Are We Going Crazy?

This last week has seemed to last an eternity. Mary’s physical ailments are clearing up, but in their stead is a mental and emotional turmoil that seems to only occur at night and which is threatening to loose my sanity from its stronghold as well as hers. I think I’ve gotten a grip on myself and can handle this, but I don’t know about Mary. For all the times I’ve ever written “poor Mary,” it was never as appropriate as now. I just want to gather her up in my arms and make everything all right.

At night, I guess around 9 o’clock, she starts thinking (“studying,” as she calls it) and worrying. She starts asking me odd questions or making odd comments. She’s concerned about her finances. She doesn’t know where she got any of the things that surround her, how she afforded them. She thinks she’s ill and no one (in the family, i.e., Anna and Angie) visits. A few nights ago, it wasn’t that bad. It was more that she’d wake up and be worried and I’d crawl in bed with her to calm her down. (I think she’s cracked a rib from scooting over in her bed.)—She’s gotten so that she doesn’t like me doing that anymore. At first, the sly thing, she’d tell me that she was concerned about MY not having any room and not being able to sleep, but when I told her that I was comfortable and would drop off to sleep any second now, she’s finally fess up and tell me that the problem was that SHE didn’t have enough room and wanted to lie in the middle of her bed! —But the night before last she started this questioning before bedtime. I told her that she had enough money in the bank to pay for everything. She was confused and wanted to know where it came from. I told her I wasn’t positive but thought it came from her three husbands. (Anna has told me in the meantime that each husband did leave her a fair amount but that she though Mary had made most of her money from some land that she and Demy, her second husband, had bought and then resold in smaller lots.) Well, this information seemed to come as a surprise to Mary. I don’t think she remembered that she’d had three husbands. She kept wanting to talk about money, and I finally told her, deciding that perhaps a change of tactic would help matters, that I didn’t want to hear any of it, that we’d discussed it all before and I was tired of hearing about it. She agreed to this. Maybe she knew she was harping on the subject. But then she hadn’t known about this and that she wouldn’t tell anybody she knew about it or that I’d told her. When I asked her what she was talking about, it became clear that she’d thought she was penniless and didn’t understand why no one had told her that she had some money. She seemed to think they (who???) were keeping it from her on purpose and that I’d let her in on a bit secret. Actually, it was kind of cute (if I can be so insensitive as to talk about her being cute in that state of mind) because a couple of times she’d say, since I’d forbidden her to discuss the subject any longer, “Bridget, can I ask you one more question? Just one more and that’s it.” If I agreed, then she’d ask me something crazy and repetitive, like why no one had told her about her money or where exactly it had come from. Oh, and she kept wanting to know where the money was, which bank. She didn’t recognize the name of her bank at all.

As you can imagine, this was really wearing on my nerves. Since she’d been waking up the last few nights, I decided to let her stay up late, thinking that if she were really tired, she’d sleep better. Not! “Sleepless in Seattle” was on, so it was even easier (yes, I’ll readily admit my weaknesses) to stay up. The move was over with at a quarter till one in the morning, at which point I insisted that we go to bed—Miss Mary was still quite bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Go figure. Well, she didn’t go to sleep. She just kept carrying on. I went back in several times. She kept wanting to know the name of the bank where her money was and why they hadn’t told her about her money and how did she get it. You know, part of what is so frustrating is that she asks the same questions over and over. I get so tired of repeating the same answers. I guess because I know that it’s like dropping water into a bucket. The answers just get sucked up in the void of her mind. And yet, I can’t just give her a nonsense answer or say I don’t know or whatever because that can set her off in another direction. But I hope I’m getting better at repeating the same answers. Oh, I tell you, I hope I’m getting better at dealing with this every day. I certainly can’t get any worse.

Yes, so when I went in around 2:30 AM and it was still all the same business, I lost it. I started yelling at her that I needed some sleep—I was getting a sore throat and felt a sinus infection (a clear sign of stress) coming on—and that I needed to stay healthy to take care of her and that I couldn’t just go to the doctor because I don’t have health insurance. All of that just made her more upset, as you can well imagine, and this plus my own annoyance at my losing my temper made me upset. I hate it when I lose it. It’s like I’m standing next to myself and, well, like I let go of the leash. You know, like when you’re walking a dog and it starts pulling and you know you can’t hold on to that leash without hurting yourself, so you just let go. Or it’s like I sense this ugliness welling up in me like a tsunami and some part of me just steps aside so that it doesn’t get crashed down upon. Yes, there’s a certain moment when I lose control and I KNOW it but I let it happen. I hate myself for that.

But even though I’d made her even more upset and miserable, she still kept on about her bank and money, so I got out a bank statement (with a lot of yelling and making it clear that I was furious) to show her how much she had and what the name of the bank was. To be honest, I don’t remember how everything ended. I think I finally got ahold of myself and tried to comfort her. Maybe that was when I realized she must have a cracked rib. I finally went back to bed. I heard her still in there talking to herself and God. I remember hearing her sleeping around five in the morning. Oh, yeah, she woke me up because I heard her saying, “Shut up!” I heard her say that last night, too. She said that before when she was hearing those voices. Is she still hearing them? I hate to ask. Or is she telling someone specific to shut up. Maybe it’s me!

