Conflicting feelings

I so enjoy being here in Colfax. I wish I could share all these good feelings with Mom. I know she would be so happy. And often how I wish she was here with me.
I miss her so.
I've had very vivid dreams about her. And once in a while I feel her gently smoothing my hair and softly saying everything will be alright. Sometimes I can smell her. At those times I expect the phone to ring from the nursing home saying she's gone.
And then I did get a phone call from the nursing home saying her Medicaid had been discontinued because I had failed to fill out a form for the state. I had called the state guy in Kelso and explained I had moved and that everything was still the same and asked if I needed to do anything. Never heard back so I just figured everything was okay. Not. It's also incredible to me that the nursing home waited this long - her assistance ran out the end of June - to tell me.
But I have been so buried in my own financial worries that maybe I just forgot. I've been doing that a lot lately.
And it's those times that I find myself saying, "God, I wish she would just die!"
Isn't that awful?
I feel awful about thinking that and now actually writing it.
I don't wish my Mom harm at all, but I am just plain tired. I'm tired of dealing with the nursing home and the state and her Medicare and her bank account and her life insurance and the house. I am just plain tired. And I wish it would all go away.
I also had a dream about my Dad. It was vivid as well. He had white hair and he was sitting at a kitchen table in his blue bathrobe. He was smiling and I remember he said something, but I can't remember what.
In the meantime, I haven't heard from my lovely sister. Yep, she really cares about me.
Haven't heard from my lovely cousins, who actually had the nerve to say to me, "Martha didn't get anything (from the house)." Did they ask me why? Did they ask me if Martha had helped in any way? Nope. Because God knows what Martha has told them. I know she calls Mary. So she's choosing them over me. Isn't that nice?
And among all this whining, God is so good to me. He blesses me every minute of every day. How I LOVE being His child.
I am so thankful. This place is filled with all kinds of memories. As I look forward to the Palouse Empire Fair, I am filled with all kinds of memories. And the threshing bee is coming up next weekend. That will be another memory-filled experience. It touches my heart so to see that happen on Ousley land.
Just like it was exciting to me to see a big ol' combine on our land with that wheat pouring into the hopper. Wow was that something to see. Even though it wasn't our combine it was still so cool. And with that 40-foot header on it, that was just amazing.

Today is Mother's Day. And I'm as far away from Mom as I have been in a long time. In fact, I can't remember the last time I wasn't with Mom on Mother's Day.
Although I have a heavy heart, I know the woman in the nursing home wouldn't know me even if I was there. Just to satisfy my own conscious, I mailed a card from me and a card from Gigi and Lizzie. I know Mom wouldn't understand, but at least that silly sister of mine will get it.
We are in a new house and we are enjoying it very much. Although I've been here for a while, I'm still unpacking. It has lots of windows and just enough room to raise some flowers and tomatoes. I just planted nastursiums and lavender today. My strawberries are blooming and making berries and my geraniums are trying to grow back from when the deer ate them. I've put tobasco sauce out every night and so far it's kept the deer away.
I've thought about past Mother's Days when Mom would so enjoy a trip up to Mount St. Helens and we'd enjoy some really good food and a beautiful drive. We'd usually joke about not seeing any elk, although everyone says there's lots up there. I think they hid every time we'd make the trip.
I have lots of fond memories and photos of Mom looking at the mountain and with the mountain in the background. Thank God for those memories.
I also remember a lot of fighting with Martha about who would drive and who would pay for Mom's meal. Why did she want to make every holiday so damned miserable?
As I unpack things trying to make this house a home, I think about what Mom would do and how Mom would arrange things. She will be with me forever.
I love my home and I love Colfax. I thank God He directed me here. I thank God for my job which I love more every day.
I can't thank God enough for all He's done for me and continues to do every day.
I am going to walk in the Relay for Life in July and I have a college reunion in July at Fort Wright in Spokane. I even volunteered to make dinner one night. I am so looking forward to seeing friends from all over the U.S. I am trying to get involved in the Alzheimer's Walk here this fall, but I may just walk and try not to get really involved.
I still haven't been strong enough to go to Mass. I just don't want to see the inside of that church and I know that must seem silly, but that's just the way I feel.
I think I'm still losing weight. My clothes are getting so big that I'm having to give away a lot of them. I still have a long way to go. I have this chicken neck thing going on that I hate but maybe that will go away one day.
Thank you Lord for every thing. Thank You for my Mom, the one I love and remember. Thank You for all those memories.

Missing Mom today

For some reason, I'm missing Mom particularly today. Don't know why, but I keep thinking about her and just plain miss her. Maybe it's the baby.
I finally got to meet our little "Peanut" yesterday. He is the most precious little boy. Tonijo let me hold him in his little WSU Cougar blanket for quite a while, so I talked to him and looked him over very carefully. He's got the sweetest hands that made little fists and clutched at the soft blanket. He made little sounds as he slept in my arms and I kept track of every breath.
Peanut had a quite a time coming into the world. His parents, Tonijo and David, told me the whole story Saturday. Evidently, just as Peanut, whose real name is Bryson Lawrence Batterton, was being born early Friday morning, Jan. 18, Tonijo suddenly got a high fever which stressed the baby. He couldn't breathe and as he continued to have difficulty breathing, the doctors said Peanut needed to go to Spokane. So David and Peanut went to Spokane in a plane while poor Momma had to stay in Pullman to battle her fever.
Peanut was in NICU for four or five days. Tonijo insisted on leaving the Pullman hospital on Friday afternoon so she could be with Peanut. He finally got to come home last Thursday. He sees the doctor on Monday. I asked him to please never scare us like that again.
I feel so blessed being here to meet Peanut. I kept thinking about when Tonijo was born and how I have a photo of her in the incubator just hours after she was born. And here she is, some 30 years later, the mother of little Peanut.
Tonijo always has been special to us. She calls Mom Grandma Wilma and me and Martha Aunties. So naturally her child is special as well.
If Mom was herself, she would be so happy about the baby and wanting to hold him lots and lots. A big smile would be on her face and she would probably also be giving Tonijo a very hard time. As I imagine what Mom would be doing around the new baby, I think about how much I miss her.
I miss sharing everything with her, especially major life changes and stories. I can hear voice sometimes, what she would say to me in certain situations. Mom will always be with me.
I called the nursing home the other night to check on Mom. The nurse said she was sleeping a lot and asked me if that was normal. It is. She takes spells where she sleeps a lot and then goes back to a normal schedule. They took her off one of her medications to calm her down and she seems to be getting along well without it. As the nurse was telling me about Mom's long sleeping spells, I secretly prayed that she would not wake up. And that is my continued prayer.
I know Mom would love to see little Peanut. To give him her love and lots of hugs and kisses. I guess his Nana Sally will just have to give all that love and hugs and kisses for both of us.

