The Simple Life
20 Apr 2012 Leave a Comment
in aging, christian, comedy, family, humor, miscellaneous, spiritual Tags: aging, altar, art, blood of christ, blood sacrifice, deliverance, Egypt, Elijah, forgery, forgiveness, grace and mercy, meek inherit the earth, mentally challenged, mob, Moses, Passover, pesach, rainbow fish, Repentance, special education, special needs, throwaways
My brother is just so funny. I feel blessed to have him in my life. He makes me laugh so hard. It’s wonderful for my mother to share this time with him too, since he had been living apart from her for many years.
I’ve noticed that he and the other people with special needs bring home beautiful pictures. The other day I was looking at this picture and I said, “Kevin, this is not yours. You’ve taken someone else’s picture by mistake.” He promptly picked up a pen and crossed out the other persons name and wrote his own name on the top! Then he said, “There you go.” As if life is just that easy. Take what you want. I wonder how many times he’s seen that done I thought. “Hmm,” I said. “He’d make a great attorney!”
My mother and I were laughing so hard at him. In his world forgery was nothing. If you like it, make it yours.
I looked at all of the artwork and started looking at the things in my home. I realized that life is just too short to collect things. The beauty of simple things that the artwork my brother produces, is better than anything one can purchase.
I sat in my living room and was sad when I noticed a small cardboard box which held the belongings which my mother was left with after being moved from her home. I took a picture. I cried to think this was so important to her.The Barbie dolls which she used to knit clothing for. No one could believe that she could do this and it was something that she took great pride in. The little Charlie Brown that plays music. The pictures. I managed to get the bronze shoes from my brother Dennis who had passed away as a baby. These she somehow never lost in all of her shuffling through the years. It is difficult to see my mother’s life reduced to a cardboard box. 
But then I look around and feel the weight of all the things in my life holding me down. I don’t want anything in my life. I can’t stand things holding me back from what is important. I hate greed and what it does to people. It hurts me to see what it has done. I don’t want to take care of things. Although I love looking at my brother’s pictures. And my mother’s things. It’s cute, but we all have the propensity to collect. So I want to bring joy to other’s by giving.
Now I got my mom into a pottery class to learn something new. She was making me laugh with her antics. When the teacher told her to “pinch her pot,” she said, “What?” “Yea, I said, “That meant something completely different in the 70′s!” Now she’s learning a different skill at 82 and she’ll be able to make new memories and so will I.
I realized that life is not about owning things. In fact the more time I spend with my mother, the more fleeting I see that our time is on this earth. I see that those who have robbed and tried to fill their lives with things, are missing the most important qualities.
My mother and I listened to my brother talking last night. He was telling us about the lipstick that he was going to give his girlfriend at school. He was going to put it in his purse. It’s really a fannypack. He crams all kinds of stuff into that purse. Sometimes I’ll check it just too unload some things. It’s so stuffed full. I just have to see what he’s carrying around and it’s funny. Pictures of things unrelated. I try to connect the subjects, but can’t seem to and move on. The objects make no sense,but they amuse me.
The keychains that I have given him have all found a place on this pack. I have actually had to remove some,because it has become unsafe. The weight of this is ridiculous. And the fact that one of them is a round basketball for coins, makes it hilarious with his gait and when he bowls, underhanded, my son made the remark that it’s a good thing I didn’t give him the bull’s you know what, to hang from this pack, or it would be quite a sight to behold, when he bends down to bowl! This visual just made me crack up.
He is very animated. And when he tells us that someone threw up at school it’s hilarious. He is over the top. I don’t think it happened the way he tells us and at times, I only wish I could place a hidden camera on him. There was one day that he told me that one person threw up and another girl was told that “she stinks and needed to go into the bathroom,” while the teacher was spraying the bathroom. And later, he said the same girl was his girlfriend. My son, who is not easily grossed out, said, “Come on, I don’t want to hear this! You’re girlfriend stinks!” And my brother as proud as could be, said, “Yes, she stinks! Right?” Wow! That’s unconditional love at it’s best! And, all I can say is, those special education teacher’s work very hard, and deserve pay raises!!! Treat them well. They’re very special people.
But,people like my brother are also very special and he keeps me centered. I sometimes find I’m taking him for granted and when I come back to him, I find humor in his simple words and beauty in the world around him. It is just what God was trying to point out to all of us and the reason He told us that “the meek would inherit the earth.”
Look at what a mess we have made of all of this. Greedy people have tried to use people like my brother for selfish gain. I’ve had people say, “They look at your brother like a throwaway.” That has brought me unspeakable pain.” Yes, even at his birth they thought he wouldn’t live. But God had a different plan. And his plans were to bring men to repentance through my brother. Yes, my brother who is so innocent. Who would take an art project and cross someones name and sign his name, would do this with anything. He knows no difference. He tells me everything costs “a hundred dollars.”
But who cares? My brother puts everything in perspective. Whether it a billion dollars or a penny, in his mind it’s the same price. Just as the value of a soul is worth more than everything. And as the Lord has said, “Woe to the man who gains the whole world, yet loses his own soul.”
The End of the Beginning
26 Mar 2012 Leave a Comment
in aging, christian, family, miscellaneous, relationships Tags: aging parents, Alpha and Omega, caregivers, elder care, letting go, nursing home, Senior living, Serenity Prayer, wisdom
Yesterday I was praying about a decision to send my mother back to her home of Wisconsin.
She tells me over and over again, that she’s homesick. But something which she said to the visiting nurse, pained me. I had never heard her say this before. When the nurse asked her a question, she came out with her usual, “Well, I’m not from here. I’m from Wisconsin. I love Wisconsin. That’s where I want to die. She quickly corrected herself, when she said, “Well, I want to live there too.”
But like a jury at a trial, it was already out. I heard it, and it was like a stab in my heart. Of course, I know it is an inevitable end to our journey, however, with her, it is never spoken. Until now.
As I walked out the door with the nurse, she said, “Do you think she’ll really go back?” “I began to tear up. “Well, it’s what she wants, but I can’t see her being able to care for herself. Believe me,” I said, “if I was a wealthy woman, I would put her in a little place of her own, with someone to care for her. Just so she could go back.” As I looked at the nurse, I could see she had tears in her eyes too. She had lost her mother years before, so I think we shared a common understanding of this sorrow. Watching the decline of her own mother sounds difficult. She had a nurse coming in as well.
