Tag Archives: Family

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”.

Dr NO (show)

Posted in May by

I’m usually loath to speak ill of doctors or Miss Cathy (lately) but recently the two-separately and together have made for a prescription too toxic not to tell.

I’ve gone on and on about Miss Cathy’s visit to the neurologist where (in her mind) he set her free, like Lincoln with the slaves. No, this isn’t about “that” but it did (start) during that infamous visit.

One of the things she had scribbled down on her neatly folded piece paper of “things she wanted to discuss” with the doctor was having help getting her Aricept through mail order. She said that Blue Cross/Blue Shield had quoted her a price of $30.00 for a 90-day supply in lieu of the $86.00 she just started paying (for the same quantity) of the generic because until recently Aricept was not available in a cheaper generic form because of it’s exclusivity on the marketplace (making it was more than $280.00 for a 90 day supply).

Ah yes, the real “pill” here is the Pharmaceutical companies in my book. HIV/Aids and the elderly are there cash cows these days. I have friends with HIV /Aids and their medications can start at $6,000.00 a year (even if one has insurance) and most people have to take more than one pill so you can imagine the astronomical yearly costs!

The same is true with the elderly, patients with Alzheimer’s or Parkinson’s can spend hundreds of dollars a years for their degenerative disease medications alone, not to mention the other medications that accompany old age; high blood pressure, diabetes, high cholesterol, insomnia, depression…..the list goes on.

Anyway, her neurologist happily agreed to “take care” of changing the prescription to come through the cheaper mail order form-that was on March 27th. By early April she hadn’t received anything through the mail so I started calling the doctor’s office to see what was going on. I was told it would be “taken care of” (and at that time I had no reason to doubt the veracity of that statement) so we waited patiently.

We waited and waited until her daily supply of Donepezil HCL (generic Aricept) was dangerously low so I called the office (again) to check on the status of the medication and I also asked to be given some samples of Aricept to “tide” Miss Cathy over until the meds arrived in the mail.

Later that day while I was at the office picking up the samples the doctor was “in” so I got a chance to talk to him and remind him of how long this has been going on. I made a point of telling him that the delay was making Miss Cathy very agitated (and he’s the one who said that wasn’t good for her).

He listened patiently and told me that he would take care of “mom” (which I guess may be a custom from his country as a way of addressing the elderly or it’s just a “catch all” way of talking to and about elderly black ladies who’s names he can’t be bothered to remember). I didn’t like his dismissive approach-I didn’t see him write anything down or ask me for any pertinent information but, I left with a fist full of samples and his assurance not to worry.

Which I didn’t, I didn’t worry a week later when I’d check the mail and “no pills”, or the week after that. I didn’t worry-I got pissed off, I was pissed off that I had to start calling his office “again”. On May 13th I called to see what the hold up was and left message after message with Lydia, the receptionist (and gatekeeper) who said she would ask the doctor what was going on and call me back-she never did.

So, I called “her back” on the May 17th and was told that the doctor “phoned in” the prescription to CVS Pharmacy on April 15th and it’s been sitting there waiting for me to pick it up. I told her that was not what the doctor had agreed to do and that I wanted to speak to him, she said, “he’s busy now with patients and will have to call you back when he has some time.”

Again, I left a message for him to call me back that day-he never did.

A couple days later after I got home from a cater/waiter job I did see two missed calls from the doctor’s office so I called the next day. Lydia proudly and accusingly told me that, “the doctor tried to call you” to which I replied, “Yes, I see that, but when he called “I” wasn’t available, he’s not the only one who’s busy.”

I asked Lydia to call CVS to verify that a prescription exists for Miss Cathy because I told her that I never got a call to pick up the meds (which is there standard method of operation). “Why do I have to do that? I’m not going to do that”, she said.

“Well”, I said as calmly as I could, “because it’s your job, and not mine, and quite frankly I have spent more than enough time with you on the telephone trying to get what my mother should have had months ago.” (What I wanted to say was “B*tch, I’m not here to do your job!”).

She put me on hold, after a moment I was talking to Danielle (not the doctor) another receptionist. At least Danielle was co-operative (even if she did talk to me like I was a mental patient-apparently “Danielle” must be the re-enforcements they bring in when Lydia’s had enough)-whatever!

