Free Time

We didn't get much done today, even though we sort of got an extra hour. For her part, Mary slept an hour longer. She amazes me, how much she can sleep! I thought I was bad but she can outsleep me most every day. (Funny how sleeping a long time has such a horrible stigma. As if you must be lazy if you sleep so much. Hmph!) Sometimes I'll go in around 9 o'clock and she'll say she wants to lay a little longer. I've been really bad and started bringing her in a half a cup of coffee. She seems to enjoy it. I put the radio on the classical music station (my preference) and open her blinds. I don't know if it's really what she wants--but it's definitely what I want! Ah, to have someone bring me coffee in bed...

Mary's definitely got to have her coffee in the morning. And at night after dinner. And after lunch. And between breakfast and lunch and between lunch and dinner! And she likes it black and filled to the brim. At least, she used to when I first moved in. Now her right arm jerks sometimes, so I don't fill it as full. (Her left leg often jerks, too. Odd.) She also always used to leave a sip in the cup. She didn't want to drink the dregs. Even though she always drank instant coffee. :-) Go figure... At some point she actually started draining her cup all the way. I think maybe the ladies (who were watching her) didn't fill the cup up all the way, so she wanted to get it all. Or maybe they didn't give her coffee as often as she liked. It's odd because, although that habit of leaving a bit in the cup always annoyed the hell out of Angie and Anna--and me too at first, I was really quite saddened when it stopped. It was as if... Mary had lost a bit of the essence of herself. A habit that had been distinctively hers was gone. She does, however, still leave a bit of food on her plate most of the time--and this does annoy me! I hate having to scrape it into the trash can. And it's just so wasteful. It's as if she wants to show that she doesn't have to eat everything.

Since it was Sunday, I felt like I ought to read a little bit more of the New Testament to Mary. I love to read to her. Unfortunately, she's gotten so that she falls asleep so often and understands so little of what I read. When I see that she's fallen asleep, I'll stop and wait till she "comes to" again. This embarrasses her--she'll swear that she was just resting her eyes. Sometimes I'll act like I was taking a drink or looking at something else. We both pretend that that was the reason I stopped. She gotten more so that she'll giggle a little. Does she really think she wasn't sleeping? I'm sure sometimes she's not aware that she was, but some of it must also be a sort of vain resistance to admitting that she's getting old.

I've read her several books. Our favorites were Harry Potter. She has even gone to see the HP movies with me! The first one was the first movie she'd seen in about 40 or 50 years! (I take Mary so many places and I don't see anyone else pushing someone around in a wheelchair. Does no one else take their old aunt or grandma or parent out? They like to go to the mall or movies or supermarket, too. Mary loves to shop--but not to buy. Ugh! It kills me!) I picked the New Testament because it's a modern language version. I've often wanted to read it and since she's a born-again Christian (yes, scandal in a Catholic family), she's naturally interested, too. We've both been surprised by quite a few things.

At any rate, I wrote a list of all the things I needed and wanted to do today and then proceeded to call my Mom and ask if she wanted me to come over and help her with her leaves. There must be some faulty wiring in my brain. Well, we needed someone to watch Mary while we worked outside, so I called Ange and got her to agree to come in. We went to get her and then went over to Mom and Dad's. Suffice it to say, we didn't get many leaves sucked up, but I think Mom loved having us there and Angie enjoyed it, too. Mary would have enjoyed a shorter visit. Too bad. ;-)

I feel like I ought to be getting to bed--Ange sleeps on the couch, where I sit while I type. I haven't really seriously looked for a job for days. I feel so guilty. But I don't really want to find a job. I enjoy taking care of Mary. Why can't it work out that she pays me and I continue to take good care of her and then the rest of my life is alright, ie, I am able to find a job after she dies. Hell, if I can't find a job now... this is my worst fear confirmed. I couldn't find a job singing either. I can only get good grades and scholarships. Jobs are beyond me. Employers know something about me that I don't know.

Bad Dreams

Mary woke me up shortly before 6 o'clock this morning. At least, I think she woke me up. I don't remember hearing her bells. (I have a string of them attached to her bed and I wind them around her wheelchair, which I park next to her bed, blocking her escape. I jokingly call it my booby trap, although I don't mean to imply that she is a booby because she's so clever that she still manages to get them undone!) But I must have heard them because I was awake and I knew Mary was, too. I think I may have heard her muttering her, "Jesus, Jesus." or "Dear God, Dear God." When I went in she was rather agitated and said she didn't like all the people being there in the house. Here's where I heave a big sigh and feel incredibly guilty about going away to get a degree I didn't need and leaving her in the hands of strangers--and spending almost all of her savings to pay for them. Just think, if I had that money... No, that's the wrong direction! A nursing home would have cost just as much, I'm sure. But some of the women... it broke my heart to leave her with them. I wouldn't have wanted to stay with them. Now do you see why I called her three times a day?