In the morning, it started all over again. She acts like she’s going to cry and says that she thinks she’s going insane. I tell her she’s not, that it must be her medication or her UTI isn’t cleared up yet or it’s the full moon or SOMETHING but that she’s not crazy and we’re going to figure out how to make things better and that she doesn’t need to worry because I’m there for her and God isn’t going to let anything happen to her and maybe she needs to pray when she’s upset. Oh, did I tell you about how the other night she was even upset because she had left her church (catholic) and hadn’t been to church and was so afraid about dying and not having been to church for so long. I reminded her that she was a born-again Christian and how she’d been saved. She sort of remembered it. I named members of her church whom I knew. She knew them. She was quite confused about all of that. You know, if she were still catholic, we could say the Rosary together and I think it would comfort her. I don’t think her church has any set prayers. They just come from the heart, which is lovely but of little comfort when you’re so confused and upset that you can’t pray. Maybe I’ll try putting on her church music during the night when she gets so upset. Well, she probably couldn’t say the Rosary anyway—she can’t even seem to say Grace anymore, and this really, really upsets her. She’s had times when she’d stumble or just couldn’t remember it, but it’s never been so prolonged like this. Oh, God, I sincerely hope it is her UTI that hasn’t been wiped out. She’s still having the incontinence and I think her urine still smells funny, even though it is clear as a bell now… Oh, I’m so mad at myself for not seeing that she had a UTI! I always see that! I guess when you’re with someone every day, you don’t notice these things. Just like how people don’t notice that their daughters are pregnant because they see them every day.

My brother who is a nurse says that her doctor should give her something for depression or to help her sleep at night, even if it’s just a temporary fix. But I want to see about the UTI first. The nurse is going to take a urine sample on Friday. Will they do the test on Friday? I hope so! I’ve made an appointment with a podiatrist on Friday, too, so that day will be rather hectic. I really want to get those sores on her feet healed up. I think that will help her mental state a lot. I mean, she sits there at look down at her foot all day and wonders what’s wrong with it and it even hurts her sometimes (for no apparent reason)… And I can’t help but think that she’s getting weaker all the time… Although for the last few days she’s been quite happy during the day, sometimes even very cheerful, wanting to exercise and being really talky. Sort of like she manic-depressive. O je.

I got Mom to bring Anna over yesterday. I thought that might help cheer Mary up. I almost even wish Angie would come and stay a few nights. But I’m afraid it would be too distressing to see Mary so upset and confused. Plus, when Angie’s here and Mary gets up at night, Angie usually sleeps right through it, so she wouldn’t be any help. And, then, Angie’s got enough problems of her own. Mary did seem like she was better last night, so maybe it did help to have Anna here. Angie didn’t even call yesterday. So we didn’t call her, either. Partly because we get tired of always calling her and partly because maybe she needs a rest from Mary. I wish Mary’s foot was better and she wasn’t so shaky and then I’d take her out to visit Angie. Hm. Maybe Angie could get her daughter to bring her in here for a day and Mom could stay with Mary while I take Angie home.

I’m thinking about calling Bonnie, who used to look after Mary with Home Instead (that awful company), and setting up an afternoon every week for her to come and stay with Mary. That way I’d have a set day to do my shopping and pick up the mail and just be alone. But that, then, I would have less of an excuse to get Mary out of the house. But, then, maybe I shouldn’t take her out so much. Maybe it’s stressful and strenuous for her. Like at Christmas. I think now that it was a bad idea. That’s where her bronchitis came from. All that cold air. She needs rest. I have no idea what it feels like to be 94, but I imagine she needs a lot of rest. But too much rest is deadly, isn’t it? Oh, I just don’t’ know.

Mary woke me up at around four-thirty this morning. She’d had another bad dream that seemed real to her. It took me a while to figure out what it was about. She gets so upset and it seems so real that she can’t explain what it was about. I guess it seems so obvious to her. She woke me up when I heard her saying, “Oh, dear God, I’ll cry all the way there.” Apparently, her family had convinced her to move into a home and she was waiting for the movers to come, but no one came. Maybe she was so upset because she would have to go to the home without her furniture and without anyone from the family. I told her it was an anxiety dream, like the ones I have about a man chasing me and then my ripping or chopping him to bits or the ones where I have to sing and I can’t remember the words or nothing comes out or even the ones where I can sing like an angel and wake up to remember that it was only a dream and am confronted by the reality of being afraid and having technical problems and not having the guts or the venue to perform. Well, anyway, I finally got her to come out to the kitchen (not the living room because she was being rather insistent about wanting to call “someone”—Anna or Angie? —and I was afraid she’d grab the phone and do just that) and have a cinnamon roll and a cup of (decaf—that’s what it’s going to be from now until she gets settled again) coffee. She started feeling better almost immediately. When she was finished, she went back to bed. I tried to read a bit but my eyes hurt from being tired, so I tried to sleep but my mind wouldn’t rest, so I got back up. I’d like to get Mary up at nine (so I can get her back into getting up earlier and going to bed earlier), so I’d better go. I wanted to take a shower, but I don’t think I’ll have time now.
8:41 AM

