On Mother's Day, Mysterious Old Boxes, and Old Photographs

It's Mother's Day again, and while I'm still actually mourning the loss of my own mother just over a year ago, I am actually a mother myself, so I'm going to enjoy the day.  In reality it won't be any different from any other day around here.  I'll get outside in a few minutes and work on the yard (so much to do!), and later will probably throw some steaks or something on the grill.  Watch some baseball.

Yesterday I was cleaning house and trying to clear out some of the clutter around here when I came across a box of mom's things that my brother had dropped off last year.  At that time, he had been cleaning out mom's house and had been bringing truckloads of furniture and stuff to me so I could figure out where it all needed to go.  That box was one of the last things he brought and I was just worn out.  Could not deal with it.  I pushed it aside, knowing it was full of photos and some other random things, and knew it could wait.

Yesterday, when I came across the box I wondered if it was time.  I tentatively stuck my hand in the box and pulled out a folder that looked harmless enough.  As I did this I wondered if Mother's Day weekend was really the best time to go tripping down memory lane, but it was safe.  It had some photos I had taken for mom of the old family cemetery in Rapides parish and it had a copy of an old photo from the 1940s of my dad and a group of his friends sitting in a nightclub after the war.  The picture is already framed on a table in my house, so it wasn't traumatic.

Emboldened, I pulled out another folder and found some small black and white pictures of mom as a teenager with her friends at a camp on Lake Bistineau; I'd seen the photos so many times in the past and she and I had looked at them together so often that again, it was okay.  She kept them in a small white envelope so they would all stay together; she kept them in a drawer in a spool cabinet by her sofa and periodically she would pull them out and reminisce.  I took the little envelope and put them in the same drawer in the same chest that now sits in my home.

Feeling really brave now, I pulled out a brown manila envelope that held lots of photos from a wide span of years; of course I'd seen them all before, but this one picture of my mom and her parents caught my eye.  I don't recall seeing it before but I'm sure I must have.  My mother was an only child and she adored her parents.  She was spoiled rotten and was very close to them both.

I'm not sure where the picture was taken; I don't recognize the house in the background.  But I love it
because she is laughing and her dimples show  She is smartly dressed -- my grandmother spent fortunes on my mom's clothes.  I love how she has her weight balanced on one leg, one knee slightly cocked, and her arms linked through those of her parents.  The tilt of her head, the laugh, and the sun glinting off her hair -- she is forever young.

I don't remember my mom ever looking like that of course.  This picture was taken easily ten or twelve years before I was born.

But she is laughing, happy, and with her parents.  And that's how I want to remember her today.  It's almost as if she sent this photo to me on Mother's Day.  A treasure.  She is happy.  And so I stopped digging in the box.  It is enough for now.

It's a Wonderful Life at Robinson Film Center

I'm limping along to Christmas, y'all.  I've got the tree up but all the icicles aren't on there yet, and one string of lights at the top has gone out and I've done nothing about that.

I have made the fruitcake cookies and am planning to make mom's fudge.

I'm planning on getting through this first Christmas without my mom by starting some new traditions.  We've been invited to a Christmas party on Christmas Eve and I'm excited about that!

And how cool will it be to see one of my favorite Christmas movies at The Robinson Film Center on a Saturday afternoon with my husband!  We've got our tickets already and will go out and eat afterward.

After Christmas we will go visit the cutest grandson in Texas.

I think that's going to be my plan - at least for this year.  Some new traditions and some old....just keep swimming.

It Looks Like Gross Candied Fruit to You But It's Much More Than That

Can we please, please just skip over to January?
To you, this looks like a bunch of gross candied fruit.  To me, it's 45 years worth of memories of holiday memories with my mother.  To me, it represents hours sitting together chopping the sticky fruit into small pieces for fruitcake cookies.  To me, it's the days we spent in the warm kitchen baking pan after pan of cookies to have and share for the Christmas holidays.  To me, it's the day my godmother came into that kitchen for coffee one morning, and when she came back eight hours later for a "bee-yah" (beer, to most of us), we were still baking in hysterical laughter.

Two weeks ago when my local supermarket set up their Christmas baking aisle and I saw this fruit sitting there, my heart lurched and I had to catch my breath.  "Holy crap, where did that come from?" I thought.  I walked faster and brushed the tears out of my eyes, feeling like a plum idiot for bawling in the grocery store.

For the past several weeks, ever since the holiday commercials have starting running on t.v., I've been dreading Christmas.

I just can't do it.

I don't even know....I seriously don't think....I can even put up a tree.

When my dad died some twenty years ago, putting up the tree was therapeutic.  He went into the hospital right after Thanksgiving that year and died January 3.  It was an awful Christmas.  But working on the tree was an escape for me; hanging those damn icicles one by one on the tree took days.  And when it was finished, I'd sit in the dark living room with a glass of Crown Royal and gaze at the tree long into the night, praying he would not suffer and trying to figure out how in the world we would manage without him.  The tree was comforting.

This year there is just no reason.  My children are grown.  For multiple reasons, the annual Christmas gathering here won't happen.  Nobody is going to come this year; mom is gone.  She died in March.  I'd been at her side, daily for seven years taking care of her as she declined.  We were together every single day.  I was the one sibling who was here, who lived close by, who cancelled vacations, who put her own life on hold to take care of mom for seven years.  How can I possibly do Christmas without her?  Why bother with a tree?

I might put up some decorations.  I probably will.

But all those commercials with big happy families and sappy Christmas movies?  Screw it.  I'm not doing it this year.  It hurts too much.

