what it takes to put on events (intimate and extravagant) and there’s the scrumptious food, floral arrangements and gift bags that we’re allowed to take home (depending on the event and the captain you’re working for).

I did meet an interesting woman at one of the jobs sites. Her name is Lois and we met after “service” as we were all taking a well-deserved break and making our dinner from the leftovers. Like I said already, I have not been working long but what I have noticed it that there is “a lot” of food left over after these events, sometimes even after the staff has eaten, there is a lot that is thrown out-the abundance and the waste is amazing. Anyway, I was loading my fourth cupcake into a take out container when I heard, “Somebody sure has a sweet tooth.”

Embarrassed, thinking that it was a captain (the person that is in charge of all of the cater/waiters) I turned to see Lois, who was in charge of the pantry. She’s not my boss but an important person in the “food” chain. There is a hierarchy to this industry that I’m still figuring out but one thing I know already is that it’s best to know your place in the queue and who can help whom.

So, I said (quite honestly) “No, it’s not for me, I like to take my dinner home and share it with my mom -she’s the one with the sweet tooth.”

I’ve only been a week but Miss Cathy and I already have a little routine established, she kinda stays up waiting for me after my shift (or her eyes pop open the minute she hears my key in the door and is calling out “Heyyy”) and I share whatever food I manage to bring home and stories of how I’m trying to do a job that I have very little experience at (remember I “padded” my resume to get the job saying that I had cater/waiter experience back in New York when in actuality I went on a few jobs when friends in the industry needed an extra hand. I so impressed my new boss that he thinks I’m a seasoned cater/waiter and is ready to put me in charge of people when in fact I’m just impersonating a cater/waiter and learning on the job as I mimic others but I’m determined to become who he think I already am).

Anyway, back to the “cupcakes”….we sat down to take our break before “tearing” down the event, she with her dinner and me with my take out container full of goodies from the dinner I just served to a baker’s dozen of the “Masters’ of the Universe” at the Capital One Corp offices. We started to talk and I told her that Miss Cathy has Alzheimer’s and to my surprise she said that her dad does too (although why I’m surprised “should” be the surprise since the alz.org stats say that someone is diagnosed with Alzheimer’s every 69 seconds).

I was shaken out of my “thought bubble” when Lois asked,” Does she drink soft drinks?” and proceeded to tell me that her father (and her whole family) only drink “AlkinWater” and that they never ingest sodas. She’s a firm believer that the chemicals in soda pop cause/exacerbate or contribute to Alzheimer’s; she then told me that I should google Alkaline and its effects on the brain.

I didn’t think that working a catering job would be the place where I’d find information about Alz but “hey” you drink where you find the water so I started taking “sips”. In the short time we sat together she went into great depth about Alkaline, which medications to avoid (I gathered she’s not big on western medicine) and a host of other topics. We had to get back to work but we exchanged phone numbers and Lois said she’d email some more info to me.

I started doing some research on my own and came across some interesting information, Not sure what I think about the whole holistic eating and living approach but it is food for thought.

Spring in her step

Posted in May by

“I’m going out for a walk”, Miss Cathy announced one day last week, and with that she put on one of her summer hats (it was going to be 86 degrees that day here in Greenbelt) and she was off to the Rec-center where they have a treadmill she could walk on.

“I’ll take the trash out, too” she said as if it were an everyday occurrence and not the second time I’ve seen her do either since I’ve been living here.

“Good for you!” I thought.

Speaking of trash-the other day I had set the trash by the front door (as is my habit, in anticipation of taking it out later) when Miss Cathy volunteered for the job (another first). I said, “No, don’t worry about it, I’ve got to run some errands so I’ll take it out.”

And she said, “That’s alright, l take it out because I see it as a form of exercise.”

Well, color me surprised!

I know it sounds like a little thing but I was proud of her for insisting on the chore. And to think I had been lulled into a state of doing most things so that I didn’t expect her to ever offer to do a chore. To be fair, she takes care of herself very well and she does clean up around the house; vacuuming and dusting.

But it’s more than the chore itself-it’s the fact that she’s really starting to be more independent and out-going.

To me, its just more evidence that the two weeks she spent alone has given her a new attitude and some new life. She’s participating instead of sitting and waiting……for what? To deteriorate? The end? I don’t know, but that seems to be all in the past for now.

