July 28, 2012 · 8:09 pm

Handling the curveballs of life

After a three-day respite back home in Atlanta, I’ve returned to Roswell to be with my mom, who is still in rehab at the nursing home. I had a “small world” moment while talking to the cab driver that picked me up from the hotel. It turns out that his wife’s father had dementia and her mom had colon cancer, just like my parents.

I figured it was a good moment to get some feedback on the cancer treatment options in the area from a local. His mother-in-law was diagnosed in the latter stages, but survived two years. She did the chemo treatment, and had good days and bad days. All pretty typical.

What wasn’t so typical is how the wife’s life changed when she moved from the family home in Texas to be with her mom in New Mexico. No doubt it was a hardship and a struggle for the family, but when her mom eventually went into hospice care, the hospice staff were so impressed with the wife’s abilities that they offered her a job! She now runs her own private caregiving agency.

Now, I don’t expect that kind of ending for myself. As I’ve said before, I’m not comfortable in that kind of role. However, could my dad’s dementia and death and now my mom’s illness be creating a new path in life for me? Perhaps. It’s at least worth an exploration. I may end up with no choice but to be a caregiver for my mom. But the attitude and perspective I have in that new role? That is all up to me.

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July 27, 2012 · 6:52 pm

Dad a member of the “Irish Mafia”

Dad often boasted, in hushed tones, that he was a member of the Irish Republican Army. While I’ll probably never be able to determine the truth of that statement, I did find proof that he was a member of the “Irish Mafia.”

Obviously, this is a tongue-in-cheek membership card attained at a good old Irish pub. Still, it was funny to find this old and tattered card that Dad had held onto all of these years.

And thanks to the wonders of the Internet, I was able to discover that Molly Malone’s is still in business! It’s fun to think that one of Dad’s old Los Angeles haunts is still alive and kicking. I think Dad would be happy to know that the Guinness is still pouring freely.

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July 26, 2012 · 6:42 pm

Custodian for the dead

Today, I went over Dad’s savings and IRA accounts that are still tied up in the afterlife limbo. We could definitely use that money right now, considering mom’s precarious health at the moment. Unfortunately, most of these accounts did not have beneficiary information filled out, and Dad never got around to doing a will before his dementia set in.

All of that creates a world of trouble for those that have to come in and clean up the loose ends.

Mountains of paperwork. Legal hoops to jump through, and paying big bucks for the lawyer to set up those hoops for you. And then if you are lucky enough to obtain the funds rightfully due to you, then you must consider the tax consequences of your financial decisions.

I just received an email reminder, an annual note to update my beneficiaries of my 401(k) if necessary. Hopefully, future generations will take these electronic reminders seriously. Not having to deal with bureaucratic red tape is almost as valuable as the money itself.

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July 25, 2012 · 8:09 pm

Relearning your life

It’s interesting the simple things we take for granted, until sickness or old age strikes. I was talking to Mom today and she said in rehab tomorrow she’s going to learn how to get dressed on her own again. “Really exciting, I know,” Mom joked. (She hasn’t lost her sense of humor yet.) It made me think about how most of us go through our daily routines without even stopping to think about the steps involved. Getting dressed? Most of us master that as small children. Now Mom is learning how to do it all over again. It must be so frustrating on a certain level.

Of course, dementia didn’t give Dad a chance to learn new or old things. The disease robbed him of his mind, bit by bit.

And I’m having to adapt to a new way of living too. I’m not a fan of change, but this isn’t about me. Still, it’s amazing how one illness can change the life of a family forever.

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July 24, 2012 · 10:39 pm

A town missing my parents

Today, I went back to Ruidoso, NM, the town my parents retired to, so I could take care of some business matters. Dad was last alive (barely) in Ruidoso in November 2011. He was very sick by then and unaware of his surroundings.

Mom has not been in Ruidoso since her birthday, July 6th. We do not know yet when (or if) she will be able to come home. It was so odd going through the town without one of my parents being there. I walked the same paths they walked hundreds of times, and talked to people who remembered them well and were eager to send best wishes and prayers my mother’s way.

Ruidoso is a small, friendly community and my parents were well-liked though they kept to themselves mostly. I didn’t like being the bearer of bad news today, but the genuine concern was rewarding, and I was able to pass along that love to my mom tonight when I visited her at the nursing home.

Positive thoughts may not be the ultimate cure, but they can’t hurt.

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July 23, 2012 · 10:58 pm

Home fades away

I’ve written before about how Mom was always so heartbroken when Dad never asked to go home with her when she said goodbye to him at the nursing home.

Now she’s lost the meaning of home as well.

I was visiting her today at the nursing home and gently brought up possible plans once she’s discharged from the skilled nursing facility. She stressed how she would be afraid to live alone. I asked her if she wanted to go home and she surprised me by saying home didn’t really have much meaning to her anymore. She said she didn’t have much memory of the town she’s lived in for the past 10 years, or the condo that she kept so neat.