But the fruitcake cookies?  That's my one small way to fight back.  I'm going to make the damn cookies.  I'll cry all the way through it, but I'll do it.  I'll make mom's fudge recipe, too, because there are still people I love who love to get my little Christmas care package each year.  Billy, Mary, Hattie: they'll be missing mom this year too, and I'll share a little bit of her with them in each fruitcake cookie and each piece of fudge I make.

But really, I'd rather just skip to January.  I'm totally not ready for this.

Happy Mother's Day 2013

Happy Mother's Day!

This is my first Mother's Day without my mom and it'll be odd.  No trip to the plant store for a new hibiscus; no afternoon visit with a plate lunch, no box of Whitman's samplers.

But, I'm a mom, so it'll be a nice day, still!  My beautiful daughter is happy with a great family of her own and a new house, and my son made a 4.0 at the community college this semester.  There is much to celebrate, still.

I hope all you mothers out there have a wonderful day!

Not Ready for This

Today my brother brought over three boxes of stuff from Mom's house that he thought I should have, including stacks of these "day by day" journals she started keeping after dad died.

I knew I wasn't ready for this but I opened one from 2007 anyway.

Big mistake.

One day I'll be glad I have these.  Right now is too soon.

Whew.  I thought I was doing ok.

Just keep swimming...

Forward Progress

I promise I'm not going to blog about my grieving process everyday, but I AM trying to get back into the habit of daily blogging.  So bear with me.

I always feel better when I feel like I'm making forward progress on things, so today I contacted the attorney about setting up a meeting on filing the succession; I called the Social Security office and the other places mom got pensions from and make notifications there. That was about two hours of automated answering system hell so that was enough for the day.

Honestly, when you call a pension department to tell them this person has died, their recorded announcement of "We are so sorry for your loss.  Please accept our condolences" would have so much more authenticity if it came from a real person.

I wasted another two hours today on Facebook and Pinterest.  I discovered Smashbook on Pinterest.  Is anybody doing these things?  I think they're cool looking.  I've ordered two and am going to give it a shot.  I used to love scrapbooking and this seems like mini-scrapbooking on the go.  I think I'm going to do one on the "treasures" I pick up from estate sales so I'll know where they come from.  They'll be perfect for trips, like if I actually get to go to Iowa this summer to see Steve's family.  Here's one from the blog Inspiration Everywhere:

If you're building a house it would be a cool way to keep up with ideas.  Example:

Here's a little video about Smashbook:



I'm going to give it a shot and see if I like it.

After I wasted the morning on the internet, I went to the grocery store where I forgot half of what I went for and nearly left one of my bags on the carousel which make the clerk chase me out into the parking lot with my whole chicken in her hands.  That's the second time in two days I've done that.

Forgetful.

Let me thank you again for all the wonderful messages and notes you've sent.  It means a lot.  I think the best thing for me to do is to stay busy.  I do better when I'm busy.  I have closets to clean out and a junk room to clean out this week.  That ought to do wonders.

Forward progress!

On the Passing of My Mother

I have written a great deal in this space about my mother through the five or so years of this blog but now mom and I have ended a long journey together.  I got the call Tuesday morning that she had moved on without me.

Mom died in her sleep during the night.

It's sad for those of us that loved her but she was more than ready, was totally at peace with it, and  was looking forward to seeing my father, her parents and her good friends.  And I know she isn't suffering anymore.

She was frustrated in later years by neuropathy that robbed her of feeling in her hands, by hearing loss, and eventually by diminishing eyesight.

It's difficult, of course, because I've spent the last eight years or so taking care of her needs.  It will take some time to get used to not going by every day to check on her.

It will be okay, though.  She and I spent a lot of time talking about this; she wanted to be sure I was ready and so she had everything organized and lined out ages ago.  I've even found a little notebook where she wrote down every little piece of cut crystal or vase, every wedding gift and piece of silver, every piece of furniture, jewelry, and every item of importance to her in her house; she wrote down where it came from, who gave it to her, or from whom it was inherited.  She wrote down which child she wants to have it after she's gone.

In that notebook she also left me a list of things to do:  "Call the Social Security office so they don't send anymore checks!"  "Get plenty of death certificates!  EVERYone needs one!"

She had been through this with her parents and was trying to make it easy for me.

I still bungled things though.  I did the obituary for the paper but I should have done it ahead of time rather than after they called me.  I left out a couple of things, like that she was a graduate of Centenary College and a Chi Omega.  She was proud of that.

She'll forgive me for that, though.

I'm going to copy/paste the obit here because eventually it will fall off the internet and The Times won't have it available anymore:

Mary Earle Texada Phillips
Shreveport, LA - Mrs. Mary Earle Phillips passed away on Tuesday, March 19, 2013. A graveside service will begin at 1:00 p.m. on Friday, March 22, at Forest Park Cemetery, St. Vincent Ave. Officiating will be The Rev. Paul Martin, Rector of St. Paul's Episcopal Church. 

Mrs. Phillips was a native of Coushatta, LA and a resident of Shreveport, LA for most of her life. She was a member of St. Paul's Episcopal Church and a graduate of C. E. Byrd High School. 
Mrs. Phillips was preceded in death by her parents, Florence and John Pintard Texada; her husband, William H. Phillips, Jr.; and granddaughter, Melissa Renee Phillips. She is survived by her daughters, Mary Margaret Grayson and husband, Gordon and Patricia P. Becker and husband, Steve; son, William Hutch Phillips and wife, Laura; grandchildren, Mary Francis Archer, Patricia Nicole Sumrow and John P. Austin; and great-grandchildren, Alex Archer and Benjamin Sumrow 

The family requests that memorials be made to the Byrd High School Alumni Association.
The family would like to express their sincere appreciation the The Glen and Harmony Life for their compassionate care. 

