Oh my, oh my, oh my!
    Well, I finally decided, on Sunday, to bite the bullet and set to restoring my Mac files, so I could use my email files, especially, to concoct a decent mailing list of readers, including "old" ones, for notification of the final migration of this section of The Journals to the new domain. Didn't go well. I spent the entire day fooling with the back-up program and the computer and was unable to restore the important files (all linked to my username on that computer, such things as all my documents and all my email files). By evening I was aware that some of the mistakes were those of the business that replaced my hard drive and some were mine. By evening I was sad and frustrated. I can't believe, yet, that I will no longer have access to those files, but it looks as though I'm going to have to have a professional do the restoration. I am assuming that the restoration can be done...that I simply didn't understand the instructions on how to do it. I decided, though, to wait for a couple of days to contact the pros, as I've been running close to empty for the last few days and am likely to be a loose-cannon-client if I don't approach the pros after I've had some rest. So, upshot is, I'm putting of the migration for a bit, until I discover whether I will ever have access to those files, again.
    A PT from Hospice is due to visit, today, for purposes covered in this post at Life After Death Sentencing. Whether we proceed with the recommended PT is up for grabs, as explained in the section of the aforementioned post. I remaining noncommittal on the matter, for reasons I also explain in the aforementioned post having to do with an error in judgment.

    Early yesterday morning Mom awoke at 0400, sat upright on her bed and called "Mother...". The monitor worked beautifully, even though I was, by that time, seriously tired and sleeping deeply. I was by her side before she needed to call out again. Turns out she had "some things on [her] mind" that she wanted to discuss, so we were up for about an hour in the wee morning talking. She was unable to recall what had prompted her initial desire to talk. I encouraged her, though, by asking her what was on her mind. She told me that she couldn't remember, exactly, but she had been "thinking about Guam." She's mentioned that Guam has been on her mind more than a few times over the last several days, without much elaboration. So, I figured, maybe her mind was in a proper mode, now, and took my cues from this consideration. I took a back seat in the discussion, rather spending most of the time asking her what she remembered. She had difficulty with that and mostly responded by asking me what I remembered. I filled in a few details but my seriously wasted mind was intent on getting her to remember and talk, without much success. After she'd decided to settle back into sleep and I was drifting there, as well, I suddenly realized that, maybe, when Mom is thinking about a place but is unable to bring forth her thoughts, what would profit her is if I bring forth my memories of the place (even if I've never been to the particular place on her mind, I usually have memories of her stories about her life in that place). Whether this would prompt her memory is moot, although possible. The reason, I decided, I'd do this is in order to function as a memory album for her so that she is able to pull pictures from her mind as I talk and, if possible, add elaboration. If the elaboration isn't possible, well, she seems to enjoy listening to and contemplating what I remember. Sometimes, I think, especially with Ancient Ones who have dementia, it isn't important that they spit up their memories, which are often hard to impossible to either access or verbalize (I, personally, believe it's the second circumstance more than the first). What's important is that they are allowed to search for and contemplate their memories. At the moment, a chance to try this strategy hasn't yet arisen, but I'm sure it will within the next few days. I'll report back, of course.

    Yesterday evening, when I first awoke Mom from her nap (she asked for another half hour, which I gave her) she clearly spoke a startling sentence which, I assume, was a bridge from her dream state: "Everything's fine; everything's taken care of," she said. She said it with such confidence and authority that I laughed delightedly and immediately asked her to what she was referring. She looked at me through the lingering wisps of her dream and immediately forgot the circumstances to which she was referring. I was tickled, though, and continued, for a moment, until she asked for more sleep time, to try to prompt her.
    When she closed her eyes for the last half hour and I left her room I couldn't help considering her declaration. Earlier in the day she mentioned that she felt "so much better" than she remembered feeling over the last few days. I was unable to draw any more out of her, although I suggested that maybe she felt this way because she was definitely on the mend from her second bout of pneumonia. She agreed this might be it. Maybe, I thought, this is the reference. I also considered some of what I've been reading in Final Journeys. Maybe she had a dream that assured her that her life is now in order and she can proceed with whatever she feels necessary without looking back. Whatever, I'm glad she's settled about, well, whatever.

    Speaking of which, although I am having to read the book in interrupted clumps, I'm enjoying Final Journeys. This book is much more interesting to me that Callanan's first. It's full of attitude lessons illuminated with interesting stories. Forgive me for sounding, well, egocentric, here, but it's one of two books I've read, lately, that contains loads of validation for the way I've traveled with Mom on her and my long journey together. The other book, Dancing with Rose, validated my decision to keep Mom out of assisted living of any kind, even though the book is meant, I take it, to dispel the fear families may feel about such places in connection with their loved ones. Final Journeys validates all the attitudes I've discovered helpful throughout the years and adds some interesting refinements. I'm especially pleased to know that this book will probably enjoy wide readership among Hospice professionals. It validates the practices of Hospice, as well, in some surprisingly detailed ways.

    We have begun discussing the holidays in earnest, prompted by me stumbling across and purchasing some small ornaments that will be perfect for our small trees. Our current discussion, which hasn't been resolved, revolves around one big tree (we have a pre-lit one in storage) versus the two little trees. At this point, we're considering all three, although we have precious little space within which to mount all this decoration and mobility could become dangerous if we go this route.
    There has also been some slight discussion on who will be visiting throughout the holidays. Chances are, no one will, which rends my heart a bit, since this will probably be Mom's last holiday season (on earth, anyway), even though I'm sure Mom is sure she's got many more holiday seasons packed under her belt. On the rare occasion when she opines that we might be alone through the holiday season, she's stoic about it. "That's the way our family is," she says with a shrug that betrays her pride in being a part of and having continued the tradition of raising a very independent family. I'm not exactly sure how to handle these conversations, so I've been veering quickly away from them. When she asks if I've heard from anyone "about Christmas" I just say, "no, not yet," to which she always responds, with a chuckle, "well, our family has never been known for close contact." It's hard, though. The subject continues surfacing because we're not getting all the holiday catalogs and food magazines in the mail, much to Mom's delight, and I am loathe to keep them away from her, they give her so much pleasure.

    Anyway, although nothing earth shattering has occurred, lately, thought I'd check in and update. I'm still running close to empty, but, oh well, what's new?
    Later.
- posted by Gail Rae @ 09:30   email  this post