Memorial Day Tradition

Every year, Mom and I travel to Eastern Washington, specifically Colfax, to put flowers on the family graves and visit with family and friends. It's a time I have always enjoyed being with Mom and we have shared some very special memories during our travels. I always look forward to going there because it's like going back home.
The moment we cross the Cascades, we feel better. I can't quite explain it, but the air is different, the humidity goes down, the traffic is lighter, there's more pickups on the roads with rifles mounted on the back windows and big ol' dogs riding along, tongues hanging out and tails a-waggin'. It's familiar territory for me. My heart, no matter where my body is located, will always be in the Palouse.
Besides, it's a chance to get the heck out of Dodge and see some new country.
Mom feels, or rather felt, the same way. My "old" Mom looked forward to the trips as much as I did and spent weeks getting ready - deciding what clothes to wear, what shoes to take, making sure she had all her necessities, etc. Even last year, after Mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, Mom knew that we were going to Colfax, and even though she believed that the road to White Pass was new, or somehow different, when we crossed the pass, she knew every town, every road and knew she was on home ground.
But not this year.
She can't quite comprehend that we're going on our annual trip. She's gotten her suitcase out several times and asks when we're leaving. And she seems upset by the trip, not really looking forward to it. I've tried to share my enthusiasm with her, but she get stressed to the point that I'm not saying anything to her now about it.
Of course Martha decided she just can't go this year even when I asked her for help months ago. She wasn't going to be much, if any, help anyway, because she demanded her own room and also demanded that we had to get back early because of her obligations as a teacher.
To get rid of some of my own stress, I decided to take two days going to Colfax and two days coming back. Not only will it be less stressful for Mom, but it will be less stressful for me - trying to get Mom up and getting her ready, driving more than 350 miles with Mom and Gigi, not to mention getting myself ready, is just too much. Taking two days, we don't have to leave here until noon or after, we don't have to check out of the motels until 11 a.m., and no long days spent driving. It'll be much better.
The most difficult thing so far is not being able to share my enthusiasm for the trip with Mom. I can't ask her what she'd like to do, such as seeing the grizzly bears at WSU or going to the hummingbird farm near Dayton or getting ice cream and some Cougar Gold cheese from Ferdinand's or going to Eddy's for Chinese or to the Top Notch for a hamburger. We would always talk about what we would like to do during our time in Colfax and share our excitement. Since I can't do that, it's like I've lost yet another part of my Mom. I know I'm losing her, but this is just another painful part I've lost to this awful disease.
I hope, once we get to Colfax, that Mom will be okay, but I don't know that for sure.
And I am thinking this might be the last time Mom will be able to go, not only mentally, but physically able.
Please pray for us to not only have a safe trip, but have a trip filled with wonderful memories.

A Sad Easter

I felt so sad this Easter.
This Holy Day is one of my favorites. I love Easter Bunnies, Easter Baskets, chocolate everything and Easter dinner with family and friends. I love hiding Easter baskets and watching as someone tries to find them. And I love hunting for my own Easter basket full of surprises. None of that happened this year.
Mom couldn't remember what Easter is. She had no idea what it meant or what we should do. All she knew was that we were possibly going to Mount St. Helens for an early dinner if the weather permitted.
Martha informed us about a week before Easter that she was invited to some friends. Just when I think things might be going well between us, she again dashes all hope by being selfish and self-centered. Did it occur to her to say no, she would rather be with her family? Nope.
So on Saturday, after Mom's hair appointment, we took a trip south to Woodland, Wash., where brightly colored tulips enhanced the blue sky of a beautiful Western Washington spring day. The flowers were all the colors of the rainbow and more. After arriving home, Martha came with an Easter basket with some chocolate candy thrown in it - at least that's what it looked like. It looked as though she thought of A basket - yes, one basket for two people - at the last minute and threw it together. As she and Mom visited, I went outside and planted part of my garden. I pulled weeds and dug it up and planted peas, pumpkin, lettuce and spinach. I was sore and ached, but it was a satisfying ache.
And on Sunday, the day dawned gray and dreary. My mood matched the weather. I could've made it more festive, but I didn't and now I feel guilty for not making it so that Mom would enjoy it more. Instead, it was a quiet day. I cooked supper and we watched some TV and then we went to bed. Not the best Easter I've had.
However, the weekend forecast looks good and my hope springs eternal that we will be able to go to Mount St. Helens and sit out on the deck of the Fireside Grill and look at the mountain that blew her top almost 31 years ago.