It's amazing the acts of kindness that occur when something like this happens.  Mom just wanted a simple graveside service; that's been the custom in our family for as long as I can remember.  I took care of the arrangements, got it all set up, and then got a message from a wonderful friend who asked if I'd like him to play something at mom's service.  Of course I hadn't thought about anything like that.  So he asked me what mom liked.

"Well, she really liked Frank Sinatra, but...", and he laughed.

"I'll tell you what," he said.  "I can do 'What a Wonderful World' by Louis Armstrong.  How would that be?"

Perfect!  Mom loved that.  I just couldn't have planned it better.

Bill Allen will never know what a wonderful gesture that was and how much it meant to me.

I have a strong support system, a great husband, and good friends, so I'll be okay.

It'll take some time, but I'll be okay.  Mom would insist on it!

Take a Picnic Trip to the Lock and Dam and a Detour to Lake Bistineau

I'm here.  Blogging is on my back burner right now as I continue to sit with my mom in the hospital after school and on weekends.  She's been in the hospital just over four weeks now with a fractured neck.  She's still heavily medicated and not clear in her head about just about everything. It's grim but we are praying for a recovery and trying to make her as comfortable as possible.

Every now and then I just have to get out of there, though, for my own mental health.  Steve and I took the top off the Jeep today and drove down to Lock and Dam #5 on the Red River.  We like going down there and looking at the river and listening to the water.

It's a pretty spot and they've got it all fixed up with picnic tables and grills.  There are always people there fishing or just hanging out watching the water.  We've yet to catch it at a time when a boat is going through the locks but that would be very cool.  Maybe one day we'll hit it at the right time.  Steve likes watching the cranes and egrets (I guess that's what they are...).   It's just a relaxing spot.  Part of it is that I'm just drawn to water, I think.

Today there were several families out there and lots of people fishing.  And look down in the bottom right corner of this picture:  there's a person swimming in that gross, stagnant looking pool off to the side.

I'm not sure I'd have jumped in right there, ya know?  Looked dangerous to me, and all the algae and sticks drift off over there and just sit.  Gross.

I packed an Igloo with brats and potato salad, and some snacks, and we fired up one of the grills and fixed lunch.  I tried to remember everything, but you always forget something, I guess.  I forgot the paper plates.

But because we are so clever and resourceful, we made plates out of aluminum foil.  Guess which one is mine:

While we waited for the coals to get ready I walked down the rocks almost down to the river.  All these people fishing just stomp on down there like it's nothing, but I creep down the rocks slowly, searching tentatively for a sound foothold before taking each step.  One too many rolled ankles has made me less of a daredevil than I used to be.

Coming up was much faster for some reason.

Weeds or flowers?  I thought they were cheerful, either way:

And then it was time to cook.  In honor of Oktoberfest kicking off this weekend in Munich, we opted for brats:

I guess they look a mess here, but they were pretty darn good:

All doctored up and placed on my fine plate:

After we ate we doused the coals, cleaned out our grill, and climbed back in the Jeep to head toward Lake Bistineau.

Back in the day, some thirty-five years ago I guess, I used to go skiing on Lake Bistineau.  I had a friend with a 15-1/2 foot Glastron ski boat and I had my own O'brien ski and oh did we have fun on the lake!  Long summer days skiing all day, drinking a little beer, listening to some music, laughing and being young.

Boy was it ever depressing to see the lake now.  Good golly almighty.

Lake Bistineau has been battling a salvinia problem and it's just about killed the lake from what I can see.  I'm sure there are still some pretty spots on the lake but this is at Green Park:

We saw one dilapidated, trashed out trailer after another on the roads around the lake and one dried up marina after another.

When my friends and I went skiing, we used to put in at Plum Orchard.  The pictures in my memory are very different from what is there now.  The road into the marina is still there; I remembered the big tree and the asphalt turn around, but the store was gone.  So was most of the water.  This is the boat ramp:

You can see where the water line used to be.  La. Dept of Wildlife and Fisheries is drawing the water down to help kill the salvinia:

 In an effort to control aquatic vegetation, the water control structure on Lake Bistineau near Minden, La., will be opened on August 8, 2012, for a lake drawdown.
As a result of mild winter temperatures, giant salvinia has expanded beyond the control capacity of herbicide applications and salvinia weevils.  Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries survey estimates show giant salvinia coverage to be in excess of 2,000 acres.
The lake will be lowered 7 feet below pool stage and will remain lowered until January 31, 2013. 

But from the looks of things, that marina died a long time ago.

I walked out on the pier and took this; this is the channel we took leading to the open lake (the sign says "No Wake"):

And this just made me sad:

Really depressing.  Here is a history of the Lake Bistineau drawdowns; it's been controversial from day one.

At any rate, it was starting to get late so we headed back to town.  What I love about driving with the top down is that you can feel the cold pockets when you're driving down the road, you can smell the pines or a burning trash pile.  You can stop and visit with a fellow on the side of the road who is watering his goat.  (No, we really did.  "That's a prize goat!" he told us!)  We waved at old timers sitting on their porch in Doyline, and at a motorcycle group driving down Highway 80.  At a stop light in town I took this picture of birds on a wire and I wouldn't have been able to do that with a roof on my car!

Sunset over Shreveport:

It was a nice, relaxing day.  Now on to the work week.

The SIGIS Take a Trip Series:

Take a Dinner Ride Through East Texas

Take a Trip to an End of Summer Party and Listen to Soulfish Blues Band

Take a Summer Trip to Jefferson, Texas and Meet New Friends

Take a Trip to Dallas, Texas and The West End

Take a Stocking the Freezer Trip to Ed Lester Farms and Find a Cool Truck!