She argued with me yesterday that she could do all the things I do for her. There is no need of me to help her in any way. I asked her if she felt she could stand on a stool to clean windows, clean the pool carry loads of laundry up and down the stairs, and make the meals. “Well, I wouldn’t have a pool!” She said, as if I was completely daft. I thought that was so hilarious. But I said,”Mom, I wouldn’t want you trying to cook and do laundry. It’s not safe. But she insisted that she needed no help. “I need to do what I can do,” she said. “Yes, I know this is true. But the issue is, that she really can’t do a lot.”
And this hurts me more than she understands. I was reminded of this today. I knew that I was going to have to make suggestions about personal issues with her.I wanted to be very delicate with her. I don’t want to embarrass her about anything, because she is so stubborn.
I went up to get her laundry and bed linens. When I had come downstairs, I decided to do her laundry, and thought, this may be a good time to have a talk. As I tried to be as sensitive as I could possibly be, I suggested some items, when I went out to the store. I couldn’t believe that she agreed so willingly. She almost seemed to be relieved.
But I left the house with mixed feelings about the whole discussion. I had hugged her and told her how much I loved her. She hugged me back and told me she loved me too. I said, “I never want to make you feel uncomfortable or embarrass you, mom. I just want to help you.” She had seemed more like a little girl than ever before.
I guess I wasn’t prepared for her to be so accepting of this change. Every little bit of independence she loses, she fights. So, I was surprised at this. And I felt pain. I wondered at why I found myself crying, as I headed to the store. I realized that this was exactly how emotional I was when I weened my children. After breast-feeding, I knew it was time to switch them to supplement bottles. And when they so quickly responded to a bottle, I was totally unprepared at their willingness to replace me with plastic.I had secretly hoped that they wouldn’t want that ‘false sense of security.’ I was so attached, that this seemed too easy for them to just, ‘let go.’ I realized that the failure of my mother to fight me, represented the same. It wasn’t her letting go that was so hard, but me.
So today, I feel different about trying to relocate her. A friend pointed out that, my mother is just remembering life as it was 10 or 20 years ago. If she went back it would be miserable for her.He is so right. She talks about all of her friends, back in Wisconsin, but she really doesn’t have anyone.
She has three sister’s. One passed away last year. The other one lives in Arkansas. The other two, live in northern Wisconsin. But one of them has Alzheimer’s and doesn’t recognize anyone.And her youngest sister, lives with her husband. And even she sold her house, to move into smaller accommodations.
I get angry with my family sometimes. I ask the Lord, “Why must I have a ringside seat, to this whole process, with my mother’s most difficult stage of her life.” But then He reminds me of all of the other events I had experienced, with her. I have the most compassion, when it comes to this, and I see that it was not by coincidence, that she’s ended up in my home.
The Lord knew that I was the one appointed for this time. I see this clearly. But it hurts on a daily basis. I felt to keep her with me is denying her last wishes, in her life. Yet, in my more pragmatic moments, I know that it’s quality of life which counts. And there is no quality at all, if she was live, all alone in a little apartment. If I can’t get her to leave the house now, at least she has my children, my brother, me, and some people coming and going.
A friend told me, I should get an apartment for seniors. Take her on a little plane ride. Come back here, and place her in the apartment right down the street. Tell her she’s in Wisconsin and spray some frost on the windows. She’ll be happy as a clam. I said, “Yea, maybe she won’t notice if the front door opens and there are palm trees out front.”
The thought of that made me laugh. Then I remembered a song I used to hear on Christian radio, years ago. I just can’t remember who did it. If some knows, please tell me the title.
A man was bedridden, in a nursing home. He had no visitors, but one man who would come. He would ask him to describe what he saw out the window. The man would tell him all about the little children playing tag. Jumping rope and kids games. The people strolling by and the beautiful trees and flowers. Birds singing and the wonderful sunsets.
One day he came to visit and the room was empty. His friend had passed away. He walked over to the window to open the drapes. There in front of the window was a red brick wall.
At the end of the song, a new person was in the room, and the man sat beside the person describing the same beauty as before.
That song, always left me emotional. I see the power of the mind and the need to hold on to all that is good and alive. This is what I see my mother doing. I want to help her with those memories. I know the Serenity Prayer, and I was told that this would be good in this situation with my mother. “God help me accept the things I cannot change. The courage to change the things I can. And the wisdom to know the difference.”
I remember the beginning, with my mom and I’m with her now, in the sunset of her life. I will remind her of the children playing, the birds and beautiful trees and flowers. Because on the other side of, that brick wall, those things really do exist. Because the end of the beginning, is really the true beginning!
I’m just asking for your prayers, for the wisdom and strength I need, for this time in her life and mine.
Full of Blarney! That’s my mom.
18 Mar 2012 1 Comment
in aging, comedy, Entertainment/News, family, humor, miscellaneous, relationships Tags: Blarney Stone, chicken nugget, George Washington, Ireland, McDonalds, Paul McCartney, St Patricks Day
Yea, I said, ‘blarney, not to be confused with Barney, the purple dinosaur. She’s still got that sparkle in her eyes.
I look at my mom and think of everything she’s been through, but she still has that quality, which she’s seemed to pass down’ self-effacing humor. Nothing seems to bother her and she’ll do anything for the sake of a laugh. I love this about her.
At times she is so stubborn, I can barely handle it, and then I find myself laughing with her over the silliest things. She will go right along with my humor, since, between her and my father, I inherited this.
It was passed down to my son as well. I have to tell him that his humor is very sick, at times.. I can only predict it will become more so, as he ages and endures hardship.
Since my mom doesn’t do much, but watch tv, I find myself critiquing the commercials and programs, with her throwing in her own quips.