Feeling Blue

Mary seems to have suddenly realized that she's old. For the last two nights she's lain there awake, thinking about dying. And in the morning, too, when I go in to get her up. I get in bed next to her, which is quite a squeeze in her hospital bed, and cuddle up next to her. I try getting her to call people, but all she does is complain to them that she's sick and not doing well. I wonder why she thinks she's so sick? I mean, she's not perfectly healthy but she's not anywhere near dying. Sometimes I think that she senses that I'm not feeling well (I've had migraines three days in a row.), and then she "acts up" to get my attention. Maybe she's feeling so depressed because she's getting so hard of hearing that she feels like she's missing out, that she's not connected with what's going on around her. Should I get her hearing checked? The thought of dealing with a hearing aid with her just about sends me round the bend. But on the other hand, it's not fair to her to leave her not hearing everything. Isn't that her right, to be able to hear everything? And, then, it could make things easier. But I know how forgetful she is and how new things really throw her for a loop. And I've seen how difficult it's been for Ange, dealing with her hearing aid. Help! Can't someone give me the right answer?

Mary also keeps talking (at night) about giving me her house. This is so frustrating for me. I mean, I've given her a chunk of my life, made my life fit hers, made this house my home, and yet when she's gone, I won't have anything. She changed her will about two years ago and simplified it. I had been supposed to get a little bit of something but now I only get a ring which she already gave me and which is probably worth next to nothing. It's just that it's pretty. One side of me hates me for even caring. Or for thinking I have a "right" to anything. On the other hand, I'm hurt by the injustice of it. Mostly, I'm just sick of thinking about it. It's all just material possessions anyway.

Mary's still hearing voices at night. Last night I heard her saying, "Shut up! Get out of here!" Then "Dear God, dear God." or "Jesus, Jesus." I wonder if her and Angie's hearing these voices has to do with their hearing loss and maybe a lack of blood circulation in the ear canal. Sort of like tinnitus.

Getting Older

So how did Mary spend her 94th birthday? In the car! Mostly. We started out the day with opening the two presents she'd gotten. After she was finished, she suddenly exclaimed, "It's my birthday!" Was she thinking it was Xmas??? Then I called the doctor's office. They are so great! They wanted to give us an appointment within an hour, but I knew Mary couldn't make that, so we made it for two hours later--and were still late. It looks like 94 is going to be even slower than 93. Well, there's certainly no rushing anyone that old. They took us right away. I told the nurse what was wrong (persistant cough, sores on toes, dry spot on heel, sleeping all the time). When the doctor came in, she asked Mary how she was and Mary said she was fine. Dr R said that wasn't what people were telling her, were they telling lies? Mary said, yes, they must be because she felt just fine! Do you believe it? That's always her pat answer. It's hard to get her to admit that she doesn't feel well. But, on the other hand, when she's in pain, she's really adamant about it and wants attention immediately.

We had to get a urine sample. Ugh! I hate that. Mary, unfortunately, is not like me. She cannot pee on command. Then a blood sample. She hates needles. No wonder, they've been rather rough with her at the hospital. Then a chest x-ray. Undressing the four layers I had on her because it was only about 20 degrees outside. Then getting her up on the table... Well, she only has bronchitis--not pneumonia, thank goodness. However, her cough seems like it's getting worse. The home health was supposed to call yesterday, but they didn't. Great. That means they won't get around to seeing Mary until next week. The antibiotic for the bronchitis is supposed to help the sores on her toes (Dr R called them ulcers--??), but, frankly, they look worse to me. Argh!

Well, after the doctor, we went to pick up Angie. It took her forever to get herself together and we'd called ahead. I finally made a comment, tongue in cheek, about how I only had so much gas in the car--it was still running to keep Mary warm. Well, that started things out on the wrong foot. She was already pissy with me by the time we got in the car. She said she'd been hurting all day. From there, we drove to the grocery to get some flowers--for Mary and Eddie. Angie remembered that she was supposed to put some old clothes out on the porch to be picked up, so we had to drive back and put them out. Big sigh, let me tell you! Oh, then we went to Moby Dick because I was starving by that point.

The next stop was the cemetery. But we stopped at the church on the way--I'd left Mary's really expensive umbrella at the reception after the funeral back in October. They didn't have it anymore. Ok, on to the cemetery. Cave Hill Cemetery is the ultimate cemetery, the quintessential cemetery. Beautiful. There's a pond and tons of huge and old grave stones and statues. There's even a tree-lined allee leading in to it. Gorgeous. And lots of little winding roads, so it's impossible to find your way and very easy to drive around in circles. We did eventually find Ed's grave and I planted some miniature red tulips on it. He and Mary have (or do I say "had"?) the same birthday. The last few years, he'd always send her a huge bouquet of flowers. I kind of missed that. After we left the cemetery, I had the most profound sense of... what would you call it? Fulfillment? Like I'd done... not the right thing in the moral sense but the right thing as in things falling cosmically into place. Mary stayed in the car, of course, but Ange walked down the hill with me. I know it made her feel better that we'd been there. Mom refused to come. She said she was depressed. Maybe it was too much for her, but I still wish she'd come.