Take a Trip to Coushatta Down Louisiana Backroads

Take a Sunday Drive in North Caddo Parish

Take a Trip to Minden's First Annual Cinco de Mayo Festival

Take a Trip to the 2012 Defenders of Liberty Air Show at BAFB
Take a Springtime Trip to Second Hand Rose Antiques in Minden, LA
Take a Trip to Logansport, Louisiana
Take a Trip to the Lock and Dam on Red River
Take a Trip to the 2012 Barkus and Meoux Parade
Take a Christmas Shopping Trip to Second Hand Rose in Minden
Take a Trip to Grand Cane's Fifth Annual Pioneer Trade Day
Take a Trip to the 2011 Highland Jazz & Blues Festival
Take an Autumn Trip to Jefferson, Texas
Take a Fall Trip to Second Hand Rose Antiques in Minden
Take a Trip to the 8th Air Force Museum at Barksdale Air Force Base
Take a Summertime Trip to Grand Cane
Take a Trip to Desoto Parish
Take a Summer Trip to Second Hand Rose Antiques in Minden
Take a Trip to Natchitoches and Melrose Plantation 
Take a Trip to Ed Lester Farms and a Random Antique Stop
Take a Trip to the Norton Art Gallery and the Masters of Cuban Art Exhibit
Take a Trip to Natchitoches to See the Christmas Lights
Take a Trip to Natchitoches and Oakland Plantation
Take a Trip to Jefferson, Texas

Caregiver Stress

A quick Mom update:  we admitted her to Life Care yesterday afternoon.  This is a good thing!

Life Care is located on the 8th floor of WK Pierremont, so she didn't have to move very far.  Life Care is an acute care hospital and is often where patients go when they have been released from an intensive care situation in a hospital but still need more acute, long term care.  I was told that patients stay there on average about three weeks (depending on the situation) before they can transition either home or to a nursing home or rehab facility.  Our plan is to get mom back up to her fighting stance and into The Glen for rehab.  It's a long road.

She's not seeing rabbits anymore; we had our first conversation today since probably Saturday.  Today I can say for sure that she knew who I was and where she was.  She was tracking previous conversations, too.  I told her that she will feel a little better every day, now, and she said, "That's what you told me yesterday."  Progress.

She's still got a Picc line and is getting fed through tubes in her arm, but she did eat a little soft food today.  I want to get those lines out of her ASAP.  They've backed off the pain med cocktail she was on and I think we're just back to Lortab today.  She's coming out of that drugged haze, I think, so, like I said, no more rabbits.

They will begin aggressive treatment and therapy, as much as she can tolerate, and she should show improvement each day, I think.

I was thumbing through this booklet they gave me while I was sitting there today and found this section on caregiver stress.  I've been mom's caregiver for the past seven years.  As I read through the list it occurred to me, to no great surprise, that I have every symptom.

That stressed me out more than anything.

But, it does make one more aware; you have to take care of yourself and too often we caregivers forget to do that.

There is support online for those who find themselves in the same boat.  Here's a Mayo Clinic site dedicated to caregivers.  One of the first things on their list to do to combat this situation is to "Accept Help" which has always been difficult for me to do.  I'm so lucky that Steve forces me to do that.  He insists I accept his help and he works hard to take as much of the burden off me as he can.

When this happened with mom last week, I had a long conversation with my daughter on the phone.  She has a newborn and lives in Dallas; I wanted to keep her apprised of developments but assure her that she needed to take care of her baby and not try to come over here unless the situation changed badly for the worse.  Knowing my tendency to carry the burden, she insisted that I ask for help from others.  I did; it wasn't wholly successful, but at least I asked.

Here's one more site from WebMD about caregiver stress.  I'm going to make an effort to follow some of the recommendations to combat this situation.  I've already begun by contacting a professional estate planner to help me with the overwhelming financial details and complicated estate decisions that should be made now to make things easier later.  I forced myself to leave the hospital earlier today by about two hours and to turn mom's care over to the professionals.  They know what they're doing and I don't need to sit there and watch her sleep.  I'm going back to work Tuesday which will be good for both me and mom.

And Steve is helping too; he's going to take me out to dinner at our favorite Mexican place tonight because a local band is playing that I love to listen to.

We've got a long way to go, but I saw some of Mom's fighting spirit coming back today and to me, that's progress!

Thanks for all your notes, emails, and continued prayers.

Rabbits

Blogging has been light because I've had family issues; I know the RNC has a convention this week and I know a hurricane is headed my way, but blogging takes backseat to family so that's why you're not seeing much about all that here.

Many regular readers know my mom and my anecdotes of caretaking over the past seven years, but the last time I posted something about her I got some snarky comment about how my mom's medical issues aren't anybody's business.  It kind of stung so I haven't posted anything else about her.

However, mom took a fall at home Thursday evening and fractured her C2 vertebrae so I've been busy hospital sitting and dealing with all that this entails.  She's okay - she's in a collar brace for six to eight weeks; this is a non-surgical injury.  She's sore and banged up and quite drugged right now.  Yesterday she thought I was a rabbit.  When the doctor came in she asked him where all the rabbits were coming from.  

We are transitioning back to The Glen probably tomorrow which she is actually looking forward to.  If you want to get up to speed on mom, just click the tag at the bottom.  We've done The Glen before and she likes it there.  Great people there.

A quick shout out to those who are helping me so much right now and being so supportive: my principal and my school people have stepping up to help with my classes and I'm forever grateful.  Bearkats take care of other Bearkats and they're like family to me.  I'm overwhelmed.  I have nothing but good things to say about the folks at Willis Knighten Pierremont - those seventh floor nurses are great and mom's nurse, Rachel, has been a dream.  I'll post something about all that later (despite Mr. Snarky's comment from last time).