At any rate, although she does sometimes get confused (not knowing whose house this is, for instance), and although she swears she doesn't dream, I'm sure that's what it was. (She's only admitted to having had one dream since I moved in--a nightmare about 3 years ago in which someone stole her "bean bag"--her most prized possession at the time since it was a new thing.) I've heard talking in her sleep quite a bit these last few months. Something she never used to do. But she did kind of scare me at first with the people thing. When I first moved in with her, she told me that she saw faces up on the ceiling. She said they were friendly but they didn't talk to her and she didn't know who they were. After I was here a few months, they disappeared. That kind of made me feel bad, and yet I was also relieved. Maybe they were watching out for her and when I came, they felt they could leave her in my hands. I hope that was it. But once in the last few months Mary did say that she sometimes sees people. And I know she's seen people in the hospital. Angie hears voices. And she doesn't like it. I've told her to tell them to get lost. She says she's afraid to talk to them, although she has gotten up, looking for them. She's heard them in her house, in our house and in Gina's in St. Louis. She says when she prays her Rosary, they go away. I told her to cover her ears and if she still hears them, then they're in her head and she needs to talk to her doctor, but if she doesn't hear them anymore, then to talk to her priest. Gina thinks it's schizophrenia. I don't want to say that to Ange, though. Her daughter has it--but she had a pretty hard life.

Yeah, so I went ahead and got Mary up this morning. We were both falling asleep in our chairs after a few hours, so I got her to lie back down. Ah, my bed has never seemed so comforting and delicious! However, half an hour later, ding-a-ling-a-ling...

I don't know where the day went. I really do need to keep better track of my days. Make myself more accountable. It was such a windy, blustery day, it just seemed to be made for goofing off. I cooked breakfast, which took some time. And dinner, too. That's part of my problem. I love cooking and baking so much that I have to really limit myself. I tell myself, if I do such and such then I'll allow myself to make something. I don't understand these people (I wanted to write "women," but that's sexist.) who don't enjoy cooking or who can't think of anything to make. It's really quite an addiction for me. I'd love to go to culinary school. But the last thing I need is another degree. It's really quite embarrassing. And I can't even find a job. All book sense and no common sense. No, that's not true. Just spoiled, I guess. Or arrogant. Think I'm something special...

The aunts think I've spoiled Mary. Well, they think she was a spoiled brat to begin with and are just jealous and disgusted that she's the one getting this royal treatment. What can I say? I enjoy spoiling Mary. We're a great team! She's a gracious taker and I'm a willing giver. See, Ange loves to take, too, but she's not gracious about it. She tries to be, but the resentment bleeds through. Her, "Oh, thank you, B." is just too full of self-pity and whining. Whereas Mary's is full of that... hm, I read it in a dating book once, I think the Mars and Venus on a Date one, describing women who give off the vibe that they are certain that a man can satisfy them. I forget the word he used, but, anyway, that's Mary. Oh, sometimes she does have a "poor pitiful me" thank you, which really makes me want to retch, but usually it's so cute the way she says it, you just want to do something else for her. Or she's so tickled with what you've done, you do it again and again just to see her pleasured reaction. Makes you understand how she managed to get married three times. (I always joke with her that she's been married three times, and I can't even manage to get married once. She always says, "Oh, honey, you'll find your match some day. And I hope you fall hard. Like a ton of bricks. Why, you won't know what hit you." To which I always reply that I hope he falls hard, too.)

Yes, I've got to get more organized. If only I didn't have to waste time looking for a job. That does take a lot of time, you know. Or at least it seems to. I guess having it hanging over my head makes me feel unfocused with everything else. I need to get Mary up at a certain time, washed and dressed, exercised, read to... all on a schedule. But life isn't like that. At least, this 93-year-old isn't. Once she gets entrenched with her coffee and newspaper after breakfast, there's no budging her. And by the time she's ready to get dressed, I'm ready for lunch. Then there's coffee after lunch... It's a vicious coffee cycle.

I'm getting comatose! At least we get an extra hour tonight!

Another Gloomy Day

Poor Mary. This weather really gets her down. How do you cheer up a 94-year-old who doesn't want to be cheered up?