Next we headed over to Mom's house. Well, we stopped at the liquor store first. With the pretext of getting Angie some beer. She's gotta have her beer. I actually wanted to pick up some champagne and glasses. When we got to Mom's, she came out and got in the car and we polished off the bottle of champagne. It was the perfect way to celebrate, except Mary should have been in the back seat with them. We were all feeling pretty good by the time we left. Mom said that when she got into the house, Dad was sitting there dressed, ready to go! They had been supposed to come over for a steak dinner, but we'd cancelled that because of the doctor's visit. He'd ranted and railed that he was coming--he really hates Mary because she insulted him a long time ago. What she did wasn't nice, but it's not like he's very nice himself.

Mom came over the next day and we had our delicious steak dinner. Then we watched some home movies that one of my brothers put on a CD.

Talk about not being nice... I got into with Ange Tuesday night. She had the Fox news channel on. I hate that channel. I think it's sensationalism, not news. And I think it's deranged that people would want to watch people being belittled and denegrated and bickering and yelling at each other. It makes my blood boil. I was in the kitchen, doing the dishes and trying to contain myself, but it eventually boiled over. I've asked/told Ange not to watch that channel here, but she watches it every night and I guess she forgets. It's a habit with her. I hope that's the case, not that she's blantantly ignoring my feelings, which she doesn't understand in the least. She was still pissy with me the next morning. Of course, it's always hard to tell whether she's pissy in the morning because she doesn't turn her hearing aid on half the time. So you talk to her and she just doesn't respond. She walks around in her silent world and thinks others are being rude. I don't know... Thank goodness Mom came over because she can brighten anybody up.

I woke up this morning with a terrible migraine and cramps and unexplainably sleepy after 9 hours of sleep. I was so nasty to Mary. It's like I'm Dr Jekyl and Mr Hyde. When I felt better, I went to the grocery. Always an issue... I hate that it takes me over an hour. Maybe one of these days I'll be able to get out of there sooner. But I know that Angie thinks I take too long, so that made me even more stressed about it. When I got back, I left the car running and tried to just throw them in and leave, but after I got Mary's sweater on, she suddenly had to throw up. Really odd. Probably the antibiotic. So Mom and Dad (!) came over to watch her while I took Ange home. When she decides she's going home, that's it. Probably for the best. We're supposed to get some bad weather and it would probably kill us both to spend so many days trapped together. (Oh, Angie kept making a big deal about Mary needing the TV so loud! The audacity! She's just trying to get back at us for always saying that she had the TV too loud.)

After dinner, I still felt so miserable, I just heated two "bean bags" and sat on the cough with one on my stomach and one around my neck. Suddenly I heard Mary sniffing. She was crying. She was upset because I'd been so silent all night, she had convinced herself that I was going to move out. Then I started crying. Lord only knows why. I kept telling her she was silly, and there was nothing further from my mind. Then I tried switching over to the Animal Planet channel, which did cheer her up a bit, but she kept up with that, "If you promise not to leave me, I'll give you the house." I just told her not to try to bribe me because it wasn't necessary. (I've given up telling her that she's already given the house to Anna, so it doesn't matter if she changes her mind.) So then we called Angie. After about half an hour later, she had finally gotten cheered up. Angie was talking about how I ought to get a cat. Go figure. I thought Angie hated animals.

I think I'm finally finished. At least my cramps are gone, if not my migraine. And Mary is in bed, hopefully having sweet dreams.

Stress

I'm worried that something's not right with Mary. Maybe it's just that as her 94th birthday approaches, I'm getting nervous--sort of superstitious. She has been sleeping an exhorbitant amount lately. Of course, that could be the cough syrup. She's also been peeing a lot at night. (I really had to laugh at 4:30 this morning, the third time she'd gotten up, when it occured to me that she gets at least as much, if not more, exercise at night than during the day!) She's also been having accidents (I hate to spell it out, but--peeing in her pants.) lately. Of course, maybe she's not feeling well because she hasn't gotten all of her medications the last two mornings. I waited too long to reorder them and didn't realize that there weren't any refills, so the pharmacy had to call her doctor, which took several days. You'd think they would put a rush on things like that. Instead, it seems like they purposefully take their sweet time. And they don't call to let you know when they've filled the prescriptions. It's the biggest crock of BS, let me tell you! Well, they didn't have them when I went to pick up the rest of her prescriptions and it's not like I can get out every day... so I finally called Mom today and asked her if she'd pick them up for me. I hate to do that because she's got Dad to watch. But at least she can leave him alone for a little bit.