I've never been one to ask for help; I just bear the load and do what has to be done.  But I had to ask some folks this time and I'm forever grateful for the support.  Lucky to have such good friends and family when you need them!

Anyway, we're okay, but blogging is light until I get my momma taken care of!  A fractured neck at 87 is no small deal.  

I appreciate your prayers and support and thank you for checking in.

Adventures With Mom on a Sunday Night

My mom fell last week and banged herself up pretty good.  As is usually the case with things like that, most of the aches and pains didn't show up until later.

All week long she's been wrestling through pain and relying on her CNA to help her to and from the bathroom, fix meals, and other personal needs.  Over the past couple of days it's just been too much and she's gotten tired of being miserable.   She's been asking to go back to The Glen.

To get into The Glen you have to either get on a waiting list or be discharged from a hospital stay into their facility.  It's not easy.

Mom called me today at 9:00 and told me to come as soon as I can because she was afraid to be alone.  Me and the CNA showed up about the same time and mom was just miserable.  Like, crying miserable.  Her arm hurt, her tailbone hurt, and she can't walk without help (including her walker).  She asked to go to the hospital.

So this afternoon Steve and I load her up into the car, drive her to Willis Knighton Pierremont, and into the ER.  She can't walk so they come out with a wheelchair and get her. 

We get the paperwork done fairly quickly and get back into a room.  Over the next three hours they do a CAT scan of her head, a urinalysis, and check her blood pressure.  The doctor finally comes in after three hours and says there is no medical reason to keep her and they send us home.

Really?  An 87 year old woman who weighs 85 pounds, with no feeling in her hands and feet, can't walk, can't roll over without help, in pain, and there is no medical reason to keep her overnight.

They sent her home. 

#FAIL

Adventures With Mom on a Saturday Night

I haven't regaled you readers with a "Mom" saga since last November.  You're overdue.

Mom has been at home since her discharge from rehab at The Glen last November.  She was in pretty good shape when she left The Glen; they'd rehabbed her little self into pretty sturdy form  (That picture, left, was taken the day we brought her home).   We'd set her up with some nice Home Health folks who were going to come by every so often and continue rehab exercises, check vitals, etc.

In no time at all mom decided she didn't need those Home Health people; they just showed up whenever they wanted to and didn't do anything anyway, according to her.

She was so difficult to live with that my brother bailed on his attempt to live with her and help take care of her.  I can't fault him too much; he tried.  She's challenging.

We do have a wonderful girl, a CNA, that comes nearly everyday to help mom with bathing and preparing meals and some light housework.  She's been a godsend.

Fast forward to last night.  About ten o'clock Steve and I get a call from the LifeAlert people that mom had pushed her "help" button but they weren't getting a response from her.  Panic!

Steve and I rush over to mom's (she's about five minutes away).  I have on my pajamas and tennis shoes and on the way over I realize we're not going to be able to get in.  I have keys, but she has sliding dead bolts and barricades herself in that place after dark.

"Dammit, she can't DO that!"  Steve exclaims.  He's right.  It's a problem.

We pull up in the driveway and mom's bedroom light is still on.  This is way past her bedtime so I know something is amiss and she hasn't just pushed the LifeAlert button by accident.

I try to open the front door with my key: it's deadbolted.  I look in the front window and don't see anything.  Peeking between the slats of the blinds, I don't see her on the floor.  We go around to the side door:  same thing.  But again, I can't see her on the floor.  Back door?  Forget it.  Back around to the front, panic building, we go to the other side of the house and where her window unit is, we are able to slide back the wings that go from the a/c unit to the side of the window frame.  I can peek inside her bedroom and see she isn't in the bed, but her walker isn't there either. 

This means she's in the bathroom.  I can't see in there without a ladder.

We holler, bang on doors and windows, and finally call the police department.  They agree to send someone over so we go back on the front porch to wait.  I'd have busted a window and just gone in, but there was no good window to do that with.  We needed the Fire Dept. to get us in.

While we're waiting, I hear the LifeAlert machine go off again; the guy on the other end is trying to make contact with mom, talking to her, but getting no answer.  But this means she's pushed the button again, so it's a good sign.

After what seems like forever, a police car shows up.  Two officers walk up and I explain the situation.  I told him, "If you can just crowbar this storm door open, we can break that glass and get in this door." 

"I can't do that,"  he says. 

I'm like, "What do you mean you can't do that?  I have to get in there!"  He walks off to the back of the house.  About that time Steve says, "THEY can....": the Fire Dept. has arrived.

So I explain the situation again.  There are at least four firemen I think.  I was pretty panicky by this time.  Two more cops have come so now we are ten. 

They look over the situation and finally somebody breaks out the crowbar and says, "You sure you want me to do this?"  I said, "Do it."

He crowbars the storm door open, busts the window pane in the door, and in they all go.  I hung back to be last, not wanting to be the one to find anything awful.  Steve was second one in.

They find her, as I predicted, in the bathroom.  She has fallen into the (empty) bathtub and can't get out.  She's sitting there, indian style, waiting for help.

A couple of the guys get her out (mom weighs maybe 85 pounds) and get her into the living room where she immediately puts in her hearing aids and lights a cigarette.  She doesn't seem particularly shocked to see eight uniformed officers in her living room.  It's as if they've just come by to say hello at 11:00 on a Saturday night.

So reports are filled out, mom is checked out and nothing is broken.  They ask her if she wants to go to the hospital and she said, "Hell no!  I don't EVER want to go back there!"  They all laugh.  I roll my eyes.  She's got a goose egg on her head, an abrasion on her arm, and a sprained shoulder.  Today she is black and blue on that arm.