For example, there’s an ad for an Injury Attorney. These girls say, “You can tell Robert anything. If you have an accident, Call Robert.” This continues for quite a while, and at the end they sing, a horrible jingle, “You can tell Robert anything!” It’s so funny. When my mom starts complaining, I say, “Tell Robert!” At this she cracks up. My son came into the room and said, “I’m calling Robert to tell him, my colon is inflamed!” I said, “Go ahead, “You can tell Robert anything!”
I get a visual of some poor secretary answering, Robert’s phone. And explaining that this is an attorney’s office. “Yes, but I need someone to talk to and your ad states, “That I can tell Robert anything.”
My mom is still talking about her visit to my home. “I don’t live here!” She insists. “I’m from Wisconsin!” Ok, she’s on a 2 year visit. Her mail comes here and all her doctor’s, etc. Anyone who lives with an aging parent, probably deals with this.
I wonder who she would have to sit and joke about all the shows, if I wasn’t with her. My son’s relationship to her alone, is more than she’s had in the past. People may have come and gone from her home, but she never had this social interaction.
When I hear her blabbing away to my brother, with special needs, I really laugh. I sent him on a trip for a few day, and she was so excited when he returned. She has a buddy who is always present. Yet, I am amazed at their conversation. At times they are discussing two different things, and neither one seems to notice. They’ve gotten into arguments about things and that makes me laugh even more. My brother is pretty mild-mannered, but my mom can even annoy him!
Of course, he loves living here, so when she goes into her tirade about leaving, he tells her, “Go back to Wisconsin!” He will make a motion circling his head, and she “is crazy, dumb.” This is something he must have learned where he grew up. But my mom loves an argument, so this doesn’t phase her.
Once, his bus came to late,for his liking and my son came running in. “Mom! Kevin’s shaking his fist at the bus driver. He’s swearing at her and he gave her the finger!” “What?!” Oh no, I have to run out to do damage control. The woman just finished saying, “What did you say?” I had to gently remind her that he’s mentally challenged and accustomed to routine. He has a problem with change and is not violent. Yet, I had to laugh, because it’s difficult for most people to understand him, except with profanities, and hand motions are pretty much, universal.
What is strange is that, when he lost his hearing, he didn’t want to learn signing, since he loves using sign language for cursing.
This is where I can see that my mom’s temperament was passed to him, regardless of whether, she raised him.
My son’s idea of placing a camera in the room to tape their interactions is very tempting. He tattles on her when she’s sneaking junk food from her little stash. He watches her as she picks her skin,(which seems to be a nervous habit) She gets up to walk, she hunches over, and he will point to her and say, “Mom can’t walk.” At this she gets angry. “Of course I can walk!” She says.
But when I had left on my trips a few times, she had taken the wrong medicine. I had to tell my daughter and son to take out only the medicine for this particular day. My daughter told me she had been standing on her toes, trying to find the rest in the cupboard.”Grandma, you already took your medicine,” she told her. “Oh, I just wanted to see where your mom put it.” She told my daughter. “She treats me like I’m a little kid!”
Well, I figured out early, that this is her thing.As we all need to feel important, she had this little responsibility, and it is tied to her feelings of independence. I didn’t want to take this away, but she didn’t understand the dangers of ‘double-dosing.’ So I was talking to my son. “Hey, you know how grandma loves to take her medicine. As much as she loves her junk. We should put a fake pill container out, with candy in it! One to match each pill. She’d love it. Like jelly beans, boston baked beans. Those little chewy caramels, for the Chewy vitamin.” “Yea,” he said, we could get a Fruit Rollup, for her patch!” We started cracking up at this. Just thinking of her trying to stick that to herself. And then figuring out that it’s a snack.
But she’s so funny that she’d laugh at this too. That’s the part I love. As I shared it with her later, she just laughed and laughed.
So when I tell her I want to get pictures for the family, she’s always anxious. No matter how silly. She loves it! My kids said, “Grandma looks like a cross between, George Washington and Paul McCartney.” I tell my mom this, and she thinks this is hilarious. So I went out shopping, and finds a picture of George on the cover of Time magazine. “Hey mom, hold this, I’m going to take your picture.” She willingly does it as she’s laughing at the thought. We send it to my son.
Then Paul McCartney is on some show, and I said, “Hey mom! Look, it’s you!” And he did look like he was wearing lipstick, so not sure if she looks like a man, or he looks like a woman!
Then there was a Chicken Nugget which sold for $8000.00, because it looked like George Washington. Well, I took issue with this, since it clearly looked like my mom! And the funniest thing about that, is this is one of the commercials that annoy her. For some reason, she thinks McDonalds has no right to market chicken. “They should stick with hamburgers!” She says.
St Patty’s Day is no different. She states, “I’m not Irish!” I remind her that I am part Irish, and she doesn’t have to be, to have fun.So I place my green wig on her head, and she starts laughing. She loves this. I’ve seen it many times. A person transformed into a child again. I love to be part of the process and it’ a beautiful thing to watch. Living day to day with her, reminds me that childhood really is in the heart. And no amount of time or pain, will erase that.
Dear Santa, I’d like a ‘floating arm,’ for Christmas
21 Dec 2011 Leave a Comment
in aging, comedy, family, humor, miscellaneous, relationships Tags: Alzheimer's, canes, Center For Aging, dementia, floating arm, geriatric, memory loss, Walgreens, zip-line
mom
This was a conversation that I had with my son when we went out today. I decided to go to Walgreen’s, to pick up a few things. Given that they had also given me a coupon for $10 off of any purchase of $30 or more, it seemed like a good place to spend my money. Besides, the Walgreen’s near me, has been the place to get all my last-minute things, including supplements for my mother.
While we were there, I went down the aisle that had all the item’s that she could use, for help. Lately she has had a difficult time walking and she grabs my arm, just to walk across the kitchen. It’s a short walk from my family room to the bathroom, but for some reason, she seems afraid to walk into open spaces, without holding on to someone, or something.
Now I find myself, staring at an assortment of canes. Wow! Who knew that you could be so stylish, while using a cane? My son was thrilled. “Hey! I like this one!” He grabbed one with camouflage and said, “I can’t wait to be old!” I was laughing to watch him, pretending to walk. “Look at me! I’m trippin on my grill!” One of his favorite expressions.