Then there's the problem with Mary's toe(s). She'd complained that her toes hurt, but I didn't see much wrong. The nail on the big toe seemed to be coming off. It had been rubbing against the skin of the next toe and so I put a band aid on it. We've also soaked her feet in epsom salts a few times, but I'm not sure if that's good or not. The last time she had a problem with a toenail, the doctor said to soak it in epsom salts for a few weeks. Well, her toes look swollen and a bit red. They're not hot, so there's no fever, which is a relief. The sore on the second toe looked nasty. I kept it uncovered today (cut a toe out of an old, mateless sock) so the air could get to it and put neosporin on it and it seemed to look better this evening. She swears that the big toe hurts her, but I can't see anything wrong. Her feet are the biggest mess. Angie says she was always vain and wore the most stylish shoes and wouldn't listen to anybody. Boy, you can really tell. Mary always says that somebody (she thinks it was her daddy) always said she had one toe goes East and the other going West. Her feet really look like pointy heels, like they've been molded into that shape just like the Chinese girls who had their feet bound.

Of course, Mary is probably eating up this attention. She takes the attention so much in stride. Like a queen. It's somehow equally annoying and yet satisfying. I mean, Anna is a big pain to do things for because it embarrasses her so much and Angie puts on such a show thanking you. No wonder Mary was married three times. She must have had a way with men.

Well, tomorrow's a holiday, so I can't call the doctor's office. I hate to take her back to the podiatrist. I didn't care much for them, their attitude toward Mary. Ok, I admit it, they didn't treat her like she was anything special and made her wait for forever and a day, which I think is awful. It's so tiring for her to wait. Plus, they called once and made an appointment with her and I never knew about it. Then when we didn't show up, they wanted to charge for the missed appointment. They did eventually agree not to charge, but it left a bad taste in my mouth. Also, they're impossible to reach. But...this doctor knows her.

If it's worse tomorrow, I may take her to the emergency room. What if she's turned diabetic on me while I wasn't looking (her doctor is afraid she'll become hypoglycemic) and has to have her toe amputated? It's going to be freezing cold tomorrow and I dont' want to have to take her. If you've ever been to an emergency room, you understand why. They make you wait for forever. Even if they take her in pretty quickly, she still has to lie on a very hard table in a freezing room for an eternity. It's very hard on her. Not to mention me!

I'm also stressed because I've just finished filling out a job application. It's for the university and they are such a pain to fill out. It's for a Library Assistant position. I don't have any experience, so I don't expect them to hire me. I've applied for at least 10 positions at the university and never get any answer back. I just don't get it. I think I would be a treasure of an employee. People are so stupid for not hiring me! On the other hand, if they don't want to hire me, then I certainly don't want to work for them. What would I do about Mary anyway? Well, do you see why I'm still single?

Stir Crazy

I think I'm starting to go stir crazy. I just want some fresh air! Maybe I'll go sit outside on the porch. Who am I kidding? It's 27 degrees out!

As I was reading to Mary tonight (still Harry Potter and the Prisoner--it's been very slow-going b/c she goes to bed so late that she falls asleep almost as soon as I've started to read) and it occured to me how very much it was like trying to get a child to go to sleep. She has been sleepy all day. Probably that cough syrup I've been giving her at night. She dozes over the paper and totally denies it--she's just resting her eyes. At 8:30 this evening I woke her up and she asked what time it was, barely able to keep her eyes open. Hmph. Too early to go to bed. I said maybe she could go to bed at 9 tonight since she was so sleepy. She agreed. Come 9 o'clock and she was wide awak! Ping! Didn't want to go to bed. I finally talked her into it. It certainly helped that there was nothing on TV that I wanted to see :-) I told her if she went to bed I could stay up and work on her robe. She finally agreed and I read to her till about 9:40 or so. I don't think she's ever really slept this evening. She's awake right now. I just don't get it. Oh, well, I'm the same I guess. I'll be so sleepy and then stay up reading or doing a puzzle and then turn the light out cause I can't hold my eyes open only to lay there wide awake. She said she thinks she often lies awak all night. I told her that couldn't be so b/c I hear her snoring. But what do I know? I mean, I do get up umpteen times to pee during the night but maybe the rest of the time she's lying there awake.

And of course it's when I'm lying there awake that I think of all the things I'd like to write about. I simply must put a notebook next to my bed.

Yes, I'm really started to feel... like a piece of jello or something. Rolling around this house from one end to the other. Spending most of my time in the kitchen or the living room. I've gotten really bad about not wanting to do the dishes. Then I let them pile up. I really, really hate myself for that. Mostly, I guess, b/c I know Mary would never in a million years do that. I mentioned to her that I know I'm really awful about doing the dishes and she just replied that not everybody can be the same. Apparently Grandma always used to say that it wouldn't do for everybody to be the same, and Mary loves to quote that.

I've also gotten bad about cooking. That really is a sign that something is wrong with me b/c I absolutely love to cook. But you know what? I'm trying so hard to lose weight and although I'll feel the desire to bake something (that's my main joy), I won't do it b/c it doesn't fit in my diet. I'd love to bake a loaf of homemade bread, for one thing, or an apple pie. But I don't. Maybe I should just say the heck with it. After all, I didn't gain so much over Christmas and I made quite a bit of candy and cookies. I even ate a huge tin of sugar cookies and didn't gain but about half a pound at the most. Well, but then I'm also getting frustrated about my diet. I guess I'm getting frustrated about everything. This is surely a sign of caregiver stress. Like my life is stressful! Right! Well, but I know that caregivers do need to have a break. I'm starting to hanker for a weekend away at, say, Foxhollow.