I didn't feel well today and so I was a bit mean to her sometimes. I'm always surprised at the beast that I can be. But I am only human and do get tired of her telling me that she doesn't need me to help her to the bathroom or to get dressed or whatever. In some ways she's like a little kid--when I feel bad, she senses that she's not getting the (positive) attention that she usually gets, so she gets sulky and needs even more attention. Maybe I shouldn't say that she gets sulky. Just very quiet. She didn't even feel like watching TV today. She sat there and read the same page in the newspaper the whole day long--the Annie's Mailbox. She said she just couldn't understand it. I'd love to know what's going on in her head. Some days she reads me the same headline several times. Or I'll read her something at breakfast and then in the evening she'll read it to me as if it's something brand new. Is it laughable or sad? I used to think she was mentally lazy but not I think she just can't help it. But I don't know...there is something a bit lazy about her. Sometimes I think she's been waiting all her life to have a servant like me to wait on her. But other times she tries so hard to do things herself. And yet she does have that attitude. She actually refers to herself as we very often instead of I. "We don't do suchandsuch." "We don't like that."

She always calls me "honey." I'm pretty well convinced it's because she doesn't want to be bothered with remembering my name--or to cover up that she doesn't remember it.

She often repeats words twice: "Thank you, thank you." "Oh, that's hot, hot."

Sorry, I'm deviating. I hope I feel better tomorrow so I can give her some attention. But she did spend a lot of the time sleeping today. Maybe it was just the weather. In fact, I think I'm going to skip doing the dishes (good thing Mary doesn't notice things like that anymore) and turn in early myself.

Gloomy Days

It was pretty gloomy all day today. Mary doesn't like that at all. It seems to really get her down. I must be crazy because I love them. Mary always says, and I repeat verbatim, "Well, it's going to be a gray and gloomy day today." Sometimes I tease her by saying this (or other things that she's always saying, her phrases, so to say, like, "That's odd." or, "How 'bout that."). I honestly don't think she knows I'm teasing her. I don't think she's ever noticed that she's the only one who says these phrases, or that she repeats them quite often. Does everyone have those little phrases that only they say?

I recently noticed that she says Aunt Angie's name in a particular way. She almost always says, "Angela." Now when I talk to Angie, I imitate Mary. It cracks us up, but I don't think Mary catches it. Is this mean of me? Am I making fun of her? "Mocking her," as she'd say? I've also taken to repeating her when she says a word in her own particular fashion (like "eggs" which sounds more like "aigs"). Maybe I'm just slowly losing it... But you know what? When I say these phrases to Mary, I'm also sort of bonding with her. I'm making conversation, too.

I noticed pretty quickly four years ago when I moved in that I tended to use a different accent and use different words when I spoke to Mary. I don't mean this to sound as terrible as it's going to, but I wanted her to understand me. She told Mom once before I moved in that she was afraid we wouldn't get along. She's only had an eighth grade education and I'd gotten a Masters and lived in Europe. I poo-pooed the notion that we'd be incompatible, but I must admit that I was a bit taken aback when I got here and there were no bookshelves in the house. And it was rather hard for me at first to have a TV on every night for several hours. And I quit being a vegetarian. And I started drinking coffee after dinner. And I became very picky about having a clean (pico-bello, as the Germans would say) kitchen. I guess she's had much more influence on me than I've had on her. And you know something else? When I repeat or mimic her or try to second guess what she's going to say, I'm also trying to ingrain her in my memory. Trying to catch the essence of who she is because someday she won't be there anymore.

Groceries

Who ever thought that going to the grocery could be a major hurdle to get over every ten days or so? Well, I mean, when I lived in Germany, it certainly was a challenge to manage to a) never put more in my cart than I actually had cash for in my wallet (I devised a clever system that worked incredibly well--I counted two DM for every item in my cart. Here I think I'd have to count $5 for every item.) and b) be able to physically carry everything I bought home--especially that time I lived at the top of a steep hill, or that time I lived on the fourth floor.

Now I revel in the memory of my past when I was able to go to the grocery any time I wanted to. Now I have to take into account what I'm going to do with Mary. She always tells me to just go ahead and go without her--she'll be fine alone. I want to just laugh out loud, let me tell you. After hearing this so many times, I do get frustrated, I admit it. I do sometimes get annoyed and tell her how silly she's being. I hope I don't do that too often. I want to always think about what it's like to be in her place. She honestly doesn't remember that she can't stay alone. And just imagine how confining that must feel. Except that, thank goodness, I don't think she looks at it that way. How awful to know that you can't even stand up, much less take a step without someone else being there. And how lucky she is that I'm there to accompany her to the bathroom anytime she wants to go. It's no wonder that old folks go gaga, become soulless, lifeless, in nursing homes. Having to ring a bell and wait for someone who probably usually doesn't come in time whenever you have to use the restroom... Sitting there in your urine or feces or then trying to get up and go yourself and falling and then being bed-ridden... Not much respect for human life there, eh? Which is all why I'm here. Part of the answer to the question I posed last night. In making sure that Mary, whom I've come to love, continues to receive human respect, I am giving and receiving something greater than money. Someone once told me that you can either learn about life by traveling around or by staying in one place. Getting the big picture or the intimate picture. The latter is what I'm after.