I told him, “I like the leopard one.” “No,” he said. “Grandma would look better with the pink flowers.” Now It’s an amusing thought, that we are actually trying to match her personality to a cane. I’m sure they couldn’t come up with anything to incorporate all her personality traits. My eyes drift at all of them, when I see one which is quite different. ”Wait a minute, look at this one. It glows in the dark.”
“Oh! That’s so cool!” My son is clearly excited now. “Let’s get this, it’s just so cool.” “Ok,” I said. But at this point reality is settling in. “You are the one that is going to convince your grandma to use it. I’m going to say, it’s a gift from you.” “Ok,” he said. “But I still think she’s going to make some excuse.”
He kept looking at the other geriatric products, and was amazed at the products available. “Man, it’s gonna be fun when I’m old!” He says. “Sure, that’s easy for you to say. I’m the one that’s next. And you better hope that I’m not as stubborn as grandma.”
We were laughing after I left the house, because my mom had picked up her calendar for the umpteenth time, and asked me what day it was. Every time she would ask, I would say, “It’s the 21st, Wednesday, mom. And don’t check it off again. Yesterday, she checked off today. And this is the reason, I have to hide her medicines. When I would come home to find them on the wrong days, I knew this method wasn’t working.
So, we come in with this cane and my son was over the top, when he saw it glowing. I had to pry off the bottom cap to place a small tripod on the bottom. Hoping this wouldn’t detract from the appearance too much. “Ok,” I told him. “You’re job is to now, sell this, to your grandma.”
We walked into the room, as I exclaimed, “Mom, we wanted to give you an early gift. It’s something that your grandson picked out and he really thinks you’ll like it.” He came running in and pretending to dance with this cane. At first, she started laughing, and then he said, “Grandma, it’s for you.” “Oh no! I don’t need that!” She said. “Mom, you’re grasping at walls, and need my arm, to walk across the room.” “I don’t need your arm, and I’m not an invalid.” She says. “Well, what will you do, when I am not here to walk you?” “I don’t need your arm!” She yells out. “Ok, I’ll leave it right here for when you may want to use it.”
Her response? “What’s the date today?” I lost my patience all together, and said, “Mom! It’s still the 21st. You’ve asked me so many times, it’s driving me crazy!”
Yes, I know, it’s not the correct response. I turned around to see my son cracking up. “Let’s go to the grocery store.” I say to him. “I’m just at a loss about how to help her.” Then he says, “Well I know what you can get grandma for Christmas? A floating arm!” Then we both start laughing at the thought. I said, “Hey, they should design a floating arm, on a contraption, like a zip-line.” He starts laughing so hard, as we are just imagining my mom, grabbing hold to ‘the arm,’ careening across the kitchen, into her designated place.
Then he says, “Hey, she’s probably asking Kevin, what the date is. Did you hear her when you didn’t answer her?” “No,” I said. “What did she say?” “Oh,” he said. “It was funny She looked at Kevin, and said, “Geesh! Well, I’ll get the answer from someone else.”
“Oh, my gosh, can you see them together?” At this thought, we both started laughing even harder. “My mom, questioning my mentally challenged brother, all day, about what the date is. I can see him grabbing his calendar, which he has by his side as well. He keeps track of all the Packer’s games, on his calendar.
“He probably gets sick of it too!” my son says. “He probably says, “Stop it!” Which is my brother’s favorite expression, when he’s fed up. He’ll put his hand up, in a stop symbol, and says, “Stop it!” Oh, this is just hilarious, to even imagine.
I tell my son, “we should get her a Planner.” “Oh, I can already see what would be written in it.” He says. “First, get out of bed. Check off the date. Wait for Carrie to leave the room. Sneak some chocolate. Wait til she comes back. Ask her what date it is. Check off the date.” Now I can’t stop cracking up at him. I said, “Come on, that’s not nice. “Mom, it’s our humor that keeps us going.” “You know what? That’s true.” I said.
Now my son says, I’d love to put a hidden camera in the room to watch them. It’s probably so funny.” He has a point. I’ve walked into the room to hear my mom, just talking away with my brother. It’s not as if it’s odd to talk to him, but she’ll actually talk to him as if, he is fully functioning. He doesn’t have a clue about some of the things she’s saying. And she’s even gotten into arguments with him. This is a complete mystery to me. As I have to remind my son, he is not at your level, so don’t argue with him.
The good thing about her lack of memory, is that she forgets as soon as she has an argument. She’s told me, “well losing short term memory isn’t all bad. There’s some things people don’t want to remember.” How true this is. If only we could pick and choose.
Now my son is dancing in front of the television with the cane, and he’s singing into it like a microphone. My mother is getting a big kick out of this. She tells him, “Well I’m glad you like it! You can keep it!”
So, the ‘cane argument’ has blown over and I walk into the room. “Hey! She says, “What’s the date?”
It's not Christmas without a cane!
Braving the Winter Storm
19 Dec 2011 Leave a Comment
in aging, christian, family, miscellaneous, relationships Tags: abandonment, Atonement Lutheran, Barbie Dream House, blizzards, Christmas, fear, hannukah, hidden room, Light of the World, loneliness, Parklawn, snow storm, toaster, winter
I have been shopping for Christmas gifts, and I found myself getting very emotional in a store yesterday. I was looking at things for my mom. I remember, as I’m looking at clothes. Her hands are frail and she’s having difficulty with the simplest of tasks. Buttoning, unbuttoning. Opening little things. She’s even requesting that I walk her from one room to another. I find myself thinking, how many more Christmases do we have?” Time is so fleeting. It seems like yesterday that we were young and celebrating Christmas, with anticipation.
She recalls these days, often. “What I loved the most was going to church on Christmas Eve.” She says. Yes, I recall these very special years, in my life. We all went to school right down the street. It was Atonement Lutheran. Every class participated in the Christmas program. Each class was responsible for reciting parts of the Christmas story. When it was time for the kids in Kindergarten, to speak, it was always the best. So cute, and there was always, one or two, kids who were trying to yell louder than the rest. With their missing teeth and squeaky voices, it was adorable, even to us older kids.
At the end of the service, we would leave, to go home and on the way out the door, we were given stockings with peanuts and oranges. It’s amazing how wonderful this gift seemed to us. I think if I were to give that to my son, he’d say, “What the heck? Is this a joke?”