It's been months since I've written here and my life has certainly changed since my last post. So here goes:
I worked very hard on the Southwest Washington Walk to End Alzheimer's. And all the work certainly paid off.
On a beautiful fall day, Sept. 22, we had 111 walkers at the Port of Kalama's Marine Park. We had sponsors, Cowlitz Indian Tribe drummers who also blessed the Walk, and even Hawaiian dancers. Kalama High School students from the band and leadership class provided wonderful music and lots of help. Mom would have been proud.
The only thing I missed was Martha, who texted me the night before the walk to say she wasn't coming. She claimed that she wasn't feeling well, but I don't believe it, because the day after the Walk, she went to Mr. Bill's for breakfast.
It was during the Walk that I was going to tell Martha I was moving. I got a job at the Whitman County Gazette in Colfax where I grew up and packed up everything and moved. I told the nursing home folks I was moving and gave them my new address, but I wanted to tell Martha in a special way, to let her understand that I needed to do this. I started my new job on Oct. 1, just a little more than a week after the Walk.
As I was packing the Monday after the Walk, there was a knock on the door and Martha walked in. A UHaul truck was parked in the driveway so it was obvious what was going on. But she acted so offended that I hadn't told her and claimed she only stopped to see how the Walk went. When will the lies stop?
I had gathered a few things for her and put them in a box. And my friend, Dennise, who was packing me up, happened to be at the house when Martha arrived and heard the whole conversation. Martha asked if she had to sign some papers to take care of Mom and I said no, nothing had changed. But the next day, the nursing home folks called to say Martha had informed them that she was to be the first one to be called if something happened to Mom. I said I would talk to Martha and get it straightened out and that I was still the Power of Attorney and Martha wasn't. So I called Martha who was just getting out of school. This is the day before I was to leave for Colfax. I told her I had talked to the nursing home and that I will remain the first to be informed if something happens to Mom. I reiterated that she was not the Power of Attorney and she had no authority to do anything. She claimed she was never asked to be a Power of Attorney and I replied that wasn't true, that she said at the time she didn't want anything to do with it. That's when she hung up. I tried calling her back, but she wouldn't answer her phone. It made me sad to leave town with that phone call the last conversation we would have. But I can't control her actions, only she can.
As I was packing along with getting ready for the Walk, my little Yorkie boy, Mattie, got really sick. The Thursday before the Walk, I took him to the vet, Dr. Katie. I just had a feeling he was going to leave me. He couldn't walk and wasn't eating or drinking. Dr. Katie took an x-ray and said she had never seen anything like it. Mattie's little spine was so deformed that she said she was surprised he had lived as long as he did. She said she couldn't do anything for him, so they brought him to me wrapped in a soft towel and I held him as he left me. I told him to find my Abby and she would take care of him until I could be with them. My heart still is heavy with his loss as I write this. He was such a sweet little soul. He was only 11 months old.
Three days after the Walk, early on the morning of Sept. 26, another beautiful fall day, Lizzie (my little Yorkie girl), Gigi, Dennise and I took off for Colfax. We had a good trip and arrived safe and sound, although pretty tired, in Colfax early in the afternoon. Friends met us and unloaded the things in the truck into two storage units. Gigi and Lizzie seemed to like our new temporary quarters which was the home of a high school classmate. The day after we got to Colfax, I met a friend in Naches who took Dennise back to Longview. And on Monday, I started my new job at the Gazette.
Wow, I felt so good to be back home.
I felt a little sad about leaving Mom, but I also know that I have done all I can do for Mom. And I know in my heart that she would want me to do this. I didn't feel one bit sad about leaving that house and I don't care really what happens with it. That never really was my home.
The second day of work, I came down with a cold which only got worse as the week wore on. My upper back began hurting, indicating that I probably had walking pneumonia. By the following Monday, I was very sick and missed work all week. By Friday, Oct. 12, I thought I felt better, and was going to try to go to the office. God had other plans.
I took the girls outside so they could do their business about 7 a.m. I sat on the steps enjoying a beautiful fall day, looking at the gold hills of the Palouse. But when I tried to get up, my body wouldn't respond. I just couldn't get up. The friend I was staying with went to Pullman to shop and when she came back, and I was still on the steps, she called 9-1-1. I pleaded with her not to call them because I have no insurance, but the EMTs came. They checked my blood pressure and then took blood and my blood sugar was 800. Normal levels should hover around 100. They immediately took me to the Colfax hospital. After more tests, chest x-rays and and I don't know how many other tests, the doctors decided that I indeed had pneumonia and probably had diabetes. My mind just couldn't wrap itself around all that. Then the doctor informed me that his superiors were too nervous to have me stay in Colfax and they wanted me to go to Spokane. I just kept thinking about the cost and how I was going to pay for it and on and on and on. The Colfax ambulance was not available so I rode in a MedStar helicopter. Great. I had never been in a helicopter before and I certainly didn't want my first ride to be as a patient, but I didn't have a choice. So into the back of this helicopter I went with two wonderful men hovering over me making sure I made the trip to Spokane. I got into the Sacred Heart ICU later that evening and immediately was greeted by an army of nurses and doctors. They pumped fluids into me and began insulin and checking my blood sugar hourly, or almost hourly. At the time, I didn't really even realize I was in Intensive Care and didn't understand until my friend, Susie, told me later. I remained in the hospital for 11 days. I received excellent care and the best part was that I received Communion every day. Susie came to visit me almost every day. Leanna Brake called almost every day and Fort Wright College classmates, Diane Lobe and Lauriel Kramer Fouquette, came to the hospital to see me.
Three days before doctors said I would probably be discharged, the friend I was staying with called to say that I couldn't come back to their home and I had to make other arrangements. I was so hurt and shocked, but I contacted another friend and got a place to land that night. I made arrangements for the girls to stay with a friend in Spokane and Susie brought them from Colfax to Spokane the next day. Susie worked hard to make my new home as welcome as possible. She stocked my cupboards with pots and pans and silverware and food and brought a couple of chairs and an end table and cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. By the time she got me home, it was warm and almost inviting, as inviting as an old single-wide trailer in a trailer park can be. But it's a roof and shelters us from the weather and keeps us warm.
My friend, Mary Perry, kept the girls for more than two weeks as I recuperated at home. I was on oxygen for several days after I got home. Susie came every day to check on me and Tonijo checked on me too. I went back to work on Oct. 31, thankful that my dear publisher kept my job for me.
God is so good to me. I know I am blessed to be alive and healing. It will take me a while to get completely well, but I am getting stronger every day. I give myself insulin shots in the morning and evening after checking my blood sugar levels. My blood sugar has settled down to the point that the docs have decreased my insulin by 20 units a day. The goal is to be able to quit the insulin at one point.
Gigi and Lizzie are still adapting to life here in Colfax. And I LOVE it. I love seeing old friends almost every day, renewing those friendships. And my job is going very well. I am feeling more confident in my writing skills. I love my publisher, Gordon, and my editor, Jerry. God is good.
Martha keeps in contact a little better, although I think she begrudges me this move. And Mom is still the stranger in the nursing home. She has had three skin tears recently and I called to leave a message with the social worker about my concerns about it. Mom will not end up like Grandma Dora. That I am certain. If something happens to Mom, like Grandma Dora getting injured, I will contact an attorney and sue their ass. I will not hesitate.
Nursing homes need to have a different role than they do now. But that's for another blog post.
I spent Thanksgiving with the Hopkins family and had the best time. I thought about friends on the West side, but not for long because I was genuinely happy. And with Tonijo's baby, little "Peanut," on the way, it's going to be a great New Year.
I have a small Christmas tree on a chair in front of one of the windows that cheers me up on these long nights. And I decorated the front porch with tiny solar lights and some little trees.
So that's my story. For now. God has more plans, I know. All I have to do is say, "OK, Lord, take the reins." And then listen.