I started my new part-time job as a cater/waiter yesterday and Miss Cathy was tickled pink when I told her about the job. Interestingly, she was never quite this enthusiastic about things that went on with my art career-not that she wasn’t proud, I think that this is a “job” that she can relate to better. “Great!” she exclaimed, “at least this will be an opportunity for you to get out of the that “sweatbox” of a room of yours.”

I had to laugh; cause lord knows she was telling the truth! And with that I was off, to become one of the nameless, faceless servers at some swanky affair in DC. This will be interesting-I’m going from attending affairs like this to working at them.

Since Miss Cathy is in such a great place right now I feel comfortable leaving her for long periods of time, she’s got her medical alert necklace and a new attitude so what more assurance do I need!
ed!

Continue talking

Posted in April by

I got back from my “time off” last Thursday and unlike my other trips where I felt refreshed and energized this time was different. Unfortunately, the minute I got back it felt like I never left. Miss Cathy was chatting at me the moment I opened the door.

Of course a lot of that has to do with me and not mom, my personal life seems to be in transition so I need to establish a secure foundation and some structure in my life here.

It was great to see mom, she gave me a big hug when I walked through the door and not long after she was gone to spend some time with Adele leaving me some time alone to unpack and unwind. I could see that she had taken good care of the place while I was gone and there wasn’t much to do till I had to take her to the doctor the next day.

So, Friday morning I found myself sitting in the orthopedic surgeon’s office with Miss Cathy for one of her follow up appointments after her knee replacement surgery.

The office was a hot, non descript room full of old people in wheelchairs, casts, canes or some other indication that they won’t be signing up for Arthur Murray anytime soon. Everybody seemed to be there at the same time for the same thing. We all sat and waited to be called back into an exam room, most people killing time by talking and/or watching whatever god-awful midmorning television show happened to on the flat screen TV perched high up on the wall.

What was frustrating was that you make an appointment and show up on time but the reality is that you’re not going to see the doctor until he was good and ready to see you.
It’s an abuse of power that I have little patience for in my life but this wasn’t about me-it was Miss Cathy’s doctor and her appointment and I try my best to stay out of it.

Since this all started last year she’s shown very little patience herself with being kept waiting and her reaction can range from mild irritation to a complete melt down in the waiting room (so the apple didn’t fall very far from that tree).

Rather than sit anywhere near the television I chose seats on the other side of the room, thinking it would quieter-but no, but no (just my luck) we ended up sitting next to a couple that wouldn’t shut the f*ck up. The husband was a big blowhard of man. He talked just loud enough so that everybody else could hear his voice (his favorite sound I imagine) but no loud that’d think he was at sports arena. He sounded like a reject from the Henry Higgins School of snobbery and pretension so unless the front row of Wimbledon I don’t think you’d see him there.

It was hard to “not” hear someone so intent on enunciating so clearly in such an affected and old-fashioned manner of speech, making everything he said sound like it was occurring in 1938 New England and not an orthopedic surgeon’s office in suburban Maryland in 2011. The wife was a mousy thing, hanging onto his every word out of obligation or inertia, the perfect female compliment to his pontificating; she was the woman beside (or behind) the “man about town”.

Earlier, I was bemoaning the fact (to me, myself and I) that anytime I left my room I’d be subjected to Miss Cathy’s ramblings (I know she’s lonely but egads, can’t there be a moment when the two of us are in the same room and words need not be spoken?). But, this, this is an assault on my ears and I’m not even related to the man.

I do not want to hear this man’s opinions or anecdotes. I’d move but the only other option would be to sit near the other old people swapping stories about their particular ailments or surgeries as “Judge Punch or Judy” roared in the background. Oye! It’s Sophie’s choice!

I’d been back about 24 hours after being gone for two weeks and I felt as if I’d never left. I had a feeling it was going to be a verrrrry long day and it was, we spent more than two hours waiting for the doctor to come spend about ten minutes with Miss Cathy.

They took an x-ray then the doctor said that her knee was healing better than expected so she could expect more than 100% mobility and range of motion out of her artificial knee and she doesn’t have to come back for two years for another check up.

It occurred to me as we were leaving the doctor’s office that in the past (say three or four months ago) Miss Cathy would have been very angry and agitated by the long wait, complaining or making a mini-scene. Not this time, she was calm and didn’t complain, she mentioned the wait but it was just a statement of fact, in fact she was even trying to sleep to pass the time till her name was called.

