The Mom & Me Journals dot Net
The definitive, eccentric journal of an unlikely caregiver, continued.

Apologia for these journals:
    They are not about taking care of a relative with moderate to severe Alzheimer's/senile dementia.
    For an explanation of what these journals are about, click the link above.
    For internet sources that are about caring for relatives with moderate to severe
        Alzheimer's/senile dementia, click through the Honorable Alzheimer's Blogs in my
        links section to the right.

7 minute Audio Introduction to The Mom & Me Journals [a bit dated, at the moment]

Sunday, August 03, 2008
 
I blew it yesterday.
    The day started out well. I was in an excellent mood. Just before I awoke Mom her third bouquet of flowers arrived, which only increased my good feelings about Mom's birthday day. Rousing went well, even though Mom was dragged out by the heat. It was during bathing when I, literally, lost my cool.
    When I awoke, much earlier in the day than Mom, I was damp from the overnight mugginess and took a shower, which did much to freshen me. During Mom's bath, though, all that steamed away. Keep in mind that, in order to make sure that my naked Ancient One is completely comfortable on the stool while being bathed I see to it that the bathroom is very warm; probably high 80's or low 90's. The steam from bathing also helps increase the heat. Although this environment is always a "close" one for me, over the years I've gotten used to the atmosphere and the attendant sweating. I usually (if I can, sometimes I can't, like for instance, lately, when the Hospice RN is scheduled to visit) delay my daily shower until after Mom's breakfast in order to freshen myself because, from way back before I can even remember, I've always been a profuse sweater, regardless of the humidity. I've, frankly, even liked that this is true of me; it keeps me cool all the time. Yesterday, though, in the bathroom I could have filled buckets with my sweat. I had to wipe the linoleum floor around me at least three times that I remember in order to keep myself from slipping. I exited the bathroom several times in order to wipe the sweat off my face and arms and cool off for a moment before continuing with Mom's bath. The "closer" the bathroom became, for me, the more ornery I became, especially as I contemplated taking a second shower after Mom's breakfast and realizing that I would probably sweat through the shower and the cold shower I always take afterwards during the summer (which I did). While we were bathing Mom's groin, which involves her standing for about two to three minutes, when she had difficulty and needed to sit down halfway through the procedure (which is neither common nor unusual), I snapped. First I went after her for not "snapping to" the way she usually does. Then I started in on the folly of birthday celebrations, especially those in August, and announced that "I am done with birthdays or celebrations of any kind for you and me".
    "Well, I like birthdays, I'm having a wonderful day, today, so I'll just go ahead and celebrate without you!" Mom spat back.
    It was at this point that I looked at my mother. She was looking at me wide-eyed with shock and disgust. That shut me up. Unfortunately, it shut me into my usual bad mood stoniness, in which I remained for most of the rest of the day. I was so locked in my discomfort that I even forgot to bring out her birthday presents. I made absolutely no effort toward a nutritious, let alone celebratory, dinner. When I told Mom that I had no idea what to serve her and added nastily, "...'guess [we'll] go eat some worms'," she responded that she'd rather have pie. So, that's what she had for dinner. She was thrilled. I felt like an ass.
    Although I don't attach sentiment to "last" celebrations, I do, for my mother's sake, attach a certain significance to celebrations in general, especially her birthday because she is not only "Mrs. Christmas", she is "Mrs. Birthday". I'm sure I was laboring (gleefully, earlier in the day) under some internal pressure to create a suitably celebratory day for her. I failed in the carry through, though.
    All I can say is, it's a good thing that I attach no sentiment to "last birthdays" and such. If I did I'd be feeling even worse, today, than I do.
    Yes, today is a bit cooler. There is more promise of rain today than there was yesterday, which lightens my mood a bit. I'm not looking forward to our bathing session. I expect it to be at least as insufferable as yesterday's for me. At least, today, I decided to wait on showering so that I don't annoy myself by taking two ineffective showers, today. I can already tell that if I have to heat up the oven and stove top and cook over them I'll probably lose it, again, so my plan is to put that off for another day, or two; which will be fine with Mom. She likes nothing better than extended celebrations, especially for birthdays and the chances are excellent that we'll have fast food for dinner, which we probably should have had yesterday and which she loves. So, overall, I think I have a better handle on myself today.
    You know, it's funny. During the last Hospice Social Worker visit he asked my mother (although I can't remember what prompted him) an almost rhetorical question along the lines of, "So, you and your daughter [meaning me] are a lot alike?"
    "Oh no," my mother said. "We're quite different, she and I."
    I remember laughing with delight at her response. "That's true," I said. "We're very different!"
    Mom nodded vigorously.
    I guess the assumption is that the sibling who "ends up" taking care of the Ancient One(s) in the family is probably very like the Ancient One(s). Bad assumption. I can't think of a single instance in which this would apply to any of the caregivers I know, either in "real life" or online. I think, if there is anything that "family caregivers" share it is, simply, for whatever reason (and there are multitudes of reasons), being the least likely in the family to refuse to do this. Many families, in fact, don't have anyone who "can't refuse", because the task looks so onerous, risky and life altering, at least in this society in which we currently live. This perception is accurate, primarily because little reasonable help is available and our society more often tells us not to do it than to do it.
    In Mom's and my case it is our differences, I think, that make us so compatible and allows the task to be not quite so onerous as "all that". My mother doesn't flinch when I get out of hand...she bristles. I don't selflessly "take it" when the demands of the job threaten to overwhelm me...I complain and figure out ways to cut back on the day's (or the hour's) dictates. Neither of us is afraid to say whatever we think to each other, nor is either of us afraid to sound stupid and petty in the presence of the other. Neither of us is afraid to attempt to tease or argue the other out of a bad mood. Both of us can take it when the teasing or arguing doesn't work. Somehow, we know everything will pass and the one or the other of us will feel and act better soon. In some ways our living together has broadened our characters. She is more likely to say what she thinks than she ever was. I am more likely to laugh at myself than I ever was.
    Vive la difference. It works for us. Yesterday is over. Today is a new day.
    Later.
Comments:
Gail, you are such a good writer. Somehow you take every day details and somewhat negative circumstances, and make them riveting and funny. There's a reality show or a sitcom in you somewhere...
 
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