Being Lonesome

My heart is aching. I think about that old country song that wails, "I'm so lonesome, I could die."
This is the first Fourth of July without Mom, yet another first since she left me. And even though this particular holiday wasn't a real big deal to us, we still shared it.
I'd take Mom to the parade and afterwards, if it wasn't too hot, we'd go to see all the vendors surrounding parts of the lake. If it was too hot, we'd come back home and I usually barbecued hamburgers. Sometimes friends would come to share our meal. And then we'd watch the neighbors' fireworks. Last year, she was too sick to remember what the Fourth of July was, but she still liked seeing the brightly colored sparkles as neighbors celebrated.
I miss my best friend.
I miss sitting on the patio talking about the flowers and how it must be time for some Miracle Grow. I miss hearing her voice, hearing her noise in the house - she was one of noisiest people I've ever known - hearing her laugh, talking on the phone, reporting on neighbors' activities. I miss all this and much more.
And Alzheimer's, that damned disease that has no cure, took my best friend away from me.
I am slowly finding my own way in life, such as organizing the Southwest Washington Walk to End Alzheimer's, which is keeping me busier than I thought, and trying to find a job and just surviving one day at a time.
But it's not easy.
I think about what Mom would do in the same situation. I know she would pick herself up by the boot straps and keep on going. Mom was so tough. I realize I am not her. I'm not nearly as tough as she was and in some ways, still is.
I also know she isn't happy, knowing something is wrong and can't quite figure out exactly what it is. I know that must irritate her and bewilder her.
I hope and my daily prayer is my God comes to get her soon and takes her Home where she will be happy and at peace.

In the meantime ...

Mom continues to decline. She weighs less than 100 pounds, down about 10 pounds from when she was admitted to this latest facility in March. Staff is doing everything they possibly can to make Mom eat, but she is just not interested.
This also is part of the last stages of Alzheimer's. The Alzheimer's victim can't tell you if they're hungry because they no longer recognize the feeling of hunger. Sometimes, they even forget how to swallow. But eventually, if something else doesn't happen to their bodies, they starve to death. And that's what is happening to Mom. Her body is shutting down. The nurses tell me she would rather feed her stuffed animal that she constantly carries than eat herself.
I can't stand to see her like this. Although I have been battling a wicked flu bug, I haven't seen Mom in almost a month. And I'm not sure I want to. I don't want to spend the rest of my life remembering Mom like she is now. I want to remember her with a big smile on her face, outside in the sun snipping roses and bitching about the thorns while at the same time taking deep whiffs of the roses' scents. I want to remember her dancing in the kitchen when she thought something was funny. I want to remember her carving our Thanksgiving turkey and proudly taking it to the table where candlelight glimmered against our good china. I want to cherish and keep all those memories close to my heart.
Not the memory of some old woman I don't know who spends all her time in a wheelchair and doesn't know who I am. My last memory of my Grandma Dora, Mom's mother, is in a hospital bed in a nursing home saying she peed her pants. She didn't know Mom or me and then she died. I don't want that memory to be my last one of Mom. It's bad enough to remember Mom being wheeled out of the house and into an ambulance on a dark, stormy night. It's bad enough seeing her in a nursing home. I call and talk to nurses about how Mom is doing, and they call me if something happens. For now, that's good enough.
Surprisingly, Martha visits Mom more often than she ever has. I don't understand why, but at least she's stepping up to the plate.
Not only do I have to deal with Mom, I have to deal with running out of money. I am still not employed and my farm income is just about gone. I know God has a plan - I just wish He'd let me in on it! I feel like I'm treading water and have no real direction.
And I pray daily that God takes Mom in her sleep, that He comes into her room, cradles her in His Arms, and takes her Home. I pray this not for myself, but because I know Mom would be happier.

The Journey Continues

And the journey's not getting any easier.
In fact, it's getting more and more difficult.
Tomorrow, Mother's Day, marks yet another first in my journey since Mom left me to reside in a nursing home. Truthfully, I kept thinking she would come back to me some day and I could continue some how, some way, to care for her. But that didn't happen. In March, she came back up to a Longview nursing facility that is a thousand times better than the previous one.
When we found her a primary care physician because Hospice dropped Mom as a client, the doctor said she was doing physically very well. Her heart's good, lungs are good, circulation seems fine. And all the while I kept thinking, "Damn."
After her doctor's visit, I just couldn't see Mom any more. That sounds horrible, doesn't it? I mean, who doesn't want to see their own Mother?
Me.
Because, Mom isn't my Mom any more. When I look into her eyes, they are just blank. And they didn't used to be blank. My Mom's eyes are very, very blue, and had this Irish spark in them that you could see a mile away.
Sometimes, I didn't want to see that spark because I knew I was in trouble. But most of the time, it was a fun-loving spark that twinkled with delight and mischief.
Not any longer. Mom's eyes are still blue, but they are dull. No life, no spark, no Irish mischief.
How I miss that.
So today, I made myself go up to the nursing home to see Mom and take her some summer shirts to wear since the weather decided to be warm. I also took a little green toy piglet that oinks and walks when turned on.
I waited until after lunch, because I was procrastinating. I washed my hair, couldn't decide what to wear and finally just made myself go out the door and make the 15-minute drive.
When I arrived, Mom was sleeping soundly and I didn't want to wake her. She looked so peaceful - and so thin.
I talked to one of the nurses who said Mom now weighs 102 pounds, down from 108 pounds last month. The nurse said Mom eats a little and then tries to feed her stuffed animals. Mom is to the point now that she even tries to make her stuffed animals drink the Ensure they give her.
That's part of this insidious disease. How I loathe this Alzheimer's Disease. I HATE what it's doing to my Mom. And I HATE that I can't do a damned thing about it. I just have to sit and watch my Mom, who was one of the strongest women I know, deteriorate into this person who is not familiar to me in the least.
And anyone who reads this may think I am a monster for thinking this, but I wish Mom would die. I just don't understand why God wants her to remain here on Earth declining daily. He and I are going to have a very long conversation about this when I get to see Him.
This is yet another first in the last five months that I have endured. My first birthday without Mom, my sister's first birthday without Mom, the first Easter without Mom and now Mother's Day. Memorial Day will be difficult because Mom and I shared so many trips over to Colfax for that day, carrying pots filled with colorful flowers for our family's graves. On June 8, it will be her 92nd birthday. Not looking forward to that either.
And I don't want to remember my Mom like she is now. I want to remember the fiesty Irish woman who loved to laugh and play jokes and dance around the kitchen and watch John Wayne movies and work in the yard and tend to her garden and carefully groom her roses so she could see their big blooms and smell the roses' individual fragrances. I don't want to remember her as the shriveled old woman, lying in a nursing home bed, not knowing my name or her name and not being able to even talk to me.
I don't know when I'll force myself to make another trip to that place. I guess I better start praying now for God to give me the strength to make it up there again.

