One day in the Future

My son and I talk on Sundays. My oldest son, that is. This has become a ritual since March of last year. I think we started it the weekend of the 'lockdown'. He is able to work from home and has been practicing masking and social distancing. 

I can't fathom how difficult it must be for him as he is a very social creature. Yet he perseveres with caution. He has gone to limited workouts at his CrossFit gym and has a small 'bubble' of friends that he does things with. 

He is a constant source of common sense for me. He also likes to give me grief and joke with me. 

He pulls no punches. This year he asked what did I intend to do in the future when Rich was no longer here? Would it make sense to hang onto the farm and all that it entails as I creep towards 'older' age? Did I really want to maintain pastures, gardens, and plow out the driveway? Depend on the help of others?

What would happen when I couldn't drive anymore? Of course I laughed and said that I expected him to tell me when he thought that I'd reached that point. 

"Okay mom, I'm coming for the keys." He responded. 

Harrumph. 
But he had a point. No taxis are in this rural area. I couldn't be asking neighbors to take me shopping now could I? I know it was a huge pain to take half a day to drive my mother in law around and pull out her walker and act as her spotter when she got tipping one way or the other. Grocery shopping with her had to be done, but she insisted on doing it herself. It took over an hour just to get 15 items. Afterwards, she wanted to 'do' lunch. Eventually we'd make it back to her apartment and she'd collapse in her easy chair and direct me on putting her things away.

Next she'd ask me to do dishes and make her bed. Please don't think I am cruel, but I was chomping at the bit. Rich was my full time care partner. He needed me too. He'd just had recovered from cancer treatment, a stroke, and Pulmonary Emboli. 

I fell into the caregiving category because MIL's family were too busy, too far away, or whatever else they had for reasons.

Ed said to me. "Don't think I'll be driving out there once a week to check up on you mom." He then proposed a future.

Eventually sell the place and move back to his home town. Use the farm proceeds to purchase a condo near the lakefront. I actually liked that idea. There are bus routes and bike/walking trails all over. Uber is available for rides. If I couldn't drive [my father went blind with macular degeneration] I could still get around. Since I am familiar with the area, I know there are miles and miles of beautiful trails to explore. 

Not the forest though. It is not the forest. There is the big question. Give up my forest rambling? Hours by the creek? 
And yet, I could be free to travel if I wished provided I had no farm to hold me down. I could drive places and camp. Something that has always been on my list.

My son pointed out that at least I'd be in the same town as he was. And yes he could check on me easier. 

I'm grateful for Ed and his logical mind. Yes, I'd make the change, eventually. I love this house and it is nearly maintenance free. 

I also know that I am adaptable. I've lived in Skokie, Illinois. I've lived in Kenosha County. I've lived in apartments and crappy houses. I've lived all over and seemed to always adapt quickly.

I have to be realistic. There will be a day when I can't handle all of this on my own no matter how much I work out and stay healthy. 

Rich and I talked to Ed about this and Rich thinks it is a great idea. He doesn't want to see me alone in the world without family nearby. 

I saw first hand with my MIL, the true shortcomings of help in the rural area. No transport or limited transport. Helping Hands was always stretched thin. It was a struggle to get her extra help even with the county involved. 

I've been through this with my FIL, my MIL, and Rich. Without a person willing to do everything the elderly in our area are lost.

One of my neighbors gives up time each week to go to an elder's house to help them. Good people are out there. 

One day in the future I'll be shutting the porch door behind me permanently. That only makes every day here in the NOW more important.

Another lunch date

I sat down with MIL after greeting the 'gang' as I started to think of them. It is funny how I get concerned if one of them doesn't show up. In a nursing home, life tends to feel a bit tenuous.

MIL started out by saying "Hello! Where have you been?" I replied I had been there yesterday and she said "No." Then she looked around and said, "Oh, you were?"
No matter, that is how things progress for her. One day blends into another seamlessly.
On Sunday's visit she'd told me that she was rather upset with the staff and I'd asked her why.

Her explanation was rather intriguing.
"Well," she said glancing sideways, "you have to be a ..." she paused, "...a woman or a MAN to get anything around here! I mean nobody pays me any attention! If I have to go to the bathroom they tell me to use the bathroom in my room! Imagine that! I have to go to my room!"

I nodded, "So you have to be a man or a woman to get the staff's attention." I couldn't help but ask.
"YES, and if I want to go to a meal, they just tell me to go ahead! Nobody gives me a push or takes me there! I want to go home. You take me now."

I wanted to venture a guess that the staff was following doctor's orders... trying to see if she was capable to do things on her own, not being mean. But I just kept my mouth shut. As soon as it was time for her to go to lunch, I asked if she wanted to go.
She immediately said yes, and that I could push her. As I wheeled her to lunch she commented that I didn't drive as fast as most of the people who pushed her.

Monday lunch.
The usual characters.
Lisa was asleep at her end of the table. She kept waking up and dozing off. Then a staff member came in and took her Glucose Reading [away from the table]. Lisa woke up then and started to glance around. She left her lunch and backed up her wheel chair to move over towards John.
John was watching her and trying to negotiate spaghetti and meatballs with his one hand.
She kept inching closer, murmuring to John.