And I often think about how I don't meet anybody. Nobody new. Muchless the "old" friends I had in Lexington. Maybe I need to take a drive with Mary to Lexington, visit UK, have lunch with the secretaries. I'm sure they'd like to meet Mary. I could bake something for them :-) And what about here? I've had a profile on a dating website but I finally hid it. There was one interesting lady who wrote to me and several (please forgive my rudeness) mostly uninteresting men, but I never wrote back. For one thing, I'm not subscribed. I consider myself unemployed, so I don't want to spend the money. Also, how would I go about meeting these people? I'd have to find someone to take care of Mary. These are bad excuses, aren't they? Well, I guess I'll have to wait till I get so incredibly frustrated that I do something about it.

Two Big Men

Once again Mary had a nightmare. She yelled out, "Get in here! Who's here in this house?" She said there were two men sleeping here, that she had seen them. She'd also seen their old, dirty sheets. Then she corrected herself--they weren't old and dirty. She was just convinced that she'd been up, walking around the house. She was scared to death, as you can imagine. I wonder what the deal is with the two men. She saw two men in the last nightmare. She just kept wondering out loud whether she was going crazy. I kept telling her that lots of people have vivid dreams and told her about severa I'd had in my life. Oh, another funny thing--she woke up right at 5 AM again. Odd, odd.

There are so many things I want to write down during the day but by the time I get to my computer, they're gone. I'm too lazy to carry around a notebook. How do writers do it? How do they create these worlds which are combinations of their imagination and real life? It must be wonderful to be able to create your own world instead of having to read about someone else's.

Waking Up

Mary looks just like Yoda when she first wakes up. It's so cute!

She's using her massage chair pad and snoring away. The buzzing noise is driving me crazy!

And Another Thing

I forgot that I wanted to mention that I got a new stool for Mary for the shower. I always wanted one without a back on it because I felt like it would take up less room. Also, I was able to put it up higher (since the legs are straighter), so she just sort of perches on it, which makes it so much easier for her to stand up. The adjustable shower head on the pole is so great--I can switch it from one side to the other, too, which helps a lot. She's even starting to get the idea that she can move the head this way or that herself. So I'm doing less and less--yeah! No, that's not really true. I've started taking it off the pole to rinse her. That makes it easier on her. Also, she really enjoys it on her back. Now, if I can just get my rear in gear and call the plumber to fix a few things... another grab bar inside the shower will be very, very helpful, and it would be nice to have the hot and cold on the correct sides again, just for example.

Aka (Is that German or English?) Angie--I called recently and requested that they throw her paper up on the porch. It's dangerous for her to be going all the way out to the road to get it out of the box. They said it was a box-only neighborhood but they'd send a request. I need to call back and request them to send a thank you because they are actually doing it! That is just sooo nice of them. And I know she really, really appreciates it. Also, I realized that she has the same phone as the one that I recently got Mary, so I started looking around at it. She didn't realize that she had a "phone book" option, so I put Mary, Ann, Serena and Jess in there. And she didn't know anything about the "Voice Enhancer" option. Why didn't they tell her?! I mean, duh! She's so hard of hearing and it's perfect for her! Just like when they didn't take her to the hearing aid store to get her hearing aid adjusted, even though they must have noticed that she wasn't hearing them. I know for a fact that Annette (her granddaughter who lives with her and who has a hearing aid herself) noticed that Ange had the TV on so loud, you could hear it outside. At least they did get her a small, counter-top microwave. It's about time they realized that someone who is only about 4 foot tall cannot reach a microwave above her stove. It took her spilling a cup of hot coffee all over herself for them to notice that. I'm trying to but I just don't understand them.

She was so happy that we came out yesterday. Mom asked beforehand if we were going to bring her back with us. I said not if I could help it! I know I'm awful. I really am. But she does wear me out. I don't think she's ready to leave her house again anyway. I told her she could come stay over Mary's b-day but that we'd already made plans to have dinner at my mom and dad's--she really doesn't like to be around my dad, which I do understand. I think she's willing to make the sacrifice. That means I've got to get Mary's robe done--to show her I can. I can't bear to see her if I haven't finished it. So--goodbye!

