I’m Still Here (I Think)
I’m not sure if I should try to sound funny or serious with this post, so I’ll try a mix of both. If that sounds like an excuse not to craft thoughtful, meaningful prose for the benefit of my ego (and this blog’s very limited audience), well, heck, you got me. I am beyond exhausted. The bags under my eyes not only have bags, they also have carry-ons, a CPAP machine, 14 pounds of smuggled fruit, and a fanny pack in tow.
Ben and I continue to be run ragged caring for my mom. We did receive some wonderful news several days ago – she was accepted into the Choices program that will pay for a nursing home. So now, we have moved to the next phase: finding a nursing home that accepts Choices, that will accept her as a resident, is not too far away, and is not a terrible place to live.
We’ve toured 2 homes already, one in Maryville and one in Knoxville. One was much better than the other. The cruddier of the two smelled strongly of urine and our tour was hurriedly led by the home’s activities director. “Once a month, we have a residents’ council meeting,” she said. “If the residents have complaints about me, the food, anything, this is their chance to talk about it. If they are mad at the staff, the staff can’t retaliate or they’ll be fired.” (Emphasis mine!)
So, in the limited amount of time we have, the best, most important thing you feel is pertinent to add to our conversation about the residents’ meeting is that, if my mom or anyone else who has dementia rightfully or wrongfully accuses a staff member of misconduct, the staff cannot willfully hurt a resident or else they will lose their jobs?
Bye, girl.
I don’t mean to sound flippant about something so potentially serious, but her rushed declaration unnerved me. Maybe after Mom is placed and settled, I can help be a voice against misconduct in nursing homes. But in the meantime, I will be praying for the people at that home and praying that the Lord allows Mom to be accepted into a much better facility.
We’re not sure how long this current phase will last. A couple more weeks, at least. In the meantime, please pray for us. Truly, I know that there are people all over this world who are suffering in ways I can’t imagine, and they would probably give everything to be suffering in the ways I am. However, Ben and I are strained to the limit. We were both barely recovered from nasty bouts of the flu when Mom moved in. Please pray that I can keep my attitude loving and my perspective in check. I consider myself a devout Christian and believe what the Bible says about hardship - that ultimately, God is using this experience to help me conform to the image of Christ (which, based on my recent behavior, deserves only the saddest trombone sound. heather much fail).
~ A Typical Day ~
6:30-7:20 am – Get up and take a quick shower. Mom is already awake and wanting to get dressed. I try to delay her long enough to put my pants on. Get Mom dressed. Have long philosophical discussion in the bathroom after she asks me if God is mad at her. Try to give upbeat response as I put her shoes on.
7:20 am - Forced to skip makeup once again. Ignore all reflective surfaces as they remind me of a horror film where the monster shows up in the mirror. Spoiler alert: THE MONSTER WAS ME THE WHOLE TIME.
7:20-7:45 am – Prepare breakfast for myself and Mom. Mom rejects oatmeal, grits, an egg biscuit, and one of those pancake corn dog things. Finally negotiate her drinking an 8oz Boost.
7:45-8:05 am – Repeat, “Mom, you need to finish your Boost, please,” at least 20 times.
8:05-8:20 am – Quickly eat my own breakfast. Get irrationally angry at a news story about a fundraiser for a special-needs goat. “IT’S JUST A GOAT,” I yell through a mouthful of grits. “THERE ARE STARVING CHILDREN IN THIS WORLD!”
8:20-8:45 am – Ben drives me to work. Mom is already asking if she has to eat her lunch or if she can skip it.
8:45 am - 6:30 pm – Smile through the exhaustion at work. I have to wear scrubs, which feel like pajamas, so this is a challenge. I text Ben to see how Mom is doing. He replies, “I love Amazing Grace as much as the next Christian, but hearing the same 4 bars of the middle of the song hummed over and over for hours on end is enough to drive Billy Graham insane.”
6:30-7:00 pm– Convince Mom to eat a KFC drumstick and biscuit for supper, since it is one less thing we have to prepare. Sit in the drive thru for 20 minutes before I huffily decide that we will just go to Krystal instead. Mom now asking if she has to eat supper.
7:45 pm – Prepare myself an oozing chocolate snack bar with melted Sunbutter on top of it, an allergen-free ode to a Reese’s cake. Sit down to enjoy it.
7:46 pm – Mom shuffles to the bathroom. Seconds later, an emergency is declared.
8:05 pm – After cleanup, decide I want nothing to do with chocolate ever again.
8:06 pm – Haul the transfer bench into our tiny, mid-century modern bathroom. Help Mom with shower and getting ready for bed. Have to leave the bathroom halfway through process because she is adamant that I go plug up her smartphone because it is almost out of batteries. (It’s not.)
8:30 pm – Open my study Bible to the next chapter of 1 Corinthians, which is what we were reading the last time I was able to attend church several weeks ago. Instantly fascinated by the publisher’s decision to publish the Koine Greek in this version. Slowly realize that the text is not written in Greek but that I’m just too tired to comprehend English.
9:00 pm - Now that Mom is asleep on the couch, I shut the door to the bedroom and march in place for 20 minutes to music so that my body doesn’t erode to the point of disease. My tiny pink Ipod shuffles to “Fergalicious,” and I cry when she raps, “I be up in the gym just workin’ on my fitness,” because today, like every other day during the last 2 months, I am only able to shoehorn in a few minutes of physical activity whilst listening to an outdated song on an outdated entertainment cube.
9:01 pm – Sniffling, I reconsider my oozing chocolate dessert from earlier.
9:50- 10:30 pm – Finish cleaning up the bathroom and kitchen, wash my face and teeth. Can stress make your eyebrows grow together? Grab the tweezers.
10:35 pm – Briefly consider that I have not been able to say more than 500 words to my husband today that didn’t include discussion of my mom’s care. Fall asleep in the middle of that thought.
2:00 am – Mom stumbles and falls on the way to the bathroom. Thankfully, Mom is ok but the force from the fall has broken one of the porcelain pretty ladies that belonged to my late grandmother. I’m happy the one that shattered was my least favorite, as my life is better off no longer seeing her haughty expression. She reminds me of the type that would pit her beaux against each other, like Scarlett O’Hara did at the Wilkes barbeque. Good riddance, stuck-up heifer, I think, as Ben and I sweep up the mess.
If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry.
March 12, 2018