Battlefields

Ever since Mom became a resident of the nursing home in Battle Ground, I've had a fight on my hands.
And about stupid, silly, meaningless things, but important to my Mom.
I requested Mom have Ensure, a dietary supplement added to her meals. After requesting this three or four times or maybe even more, even having the dietician making note of my requests, I still had to fight the aides and the nurse on duty about giving Mom an Ensure with her lunch and dinner. Finally, they granted my numerous requests.
Then they couldn't figure out why Mom wasn't eating a very good lunch. I requested a sandwich and soup for Mom's lunch and after numerous requests, they began giving her what she wanted and she began eating very well.
Then it was getting Mom's fingernails trimmed and cleaned. They were so awful, I just barely could bring myself to touch her hands.
Mom grew attached to a stuffed bunny that I had given her years before. She took that bunny everywhere, talked to it, petting it, letting it rest on her lap. Then one day, the bunny disappeared. The staff said they looked high and low and could not locate the bunny. My sister finally bought Mom a new one and Mom seems satisfied with it.
The next battle was about Mom getting bathed. Their normal schedule is twice a week, so I asked Hospice to come in to give Mom an additional bath. The nursing home staff stopped bathing Mom, saying Hospice took over. What a bunch of BS.
I met with three of the nursing home staff yesterday, and, through my tears, after trying to explain to them how difficult it is just coming to see Mom, how emotionally draining it is to see her now, that I was just plain tired of fighting them about stupid things. They brought in her chart and said they would fix things.
But, when lunch was served, just a few minutes later, the cook fixed Mom a full meal. Again, I requested soup and a sandwich, after the cook explained she was new and didn't know. Ya, right. If I hadn't been there, Mom wouldn't have eaten. How many times had that happened?
As I walked out of the nursing home, after helping feed Mom her lunch, I felt so defeated and discouraged. How many people in that place suffer because no one advocates for them? What would happen if I didn't see Mom.
I shudder to think. But I know my God is watching her and will keep her safe. And He will give me the courage and strength to take care of my Mom.

True Friends

During this journey with Mom, I'm sure finding out who my friends really are.
I've had friends give me turkeys for Thanksgiving when I couldn't afford one. I've had friends text me just to see how I'm doing and if my text sounds too sad, they call me. Friends will drop whatever they're doing just to let me cry on their shoulders, at all times of the day and night. On the other hand, I've seemed to drive away some people who I thought were friends and who I am now finding aren't really.
One friend in particular just astounded me with her behavior.
I was having a very difficult time on New Year's Eve. I tried watching television, catching a favorite movie, tried crocheting on a wedding gift I'm trying to get done before April, I tried everything and just couldn't shake a lonely, sad feeling.
I called one friend and we talked for quite a while. As I got off the phone, I realized I hadn't heard from a friend at Christmas, so I decided to call her. It was only 8 p.m. on New Year's Eve, and although I usually don't call people that late, I thought since most people stay up late, it would be okay to bend the rule just once.
What a big mistake, because I felt worse after talking to this person than I did before the call.
My friend answered the phone only after the answering machine picked up my call. She said she and her family were doing things and so she couldn't talk long. She asked how I was doing and I responded that I was having sad days and sadder days. She asked if I had found a job yet and I answered no, but I thought, what does she expect? She started talking about her son, and asked if she had told me that he had been the editor of his college paper. I had not heard this story and wondered why she chose this moment to tell me. She said the paper hired him as a "man on the street," whatever that means, and her son had worked his way up to editor and had to go through several interviews to get the position. I said good for him or something to that effect, still wondering why she chose to tell me at this particular time. Someone said something to her and she cut our conversation short, leaving me feeling like a real failure because I am no longer an editor of a paper, or even a writer for that matter, and because I was looking for someone to get me out of the sad feeling I was experiencing. As I hung up, I knew I would never attempt to contact her again.
I have not known this person for very long and our relationship has been a bit shaky. As Mom became more and more ill, this friend hasn't shown any sympathy or empathy. I try not to bother my friends too much with this part of my life, but sometimes I just need to talk and I really need support if I do call on friends. Most of the people I call friends understand this, but this so-called friend obviously does not.
God is so good to me, though. A couple of days later, I was surprised by a friend in Minnesota I had not talked to in years. She said she really missed me and filled our conversation with so many compliments, I left the phone call feeling wonderful. What a blessing.
It takes a lot for me to give up on a person, to not have them in my circle of friends, but I've given up on at least one friendship and there might be more down the road. Although I'm not crazy about this time in my life, God keeps teaching me very valuable lessons. Praise the Lord!

Taking a break

On my way to see Mom in Battle Ground yesterday, a little more than an 80-mile trip, I turned around. I just couldn't face seeing Mom.
Every time I see Mom, she seems to be worse. Her eyes are blank and she talks, but it really isn't to me. I have seen Mom for perhaps a second and then she's gone again. Those brief moments are few and far between and lately, not at all. She holds her white bunny, pets it and talks to it, and observes the world around her.
When I visit Mom, I usually go about noon so I can help her eat. I fought with that nursing home about feeding her soup and a sandwich at noon for weeks and finally they are serving her what she really likes for lunch. I didn't think it was that big of a deal to get her soup and a sandwich, but it turned into a battle that I got really tired of fighting. Another battle was getting her an Ensure to drink at lunch. And getting them to take Mom for a short walk instead of having her in a wheelchair all the time. I guess I'm tired of fighting too.
When I got home yesterday, I called a friend and she suggested I take a break. And, when I decide to go back, she suggested I do something fun such as go out to lunch or go shopping, making it more of a fun trip instead of something I feel obligated to do.
And that's the thing. I do feel obligated to see Mom. I want to make sure she is doing okay. And because I'm not her primary caregiver any longer, I feel like I still need to take care of her in some way, like Mom always took care of me.
But I am slowly realizing that I need to take care of myself too. I must find a job and a new place to live. I must take care of my kids, especially my new ones. I must organize the Walk to End Alzheimer's so it's the best walk in Western Washington. I must take care of my own health.
Mom is already gone from me. As much as I would like to think she still knows me, she really doesn't. She probably thinks that I'm just someone who shows up once in a while to visit with her. I really feel like Mom has already left me. And when the time comes for her to leave this Earth, I will feel relieved. She will be so much happier in Heaven. I will be happy knowing she is in the Arms of God.

