Right as the initial waves of our wine tasting were breaking in the store I noticed that I had missed a call from Lupton. I was pouring and describing three bottles of wine and welcoming customers to the tasting and it was three hours later that I checked the voice-mail. It was Mom. "Call when you get a chance!" She sounded OK. So I called (about 8:30, haven't returned a call to her at that hour in a while!) Mom answered in a much stronger voice than I've been used to hearing. "Never mind," she said. "We were wondering what you were doing for dinner?"
We hashed that and Susan's schedule for a minute, then she told me that she was going to have to fire the wonderful young woman who has been so great with her in the bath and folding the sheets. Apparently she left a personal mess in the toilet, so .... That was news. So it looks like they're going to be back without any help. Mom's talking about getting someone from hospice to help with showers, but when they tried that, they came at 8:30 in the morning, before she'd even had her toast and you know, you can't have that!
I'm confused. Where did they find Sharah?
And she's worried about how tired Dad is in the evening. He goes to rehab every day and is amazed at how many errands and chores he has to do. I made the mistake of saying that running errands and doing the things she was worried about were the kind one of the things Senior Helper was supposed to have done but that they had never let them do.
Boy, did I pay for that one! Ten minutes later, it was time to close the store and I said, "Good night!"
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Dad's response
Daddy sent this in response to my "Are you okay?" email.
"DEar never did respond to this letter. I appreciate the concern. It certainly is a legitimate one, but so far I am holding up. Pretty tired at the end of the day though! I will keep all of you advised if Ineed help. I was just interrupted by the arrival of the Kings whohad been ouut shopping and brougth us sour dough bread from Empire amd some sausage from Kuby's and yesterday Ruth Mason broughta roasted chicken from of all places,Cosco, and it was delicious! . So you see we are will looked after.Can't wait for your visit!!! LOve you -Dad"
"DEar never did respond to this letter. I appreciate the concern. It certainly is a legitimate one, but so far I am holding up. Pretty tired at the end of the day though! I will keep all of you advised if Ineed help. I was just interrupted by the arrival of the Kings whohad been ouut shopping and brougth us sour dough bread from Empire amd some sausage from Kuby's and yesterday Ruth Mason broughta roasted chicken from of all places,Cosco, and it was delicious! . So you see we are will looked after.Can't wait for your visit!!! LOve you -Dad"
To Dave and Helen
The recent posts and conversations inspire me to say this: It is making me a little bit crazy being so far from Mother at this time. I want so much to be doing what Helen is doing, going by every day and helping Mom and Dad in a tangible way. But right now, more than usual, I can't take a couple of weeks and come down there. So thanks to both of you for posting. It really helps me feel connected.
By the way, Mother's mentioned her bookbinding equipment several times...
By the way, Mother's mentioned her bookbinding equipment several times...
Day to Day
Mom has called on me to do several errands and odd jobs for her.
Helping her to organize and put away papers. Getting her the right hair conditioner and trail mix, etc.
I have been trying to go every day or at least every other day.
She has become very frank and open about her death. Sometimes I think it is bravado sometimes it is Mom, the realist. I can only hope I will be so real when its my time.
Mark Anschutz told her to write down what she really wants to say to people so she will remember when she sees them. Great advice for Mom, the listmaker. And it seems to be calming her down (a bit).
On Sunday evening she was railing at herself for being so stupid (to smoke). What a dumb thing to start smoking. I pointed out the historical reality: that she didn't know that smoking was bad for her until she had smoked for 20 years and at that point there wasn't much she could do about the addiction. She agreed but regret is high on her list at the moment.
She is also being very frank with me about her alcoholism and that is a first. Does it take death to break down that wall? Apparently so.
Physically she is failing slowly day to day. It is progressively harder for her to talk and breathe. It must be frustrating for her to have to talk so much slower than her brain works.
To end on a happier note. Tonight Mom and Dad finished a rotisserie chicken from Costco that Louise King brought over. (Who knew Costco had great roast chicken?) Mom got Dad to call me to see if I wanted the bones since she wasn't going to use them. (I said no.) So very Mom.
Helping her to organize and put away papers. Getting her the right hair conditioner and trail mix, etc.
I have been trying to go every day or at least every other day.
She has become very frank and open about her death. Sometimes I think it is bravado sometimes it is Mom, the realist. I can only hope I will be so real when its my time.
Mark Anschutz told her to write down what she really wants to say to people so she will remember when she sees them. Great advice for Mom, the listmaker. And it seems to be calming her down (a bit).
On Sunday evening she was railing at herself for being so stupid (to smoke). What a dumb thing to start smoking. I pointed out the historical reality: that she didn't know that smoking was bad for her until she had smoked for 20 years and at that point there wasn't much she could do about the addiction. She agreed but regret is high on her list at the moment.
She is also being very frank with me about her alcoholism and that is a first. Does it take death to break down that wall? Apparently so.
Physically she is failing slowly day to day. It is progressively harder for her to talk and breathe. It must be frustrating for her to have to talk so much slower than her brain works.
To end on a happier note. Tonight Mom and Dad finished a rotisserie chicken from Costco that Louise King brought over. (Who knew Costco had great roast chicken?) Mom got Dad to call me to see if I wanted the bones since she wasn't going to use them. (I said no.) So very Mom.