Up Early

It seems like I haven't been able to sleep for at least a week. Mary's coughing keeps waking me up. She seems to often sleep right through it, although I'm sure it's disturbing the quality of her sleep. It seems like she's been sleeping a lot more during the day. We've got this great cough syrup (tastes so yummy) which I believe has codeine in it, which explains its effectiveness. Half a teaspoon and your cough is gone, but it really knocks you out. It knocks me out. Mary sleeps then for at least a day. So I hesitate to give that to her. I've been giving her Coricidan, which is a pill and is safe for people with high blood pressure. That seemed to have worked at first but now it doesn't seem to be working. I'm also wary about giving her too much. She's got these breathing treatments (with this little machine--she always reminds me of the caterpillar with his hooka from Alice in Wonderland) that she's supposed to get three times a day, but they're hard to get in. It takes about 10-15 minutes and is very loud. Maybe it's just me. I try to set the clock on the stove to remember to give it to her, but often there's something that interferes (she's eating, talking on the phone, sleeping) and then I forget. I never saw that they helped that much, anyway. Anna suggested I give her Grandma's remedy--whiskey with honey and lemon. I thought she meant like a hot toddy but finally understood that it's like a homemade cough syrup. At 5 this morning I resolved to give this a try. Good thing Mary likes bourbon, like a good old Kentucky girl. I've administered it twice now. She wants two tablespoons, not one, and then always comments on how it burns like fire and then promptly falls back asleep. I know this is probably very unhealthy and medicinally completely unsound but it's got to be better than the codeine and the pills.

So now I sit here with a migraine and won't be worth a shot of gunpowder, as the aunts say, tomorrow. Actually, I think I started getting the migraine last night when I tried out a new toy for Mary. I had wanted to get Angie one of those massage chair pads but she already got one for Xmas, so I got one for Mary. It's very loud and Mary didn't seem to like it last night, so I think I'll take it back. I also feel so guilty about spending the money, although it was on sale. I hope I can take it back.

I took Anna and Mary out to visit Angie yesterday. They hadn't seen each other for ages, which is why Anna went. For all of her complaining about Angie (yes, more than my complaining, but, then, she's known her for 87 years and that's enough to make anyone get good and fed up with someone), I know Anna gets concerned. She agrees with me that Angie needs more help than she's getting and wonders, too, why her family doesn't help her more. It's funny--Angie is like some icon, some demi-goddess in my family. I don't think her family views her that way. But I don't see my family falling all over themselves to help her, either, so I guess it's just people's attitudes nowadays. Anna says I'm good with old people. I just try to see them as people. I was listening to a radio show yesterday and they were talking about pets and how people project human feelings onto their pets, that dogs are actually just a great species of manipulators who are surviving off of humans. This made me think about Mary and wonder about her human traits. What makes her human. She doesn't seem to have a very wide range of emotions. Mostly she just says she doesn't care. She lives in the moment like a dog does--because she can't remember the past or what's supposed to come up in the future. She sleeps most of the time. She's a keen manipulator. Is Mary my pet? Is there a point when people become less like people? What about those old people in rest homes? The ones who stare vacantly, repeat themselves constantly and wear diapers. What makes them people? That sounds like a really cruel question, but with people treating animals like people and people like animals, I think it's a valid question. How important is a person's past to who they are at the moment? I ask that because I'm sure Anna and Angie don't think Mary deserves the TLC that I give her, based on the person she has been in her past. What did she do for others? When I broach this subject with her, she says she's too old to care about her past. I know there's tons I don't know or understand about Mary, but I wouldn't want her past. If I'd had that much money, I would have wanted to have helped people. To have at least volunteered, not to have lived like I was a sort of princess. I'm not judging her. Or at least trying not to. But I do often wonder about what went on in Mary's head her whole life. If I ask now what she's thinking, she says nothing. A and A joke that it's probably true, but I can't believe that. I joke with Mary that people spend inordinate amounts of time trying to think nothing and she does it effortlessly.

Well, I've given myself indigestion now with too many gingerbread cookies (oh, my diet!). My headache is still here. I always think it will go away. And it never does. You'd think I'd learn. I really detest taking pills for it. Maybe someday I'll figure out what the universe is trying to tell me with my migraines. (I used to think they were caused by tension but considering the extreme lack thereof in my current life and yet the increasing frequency of their occurrences, I don't think the message is that I need to relax. Get a good night's sleep, maybe...) Maybe I can get cracking on Mary's robe.

Seeing Things

I forgot to mention the night before last at about half past midnight (yes, I was still awake--argh!), Mary called my name--in a rather strange, sort of frightened voice. Of course, I ran in there as fast as I could. She said that she'd just seen me standing at the foot of her bed. I asked if I was still there. I mean, you never know, considering that she used to see faces on the ceiling even when I was in the room. She said no, in a tone that indicated that I was being silly. We agreed that it must have been a dream. She said she was just dropping off to sleep... to which I replied (in a tone which indicated that she was being silly) that she'd been asleep already, which I knew since I'd heard her snoring. That's a bit wicked of me to say that because I know she doesn't like to be told that she snores. (vain, vain) I guess no one does. Boy, I remember Grandma (her mother) snoring when she'd lie down for a nap! That was such a shock for me as a kid, like when I found out that Grandma had whiskers (ie, a beard practically) and that Angie and Preacher shaved her! (I pick Mary's hair's--and Mom's, Anna's and Angie's, although Ange is a real wuss and yelps so--out with my fingers. My nails have to be really short. This amazes them, which just makes me laugh more. That's one thing I can't stand to see--facial hair. Especially if it's long. Yech!) Well, anyway, I usually make it up to Mary when she asks, "Do I snore?!" by replying that she just snored lightly--more like heavy breathing. Yeah, right.