It Just Keeps Getting Better

Just when I am beginning to deal with my grief over Mom being in a nursing home, I got hit over the head again.
Friday morning during my weekly counseling session, I received a call from a man with Adult Protective Services. He said someone had reported that I was over medicating Mom so she would sleep all the time and that I was giving her pain medication and I was abusing her. He cannot reveal the name of my accuser and he said he had already interviewed Mom down in Battle Ground.
I was so shocked I could barely understand why anyone would do this. The man asked me for a copy of the Power of Attorney and he wanted to see all the prescription medications Mom had while she was in my care.
Since I took the caregiver classes, I am well aware that all caregivers are obligated to report any signs of abuse. If a caregiver doesn't report abuse, the caregiver can be fined or jailed.
But this hit me like a ton of bricks. Who would do such a thing to me, especially if they had any inkling of what I am going through with Mom in that nursing home. I feel guilty enough as it is because I think I could have done more, should have done more. But for someone to actually believe that I was abusing my Mom is just unbelievably hurtful.
Immediately after my counseling session, I gathered up what the man had requested and drove to the Kelso DHSH office. He was very nice and talked to me very respectfully. He said he was closing the case because the charges were bogus. He said the file will be put away and after two years will be destroyed. But he also said the police also were contacted and I may get a call from them. He said if the police calls, just to have them call him and will tell them what happened.
Thank God my counselor was here with me and she stayed until I calmed down. She can't figure it out either. I called our caregiver who had worked with Mom and asked her if she had reported me and she denied it and could not think of who would do this to me.
I was in a kind of daze all day. I was just so shocked.
Some people say the person who reported me was only thinking of Mom. I disagree. I think it was a vindictive act against me and the person wanted to cause me hurt in some way.
In the midst of all this, I know the truth and the truth is that I cared for Mom for two years the best way I knew how. I can take comfort in knowing that. And if someone doesn't believe it, I've got plenty of support.
And best of all, God knows the truth. He's the only one I must worry about because He's the only One I must answer to.

Mom's Legacy

Christmas is my favorite time of year. The tree, lights, music, movies, all fill my heart with such joy and thankfulness, that my cup usually runs over.
But not this year. This year, my heart is filled with grief because I lost my Mom again.
Three weeks ago today, I watched her being wheeled into an ambulance in the pouring rain, clutching her bunny, wrapped in blankets against the wet and cold. I knew she would never return home and grief clutched my heart.
I knew I couldn't take care of her, keep her safe, watch her day and night. My head could wrap around all this, but my heart just can't.
I feel her presence everywhere in this house. It's like she left a part of herself here. Today, I finally went into her bedroom. Before today, I just walked in to get something and walked right back out. But today, I got her coats off the coat rack and hung them up in her closet. Then I took her quilt off her bed, then her blankets and finally her sheets and I washed the sheets.
I found a lot of old photo albums, too, and went through a couple until I just couldn't any longer. Memories of being raised on the farm near Colfax, birthday parties with Jeff and Donny and Marla and Trudy and Lori, as well as Christmas dinners with the family china, silverware, Fostoria glassware, flooded my whole soul and made my missing Mom even worse to the point where I just had to stop.
This is weird because Mom is still in Battle Ground at the Alzheimer's place - I just can't say nursing home. Her physical body is there, but my real Mom is gone. I haven't gone down to see her all week. I've made every excuse I can think of not to make that drive. Not feeling well, frosty slick roads, fog, anything I could think of not to go. I am ashamed of myself for not going, but I hate to see Mom like this.
My head tells me that Mom doesn't know any better, that she doesn't know where she is, that she doesn't know if I visit or not, but my heart knows. I know where she is, that she isn't eating well, that they aren't keeping her as clean as I used to, that they don't stop in the afternoon to give her milk and cookies, her favorite snack. And how I've come to hate this.
And I just can't figure out why God is doing this. Why is He letting Mom be in this awful place? Why isn't He answering my prayer of taking her Home? When I see Him, we are having a very long conversation.
Later on tonight, I will make Mom's bed with clean, crisp sheets, letting the freshness flow through her bedroom, maybe washing part of Mom's scent away.
I feel like I'm on a ship lost at sea, with no direction, no purpose in life. My purpose for so long has been to give Mom everything that she has given me.
A friend reminded me of something the other day. I am Mom's legacy. I am her daughter, her flesh and blood, and I learned everything I know from her. It's a big responsibility to be someone's legacy and to be my Mom's legacy - wow. It made me realize I have a lot to do. I have to carry on all the things she taught me. And although I can't carry them on to any Ousley children, I can share what I've learned with others and I really look forward to that. I look forward to saying, "My Mom taught me how to do that."
Maybe that's what God is waiting for. Maybe He's waiting for me to realize that I have this legacy, this responsibility to share Mom's legacy.
So perhaps instead of grieving, I will begin to share Mom's legacy in any way I can. I will rejoice in all the things Mom has given me over the years.
My head can say that, now I have to convince my heart.

Major changes

I've been putting off writing this because it's very painful and very emotional.
After almost two years of caring for Mom, my sister and I made the decision to put Mom in an Alzheimer's facility. After nearly a week of calling places locally and not-so-local, working with case managers, social workers, facility admissions staff, nurses and other caregivers, we found a facility a little more than 40 miles away from my house, in Battle Ground, Wash. She went to that place on Saturday, Nov. 19. Both Martha and I have taken trips to see her as much as we can. Mom is settling in nicely and seems satisfied as long as she can eat and stay warm and sleep. I really don't think she knows where she is or that she cares where she is.
The decision to place her was such a difficult one, no one can imagine unless you've been through it. At first I felt like such a failure, but with God's help, I am finding that I'm not such a failure after all. I promised Mom that she could stay home, but this damned disease that's name is Alzheimer's, prevented that. How I loathe this disease.
The Battle Ground facility is an okay place - clean, friendly staff - but it makes me so sad when I go there. I am sad for Mom to be reduced to a small little bed shared in a room smaller than her bedroom at home, with a three-drawer dresser, half a closet, and two shelves. There is no making this tiny space "like home." I also get very sad watching the other patients, men with wet pants; another man who had packed all his belongings and told the nurse he had to leave because he bought a vessel and had a lot of work to do on it; Mom's roommate who told the nurse she did not want to go to bed, but fell asleep the minute her head hit the pillow.
Thanksgiving Day was very difficult. Instead of following our family traditions of cooking the day before and practically all day on Thanksgiving, I ate a quiet breakfast as I watched the Macy's parade, then picked up Martha and went to see Mom. We visited for a while, then went to some friends for dinner. We are so blessed to have them in our lives. They made us feel so special and so loved. On the way home, we saw Christmas lights and I cried because I used to take Mom all over Longview and Kelso and even Woodland to see the lights. She was like a small child, oohing and ahhing as we drove by homes and the small lake and parks adorned with Christmas displays. Not this year.
And I'm sad for losing Mom again. I realized a couple of days ago that I'll never be able to cook her breakfast, make her a sandwich or fix her supper. But I can still bake her cookies and make her cinnamon rolls.
How many more times am I to lose Mom? I lost her once to this disease, watching Mom as little by little she slipped away from me. Now, I've lost her again to this other place. And I know I must lose her one more time when her body gives up its fight to stay alive.
And I must decide what to do with my own life now. I've devoted my life to my Mom for so long, even before I started caring for her, that I'm not sure what I'll do. I'm trying to listen to God to hear what He wants me to do. I know for sure He wants me to stay in the Longview area as long as Mom is here. I've committed to doing the Walk to End Alzheimer's next September for one thing. And I want to fight this disease as much as I can. I don't want anyone else to go through what I've been through with Mom.
Today I drove the more than 80-mile round trip to see Mom. She jabbered to me about insignificant things and then all of a sudden she said, "Sally, you look tired." There was a brief moment of clarity and then it was gone. As I look into her eyes I search for some sort of recognition, some sort of my old Mom there, but there is none. There are just these empty blue eyes looking at me, not registering anything, with no Irish sparkle left, just nothing.
I found a photo of Mom as we celebrated her 80th birthday. She's looking right into the camera, her bright blue eyes full of mischief, waiting for any opportunity to do something extraordinary, if not just the simplest thing. How I miss my Mom in that photo.
But I know she's safe, warm and God is watching over her. Praise the Lord.