After checking everything out, all the police and EMTs leave.  Mom insists on a cocktail, smokes at least eight more Pall Malls, and complains about her shoulder.  We try again to take her to the ER but she says no way. 

Steve and I had a talk with her before we left last night about dead bolting the door where I can't get in to help her and we've now solved that situation.  We all suspect she'll have to go back to The Glen soon; she's just too tottery to live alone; and she did love The Glen.  I'd love for her to be able to stay in her own home, but she's nearly 87; she's very feeble because she has neuropathy, she doesn't eat well and is a fall risk.  It's just dangerous. 

I went over today and handled the broken window pane (we didn't tell her about that because she'd have freaked out).  She's stiff and sore but okay.  Not nearly as bad as last summer when she fell off the porch. 

But, a decision must be made.  It's not easy.

Update on the Saga of Mom

Some of you have been following the saga of my mom so I thought I'd update you.  I talked to Steve's sister Wednesday and she was like, "I didn't know your mom went home!"  So here's the latest.

As you know, Mom has been at The Glen since July because she fell off her porch trying to pick up the newspaper and spent two weeks in and out of the hospital, part of it in ICU. I loved The Glen!  Those people are awesome and I'm thinking of reserving my room in the Independent Living section already!  It's lovely there and the staff just goes above and beyond.

So Mom's rehab stay reaches its end and her discharge date looms.  She decided that last Friday was the day she was leaving.  She was ready "to go home."  She's still dependent on the walker, and The Glen would have liked for her to stay longer and continue therapy, but when Mom makes up her mind...

So the lovely Jennifer at The Glen sends me an email last Friday.  "Your mom's discharge date isn't actually until Monday..."  I emailed right back, "Uh....I'm not tellin' her that.  Nope.  Not me."  Chicken.

My brother, Hutch, who has kindly agreed to move in at Mom's and be her caretaker, had been over at Mom's all week cleaning and helping get things ready for her to move back in.  He called me one evening and said, "If Mom had seen what I just saw, she'd NEVER come back to this house."  He'd found a dead mouse in a glue trap.  You remember the glue traps?  I left them all over the place after our last rat fiasco, a story I told here in four parts.

On Friday I get to the Glen at about 3:30 and there's mom, in her wheelchair, purse in lap, waiting.  Ready.  I'm like, "Wait mom.  I've got to sign paperwork and get meds."
I loaded her stuff in the car (she'd been packing for a week) and aftter 45 minutes or so I got everything handled and we were out of there.  We aren't ten minutes out of the parking lot before she's like, "Do I have Tylenol at home?"  (My sister says mom is the only woman she knows that buys a 500 count bottle of Anacin, throws the cap and the cotton away so she can get to 'em faster.)  She can't take Anacin anymore but Tylenol is the next best thing.

"Yes mom, you do."

"Do I have whiskey?"

I said, "I thought you'd quit drinking, Mom!"  She hasn't had one of her 'cocktails' since going to The Glen in July.

"I'm sure going to have one tonight!"

I get her to the house and Hutch and Steve are outside moving the new fencing materials around that Lowe's has dropped off.   Hutch  has a dog and has to finish enclosing Mom's backyard.

We get Mom and all her stuff inside and she sits on the couch.  And smokes.  "I want to see my mail."

"What mail?"  I've paid all the bills; have done so for the past four years.

"My mail!"  So I get the stack of insurance and hospital paperwork that's been pouring in since July and let her look at that; she gets it all out of order, starts discarding stuff, and I'm furiously digging it out of the trash.  I take it away from her and put it back up. 

Meanwhile, Steve notices the flood in the kitchen.  The hot water heater has decided to bust.  By now it's after five, of course (5:10 to be exact), but I call the plumber.  Steve and Hutch are mopping up the floor with Mom's heavy, white spa towels and we wait on the plumber.

Mom orders a drink.  she tells Hutch how to make it (a jigger and a half of bourbon and a splash of water).  I tell Hutch how to REALLY make it (3/4 jigger of bourbon, mostly water and no "tired ice).  Mom weighs 92 pounds, up from the 83 she was before going into The Glen.  She doesn't need to be sipping on much whiskey.

She has her drink, the plumber comes, and Hutch starts cooking chicken pasta for dinner.  I said, "Mom's not gonna eat that."  She's picky.

The plumber arrives, starts yanking the hot water heater out and water is everywhere.  Hutch is cooking.  I'm into the Sam Adams by now.

I told Steve, "At some point we've got to get someone to change the light bulb on the front porch.  It's out."

Mom said, "Sunshine's gonna come change WHAT?!"  Sunshine was Mom's CNA at The Glen.  An angel, that girl. 

Steve changed the light bulb.

Hutch cooks.

Mom drinks.

The plumber cuts the water off, of course, to switch out the new hot water heater.  Mom orders another drink and Hutch has this figured out already.  He'd made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for her and she told him furiously,  "I'm not going to EAT this EARLY!"  even though she ate at The Glen at 4:30.  He told her she wasn't getting another drink until she ate.

She scowled.  Furious.

Hutch told Mom that the plumber had cut the water off and she couldn't have another drink for thirty minutes until the water was back on.  She said, "Never mind, I'll take it with coke." He makes her wait 30 minutes before bringing it to her anyway.

Meanwhile, the two plumbers are cracking up and think they've landed in a Woody Allen movie.  One, Brad, says "Man!  They'll both be crazy within a week!  Hey, I can cut that water back on if you need it..."  and we all shout, "No!  That's okay!"

Mom starts working on the sandwich.  She eventually finished it, Hutch gave her her meds, and Steve and I made our exit.