So grocery shopping is a problem. I thought I had it solved when I finally got Mary to use one of those electric shopping cart-wheelchairs. I took her and Angie to Lowe's and then Meijer's. On a Sunday. Not very wise. I ended up with a huge headache, but the experience was a memory in the making which I'll never forget and terribly exciting, exhilarating even. Altogether, I think we had a blast. Then I tried to take Mary alone to Kroger. I hate having to ride the thing out to the car. How embarrassing since I can obviously walk just fine! Is that how Mary feels? She probably doesn't remember that she can't walk very far. Then the thing didn't go so well. It would drag and then take off like a rocket. Scary! People were very kind but it really wasn't the pleasantest of experiences. To top it off, the thing died in the doorway going out. A bagger and I had to push it out since there were no other ones charged at the time. Those things were not meant to be pushed, let me tell you. Well, then I discovered that the manual ones with the basket in front are alright. Although the brakes never work on them, which is really quite dangerous. You should never have anyone sit down in a wheelchair without the brakes on!

I just wonder what I'm going to do when it gets colder and snows. I'll just deal. And so will Mary. But where are all the other people who have someone there with them, dealing with it all with them? Am I such an anomaly?

At any rate, Aunt Anna came with us today and she insisted on pushing Mary. I sort of felt awful about that considering that Anna is 91 herself and has a bad knee. But on the other hand, I was free to run around more and get what I wanted. Plus, it gave them some time together and considering that Anna never calls... I think she kind of owed it to Mary. Remind me to tell you sometime about my last trip to Meijer's--with Mary and Angie. Oiveh! Well, I've got to get to bed. We're having breakfast with Mom and Jan, so we've got to get out of here by 9:30. Maybe Mary's life isn't so bad after all. She certainly gets out quite a bit with me, even if she does have some days like yesterday where she just sits on her butt all day. Uh oh, it's really raining out. Oh, please, oh, please don't let the roof leak again like last week! I should have gotten that taken care of, I know, but I'm only capable of so much...

Once again...

Once again I've managed to stay up way too late! Argh! And I even got Mary to bed on time. (Ha, ha--as if I had anything much to do with it since she definitely has a mind of her own.) Who am I joking? She wanted to go at 9:40, but I am such a weak person and have become such a slave to the TV. Yes, the person who went for at least 10 years without owning a set can't just switch it off. Probably the reason why I never owned a TV! Anyway, I fenagled her into staying up till the end of the show ("just 20 more minutes") and then the beginning of the news, which was pointless because I spent so much time begging her to let me hear the top stories that I missed most of them. At which point (well, actually, it was the sports point of the news, which really doesn't interest me) I succumbed and had her shut it off. (I try to let her have the remote to empower her and to help keep her mental faculties sharp by having to remember how to use it, which is definitely an area that's getting worse and worse.)

Now that was good of me. I wanted to practice some more with the MSWord instruction CDRom I'd bought. As usual, no matter what I do, I still somehow feel inadequate and am certain deep down inside that I really don't know what I'm doing. So I overtrain. Just like I did with singing... And German, too, for that matter. Meanwhile people who really don't know what they're doing are out there singing and teaching German and translating... And I'm taking care of Mary. Which is, in the end, ok because... well, I cant' tell you why right now because it's way too late and everything I think of at the moment sounds incredibly trivial. But I know it's the right decision, so there. As my brother Eddie once said, "Do what you want to do. But remember--you'll have to live with it for the rest of your life." And that goes for the good as well as the bad. Just as a sin isn't always what you do but what you don't do as well.

So I'm quite proud of myself for tonight, if not for today (over the course of which I didn't really accomplish much other than washing the dishes and several loads of clothes, filling up the bird feeder and bath, dealing with the ant infestation in Mary's room, changing M's bed, finally making that vegetable soup I've been wanting to make and staying within my WW's points range): I not only walked (ie, marched) for half an hour while watching TV, but I also threw some jogging in (major step for such a sportsaphobe) and did some work on the MSWord CDRom. Now, if I can manage to get up at 7:00 tomorrow morning, I'll be on a real roll!

As usual, I wonder why I give in to my inner hound dog (innerer Schweinehund) instead of just doing what I know I should. I'd feel so much better and probably get so much more done that I'd have tons more time to do what I really want to do. Hm. Maybe that's what I'm afraid of. Yeah, like being afraid of success because you're sure once you succeed you'll fail. If I get my act together, it will be blaringly evident that I don't have my act together!