At least Danielle called CVS then me to say that the prescription was $86.00 for the generic and it was not at our local pharmacy but at a CVS that was 10 miles away which was probably the reason I was never called but who knows).

I asked her to have the prescription moved to our local pharmacy and left another message for the doctor to call me. So, almost two months after the initial request to have the medication sent through mail order, it hadn’t happened and I had no explanation from the doctor as to why.

I picked up the meds from CVS and explained all of this to Miss Cathy a few days ago. At first she was a little aggravated (a lot actually) so we talked about it and we agreed that the doctor had messed up and never did what she asked. She even offered to call Blue Cross/Blue Shield again to verify that the medication is available through mail order (and I thought this was a great idea, she was more than capable of handling this matter and it would give her a “project” to do).

I know that I should have been the one to follow up with the insurance company and doctor (after all, that is what I’m here for) but frankly I was burned out and couldn’t handle another conversation about Aricept-generic, mail order, or pharmacy pick up. Later that night Miss Cathy and I talked about it again (by this time she was pretty worked up about the confusion and the cost).

I couldn’t blame her really, but I didn’t want her to be as upset as she was about the situation (especially at bedtime) so my focus was to calm her down (which then gets me worked up). I told her it was okay to be upset and to wait until the morning when she could make phone calls, that way she could channel her energy where it would some good.

By the time I “put her down” she’d calmed her down enough for sleep. The next morning she called me in to talk and I thought she was going to tell me her paln of ‘action” ask me for the doctor’s phone number again so she could call his office (the night before she said she wanted to call to give them “a piece of her mind”) instead she told me that she’d been thinking and although she appreciated all that I’d done for her she’d come to the conclusion that the doctor did “what she asked him to do” and she would wait until her current supply of Donepezil HCL was gone to call the insurance company herself to get the meds through mail order-“WTF”!

I started to say that the doctor didn’t do what she asked him to do as evidenced by the fact that she didn’t have the $30.00-90 day supply but the $86.00 bottle of generic pills that she already had in place “before” she ever talked to the doctor.

I almost said that but I didn’t, what I did say was, “I just can’t talk about this anymore, if you’re happy with the way things turned out then that’s all that matters to me.”

The doctor is still a “no-show” by phone but at this point it doesn’t matter, Miss Cathy “seems” to be at peace and I just have to make my “peace” with the fact that I’ll never get back all that time that I spent on the telephone.

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.

Shades of grey

Posted in April by

I’m off to the estate-planning seminar on Wednesday to get a jump on long term financial decisions that will have to be made but I’m coming up on a grey area in this whole care giving business. I try to stay out of Miss Cathy’s personal affairs as much as possible but we live in close quarters and lets face it-once you’ve had to bathe someone and help them in the bathroom the boundaries get a little blurred.

I’m sitting in the car right now writing as I wait for her while she’s in the bank “taking care of some business”. What the “business” is I didn’t ask (thinking it’s none of mine) and she didn’t offer. The caregiver in me who is aware of her finances is wondering what she’s up too and if it’s responsible of me to not be in there with her while she does whatever it is she’s doing (a light shade of grey).

Tony has taken over paying her bills and I handle her day-to-day financial needs. Now that she’s feeling empowered by the Neurologists visit it seems (to me) that she’s flexing her independent “muscles” a bit (if only that included some exercise like going outside and walking like the doctor suggested, too). Anyway, it’s her money but now that Tony and I are involved it’s our business, too.

I don’t know what she’s doing in there right now but I do know that she’s a senior citizen on a fixed income who’s been “pretty” responsible about her finances but she has made some (how shall I put this?) questionable choices money-wise that may or may not have anything to do with her condition-again (we’re in that grey area).

All I know is that I’ve “chosen” to respect her privacy and hopefully she’ll tell me what’s she’s up too. I’ll know soon enough because I have access to her accounts, but that’s not the point really. I just hope I’m not going to have to find a financial mess that Tony and I will have to clean up.

I guess the best I can do is to look for patterns, see what her financial reasoning is on paper, judge how responsible her choices are moving forward and deal with it then and that’s pretty black and white.