I watched and wondered again about Nursing Home romances. A staff member came up and asked Lisa to leave John alone and go eat her meal please.
My MIL was busy trying to cut up her meatballs. When another staff member put a glass of water, chocolate milk, and coffee in front of her she protested loudly.

"Take that water away! I don't drink water!"
The staff member smiled and said, "Honey, I have to give it to you, it is required."
MIL snorted and shoved the glass with the back of her hand and spilled water all over the table.

Joan perked up from her near slumber at that. "Oh, honey! Drink your water! It is so good for you!"
MIL pushed the glass again and made a face. She turned to me and said, "See? I don't get any attention!"
My usual method is to divert and change the subject when she gets a bit upset and it works pretty well.

I noted that MIL had her bright green jacket that she was sitting on. I inquired if it had been cold. MIL picked up the chocolate pudding and started to scoop it up.
"Yes, it was cold this morning! I had my housecoat on."

She stopped what she was doing and leaned towards me. I think she meant to whisper what she said next, but she didn't. She was actually quite loud. "I peed on it so they had to take it to the laundry and the nice girl got me this jacket out of the closet."
She smiled as if the peeing incident was something quite special and turned her attention back to the chocolate pudding.

I drank some of my bottled water.

Lisa spoke up from the end of the table.
"You know," she said, "my Brother In Law was afraid that I was going to steal his brother from him."

Most of us turned to Lisa.
"I don't know why he thought that," she continued, "he was my husband."

Joan shrugged, MIL ate her pudding, John opened his mouth in a silent laugh, and Lisa returned to eating, only to fall asleep at her spot.

Note: Visiting a nursing home where a loved one is, can and is rewarding. You have to have a grasp of what how to handle your loved one's illnesses are and learn how to deal with things like such as dementia. 
My visits are always rewarding. My MIL is always happy to see me and asks for hugs which I give freely. The other residents thank me for coming to see them at their noon meal.
Most importantly, I listen and don't judge. 
Interestingly enough, each table group is like a small social group. I am often reminded of my high school cafeteria, where all of the cliques sat together and chatted.
I actually look forward to each time I visit and have found that lunch time is the best time. Everyone is more alert.
If you have someone you love in a home. Go visit.
It will be rewarding to the both of you.

Charlie Charlie ... The Chicken

I thought I'd go visit my MIL in the nursing home early Sunday. I gave Charlie a bath and took him along.

I brought puzzle books and a card. I tucked Charlie under my arm as I made my way down the hallways. I was stopped my nearly everyone. Housekeeping, nurses, staff, and residents who wanted to see the 'puppy'. Charlie wagged his tail and loved all the petting.

We finally made it to MIL's room and Charlie greeted her with happy wags as she reached down to pet him. He eventually made it to her lap and laid down.

As MIL complained about the terrible beds, the boredom, and how 'nothing' was happening, her hands kept stroking Charlie's coat.
I've also learned with Alzheimer's that you just go with the flow. She told me repeats of the past few events and I listened. No matter that we'd had this conversation before. Her time line and my time line of events are different and that is okay, we still had a very nice visit.
She told me she was going home the next time she saw a doctor. She wanted to go home and sit in her chair and not be bothered and she wanted very strong pain pills.
I reminded her that he kidneys were so frail that they couldn't handle strong pain pills. She made a face and then I decided I should keep my mouth shut and let the pros handle it.

All the time, she just unconsciously pet Charlie and soon Charlie's eyes were droopy. The only time he looked concerned is when he could hear someone coming down the hallway.

When the visit was over I let Charlie walk down the hall on his leash. He is so low to the ground and has such a funny gate. However, he walked as if he owned the place.
Some housekeeping gals asked if the could pet him. Charlie walked up and sat by their feet while they rubbed his ears and talked to him. His tail swished and he sat still.
At the nurse's station, the gals came out and had to see Charlie. Then the residents in wheelchairs saw him and the crowd began to merge in on us. Charlie walked from one resident to another and sat at their feet if they put their hand down or spoke to him.

One lady insisted he was a Chicken. Well why not? Let Charlie be a Chicken. Ever person smiled. Frail shaking hands gently touched Charlie and Charlie just sat quietly.

How old is he? Asked a nurse.
Just over a year.

Please bring him back again.

We got through the group of residents and started down the hall. Charlie peered into each room to see if there was someone in it. I was told that Charlie could visit if they asked him in.
Funny that he'd pause for a bit at each resident's door and watch them, then move slowly on to the next.

Last stop was outside the lunchroom. More workers came out and all wanted to say hi. Charlie sat and seemed to relish the attention. He didn't wiggle, he didn't whine, he didn't bark. He just was like Charlie Zen.

I've concluded that Charlie has an old soul and really can tell things about people. When he meets most folks he is bubbly and excited but calms down quickly.

He seemed to know that all these folks wanted was to touch him and he seemed content and quiet.
On the ride home, he curled up in his car seat and slept.

Charlie, Chuckie, Charlie, Chicken, Puppy, Doggy, ... whatever name he goes by...he is really something special.

Someone said that Morris must have brought him into our lives.
I wonder....