We lived down the street in a place called, Parklawn. And although, we were the poor kids, we all had a great sense of community. My friends from the outside, would beg to come visit me. They were so intrigued by us, “Parklawnian’s.” The poor people, who seemed to live in a perpetual party.
I have to admit. As rough as the Project life could be, we found our own entertainment. And back in the 60′s it wasn’t as violent as it is now. Although, we did have our share. We would get into physical fights and meet up at the park. But we didn’t have gangs or carry guns and knives.
My mom, tried to make our holidays special, even with her meager income. I appreciated that. Looking back, I’m amazed that she even made attempts. And her whole purpose for sending us to this school can only be God. She had to become a member, and I would sit in on the instructional classes. It was taught by Pastor Schaefer. Who happened to be the grandfather, of a girl in my class. She would later become a good friend.
You really never know what you’re doing that will influence a child. My mother would take me with her, because I was the oldest and she thought, I would behave. I always brought a book to read, but I was so interested in what this pastor was saying, that I would just listen to him. Seeds were planted in my spirit. I had the fertile ground to cultivate those seeds. I hadn’t realized this until much later in life. But just coming through the spiritual storms, had dredged up this dry ground, and I was absorbing this ‘Water of Life.’ It was perfect timing in my life, to hear the Word of God. “And faith comes by hearing, and hearing, by The Word of God.”
As my mother and I recounted these experiences, I said, “Mom, I remember the earliest Christmas. It was with you and dad and we lived at, The Green House. This was the term we used to refer to our house we lived in, right before my mother and dad split. It was a cute little green house, (hence the name) Built brand new. I still remember the smell of stained wood and new paint. I remember the excitement as a child, moving into this house.
It’s amazing how many memories we have. I told my mom, “That year, I wanted a Barbie Dream House. You and dad gave it to me.” She had remembered that they stayed awake into the wee hours, trying to assemble this thing. I loved these memories. My dad,would place a sheet over the entry to the living room and we weren’t allowed to go in until after we had breakfast. My mom would bake cookies the night before, for Santa, and there were a couple bites out of each one. It is actually my only memory of her baking.
We would eat our cereal, with so much excitement, just to race into the next room. I wonder at times, how they did all of this, considering the major dysfunction with my dad’s drinking and the abusive nature of their marriage. Perhaps this is why I love these memories; it shows how a sense of giving, can bring people together. If it is only for a day. How healing comes through self-sacrifice.
That Barbie Dream House, had all of my own fantasies, wrapped inside. I had drifted into my own world. As I watched my brother, Dennis, I grew so attached to him. I taught him to walk and he would seem to know when I was coming home from school. A few short month’s later, it seemed, he was gone. Spinal meningitis, had stolen him from me.
My father and mother were separating and I was in crisis. Yet no one noticed. After all, I was a child. I learned very early on, that the Dream House was destructible. It would not withstand the test of time any more than my whimsical family life.
Now, I am sharing memories with my mom and wondering how much time I have with her. I seemed to have turned a corner in our relationship. For years, her attitude has been stubborn and argumentative. I see a softness in her.
We had watched a movie starring Betty White, yesterday and I commented on how vibrant she is. “Yes,” she said, “You have to have something to look forward to.” I thought, this is so true. We have to feel relevant. It was the reason my father, lost his desire to live. He felt he had no purpose and it’s the reason that people just give up.
Just last Christmas she was upset about a toaster. And this year, I bought a bright, red toaster for her. I can’t wait until she opens it, as it has become a joke to all of us. I went into a Salvation Army, the other day, and amazingly, I found a little porcelain toaster too. I was so tickled and knew it had to be God.
Toaster
She is happy with the simplest of things. My son gave her a little ornament last year. It says, Grandma, on it. It lights up. And she keeps it on the table so she can look at it. She pick’s it up every few minutes and says, “This is so cute, isn’t it?”
I realize that I’m getting sad, that she doesn’t keep talking about her return to Wisconsin. She used to drive me crazy with this incessant talk. But now she hardly mentions it, and I feel more upset about not hearing it. Is she beginning to give up?
I woke from a dream this morning. In this dream, I had a doctor’s appointment, with my mother. I had been out shopping and a snow storm, was just starting. I must have lived somewhere else. I looked all over and couldn’t find my mom. I asked my kids, “Where’s grandma?” They told me she went out for a while. I was frantic. “Your grandma can’t go out by herself! She doesn’t even know where she is!” I was furious, and terrified, at the same time. I started running from room to room, with the hopes that they were wrong. “I’m sure I’ll find her sitting quietly on the bed.” I thought. Every where I looked, it was empty.
I’m now wondering if I should call the police. I look outside and it’s beginning to get dark. The street lights are on and the snow is coming down so hard, it’s blowing sideways. There’s no way she can survive out there. I’m panicking.
I go into a bathroom and see a hole in the ceiling. “What in the world? I climb up and realize that my daughter and a friend, had broken some lights, and had found a hidden room. Then I remember, there were rooms in the highest level of this house, which I never went into,because of fear. It is a nightmare I’ve had for many years of my life. I would not enter into this highest level and open these doors. But now I was looking at them from below. I see that my daughter and her friend had found this secret room. And there were all kinds of things in here that I could use. I saw paint containers and tools. I was looking at a ladder, coming down from one of the rooms which I would have never entered. But somehow, from this perspective, it was all so non-threatening. I felt a sense of relief, that I had been able to finally access this all alone.
When I woke, I began to dissect this. Of course, I know that this dream, had bit’s and pieces of my life throughout. I see that the Lord has tried to show me how fearful I’ve been to open certain doors. As I’ve been told in my past, these are the areas, He wants us to give to Him. And as He helps us to open them, we will see that, we have all kinds of tools, which will help us. “I know the plans, I have for you,” says the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11
My mother is one of those rooms. I hold on so tightly and I am afraid to face the winter storm. Distracted in my search for her, by a room which had hidden all of my fears. He revealed to me that, He is in control and I felt Him trying to prepare me. At times, the thought of her leaving, makes me scared. When she wakes up too late, I have fear. When she loses interest in little things, like her Soap Opera, I try to rekindle her fire. As if by doing this, I’m the one holding onto the silver cord of life. Christ reminds me that He is the reason we celebrate this holiday. He is the “Light of the World,” on Hanukkah, and the “The Greatest Gift,” on Christmas. He’s greater than any Barbie Dream House, and He’s not a fairy-tale.