What a Monday

I thought my Monday was going to be a pretty peaceful day. I was wrong,
Mom stayed up late the night before, so I really wasn't too worried when she slept past 11:30 a.m. I checked on her and she said she couldn't get out of bed and that she had almost fallen getting out of bed to go to the bathroom. I asked her if she wanted to go to the doctor and she said no, she'd be okay.
I didn't know what to do, so I called Jill, our caregiver. She said if she was there, she would have to call 911, and for me to hang up the phone with her and call, so I did. I asked for a silent response and one ambulance came about 10-15 minutes later. Two guys from Cowlitz 2 Fire & Rescue (because technically we live in the county), came in and took Mom's blood pressure, asked her questions, which she told them she was fine. The younger of the two said they should take her to Emergency, but he was not a paramedic, so I asked to wait for the paramedics. Four paramedics arrived a few minutes later, so now we had SIX men in Mom's bedroom -- bet that won't happen again! The head paramedic advised me to take Mom to her regular doctor, so they put Mom's socks and shoes on her, I got her robe and they helped her down the steps and into my car. I alerted the doctor's office that we were coming, I put Gigi in her crate (poor little girl didn't know what to think), changed my shirt and off we went to Castle Rock, about a half hour away. It had turned out to be a beautiful afternoon, bright, warm sunshine and high puffy white clouds. We got to the doctor's office and waited until they could fit us in. Dr. Emma examined Mom and found a very tender spot on her back on her upper right shoulder. She said that Mom's osteoporosis is causing her muscles to tighten. She said we should get some Tylenol and that Mom should get a light massage.
I had called Martha to tell her about Mom and when she got of school she called, so I had to talk to her. After Mom got her diagnosis, I called Martha again. She surprised me by suggesting she buy a baby monitor, which she said would be good when she stayed with Mom this summer. I also asked her to get the Tylenol for Mom and a package of Mom's disposable panties and she brought them to the house. She helped me put the baby monitor together and set it up. And she stayed while I went to get a hamburger. All this surprised me.
After Mom ate her "breakfast" and took the Tylenol, she got dressed and did the dishes. Then we both sat down in our chairs and fell sound asleep. I finally woke up about 10 p.m. and then woke Mom up and she got to bed about 11 p.m. I didn't get to sleep until around midnight.
In the middle of all this, Jill's boss called and told me that Jill doesn't want to come three days a week any longer, that she just wants to come on Wednesdays. I said I wouldn't accept that, so I don't know what to make of this. All I do know is that Mom needs a shower and her hair washed more than once a week.
The head paramedic guy said that we needed to get a ramp and I said we couldn't afford it, but Martha said to call a couple of people to see what they could do.
So that was my Monday. May that not happen again for a while. And thank you Lord, for carrying me through it.