Poor thing. (I'm always saying that!) She's asleep in her chair (the tiniest lazyboy we could find). She swears that she doesn't sleep during that day. Ha, ha! I imagine she's tired. I know I am. She coughed all night. I gave her a pill before she went to bed. This morning around 5 AM I was too sleepy to get up to give her another one. Bad, bad, I know. I guess I should take her to the doctor. I just hate to, though. More medicine. Waiting room. Explaining a thousand times why we're going and listening to her protestations. The aunts say she gets a cough every winter. Mary says she had bronchial pneumonia and Anna had, I think, double bronchial pneumonia when they were babies. (I should have written that down because she doesn't remember anymore. Or I could ask Anna. She's still sharp as a tack. Well, an old tack.) Anyway, they thought Anna was going to die. But Mary's had a cough, she says, on and off ever since then. Funny, I don't think Anna ever gets a cough.

If I were very clever, I'd borrow my brothers video camera and put clips of the aunts on here. But, alas, I'm not very clever about computers.

Better get something down. I've still got Mary's robe to sew, although I'm scared to death to start it. For one thing, I haven't sewn anything for ages. For another, this material is odd (very soft, furry sort of of) and very expensive. So I can't make a mistake. And, then, I want to use Mom's serger as much as possible. It's a great tool if used correctly. Covers the seams up just like in bought clothing. Well, I really want to get her robe done by her birthday. Although I've just about decided that it's better to put a wool sweater (my old one) than a robe on her.

Gotta go--Mary's got a visitor.

Nightmare

Mary woke me up this morning at 6 AM on the dot. I think she was moaning and emitting long Ohhh's. That scared me to death, as you can imagine. I ran in there and she was all upset. She said she was so worried, that she'd been up and running around the house for the longest time and something about the neighbors and some big men who were digging. She insisted that it was real and that she get up. When I told her it was just a very vivid dream, she told me I just couldn't comprehend--an odd word coming from Mary's mouth, which gave me the heeby-jeebies. Do you know what it's like to have someone contradict your idea of reality with such conviction that you feel uncertain of yourself? That odd Twilight-Zone feeling always comes over me when she tells me something that I know isn't true but of which she is absolutely convinced. Or when she asks me something like whether I knew her father, who died when my mom was sixteen.

So I got her up and she came out to the kitchen to look out the back patio. Nothing strange there. She couldn't understand it. We went to the front door and looked out. Nothing strange. We turned on the TV. Nothing out of the ordinary. It didn't make sense to her and I felt so bad for her. She was so upset. She'd said something about an explosion and that they (well, "we," which could just be her royal we usage) had looked at the news on the television and nothing had been out of the ordinary. We looked at the newspaper. Nothing. Then she said she was so tired, so I was able to convince her to go back to bed, but she was still upset. She swears she doesn't dream, which I know can't be true because she talks in her sleep (more and more), so maybe that's why this dream disturbed her so much. She's not used to remembering her dreams. Like that time that she dreamt that someone had stolen her "bean bag." She was hopping mad when she woke up! Well, she's definitely a character!

Mary's birthday is January 18. I bought some steaks and I'm just planning to go over to my mom's for a nice dinner and some, egads, dominoes. That day was also the birthday of my brother who died this past year. I'd like to get some flowers and put them on his grave. At least, I mean, Mary will get him some flowers. I've got to find a job. I'm so fed up with living off of Mary. And I'm scared, too, that someone in the family will take me to court after she dies. People get so strange about money.

I often wonder if I do spend too much of her money. Do I spend more than she would? She often bought stuff for herself at the department store or from the home shopping network. But she woudn't have spent so much on groceries. I've really got to get ahold of myself in that area. She doesn't eat much and I'm on a diet, so I don't know who I think is going to eat all of the food I buy. I think it's a family problem. Comes from growing up in a large family. And I know Mary wouldn't have given all the gifts that I give in her name. Is that wrong of me? I used to think it was very clever and pious of me, but recently I've been thinking that maybe it's wrong. But, on the other hand, why do people want money to be left to them? They may not even be around longer, or much longer, than Mary. So wouldn't they want to enjoy things now? By "people" I mostly mean Anna and Angie and Mom. And me? I don't know. But for being a born again Christian, Mary is one of the least generous, charity-wise, people I know. It's odd, as she would say. She's convinced herself that she has no money. I get worried--it's my nature--but I know in my heart of hearts that she has enough to live on for a while yet. Would she have more if I'd never shown up? Hmph. She wouldn't be alive anymore if I hadn't shown up. There were two definite instances in the hospital and the nursing home (rehab) when she would have died without me. But does that give me the right to spend her money? Sometimes I can't believe how much she trusts me. Do I abuse that trust? I think, compared to others... but that doesn't matter. The question is only about me. On the other hand, look how much I have given up for her. All those trips back and forth from Lexington with me paying for my gas and car maintenance. She would simply say that she never asked me to do anything for her. And she's right. That's how sly she is. Oh, I don't trust her any further that I can throw her.

Oh, well, it's late and she really ought to be getting up soon. How is it possible to love someone and yet not trust them in the least? To be willing to sacrifice anything for them and yet know that they wouldnt' do the same for you.