As the Seasons Change, Mom is Changing Too

So many things have been happening since I last wrote.
Mom's moods have been swinging like a pendulum, from calm to outrage. She began fighting me about going to bed - hitting me, scratching me, kicking me, which left us both with bruises. I never knew when she would react this way. Each day brought a new challenge until finally I told my sister, Martha, that I didn't know how much longer I could continue. I thought perhaps this might be the time to begin looking at putting Mom in a home. But I'm stubborn. When Mom was well, we had a long talk about what would happen as she grew older and I promised her she would stay at home and I am determined to make that happen.
One day, Martha stopped in on one of her rare visits, and I was coming out of Mom's bedroom just bawling. I had spent the last hour trying to get some disposable panties on her and she absolutely refused. She was walking around without anything on her bottom. As we fought, I discovered that she left some dirty disposable panties in the toilet, so I got to go fishing - again. By the time Martha arrived, I had reached the end of my rope. I was shaking from all the fighting, so Martha just took over and got Mom's panties on her. I went outside to read for a while and Martha stayed for a while. But it was clear to me that I needed some time off.
Mom began pacing around the house, back and forth between her bedroom and the living room and kitchen, pacing in her bedroom around and around her bed. When she sat down, she couldn't keep still, always moving her hands, or feet, or something close to her. She started chasing the dog around the house, to the point that poor Gigi hid under a table or chair so Mom couldn't get to her. Mom would sleep for days, then be up all night, sometimes keeping me up until 2 a.m. or later.
Mom had a doctor's appointment on Oct. 4, and I got her up and dressed, making it clear where we were going and when we were out on the front porch, she decided she wasn't going. I got her down the ramp and opened the car door, but she was having none of it. She looked toward the sidewalk and yelled, "Help me, help me!" I called Martha who was going to meet us at the doctor's office and she came over. Mom went immediately over to Martha, but Martha even had a difficult time getting Mom in her car. When we arrived at the doctor's office, the staff recognized the change immediately. Mom didn't greet any of them and I don't think she recognized the doctor. When they weighed Mom, she had gone from 126 pounds in July to 112 pounds. I knew Mom had lost weight, but I was shocked at how much. We talked about Mom's restlessness and the doctor prescribed Xanax, hoping it would calm her down. It did the exact opposite and I learned that with Alzheimer's patients, sometimes it affects them the exact opposite of what it's supposed to do. Sure wish the doctor would have said something.
I still wasn't getting a good night's sleep, because not only was Mom staying up late, she started wandering around the house at night. And when she was up, I had to watch her every moment because she would try to go out the front door. I felt like I was watching a child, not my Mom.
I talked to our caregiver and she agreed to work some extra hours so I could get out of the house. Now she comes Friday and Sunday afternoons so I can leave and Martha and I paid her to come. Those few extra hours helped, but I still felt like I needed a break - days, not hours.
Martha and I talked about checking into the the local Hospice program and I am so glad we did. I know, too, that the Good Lord is directing us. I met with a social worker and nurse from Hospice and things began moving quickly. I qualified for a five-day respite period, where Mom could go into the Hospice Care Center and I would get some time to myself. Mom left last Monday by ambulance in a wheelchair and will come back home on Saturday afternoon.
I know she is in good hands and is well taken care of. They are trying some medication that hopefully will help with her restlessness and with sleeping.
It was so difficult to see her being wheeled into that ambulance, with a robe wrapped around her legs and Mom holding her favorite bunny. My heart ached.
Mom will have visits from her Hospice nurse twice a week and another caregiver will come twice a week to give her a shower. A Hospice social worker also will come two or three times a month.
When the Hospice nurse and I talked, she said a friend also had a mother with Alzheimer's. Her friend told her she felt she lost her mother twice, once to the disease and again when she died.
I know I lost Mom quite a while ago. And how I miss her. Right now, we'd be talking about how pretty the trees look and how we like it when the time changes back to "regular" time. I'd take her for rides so she could see all the beautiful fall colors on the hills and she would so enjoy that. Then she'd remark about not looking forward to winter. How I miss that.
And with the holidays coming, it's even more difficult to face. Mom can't make her famous cranberry jelly for Thanksgiving and can't carve the turkey for me, and can't make the pumpkin pies and whipped cream, a family tradition. Christmas was Mom's favorite time of year. She'd decorate the entire house, but the outside was left for me. We go to a local tree lot to pick out the Grand Fir and Mom always knew which one was the best. I know she won't know what the Christmas tree is for this year and won't be able to pick it out, and won't understand the Christmas decorations and dinner or gifts. Martha even remarked that she didn't know what to get Mom because she knew Mom wouldn't understand.
Oh how I miss my Mom and all the sharing we used to do.
But I have some really wonderful, fabulous memories that I will cherish. It's just the loss that I'm having a hard time with.