I’m so thankful that my mother listened to the voice of the Lord and gave me the opportunity to Hear the Good News!
Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah!
The Blizzard
Please Don’t Try To Rap!
02 Dec 2011 Leave a Comment
in aging, comedy, family, humor, miscellaneous, relationships Tags: advertising, Aflac, annoying commercials, Hooligans-Milwaukee, Lake Michigan, long-term care, marketing, milwaukee, peer pressure, Sigmund Snopek, teenagers, The Site
Ok, I’m upset that today, my son told me he didn’t want to go to the Christmas ceremony, at our City Hall. Well, not that he didn’t want to go, but that he didn’t want to go with, “his mom, and grandma, because it’s dorky!”
“Oh, really? So, you are now at an age, where, it’s dorky, to be seen with your mom and grandma?” “Well yea!” He says, as if I should just know when he’s hit that magic number. He tells me that, “all my friends will be there ,and they won’t be with their parents.” “Why wouldn’t they be?” I ask. “If they’re going by themselves, that’s just to start trouble.”Wow. Now I’m really turning into a stern parent. When I tell him that he can just come with us, and go hang out with his friends, he responds, “My friends wouldn’t just go there to hang out!” Ok, now I’m confused.
I realize that my mom, really can’t get around that well, and thought, she’d just enjoy looking at the lights. But I have to admit, it wasn’t the greatest thing to take her to. I drove up to a good spot in front of the City Hall. But as I went around to retrieve my mom, I saw swarms of teenagers, everywhere. And they were running like they were late for something. You know they sure wouldn’t be doing that for a class! So, I surmised that, they had all their little cliques, and my mom and I had wandered smack, dab into the feeding frenzy. These kids were, standing in mobs..
At one point, as my mom had her ‘death-grip,’ on my arm, a crowd of girls, were standing right in front of us on the sidewalk. We seemed to be invisible, as I said, “Hello!” “Oh,” a girl said, “Sorry.”
I began to think, “where are these kids parents?” When I looked around, I saw some people my age, and they were all kind of hanging together as well.And I could swear, smelled the distinct odor of alcohol, as I walked by many of them. Not the kids, the parent’s.It made me think of the remark one of my friends made, after seeing my son run head-first into a big bunch of sand as soon as we arrived to our hotel. He got up and was covered. “I firmly believe that every mother should have a flask, strapped to her belt.” She said.
I thought, “those are probably the parents, and I can’t say I blame them. I wouldn’t want to hang with my son either. Not when I see these crazy kids, running in packs. I would definitely gravitate to friends my own age. Another sympathetic person, of an aging parent, and a teen. Yes, I can see why the need to bond, with someone in the midst of this madness.
I navigated my mom through the chaotic scene. Each time some kids came running past, I felt her grip my arm, tighter. I just wanted her to see some pretty Christmas decorations. As she’s constantly telling me that, “it doesn’t feel like Christmas, if their isn’t snow.”
Upon returning home, I shared with my son. “Hey, I saw your friends.” “How do you know?” He asked. “Cause, they were all a bunch of punks!” I said. And I started laughing. “You should have seen them. And they weren’t with their parents. They were just hanging out, causing trouble, like I told you. Geesh! They almost knocked your grandma down a few times.”
Now, he said, “Told you!” Ok, I had to concede. He was right. I didn’t want him there. But as he stands over me, it’s hard to let go. Now, he stands on his toes, and he’s towering above me. “Hey, mom. In a few more months, I’m going to be wayyyy, over your head!” As if this is proof of his maturity. Now he picks me up. Oh, doesn’t every boy love to do this to his mom?
I realized, he’s really growing up. I always want to give him kisses, or hugs, and that’s another, no-no, in the general vicinity of his friends. I get it. But I guilt him anyway. Just because that’s a mom’s job. “Hey, we only get just so many kisses and hugs, in our lives, and then it’s done.” But I’m starting to see that this, is losing it’s levity as well. I’ve got to come up with a new game-plan.
Now I’m sitting quietly with my mom. I watch her, and try tothink back to when I stopped, participating in my life with her. When was it, ‘not cool?’ I was pretty young. Actually, about my son’s age. I still remember, her bringing us back from Lake Michigan. We had gone down to the lake-front, on a nice summer day. Now, looking back, it was quite a feat, for my mom, with all of us. And, on a bus.
Yet, when we were at the lake, I heard music playing from down the beach. I wandered off. I came to a place, which would become my favorite hang-out, a few years later. ‘The Site,’ as it was called. Here, a rock band was playing. I still remember,the name; Sigmund Snopek. One of the guys was just flirting with me, and I was so giddy. A teenage girl, with so much attention, from this older guy. And he was a rock star. Well, at least, that’s what it seemed to me.
Well, on the way home, we were standing on a street corner, when we heard loud yelling. We were amazed, to see a guy being tossed out onto the street, from a bar, appropriately named, Hooligan’s.’ Now this is a place, I want to visit. My brother and I both laughed at this, and decided, that it looked like a really fun place to be.
I think of the passage of time, as I watch my mom and the difficulty she has, with just the little things. Then I begin to wonder, if I have any hopes of depending on my son or daughter, when I get like this. I sure hope they store some of this in ‘the archives,’ so when I have just a few marbles, they will remember, “Oh, yea, I remember what mom did, when grandma was losing it.” Then hoping they have the compassion to put some of this into action. But, it’s really a crap shoot.I’ve only got two. And my mom, had a whole bunch, but in the end, just one, to rely on. The odd’s are not in my favor.
Now a commercial comes on. That annoying AFLAC, commercial. It’s a guy, my age,which means, old) trying to rap. With a bunch of stupid, fake,animals. It makes no sense, and my son and I crack up, every time we see it. Who came up with this? Another group of overpaid, ad exec’s with a power-point presentation. And no one had the guts to say, “This sucks.”