Tuesday, August 14, phone conversation
Long chat with Mother this morning. She is really making preparations, reflecting a lot, remembering a lot...
BB confirmed that he is coming into Dallas the same weekend that Glen and I will be there. We're going to let it be a surprise to Mom.
BB confirmed that he is coming into Dallas the same weekend that Glen and I will be there. We're going to let it be a surprise to Mom.
Polly talk, August 15 and 16
I'm trying to call Mother as often as I can, in the mornings when she's less tired. I talked to her last time about her concern about Sam; I know she's talked to both of you about this too. She read me the letter she wrote. This blew me away: The sentence, "I am an alcoholic."
In all the decades we've been dealing with Mother's alcoholism, I don't think I've ever heard her say those words.
It almost seemed like she wrote the letter to Sam so she could read it to us and say them that way.
And the ripples in my brain pool from hearing her say that are still sloshing around in my head.
This morning when I called, she said she'd had a bad night and had a call in to her hospice nurse. She was the worst I've ever heard her; I'm sure you two have heard the gasping speech before, but she usually rallies when we are on the phone. Today she had to take a breath between every word. Painful to listen to and excruciating for her.
She was eager to tell me about a long conversation with Beverly Brown. She and Jim are contemplating moving to assisted living, but I think they mostly talked about the rift in the Malouf family. I think Mother felt good about making the connection.
Her caretaker was there to give her a bath. Her skin has been bothering her, and I told her my rather complicated regimen for moisturizing, so she was going to try that.
In all the decades we've been dealing with Mother's alcoholism, I don't think I've ever heard her say those words.
It almost seemed like she wrote the letter to Sam so she could read it to us and say them that way.
And the ripples in my brain pool from hearing her say that are still sloshing around in my head.
This morning when I called, she said she'd had a bad night and had a call in to her hospice nurse. She was the worst I've ever heard her; I'm sure you two have heard the gasping speech before, but she usually rallies when we are on the phone. Today she had to take a breath between every word. Painful to listen to and excruciating for her.
She was eager to tell me about a long conversation with Beverly Brown. She and Jim are contemplating moving to assisted living, but I think they mostly talked about the rift in the Malouf family. I think Mother felt good about making the connection.
Her caretaker was there to give her a bath. Her skin has been bothering her, and I told her my rather complicated regimen for moisturizing, so she was going to try that.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
A Quiet Monday Afternoon
Spent a quiet Monday afternoon with Mom yesterday. Her room is really quite peaceful. I have never spent any time in that room, visits have alwasy been in the living area. But as she said yesterday, "It is really the nicest room in the apartment."
The large north-facing window is filled with the green leaves of a fast-growing "trash" tree. When they moved into the apartment, the top of the tree barely reached the window sill, now it fills the window. Its fresh green leaves filter the light and the result makes for quite a tranquil afternoon.
Her bed of course is filled with lists. She wanted me there to fill out her Willed Body Donation application to UT Southwestern Medical. If they accept her body, they will pick it up, eventually use it, and when they're done they cremate and return some ashes, if desired. Dad gets frustrated easily by questionaires (I saw this when accompanying him to appointments last summer.) And I suspect it was easier for her to discuss the form with me than him. There were a lot of personal questions which Mom discussed very openly. There was a sense of honesty and reflection. Conversation was easy.
I met Sharah, the new helper. Mom had had her bath, one reason she was so relaxed. She said it amazing how she could let go and trust Sharah to hold her. Sharah also is willing to learn to do things Mom's way including making the bed. Mom never did let or even show Mary Gouge how to maker her bed. She knew Mary would never be able to get it right. Susan and I paid the price. In all the years Mary changed our sheets, they always came loose in a couple of days.
Dad was gone while I was there, he had an appointment with Dr. Wiggins. When he came back and they started to discuss dinner and such, Mom began to return to form and it was time for me to go.
The large north-facing window is filled with the green leaves of a fast-growing "trash" tree. When they moved into the apartment, the top of the tree barely reached the window sill, now it fills the window. Its fresh green leaves filter the light and the result makes for quite a tranquil afternoon.
Her bed of course is filled with lists. She wanted me there to fill out her Willed Body Donation application to UT Southwestern Medical. If they accept her body, they will pick it up, eventually use it, and when they're done they cremate and return some ashes, if desired. Dad gets frustrated easily by questionaires (I saw this when accompanying him to appointments last summer.) And I suspect it was easier for her to discuss the form with me than him. There were a lot of personal questions which Mom discussed very openly. There was a sense of honesty and reflection. Conversation was easy.
I met Sharah, the new helper. Mom had had her bath, one reason she was so relaxed. She said it amazing how she could let go and trust Sharah to hold her. Sharah also is willing to learn to do things Mom's way including making the bed. Mom never did let or even show Mary Gouge how to maker her bed. She knew Mary would never be able to get it right. Susan and I paid the price. In all the years Mary changed our sheets, they always came loose in a couple of days.
Dad was gone while I was there, he had an appointment with Dr. Wiggins. When he came back and they started to discuss dinner and such, Mom began to return to form and it was time for me to go.
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