Battle in the Bathroom

There is the Battle of the Bulge, Battle of Midway, Battle of Gettysburg, and in the Ousley household, there's the Battle of the Bathroom.
A few months ago, Mom was really having trouble getting organized in the bathroom. I found a cute little basket to put all the things she needs in one place, thinking I was eliminating confusion. It did for a while. But then she began using Jergens and Vaseline as toothpaste and God only knows what else on her body that she shouldn't use. One night, I snuck into her bathroom after she went to bed and removed the little basket. Her caregiver said if I eliminate all the choices, the less confusing it is for Mom. So eliminate them I did.
All she has in her bathroom now is a box of tissues, a bar of soap, her electric toothbrush (after she threw the manual one away claiming it was someone else's) and a tube of toothpaste. And she still can't get it right. Every morning and every night I must supervise brushing her teeth and washing her face. I bring in the appropriate face creams and powders and then take them back to their "hidden" spot. Once again I feel like a Mother with a small child.
On a recent trip to get her annual physical, Mom's primary doctor said she believes Mom has just declined about 10 percent from a year ago. I was shocked. I said that I didn't mean to be disrespectful, but how could she judge that in five minutes. She doesn't see what I see every day. She maintained her position, however much I disagreed.
But when an old college buddy visited here a few days ago, she said she couldn't believe how much Mom had changed. She remembers Mom as this "tough as nails" woman who was a rock. Now, my friend said, Mom seems meek, much like a small child.
So the Battle of the Bathroom will continue, and I will continue helping my Mom, who I think is declining 10 percent almost every day, not every year.
My sister, Martha, and I still are not speaking. Martha stopped by once during her entire spring vacation to see Mom for less than an hour. She hasn't seen Mom all week this week. After talking to my counselor, I sent Martha an email this afternoon. It was very formal, very business-like, mostly requesting her help buying some things Mom needs. I just sent the email this afternoon, so I'll wait to see if she responds.
My caregiver class was so helpful. I feel more empowered in helping Mom. The more I learn about this damned disease, the better caregiver I can be.

The funeral

I attended my first funeral yesterday since Mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer's and it was much more difficult than I expected.
The funeral was for a good friend's Mom who was 95 and who also had Alzheimer's. She and I worked together for several years and talked about our Moms a lot. I call her often to bend her ear about stuff going on in my life and I hope I still can although now it won't be quite the same with her Mom gone.
I knew before I decided to go that it might be hard for me because I would keep thinking of my own Mom. I was right.
The service was at a local funeral home and was very nice. A Sheriff's Chaplain talked about how wonderful my friend's Mom was, how she smiled all the time, how she devoted her life to her children and always put herself last. A lot of what the chaplain said reminded me of my own Mom. He also read stories from the family about things they would remember most about her, which I thought was a nice touch.
The family and funeral attendees gathered at a social area in the funeral home afterwards to visit and eat. I sat with a former co-worker who I hadn't seen in a long time and some other friends. On all the tables were old photos of my friend's Mom that were displayed like in an old scrapbook and I liked that idea. My Mom doesn't want any kind of service, but people always like to eat and I thought what a nice idea that might be instead of a service. Then, of course, I felt guilty for even thinking such a thing. I certainly am not ready for my Mom to die!! No way!
But reflecting on it, I think God might be getting me ready. If something does happen to Mom ( I don't want to say when), I know God will be right with me, carrying me through.
So instead of a traditional service, perhaps we can just have an informal gathering, with lots of pictures and shared memories. I think Mom might approve.
I was so disappointed in the newspaper employees where my friend and I had worked. Out of all those people, only two came to the funeral. I get people don't like funerals, but you put your own feelings aside and go for the family.
Even though it was very difficult for me to go, I went anyway. It was so worth it because when I checked my email the last thing last night, there was a note from my friend saying how much she appreciated me being with her family yesterday. That note made it all worthwhile.
As I helped Mom get ready for bed, tears came to my eyes. I hate what this disease is doing to her and I still pray for God to cradle her in His arms and carry her Heaven.
And when He does, I'll be ready.

Is time the enemy?