Changes

The summer of 2011 is fading fast and autumn is approaching. I actually had to turn on the heat yesterday and left it on all day. And it's raining. We need the rain, but the low grey clouds also are serving to match my mood.
The Ousley household is changing too. Mom, or Wilma as I call her now, is changing. Saturday she did not get out of bed at all, the second time this week. She has been sleeping a lot, most days well into the afternoon, but not getting up at all is a new thing. I talked to the caregiver about it because I was concerned about Wilma sleeping so much, that it might not be good for her, but the caregiver reassured me that if Wilma wants to sleep, at her age (91-plus), let her sleep.
I made the decision to call her Wilma because her personality is changing, not resembling my Mom in the least. And although this may sound harsh, it's a way to detach myself from her and allow my greiving to continue.
Wilma is changing in other ways too. She is more irritable. Friday was a very hard day. The caregiver got Wilma up at noon when she came and Wilma was not happy after that. I fixed her breakfast and then she was restless, she wouldn't sit still. She went outside a few times with the dog. Later, when I had dinner ready, she put on her coat and said she wanted to go home. I tried to convince her she was home, but she went out the door anyway. I followed her out and had to block her from getting off the front porch. When I finally got her in the house, I locked the screen door and she couldn't get out. She ate a little dinner and then sat in her chair and watched TV. At about 9:30 p.m., I asked if she wanted to go to bed. Again she said she wanted to go home and again I told her she was home and guided her to her bedroom. She said she wished she could kill me. As I was helping her put on her pajamas, she lost her balance and fell. It was just kind of a slow-motion topple. She landed on the soft carpet close to her bed. Thank God for the caregiving classes I took, because I didn't panic, I just followed the steps I was taught.
I asked Wilma if she was all right. I tried to lift her, but I couldn't. I scooted a rocking chair over to her so she could grab the seat and maneuver herself up. But that particular chair proved to be too high. I tried to get her on the bed, but that didn't work either. Then I remembered her small chair in her bathroom. I set it next to her and she managed to lift herself up and then slowly stand up. We got the rest of her pajamas on and she went to bed. As I was leaving her bedside, Wilma grabbed my hand and held on. She didn't say anything, just held on.
After I left her, I panicked and just started freaking out. I am surprised at how fragile and weak Wilma has become. I went over the scenario in my head a hundred times to see if I could've done anything differently. The only thing I could think of was asking if she was dizzy. Otherwise I followed all the steps exactly the way I was taught.
And the whole incident got me thinking. Does Wilma want to die? Does she think if she stays in bed long enough that she will close her eyes and go to sleep and never wake up? I know she is unhappy. And I still pray that God takes her soon. But it also made me think about living without her. My life has been pretty much devoted to Mom the last several years. What do I do when she's gone? Where will I go? What will I do?
Only my God knows and I must trust His infinite wisdom.

Getting Ready for the Inevitable

Something is going on with Mom. I don't know exactly what it is, but something is happening.
Sunday, I decided to wash Mom's sheets and blankets. It took almost all day, by the time she got up, but I got it all done and was so heartened to have everything clean for her - clean pajamas, clean sheets, clean blankets. Her bed was so clean and fresh smelling - I almost wish I had a clothesline to hang the sheets in the bright sunshine we're having now.
But when Sunday night came, Mom refused to get into bed. She came to me after we had gotten her pajamas on and said she couldn't use it. I asked her what she meant and she repeated her statement so I asked her to show me. In her bedroom, Mom stopped by her bed and pointed to it. "I can't use this," she said. I asked her why and she said "It's wet." I felt the sheets and of course they were not wet, but Mom had it stuck in her mind that since I had washed them, they were wet. She absolutely refused to get into bed, so finally, after about a half hour of arguing with her, I pulled the comforter over the sheets and blankets, got her another blanket and said she could sleep on that.
Monday was just another day, no big deal, Mom slept until about noon that day I think.
Tuesday, though, Mom wouldn't get up. I kept checking on her and finally she got up and was dressed before I knew it, about 3:30 p.m. I thought it was odd that she got up without saying anything or coming into the kitchen to see what I was up to. My answer came Tuesday evening when I was helping her get ready for bed about 10 p.m. and asked where her pajama bottoms were. Mom pointed to the bed, so I pulled back the sheets and there was poop all over her bottom sheet. I couldn't change the bed then, so I left Mom's jeans on her, put a big towel over the poop and got her into bed. After she was in bed, I discovered her pajama bottoms that were poopy too. But I didn't see poop anywhere else. I didn't know what her disposable panties looked like and I am such a wimp, I didn't want to know. I just thought Mom would be okay until I could change her bed the next day.
Today, Mom slept and slept. I checked on her once or twice an hour to make sure she was okay. She was sound asleep all day. Finally, I got her up about 5 p.m. because her caregiver was scheduled to come at 7 p.m. I took off the dirty sheets and washed them right away as I fed Mom something to eat. She's not eating well and will only eat bread, meat and potatoes. And it seems to me like she's having trouble swallowing. This evening, I gave her toast with butter and jam and a couple of glasses of milk. I had to coax her to eat all her toast. After she had showered and the caregiver left, I also had her eat a small ice cream sundae.
Mom looks so frail, moreso than I've noticed before. Her clothing is not fitting well because I think she's losing more weight. She cannot make any sentence make sense, which frustrates her IF she notices it.
I am just really getting the feeling that God is preparing her to leave us. Mom left me a long time ago, but  physically she is still here. I think God is preparing me too, for when Mom leaves. I've got the contact list all done and in a notebook. I'm going to clean out her closet so we can donate some of her clothes. I can't really explain it well, but I have this feeling, not a scary feeling, almost a peaceful one, that Mom will leave soon. Now, God's time certainly isn't my time, so when I say soon, I'm thinking in the next couple of months. God's time might be the next couple of years, but somehow I don't think so.
And I'm so happy for Mom when she does leave us. She will be with Grandma Dora and Grandpa John, she'll see all her dear friends who she misses so much and she will be free of this awful disease that took her from me. I am so blessed to have had my Mom all this time, to have had her as my best friend, to have had her as my Rock (along with God). I miss her so much.
Thank you, my God, for letting me have Mom as long as I did. And I thank you for every day that I still have her. I pray, my Father, that you cradle her in Your Loving Arms and take her Home soon. Amen.

Mom's Checklist

Mom is changing so fast.
She is changing physically, losing weight, not seeing well with her glasses. She seems to be getting smaller each day. And of course the Alzheimer's is making her change.
The so-called experts of Alzheimer's have broken down the disease into five stages. Mom is fast approaching the last stage.
She is wandering more, getting restless. Sometimes her feet shake and she kind of stomps them. She can barely handle drying the dishes and can't put them away most of the time. The other night, when her caregiver was here, Mom began crying because she couldn't remember where the dishes went. She can't put silverware back in the drawer. I can't figure out why because that should be one of the simplest tasks. Just put the forks where the other forks are, the knives where the other knives are, etc., right? But she can't do that, and forks are mixed with the spoons and knives are with the forks ... It's always an adventure to pull out the silverware drawer and see where things are.
As these changes occur, it's like there's a checklist going off in the back of my mind. Wandering, check. Restlessness, check. Crying, check. Not being able to communicate, check. And the checklist goes on.
As I go through the checklist, it makes me sad and mad at the same time. I can't do a damned thing about it. And I hate what this is doing to this strong, independent woman. And I know the end is coming.
Alzheimer's takes all logic away. Things that are very logical to me, such as putting a shirt over your head to get it on, are not to Mom. She tries to put underwear over her head. Even with tags on the back of her clothes, she can't figure out which is the front and which is the back. She can't figure out where the garbage goes.
So as these changes occur, the checklist keeps getting longer. I hope some day very soon, I can stop checking things off and that my real Mom will find peace and happiness.