The duck used to be bad enough, but now, a rapping menagerie. And the words, are terrible. They don’t have the correct rythym. I said, He says, “There’s just something major medical, doesn’t do.” When it’s perfectly obvious, to anyone writing rap, it should have another word. Like, “There’s something’s, major medical… just doesn’t do.’
It’s irritating enough, just to see a stupid frog on a lilly pad, singing, but this is just beyond, hoaky! But then, maybe that’s the point. I started to think, it’s the last frontier, between my son and I. We both agree it is so ridiculous, so that’s proof, that I’m not that old or dorky.
It is also a moment of bonding between my mother and I, because she’s just as annoyed by this. So, perhaps, this is the really effective part of this commercial. It annoys all kinds of people, of all ages, and it brings us together in agreement.
My son imitates it constantly. Out of the blue, he’ll say, “Hey mom…”there’s just some things, major medical, doesn’t do.” I laugh each time he says, it, because he know’s it is so obnoxious.
So now, I think, there just may be some hope for me. He tell’s me, “Women belong in the kitchen.” He will say things that he knows are ridiculous, just to make me laugh. But knowing that we have a full on agreement on some things, gives me a little glimmer of hope. I entertain it for a minute. “Perhaps, I won’t just be a little old woman with a bunch of cats.” Then I snap back to reality. Better get that AFLAC, in place.
Losing My Independence
13 Nov 2011 Leave a Comment
in aging, christian, family, miscellaneous Tags: aging, aging parents, Alzheimer's, baby boomers, care-givers, independence, mini-strokes, senior center, TIA
Watching time ebb away
As I watch my mother, aging, right before my eyes, I am struck by the different emotions, I live with on a daily basis.
Since I moved her into my home, a little over a year ago, I’ve battled. I battled my own anger, guilt for being angry, and sadness.
She’s one of those stubborn, old people. Yes, we’ve all had experience with them, and some are related. I watch her, as she loses ground, and she fights me in the process. There are times, I try to escape, what I am witnessing, but I can’t. I know, what is inevitable.
She rails against me, with every doctor’s visit, new diagnosis, medicine, vitamin, change, she must make. In order to keep the vehicle going. She has an addiction to chocolate, which I must monitor. I’ve told her that I’m her Warden. At this she laughs. If she buys it, she’ll eat it all. When she gets sick from it, she tells me, “I don’t like that.” As if it’s really the chocolate which made her sick. I remind her, “Mom, it’s not the candy or the chips. It’s the fact that you’re compulsive when you eat, and you don’t stop yourself. No matter what it is, you’ll get sick, if you don’t ration it.” She sarcastically answers, “Yes, doctor.”
She picks her skin raw. I watch her, as she picks on her face. It annoys me. She was just diagnoses with skin cancer, which she has to have removed this month. I tell her, “Mom stop that picking!” She tells me, “I’ll do what I want. It’s my face!” “Ok,” I say. “Abuse your body all you want. Eat chocolate until your sick, and pick your skin right off!”
Then I feel the guilt. I wonder why I don’t just walk away, before I get angry. I realize that I’m upset that she can’t do things for herself. I know at times, I feel resentment. This mixed with love, gives me a feeling of sadness. I feel it as I wake up in the morning.
Already responsible for so many in my life. I realized I have been a caregiver, all of my life. It’s not a role, that has been given to me, since my mother became older. She had given me this role, as a child. I didn’t know anything different.
Then I married a man, who acted as if I was his caregiver. At one of our group therapy sessions, his counselor asked him, “Why do you allow your wife to do everything for you?” His answer; “Because she’s so good at it.” This is when I felt anger. Isn’t part of a marriage to make your spouse feel secure in the marriage? But then, I believe, that I attracted this to me. I still remember him telling me that “he felt he loved me, even though he didn’t know me. But when he saw me with my younger brother, and the compassion which I had, he really fell in love.” Now I can understand, that this must have been a need inside of him, which drew him to me. The need for a mother. A care-giver. Thus, the role was defined, from the start of the relationship.
I suddenly come to the realization that it “losing our independence,” isn’t isolated to an aging parent. I don’t feel as if I’ve ever had mine. Always being responsible for another. The load of care has been on my shoulders since I was a young girl. I’m amazed at how all of the trauma in my childhood forced me to take on the care of my household.
Just yesterday, as I was painting my walls, my mother looked on. “Is that fun?” She asked. “Well, it becomes tedious, I told her. “Do you want to help?” “Oh no! I can’t do that!” She said. “Wait a minute, mom. Have you ever painted, before?” It dawned on me, that although my mother bought a home, when we were kids. I never saw her make any improvements. “No.” She said. “Your brother did.” “Well, so did I,” I said. “I painted my bedroom.” Then I remembered. We had done different things in the house, but she was the spectator. She never did anything. Yes, my mother never seemed involved in anything. So why would I expect her to want to do anything now? It doesn’t stop me from trying though.
I’m older and wiser now. I balance the need to give care, where/when needed. I remember a psychologist who had spoken about this with our children. “Let them do what they are capable of doing.”I apply this principle with my own mother. She has become a child.
The other day, my daughter heard us and commented. “I was laughing when you confronted grandma about eating all that chocolate. She sounded like a little kid.” “Well,” I said, “she is like a kid. She doesn’t eat a meal, when she gorges herself with junk, and then she lies about it, when I see it.”
I know, I get upset to handle all of this, and some days, I feel like throwing in the towel. Especially as she prattles on and on, about moving to her own place. I think it’s abusive to allow someone like her to live alone. And sometimes, I think, she really doesn’t realize that I have to help her with everything. If she was to be alone, she wouldn’t survive. And then, I’m tempted to allow her to try, just so she can accept what is happening. But that is replaced with a deep compassion, for her circumstances.
Last night, I had a dream. I remember it vividly. I believe this is the Lord’s way of giving me an even deeper experience, and understanding of my mother.