Bless her heart, she's sweet as can be and I know she's glad to be back in her house.  But the rest of us may not survive this!

She's been home a week now and she and Hutch have not killed each other yet.  They seem to be doing fine.  It's a good thing he's easy going because she is cranky as all get out about half the time.  He'll try to do something for her, like dry towels, and she's all, "I didn't WANT you do to that!"  Or he'll try to water the plant, "Don't do that!  Pat's the plant person!"

It's working out, so far, though and we have our fingers crossed.

Full Metal Jacket Reach Around: The Glen Edition

It's Saturday again, already?  Wow.  Two more weeks of summer vacation.  We may have the situation with my mom under control now.  We've moved her from the hospital to The Glen, which if you aren't from around here, is a retirement community.  It's quite lovely and I snapped this photo is of the garden and porch just off one of the main common rooms. 

Mom is in the rehab wing and has her own room and plenty of people attending and fluffing her daily.  Her lifelong best friend is in the assisted living wing and has been living there for about a year.  We transported Mom from the hospital around 12:30, I signed paperwork for what seemed like 30 minutes with a very sweet girl named Jennifer, and then I left to go get some things from Mom's house. 

When Steve and I arrived later in the afternoon, Mom's friend was already in there, scotch in hand, visiting.  Mom was eating dinner.  We unpacked some personal items and photos, etc., stayed a while, and then after she was settled in for the night I showed Steve around the rest of the facility.  It's really lovely; I'd live there in a heartbeat!  There are, of course, several gorgeous common rooms.  When I went earlier in the week there were ladies playing bridge, working jigsaw puzzles, taking walks, people listening to music...the dining room is gorgeous with table service, linen tablecloths and tasty looking food!  There is also a nice library with computers if you're so inclined. 

There are four house cats that live in the assisted living section (not in mom's section where they could get underfoot and trip someone).  There are cute globular crystal bowls here and there filled with water for the cats.  The cats are very fat and friendly!  When Steve and I were walking around, we ran into Mom's friend again, walking down the hall with her drink still in hand; she invited us into her apartment to visit so we did that for a bit. 

When we got ready to leave one of the house cats was sitting behind the receptionist window by the front entrance as if he was on duty.  Wish I'd taken a picture of that! 

They'll be doing some fairly intense physical therapy and rehab over the next few weeks on my mom, and we'll see where we go from there.  I'm going to go check on her today, and probably tomorrow, but then back off to every few days for a visit because she really needs to focus on what she's really there for.  She needs to regain her independence and her strength. 

Meanwhile, I have to go up to the school and move my classroom and Steve and I are planning on taking a quick overnight trip to Natchitoches before school starts.

So what's been happening in the world while I've been sitting at the hospital all week?

Doug Ross recaps the entire Dealergate controversy with a reminder that he's been covering that story for quite some time.

Reagainite Republican has a frightening preview of  upcoming tax increases.

Little Miss Attila is tired of all the talk about race and raises an interesting point.

Pirate's Cove has the classic story of John Kerry's tax avoidance. 

Legal Insurrection reports on the Sharron Angle campaign which is coming together against Harry Reid.

Pundette misses Mark Steyn but perseveres despite Obama's drivel and mendacity.

Donald Douglas posts on Gen. McChrystals's retirement.

The Other McCain notes that the Christine O'Donnell campaign is catching notice.

Bread Upon the Waters reports that four in ten voters would prefer to vote for ANY unnamed Republican in 2012 than vote for Obama.

Everybody knows I'm a beer lover but I'll NEVER drink one of these, via No Sheeples.

Ed Driscoll has the craziest Van Jones quote ever - and that's really saying something!

Bob Belvedere reports on an police chase involving an Amish youth, a buggy and a stop sign in New York.

Left Coast Rebel had a hit at The Daily Caller this week.

Wyblog applauds Chris Christie for making life more difficult for Planned Parenthood.

Mind Numbed Robot has another creative roundup!  Love it!

Over at Catalog Living, Elaine was horrified to find a tumbleweed in her house.

I'm waiting for the mexican shrimp cocktail recipe from Pecan Corner.  C'mon, already!  It looks delicious!!!!

Okay, I'm calling a stop for now.  My house hasn't been cleaned in two weeks and I'm actually looking forward to doing some of that today.  Sick, I know.

Have a happy Saturday!

Grits

Yep.  Today I feel like a little grit.  Small, fragmented, and a little yellow.  Maybe a little mushy.

Today actually went a little better than yesterday, or the day before, but it all just accumulates and hangs on you.  Soon, we'll have things settled and under control.

The quick version (ha!  get it?  Quck Grits!)  is that they did the lower scope today and mom looks good, just some diverticulosis.  Nothing they can do about that.  We're getting the paperwork handled to get her out to The Glen for some inpatient rehab to build her strength back up and rehab those sore muscles from her fall last week.  Her best friend is out there and they are both kind of looking forward to being together!  I just got off the phone with said friend who is tickled to learn mom is coming out there;  she said, "We're going to parrrttyy!!"  Heh!

Lifelong friends are great!

Anyway, I've been sitting and talking to doctors and social workers and nurses and handling paperwork and business matters all day, but there's a little glimmer at the end of the tunnel.

So today, I'm a grit.

Toast

You noticing a theme here?  Last night I was this, and tonight, toast.

Maybe tomorrow I'll be a hash brown or a biscuit, but probably I'll be a grit.  A single grit.

I arrived at ICU today only to learn 25 minutes later that mom had been moved to a regular room on (gasp!) the same floor as last week. 

I went straight to her room and got the verbal lashing tirade that can only come from a poor, confused, ill, 85 year old woman.  They moved her, naturally, while she was sleeping and so she woke up in a different room and was totally confused.  She'd ranted and raved and told the floor nurses to call the police to find me and tell me where she was.