Yesterday, Mom got up and came into the kitchen with no pajama pants on and I don't think any underwear on. I asked her where the rest of her pajamas were and she said she didn't know. We went into the bathroom and there they were on the edge of the tub and they went straight into the washer.
Mom seemed really out of sorts yesterday and could barely communicate at all. She didn't get up until almost noon and it was 12:30 p.m. by the time she had her breakfast. And she slept almost all day, acting like she didn't have the energy to do anything.
Today Mom came out of the bathroom with just jeans and an undershirt on, without her glasses and without washing her face or brushing her teeth. We went into the bathroom and I helped her wash her face and brush her teeth. As I put toothpaste on her toothbrush, she claimed it wasn't her toothbrush, that it was someone else's. I said no, it was hers and it was okay to use it.
God, how I hate this damned disease.
I just want to ask someone, anyone, WHERE IS MY MOM? Because this woman here living with me isn't my Mom. She may look like my Mom and her voice sounds like Mom's, but she isn't my Mom any more.
And as time marches on, Mom gets more and more strange to me every day. She has a hard time communicating at all any more. Her words come out all jumbled and don't make much sense. I am having a more difficult time trying to guess what Mom is trying to say, which frustrates both of us. When Mom gets really frustrated, she pulls a little of her hair. And she's acting more and more like a child every day. When I say something is out of place or dirty or whatever, Mom will say, "I didn't do it!" I remember saying that to Mom all the time. Talk about role reversal!
I am reading yet another book about Alzheimer's entitled "Learning to Speak Alzheimer's." I think it's giving me more tools to deal with Mom's illness than anything else and by giving me these tools, I feel more empowered, more like I'm doing something instead of not being able to do anything. It's just giving me more insight about what Mom might be feeling and experiencing. I feel like I might be able to understand what Mom is going through more.
I still feel guilty about filling out the paperwork for Canterbury Gardens. I hope I never have to go there to visit Mom.
And I still pray for God cradle her in His arms to take my Mom home soon. That is my wish and prayer.

Siblings can be a real pain in the ass - Part III

I really am trying to let this whole thing with Martha go and just let God do His work, but it is so hard.
Martha still is not speaking to me although I must admit that I am not cooperating with her.
Susie, my dearest and oldest friend from LaCrosse, came for the weekend. I was so glad to see her, but who should walk in right after she arrived on Friday afternoon, but Martha.
Now unbeknownst to Martha, Susie knew what was going on. So here's Martha acting like everything's all hunkee-doree and I refuse to play her little game. I go about my business, copying a recipe that Susie had brought me (her Mom's infamous orange rolls), visiting a little with Susie, but mainly staying out of the living room where the three of them had gathered. Finally I hear Martha saying she was leaving and as I walk out of my room and start to turn the corner, here's Martha.
She asked me if I wanted her to come stay with Mom while Susie and I went to a movie on Saturday night and I said nope, didn't need her. She said she wanted to come over on Saturday, and I said she was out of luck because we had several errands we were going to do, mainly go get Mom's hair done. In a very loud voice she announced she wouldn't come and then stormed out of the house. Oh, well.
The next morning (Saturday morning), I was just about to give Susie a call when I saw a text from her saying she was having coffee with Martha.
Well, Martha had plenty to say to Susie, all of which turned out to be a real line of BS. Martha told Susie how she loved me, that she knew taking care of Mom was hard for me, admitted that she said some hateful hurtful things to me and knew she should apologize. Martha also told Susie that she believed that Mom was more in tune with "spirits" because of her disease and based her theory on that Mom saw people who weren't there when she and Mom were at the beach last spring. I just looked at Susie and said that is a progression of Alzheimer's and for Martha not to recognize that is absurd. Susie emphasized to Martha that she should apologize and not let this wound fester.
And I waited for my apology which has yet to arrive.
We all went to Martha's birthday celebration at the Rutherglen Mansion on Sunday morning and had fabulous food. I got Mom's plate which had waffles, bacon and eggs and then served myself. Martha didn't acknowledge me during the whole time, didn't thank me for her gift, nothing. And when Susie wanted to take a photo of the three of us, I flatly refused. At least the food was good. And Dick, one of Martha's friends, didn't speak to me either, so now I'm wondering what she's telling her friends.
Today, Martha came over and again didn't acknowledge me. I know she wanted to have Mom say 'Happy Birthday" to her, but Mom didn't remember it was Martha's birthday today. Martha should have reminded Mom, like I had to when it was my birthday. But she's such a little girl, that she just couldn't act like a grown-up.
Susie left early Monday morning. I cried when she left our house Sunday night. I miss her so. She made it home okay and I look forward to seeing her during Memorial Day weekend. I appreciate her trying to work things out with Martha and I, but I am not going to just forget things this time. What Martha said was too hurtful and I can't let that go.
I'm still trying to let go and let God ...