I had my daughter with me, and I was struggling in my body, to do simple things. Walking, talking. We were in a pool, and I was watching her and friends, throwing a ball. A man handed it to me, and I tried to throw it. My hand went limp, as I tried, in vain, to throw and watched the ball drop in front of me. “What is wrong with me?” I thought. I used to be good at throwing a ball. It must be in the wrong hand, since I’m left-handed. I switched arms. I was getting irritated with the man, although it wasn’t his fault. “Give it to me again!” I yelled. I was determined to throw it. I tried with my left hand, and again, it fell flat.
I saw my daughter and her friends look at me, with eyes of sympathy. I just couldn’t grasp, that I had lost this skill. It is the simplest thing in the world. My body just wouldn’t cooperate with what my brain was telling it to do.
As I woke, I pondered this dream. I felt the Lord gently speaking to me. “This is what your mother deals with, each day. Her anger, is not at you, but at her lack of independence.” I was filled with a deep compassion and a new feeling of empathy came over me. “Yes, Lord, I understand now, how difficult this is for her.”
It must be very similar to someone who has had a stroke, or forced to live in a wheelchair. A loss of things, which they had known, all their lives. It is a process, akin to grieving the loss of a loved one. To know we had something, and lose it. And then have to rely on others for their help. I’m not so sure, that I won’t be like her one day. Although I think, I may be a little kinder. Constantly talking about my plans. No matter how silly, they may sound. This is the way we are to live. The Lord tells us that, “For lack vision, my people perish.” He didn’t tell us that this is age-specific.
So, I don’t try to rob my mother of her vision. This is the only thing which she has left. Although, each day, when she starts to talk about this, I tell her, “Mom, this is the day which the Lord has made. We are to rejoice and be glad in it. ” “Now how can you be glad in this day, when you are concerned about the future. Let’s enjoy each day, as we live it.” This seems to help her change the topic….at least for a few minutes.”
They Put the ‘Special’ in Special Ed
16 Oct 2011 2 Comments
in aging, christian, Entertainment/News, family, miscellaneous Tags: disabilities, elder care, exploiting the elderly and special needs, group homes, mentally challenged, money laundering, special education, supported living, the least are the greatest
Now I’m really getting tired of these stories of Special Education, teacher’s making fun of their students.
This is a very unique job and one which requires people with compassion and sensitivity. I know. My brother was born with his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. He would appear completely ‘normal,’ accept, he has the mentality of a young boy and he has a slight gait, due to cerebral palsy. Oh, and his vocal cords were severely damaged, making it almost impossible for people to communicate with him.
He is a sweet loving person. Innocent as a child can be. Which also makes him, very easy to exploit. He had many along his journey, who have taken advantage of him. He has scars on his arms from serious burns he experienced, and still it’s difficult for me to determine what happened and by whom. He explains in his best language, which I can understand. He was working at his job at Pizza Hut. They had him washing the dishes, (which he shouldn’t have been doing.) He had some kind of a spray washer and it was scalding hot. It burned his arms and he was taken to the hospital. He tells me, “They gave me shots. It hurt.” I always get very upset when I hear this.
I know he lived in a small town, before I went to bring him home to live with me. In this town, there was an organiztion, which claimed to be, A Supportive Living organisation. Which basically meant, they would take all the people with special needs and cram them into little apartments. They had a couple ‘caseworkers,’ check on them at some point during the day.
My brother lived with a guy named, David He had a bad temper, and repeatedly abused my brother. I only found these things out, by talking with the other people in this apartment building. One woman told me that my brother was so sick. And she called the agency to have them take him to the doctor. They refused and she took him herself.
I was furious to find out about all of these things. Incident reports are supposed to be filed and family notified. But these poor people have had their basic human rights, stripped away. I see a long scar on his back and wonder at this as well.
Since I was a young girl, I had grief at the loss of my brother to a state institution. He was placed later with a loving family. Then he was placed again, in a group home. I had visited the group home, many times. I liked the people running this home. They were loving and my brother and other resident’s loved it.
Then it was closed, to begin the grand scheme. The supported living, was nothing more than a cover for a money laundering scheme. They had all of them sign up for funeral trust funds and started placing the funds into them. A bunch of attorney’s and tax exempt specialists. Using my brother and others like him, as their cash cows. One scam after another and never stopping to think about the care of their wards. They were just throw-aways.
I am getting very upset at the manner in which people treat them. When I stepped into an elevator at the courthouse yesterday, a woman was talking to her friend about something. She said, “That’s so retarded!” The hair stood up on the back of my neck, and short of glaring at her with an angry remark, I bit my tongue.
How can ignorance come to an end when even, people who claim it’s racist to mention color, make songs, referring to being retarded? Unless someone actually has a loved one who is mentally challenged or has some disability, there seems to be no empathy.
After reading this story today, I wondered, why would these people devote time to careers which involve people with ‘special needs,’ when they don’t even like them? It breaks my heart to hear these stories.
It seems to me that an appropriate punishment for these teachers and so-called, professionals, who have exploited their students and wards, should be placement in a ‘special education class themselves. A place where they would see how truly ‘slow,’ they are. That they have no grasp or concept of what ignorance really means. The word retarded or mentally challenged. If they truly understood, they would realize that it applies to their own behavior.
The special needs, which my brother has and everyone like him, are the need for love and compassion. Everything else falls into place, when those needs are met. And those needs aren’t just reserved for people who are like you and me.
My brother has a companion who comes to take him to his social functions. I feel so blessed, because she is a woman who has chosen this profession because of her desire to make their lives better. There are some who only choose these professions because of pay. Well, I have news for these people, if that’s the motivation for entering this ‘very special,’ field. There won’t be enough pay to satisfy. Without passion for people like my brother, they are going to be miserable and make his life miserable as well.
As a man reminded me the other day, “If you love what you’re doing, you never work a day in your life.” My request for all of you is, to please choose another line of work. Stay away from these very special people.
I’m also speaking as a word of warning. The Lord told us; “The least of these are the greatest in the kingdom of God. A time is coming when the ones who have brought harm to these people, will give account.
After posting this, I saw another horrible article about someone abusing these people. This certainly seems to be an epidemic. And yes, I’m positive it was for their Social Security payments. I believe the government needs a special task force, to investigate all of these people and the money trail. At the end, I believe they will find fraud in the majority of cases.