It was a marked difference in behavior and I don’t know if it was because of her time alone or what but she definitely seemed to have a different attitude. I really have to give her “props” for how she handled herself and I need to try to follow her example.

I may not want to listen to her but I can still learn from her.

Voicemail

Posted in April by

“Hya son, I’m calling again. I just got off the telephone. I’m trying to look to see what time it is, I think this is….ahhhh, I can’t half way see the clock, looks like its twenty five minutes to eight. Well, anyway, I had called you earlier.

I’ve been on the telephone talking to Marcia so I don’t know if you had tried to call while I was on the phone talking to her. I didn’t get a signal, so anyway I was just letting you know. She said she’d be up tomorrow so anyway; I’m going back into the bedroom now to watch the “cooks” on TV.

I’m doing very well and I’ll talk with you later, love mom.”

That was a voicemail that Miss Cathy left for me not too long ago. We’ve bee playing “phone tag” for the a few days now (which is funny seeing how she never leaves the apartment). But, she discovered “screening” years ago when I first bought her an answering machine and now she just lets the call go to voicemail-listens to the message and then decides if she wants to call the person back.

She sounds good, she always leaves “mini” voice “letters” instead of messages, and I’ve always thought that was sweet.

By all accounts she’s doing well and has been enjoying her time alone. The upstairs neighbor, Ron came by one day last week and took her to the grocery store so I know that she’s gotten out at least once since I’ve been gone.

And I’m glad to hear that Marcia, another neighbor (downstairs) is coming up to visit.

I asked her to water the plants for me and she says she’s remembered the schedule of twice a week and the amount of water for each plant.

She says that she’s been keeping the cooking to a minimum (a promise she made to me before I left) and has been using the microwave to heat up a lot of the food that she cooked before I left-a lot of stews and casseroles.

I’m back on Thursday and have decided to get a part-time job out of the house since she’s doing so well (and lets be honest-I could use the money with art not selling like it used too). Depending on what I can find (I have few skills other than drawing for the past thirty five years so don’t be surprised if I’m you new barista at Starbucks).

So, whatever I get will be for about four to five hours a day for as many days a week. I think that being out of the house for a few hours each day will be good for both of us.

I think I’ll call her and let her know my plans…….oh, what do you know, it went to voicemail.

Wiz-zed

Posted in April by

I’m in Kansas City now and won’t be back in Greenbelt till the 21st. Without balloons or fanfare I gave Miss Cathy a hug and a kiss and took the train to New York last Thursday to hang out with Chad in the Emerald City and now we’re in the land of Oz.

I feel like I’ve escaped from the Wicked witch’s tower but that would infer that Miss Cathy is Glinda’s evil sister from the East. By the look on her face (utter joy) when I was standing at the door to leave I could see that she was a fellow escapee, too. She was looking forward to getting rid of my ass and as much (or more) as I was looking forward to leaving. How can you blame her really, I mean, the poor woman hasn’t been alone in over a year.

So, I guess that would make Alzheimer’s the Wicked witch that’s swooped down and turned our little world to black and white from color; dementia the evil tower, her paranoia and anger issues would be the flying monkeys (which scared the be-Jesus out of me when I was kid by the way) and lately her behavior threaten to send me under the bed once more.

If it’s true what Mr. Baum says that I’ve been home all along then why is that when I click my heels nothing happens? I’ve lived in the Emerald City (New York), the land of Oz (Kansas City) and even over the rainbow (on the left bank in Paris) so why oh why do I keep waking up in Greenbelt? Since becoming suburbanized I’ve traded in my designer shoes for Nikes but the result should be the same-when am I going to wake up in an overstuffed feather bed next to some little hairy beast surrounded by extended family and the hired help?

I left Miss Cathy with her lifeline alert necklace (more powerful than ruby slippers) so I feel like she has some protection. I called to check on her yesterday and she sounded as happy as the mayor of Munchkin land. She could have been sitting there playing with her own feces for all I knew but that’s a stretch in behavior (thank the lord for now) but I am cognizant of the fact that one can give “good phone”-meaning that a lot people that are ill can “sound” healthy and capable over the airwaves.

So, I’m conscious of that and I also know that she couldn’t deteriorate that quickly in just a few days so I’m listening for things other than the scatological. Is she present? Is she clear? Does she sound calm or confused?

Once I ascertained all of that I could confidently sit back and let her tell her latest story of what hillbilly relative did what to whom wash over me and feel confident that I could hang up the phone and start skipping back down the yellow brick road.