“It’s all different now,” Mom said as she waved her hands weakly in the air.

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July 22, 2012 · 7:20 pm

Wearing other’s clothes

Today there was some drama with my mom not having clean clothes to wear. I brought her five changes of clothing which was what I was told to supply. Somehow, Mom ended up not having any pants to wear and had to go to the dining room with a bedsheet wrapped around her waist.

Of course, Mom could have had breakfast in her room but I’m glad she wants to be social. I guess it isn’t quite like high school because she would have definitely been defying the dress code!

With Dad, we supplied a few outfits, but we never saw him wearing his own clothes. I’ve written before about my first visit to the nursing home where Dad lived, and seeing him in Scooby Doo pajama bottoms. When they sent “his” belongings after he died almost all of the clothes belonged to someone else.

So far, no cartoon character prints for Mom, but she was so grateful when I visited her at lunch and they found her a pair of sweatpants to wear. I was grateful too, and I brought in several more outfits for her to wear.

When you become old and sick, you give thanks wherever you can find it.

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July 21, 2012 · 8:21 pm

The need for companionship

First of all, it’s my 200th post! Thanks to everyone who has followed the ups and downs of my strange journey this year, as I explore my father’s death and legacy and now my mom’s serious illness and brush with death.

Mom was finishing up lunch today when I came to visit her at the nursing home. She ate everything but the main dish, which was veal. That’s not something she ever ate at home, so I can’t blame her for skipping it. It seems that in the hospital and now in the nursing home, the menus are very meat-centric. I wonder when my generation (and the future generations) get old if the nursing homes and hospitals will be forced to serve up healthier food, vegetarian options, etc. I guess they are going for comfort food that will be appealing to the masses but all of it ends up looking like mystery meat to me.

It’s also sad to see so much food wasted at these places, when there’s obviously people starving all over the world.

Now Dad was quite different when he lived at the nursing home. Up until the last few months of his life, when he lost the ability to swallow, he would clear his plate every time. The nurses would joke about not being able to keep him filled up. I’m sure he would have wolfed down Mom’s veal cutlet!

There’s also another major difference between Mom and Dad. With Dad’s dementia, he withdrew more and more. He would be brought into the dining room to eat, but would do so alone at a table, not talking to anyone. Dad was a bit of a loner before the dementia but he had that Irish charm and could strike up a conversation with a stranger quite easily. I’ll never know if he suffered at mealtime, or if he was content in his own little world.

Mom, on the other hand, is a social butterfly. She’s already been adopted by the others into the “dining room family,” as Peggy, another resident explained. This nursing home “mafia” collects any salt and pepper packets not used and puts them in a community tin. So I guess I know where to go if I run out of salt and pepper!

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July 20, 2012 · 9:33 pm

The diaper follies

You have to find humor where you can in the nursing home. Mom used to haul adult diapers on the Greyhound bus as she went to visit Dad at the nursing home. Finally, she allowed me to just order them online. It was not as easy as one might think. Certain styles worked better for Dad, and of course, finding his size was difficult because he kept losing weight. Also, Dad started going through more and more diapers each day. With his dementia, he would sometimes try to rip them off.

Mom now finds herself wearing diapers. Hopefully, it’s temporary. Today, she was wearing a dress and the staff changed her diaper before her physical therapy session. She said it felt a little loose. While she was trying to master the walker during her therapy session, the diaper slipped off and fell right on the floor.

Mom had a better attitude about it than I probably would have had. She said they all had a good laugh about it.

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July 19, 2012 · 10:09 pm

What matters most on birthdays

Today is my 38th birthday. Obviously, this has not been the best of months for me. In fact, it ranks right up there with December 2011 (my dad’s death) as the worst month of my life.

I went to visit my mom today in the nursing home. I had the chance to overhear her tell a nurse, “It’s my daughter’s birthday today,” even before she saw me. I had to walk her through the significance of July 19th yesterday. Mom was never the type to forget birthdays. Considering everything she’s been through lately, I would have totally understood if she forgot, but it was sweet that she remembered.

Mom and I at the nursing home on my birthday.

Last year, Mom and I visited Dad at the nursing home he was at shortly before my birthday. They sang “Happy Birthday” to me together for the last time. Dad was barely awake but he mumbled through it as best he could. In years past, he would croon like Bing Crosby or Frank Sinatra.

“To Joy on her 38th birthday with more love than I could ever express. You are so loved and special. Love much from Mom.”

Mom was adamant about me getting her purse from her room while we set outside. She said she had “something for my birthday” in there. She wanted something to wrap it in so I gave her my camera case and then she said she wanted to write me a note. I gave her pen and paper and she labored over the brief note.

Mom put a crumpled $20 in the camera case, but it is the note and the photo I took of us that are the gifts that matter the most. Sure, no one wants to spend their birthday visiting their mom in a nursing home. But at least I still have my mom to give me a birthday hug. That’s truly the best gift of all.

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