Making the list

God is so good to me.
Since coming home from my college reunion in mid-July, it seems to me like this Mom I'm taking care of is slipping away day after day, not only mentally but physically.
She is losing weight. Her body seems to be drawing itself inward. It's hard to describe, it might be the osteoporosis, but not only is Mom hunching over, which is typical osteoporosis, it seems like her shoulders are shrugging forward. Her appetite is not the same - she's not eating her usual oatmeal like she used to. I've added bananas, and cinnamon and sugar, to change the flavor somewhat, but she still is not eating it. She's drinking her milk every morning and eating just one piece of toast instead of her usual two pieces. And supper is getting to be a real challenge. Unless it's plain meat and potatoes, or a hamburger with bacon and cheese on it, she absolutely will not eat. I am watching her carefully as she eats, because sometimes I think it's hard for her to swallow. More and more often, she forgets how to take her pills.
Mentally, she is barely able to communicate at all. She cannot describe things, she can't tell how she feels and if she hurts somewhere, it's a real guessing game about exactly where she's hurting or if she really is. She is getting more stubborn and argues with me more often. She has a thing about wearing panties now and I really have to watch her to make sure she's got some on, because sometimes after going to the bathroom, she takes them off and just puts her jeans or pajamas back on.
She doesn't know the next door neighbor any more and I'm still not sure she knows me. She has begun wanting to go outside, especially in the afternoons, and imagines there are children outside she needs to take care of or someone down the street she must see or a store she must go to.
Even though I've lost my Mom a while ago, this physical Mom is fading fast and I'm just getting the feeling that I won't have her around too much longer. Now, in God's time, that might be a year or two, or even longer than that, but I really feel like He is preparing me for when Mom leaves me for good.
One of those preparations is making a list.
I am a list-making machine. I make lists for grocery shopping, I make lists when I go on errands, I make lists of daily chores, I make lists for any trips I take. Now I must make another list.
When something happens to Mom (I used to say "if" something happens to Mom), I'll have to make phone calls, hopefully from here at home. My sincere prayer is that I will walk in Mom's bedroom one morning and she will be gone. And it occurred to me last night that I should start making a list of people I need to call when something happens to Mom. I know that this is God working in my life. When something does happen, I know I will not have the power to think, let alone contact people, but with my list, I won't have to think, I can just go down the list of names.
So today, I am beginning my list, trying to be prepared for when I won't have Mom any longer. It's not going to be an easy list to make, but it's a necessary one.

Mom didn't know me

I finally got to take a real vacation, but after five days of not being with Mom, when I got home, Mom didn't know me.
The main event of my vacation was my college reunion and it was wonderful. Renewing friendships, talking about our pasts, planning for the future, promising to keep in touch was a part of the event. Fort Wright College is still as beautiful as I remember and the dorm, former officers' quarters when it actually was a fort, where we held the reunion was very well maintained. Floods of memories came rushing back. Even the priest, Father Sev, was there with us, delighting us with his laugh, his wise words during Sunday Mass, and the ever-present smell of his pipe tobacco. Mass was held just outside the dorm Sunday morning. As we listened to Father, birds flew by and chirped, chipmunks and squirrels played among the trees. It was perfect and I treasured every word. It touched my heart so that I cried.
So after a weekend of college reunion, I dropped a buddy off at the Spokane airport and drove south to Colfax. The day was beautiful, not a cloud in the sky, but I soon had to turn on the air conditioning. When I arrived in Colfax, it was 95 degrees. I was able to check into my motel room, and I freshened up a bit before going to a high school classmate's house where we had a mini-reunion. Lynn Zaring Knott, Nancy Hull Carroll, Elaine Morris McClintock and I gathered at Elaine's house and ate and laughed and visited for more than two hours. It was so good to see them all. Then I went to a dear friend's house, Debi Kennedy Anderson, and stayed there for more than two hours talking the whole time, and then we met more friends, Dan and Susan Hopkins, their daughter, Toni Jo, her fiance David, Dan's dad, Homer and his friend Lorraine, for supper. What a wonderful day. I feel so blessed to have all these people in my life.
On Monday morning, I went to Debi's house for breakfast and then headed west. I left Colfax about 10 a.m. and arrived home about 6 p.m. It was a pleasant, but long journey home. As I was getting things out of the car, Martha and Mom were standing on the porch with the dogs. I saw Mom talking to Martha, but I couldn't hear what she said. When I started in the house, Martha whispered to me that Mom didn't know me. That just about broke my heart. Mom was quiet during supper and continued to be quiet after Martha left. I tried to act as normal as possible, but it was very difficult.
I knew this day was coming, I just didn't know when. And when it did come, it landed on my heart like a ton of bricks.
How I hate this damned disease.
I put off writing about this because it still is very painful. I still don't know if Mom really knows who I am. I guess I shouldn't have been gone that long. It's been five days since I've been home, each day I've been trying to act as normal as possible. I feel like Mom has been trying to act normal, or at least her normal, too. That's what I think it is, an act. I honestly feel like she doesn't know me and maybe she never will.
I know I lost my Mom a long time ago and this woman I live with now is such a stranger. Although I still call her "Mom," she really isn't. She is a stranger in my Mom's body.
God is so good to me, though. I know He guides me each moment and if I listen to His Whispers, I will get through this. My continued prayer is that the Good Lord cradle Mom in His loving arms and takes her Home soon. Lord, hear my prayer.

Finally getting an income

It's still sinking in.
On Thursday, I got a call that Mom is officially accepted into the state program so that I can begin getting paid as her caregiver. I will actually have an income, something I haven't had since January 2010. I still can't believe it.
When I talked to the social worker who shared the news with me, I couldn't stop crying. I am so thankful. All I can say is, "Praise the Lord!" And I will continually praise His Holy Name.
I can't quite comprehend what this means because I haven't had money for so long. Can I get groceries without counting every penny? Yes! Can I get Mom some new towels? Yes! Can I afford to buy Mom a new blouse and some new shoes? Yes! Can I take Mom out to lunch or an early dinner without it being a burger and fries? Yes! And can we have dessert afterwards? Yes! I can now afford to do so many things, like I said, it's still sinking in.
The stress of not having an income is almost gone from my mind and body. Thank You, Lord.
I will get paid for 84 hours a month at a little more than $10 an hour. Plus I am allowed 60 miles a month to also get paid for. I must complete some classes in the next four months that the state pays for and this program also allows another caregiver to still come and give Mom a shower and wash her hair.
I cannot be more thankful. And simply saying thank you to my God doesn't seem enough. He has blessed me so much. I know I must live my life to please Him.
I initially turned in the paperwork to the state in late March I think, so it has taken this long for the state to approve us. When they first contacted me, they said it might take until spring of next year to get us into the program, so I really wasn't thinking we would be accepted much before then.
But I wasn't really worried. I have been so careful with our money, or at least as careful as I can be. I just knew in my heart that we would be OK. I knew that God is caring for us. And He is.
I love my God. Praise His Holy Name! Oh, but don't stop praying for us. We still need all the prayers we can get!