More of the Same

Mary and I both went to bed at around 9:30. We were exhausted from not doing anything J Then neither of us could go to sleep. I finally managed to drift off but woke up again, whereas Mary seems to be sleeping soundly. Our night owl of a cat is up as usual. I’m “studying” on things again. I talked to one of my sister-in-laws today about this situation and she really thought I should talk to Mom about it. Actually, she thought everything should just be above-board and have the aunts there at the signing so they can’t contest the will. But I don’t think she knows them or Mary well enough. I just don’t see that happening. I see some ugly situation where Angie gets angry and hurt and tries to convince Mary not to change the will and if she doesn’t succeed taking it out on Mary by not wanting to have anything to do with her, Anna says she just doesn’t want to have anything to do with it, and Tom also getting angry. I decided to call Mom and talk to her. She was shocked, to say the least, but of course happy and felt that it was only fair, considering I’ve been in charge of Mary’s affairs for five years now. She doesn’t think I should say anything.

Angie called Mary this morning wanting her to turn the TV on to watch Mass on the air—the choir (which wasn’t very good, ahem) was singing in Latin. This is just so typical. Mary was sitting out on the back porch enjoying the sun, which I told Angie—to let her know that Mary may not want to come inside to watch TV, to which she just got huffy and said goodbye very abruptly. We turned on the TV out there, but since there’s no cable there, we couldn’t get that channel. There were several services on, so I called Angie to see if it was any of those. She said no and that she just thought the Latin might bring back some good childhood memories for Mary. This is an example of how Anna and Angie have never accepted Mary’s leaving the Catholic Church. I asked Mary if she wanted to go in to watch it, considering she wasn’t Catholic anymore—she really likes gospel music because it speaks to her passion for Christ, so I really didn’t think the Latin would move her. She said she really wasn’t any religion anymore, which quite surprised me. This made me think of the other day when I asked if she didn’t want to leave some money to her church and she replied that they didn’t have anything to do with her since she didn’t go anymore. (Maybe Mary and I are alike in this way of being able to “forget” our past and live in the present.) Well, she decided to go on inside since she’d already been on the porch for two hours. We turned the Mass on, but Mary didn’t get much out of it. I think I heard her reciting the Our Father and singing Amazing Grace with them. One night a few weeks ago Angie called to tell Mary to turn on to some gospel music. I recognized a lot of songs from Mary’s church—she has several tapes and CDs that I play for her. Later, Angie said that the music had been so good. That was funny, considering she always pooh-poohs Mary’s church music. I’ve always tried to play Mary’s music for her because I know she can’t put it on herself but really enjoys it. It took me quite a while, but I actually sort of enjoy it now—depending on how good the singing is—and sing along, too. A lot of it is really upbeat and rather danceable!

Now for a completely different topic! Hygiene again. Since I went to the dentist, I’ve got a solid game plan and have been able to keep Mary and myself on it. We brush in the morning and in the evening (something I always did when I was younger but over the last few years have gotten away from, but especially so since living with Mary—she’ll take a cup of coffee into the living room, fall asleep, then it’s time for lunch… and it’s like I’ve missed a window of opportunity), use Listerine in the morning and use ACT at night. I have to make sure to give her pills to her before she uses the ACT, though. Oh, and I moved my floss in to the kitchen, up on the counter above where we eat and I floss after dinner—I’m usually done before Mary, so I do it then. She seems to floss while I’m doing the dishes—and while she watches TV or sits on the porch.

As for baths, I’ve got her on a two-showers-a-week schedule. It certainly doesn’t help that I practically have to drag her kicking and screaming into the shower. I can understand—since I don’t like to get wet myself. The third grab bar that the plumber put in recently is a great, great help. For the other days, I sometimes give her a wet baby wipe for her privates, to keep everything clean. Someone from the hospital once told me that she need to clean her privates every day. I tried to do this when I first moved in and it just about killed me. Do you know how much time and energy it takes to give someone a sponge bath??? Plus, I always feel that she doesn’t get all the soap off, even though I rinse out the wash cloth two or three times. So we’re leaving it at this.

After dinner this evening, I got Mary to hand me the butter knife she hadn’t used so I could put it back in the drawer. I laughed and said I remembered a time when she would have insisted that it go in the dishwasher because we’d touched it. She couldn’t believe she’d been so picky. I said living with me must have changed her and she said no, getting old had changed her.

This thing with the will has really made me wonder. How much are we “allowed” to change? Are there some things in our lives that shouldn’t be allowed to change? Is there a certain point where a person shouldn’t be allowed to change his or her will? Does it matter what people do for us at any certain point more than at another point? One of my sisters gave me an article several months ago about caregivers coming in and getting the old person to make a new will and that if it’s witnessed by two people that there’s nothing you can do, so you need to be really careful about the relationship that develops between a caregiver and the person being cared for. This article was about me, wasn’t it? I’m the caregiver who has come in and “stolen” everything. That’s how the family will look at it. I wasn’t supposed to win over Mary’s affections that much. What were they thinking? That I would completely give up my life and take on all of these responsibilities with no pay other than free room and board. They call me a saint—but that’s also what they expect of me. I guess they’d understand if I decided to leave Mary and to put her in a home. But that they’d let me do that when they would have the means to pay me to stay. Oh, I don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s late. I should go to bed.