Then she reamed me out for not being there 24/7.

We got her calmed down and the rest of the day went pretty peacefully with only the occasional demand for cigarettes.  Near the end of the day she asked for something for a headache.  The nurse said, "I only have morphine, is that okay?"  Hell, yeah. 

Please don't think I'm callous or unkind here; I love my mom, but she can try the most patient of souls!  I'm trying very hard to be patient and understanding.  That's why I'm toast, today.

And tomorrow, I'll be a grit.

Fried

I want to take a moment to thank my wonderful blog friends and readers for your good wishes for my mother.  Over the past ten days or so, through the fall off the porch and one hospital stay, and now the second hospital stay, you're still here and sending prayers and good wishes.  I appreciate that so much!

Hospital sitting leaves me FRIED!

Any blogger knows if you don't post often, well, your readers go elsewhere, but many of you have stuck with me and your daily comments keep me going.

Mom is still in ICU tonight but honestly, I'm not sure exactly why except they're still monitoring the bleed issue.  Again, without a "too much information" situation, they've narrowed things down to ulcers which is actually good news and a surprise to no one who has seen this woman buy a 500 count bottle of Anacin and throw away the top and the cotton stopper so she can get to them faster. 

A more creative mind could write a book about this.  Probably somebody already has; it's almost funny..  She's the most incorrigible patient EVAH!  Suffice to say that in the ICU mind you, when Steve and I went in at 5:00, she had a list.  It said:

Benadryl
Anacin
Flashlight
Cigarettes
Glaucoma medicine
Crossword
Watch
Heath Bars
Pencils
Purse
Walker

You get the idea.  I told her she can't have benadryl, Anacin, cigarettes, heath bars or her walker in the ICU and she has no need of her purse.  Now, you must know, this woman is 85 years old and she has to know she can't smoke in a hospital.  What's up with that?  She's on oxygen in the ICU for crying out loud.

My mom is stubborn and will be okay.  She's obviously got some medical issues we're going to be able to deal with as a family.  There are some people in that waiting room with seriously ill family members and they just break my heart.  For mom to be up there fussing about cigarettes taxes my patience in light of those more serious patients, but, I will try to be understanding.  She's not a bad person - I don't mean to give that impression.  She just wants to go home.  She wants to be okay.

I'm saying a prayer tonight for those waiting room comrades I met today and their families.  Two of those family groups had preachers come up to meet with and pray with them today and it gave me comfort for them as I listened in.


I want, again, to thank you guys who have left comments for me; you keep me going and I owe ya one.  It means a lot.

xoxoxoxox!!

So.....We're Back in the Hospital

Okay so we took mom back to the hospital today. I think it's unrelated to her fall off the porch last week,  but let's keep away from "too much information" and suffice to say that she needed to go back to the hospital.  She went via ambulance this time, rather than a simple medical transport, and it's the first time I've called 911.

She's getting scoped tomorrow and is in ICU tonight for a transfusion and monitoring of her BP.   

So, light a candle, say a prayer, and I'll be in and out.  They plan to put her in a regular room tomorrow, once she's stable, so I'll be hospital sitting a lot this week, again. 

For tonight, I'm going to catch up on some news of the day and then get some rest.  I think I'm going to need it.

xoxoxoxo

Not Every Post is About Politics

As you probably know, if you visit this blog often, I've been hospital sitting with my mom who took a 3 foot tumble off her front porch Saturday into the flower bed.   I haven't done much hospital sitting since my Dad died 20 years ago but, wow!, it's a whole different world.  You lose track of EVERYthing in the hospital.

Let me just say, I love my mom, but she'll never win the "Patient of the Year" award.  She's ticked off, cranky, and ready to come home despite her paralyzing pain when she tries to get up or sit down.  She wants her cigarettes and she wants her cocktail and she wants to go home.

I can hardly blame her.

Steve and I try not to laugh, but it's funny to see how many different excuses she comes up with as to why she needs to go home:  she needs her cigarettes, "I have a heating pad at HOME", or an electric blanket; "the light isn't good here" and she can't see her puzzles; the people are mean, she wants to brush her teeth, she needs some Anacin and they won't let her have any (because aspirin is so much better than Lortab),  she needs her clipboard and her pencils for her crossword because these pencils aren't any good; they don't have Heath bars there, and she's cold.  Or hot.  They ask too many questions and they all ask the same questions.  She's never seen a doctor - "Do they HAVE doctors in this hospital?"  and the food is, of course, inedible. 

She's really a nice southern lady but this week she's cussed out almost every one on the fifth floor of Willis Knighton hospital (but then apologized), she refused to let them do an MRI today, which means she'll probably have to stay another day, she's fought every physical therapist they've sent through the door and, well, it goes on.  And despite it all, they've been totally sweet and patient with her. Kudos to the WK staff; they've got more patience than I have.

My sister will be here from Dallas tomorrow which will be a help.

I have not read one word about politics in two days but there are lots of blogs over there on the right sidebar who have been keeping up with things.  I did hear something about the cap working in the Gulf this afternoon...now we just hope the ocean floor doesn't blow up.  Fingers crossed.

I'll link to Bride of Rove, though, because she has a diabolical plan and she cracks me up.

Bristol and Levi?  Could not care less.  Although I will say that my mom saw that little blurb in the USA Today this morning and said, "Oh good grief, her mother can FORGET running for office...".

I'm not even going to get myself up to date on politics tonight;  I have three blogs I'm going to check from my sidebar and then I'm going to pet my dogs, open a Sam Adams, and read a book.  Have you ever been so tired you're numb all over?  That's me.

'Night.