Who Cares What Nansi Thinks?

A movie. I've watched it twice in 24 hours. I love Meg Ryan so it's not hard to watch one of her movies a couple of times. What drew me to this movie was it's description on the "INFO" tab. It said it was about a young writer who is taking care of his elderly grandmother.... Funny, when I watched the movie, it didn't seem to be about that at all.

This is one of those rare movies where I could see myself in all five of the major characters.

The guy. He's an aspiring writer who decides to take some time off to take care of his demented grandmother. (Olympia Dukakis) At one point Grandma answers the door with no pants on. The boy/man sternly says "Grandma, get with the program here. It's not OK for you to do anything that involves other people when you're not dressed. If you want to give the illusion that you're not completely demented, you will heed my advice on this, OK? Put some pants on!" (My co-workers have seen my mother naked.)

The Mom. (Meg Ryan) Her teenaged daughter thinks "she breaks her neck trying to make her life look like a crate and barrel store". The mom wants to connect with her teenaged daughter, but can't break through the contempt that the girl holds for her. The girl is mad at her mother because her father hasn't been faithful. The mom's 10 year old child is happy to let mom in. So the family has become dad/16 year old: Mom/10 year old. Mom's got interests, hopes, dreams, aspirations. People in the household don't always see it.

The teenager. She is so angry at her mother. Her mother is so LAME! She's mad at her dad too, but she's madder at her mom. And she can't be mad at everybody or who would take care of her? The teenager has interests, hopes, dreams, aspirations. People in the household don't always see it.

The 10 year old. She's the youngest in the family. But often, she's the voice of reason. She reads up on everything. If something scares her, she finds out everything she can about the thing. She breaks it up into small, digestible pieces and conquers it. The chips often fall on her. When The Mother got sick, the 10 year old stepped in. The dad and the sister didn't know quite what to do. So the 10 year old finds out about the illness and takes it on.

The Grandmother. While I see my own mother in this character, I can also see myself. Sometimes I just don't WANT to be responsible. I want to dress funny, wear funny hats, and sort of check out. This grandmother keeps telling her grandson that she's dying. But he doesn't believe her. And when she choses her time with dignity (like I hope to someday do) he's devastated by the loss. While I never want to inflict pain on my children, I do want them to feel an empty place when I'm gone. An empty place that isn't a huge relief.

I received a call from the nursing home administration on Friday. Mom had been telling everyone that we were going on a shopping trip today. The nursing home asked that I please remove some things from her room before I bring more in.

I didn't end up needing to take much stuff out. Mostly it was newspapers and food stuff. Not a difficult clean up at all. In the end, Mom was really too tired to shop. Good. I was too!

When I first arrived at the nursing home, I saw that Mom wasn't in the dining room again, so I headed straight for her room. She wasn't there. I went out to the nurses' station and found Charlie, her nurse. Can I just take a minute here and sing Charlie's praises??? He's the most wonderful nurse I've ever had the pleasure to work with. He's found a way to treat the residents like they're perfectly rational and normal, yet meet their needs-no matter how odd or eccentric.

I told Charlie that I was concerned because Mom had just been through a rather pronounced manic phase. He seemed to notice it too. I said, "I worry when Mom comes out of these manic phases. Money seems to trigger and sustain the mania. If she can shop and buy, she stays 'up.' When she stops acquiring, she really crashes into a depression." Charlie asked me a question that just sort of stopped me in my tracks....

"What does she want?" He asked. "What is it that she's trying to acquire?"

Wow. What a loaded question. Honestly, I don't think I know. So much of what I do know, is based upon an accumulation of negatives. Mom doesn't like chocolate ice cream, but she loves chocolate. Mom hates the smell of grape bubblegum, but loves grapes. She must have a clean bathroom, but there better not be any grit left behind in the tub. I never knew exactly how she wanted something done, just how she didn't want them done.

I finally found Mom--all by herself--in the activities room. She was parked in front of a big screen TV that was playing a Gaither's Gospel Music Reunion. (Hence the new background music!) Mom looked at me and began sobbing. "I've been in mourning (she's so dramatic) all weekend because I FORGOT YOUR BIRTHDAY!!!" She wailed. "Um. Mom? My birthday's nearly a month away!" She said, "Isn't today September 24th?" No. It's August 24th. "Oh." She said, and then stopped "mourning"--sort of.

Then, the fabulous Vestal Goodman began singing. I figured Mom would be ready to leave. She always hated hearing Vestal Goodman's "caterwauling". Mom would gripe and groan about how she shrieks and wails and who would want to listen to that??

Well, much to my surprise, mom lamented about how nobody knows how to sing good gospel music anymore. "Vestal was the best!" Apparently in Mom's new history, she really liked Vestal Goodman!

I sat with her while the good old groups sang one after another of the classics. The men in the crowd either looked like Elvis or Billy Ray Cyrus. Holy mullets batman. The women made me long for the 80's. I miss big hair and shoulder pads!

I asked Mom if she wanted to come guide me while I cleaned her room. I didn't want to just pitch stuff. (That is such a lie, I totally wanted to pitch stuff!) I offered her the opportunity to direct the disposition of her things. She let out a big sigh and said, "Nooooo... just do what you think is best... I just want to sit here and listen to the music." Her face was shiny with tears.

I fought back tears all the way to her room, praying no one would ask me what was wrong. That good old gospel music brought back a few my own memories.

I got Mom's room back in shape quickly. I went back to get Mom. She was hungry now. She had refused lunch earlier. So I went and got her Taco Bell. I left her with strict instructions to eat, warning her that delayed gratification is NO gratification. "This food won't keep. If you're not going to eat it now, just throw it out. It'll be horrible later."

As I left, she asked me for money. Fortunately, I didn't bring my purse in with me. The very last thing Mom needs right now is money. I left her in her recliner. I hope she gets some rest and wakes up feeling happier.

I doubt it will happen though. I think she's heading for a real doozie. Time will tell.

My mom is coming off a two week long manic phase.

I went to see her tonight and was surprised to find that she wasn't having dinner with her girlfriends in the dining room. They said she hadn't been at lunch either. When I went back to her room, I found her slumped over in wheelchair.

Her room was a total disaster area. Worse than I'd ever seen it. She's been on a couple of major shopping benders. They took her to Wal-Mart last Wednesday. Holy crap. She bought the store out. Her blood sugar has to be through the roof. There is so much candy in that room it's pathetic. She told me about all the fresh fruit she bought. The activities director actually came up to me and said, "You need to go organize your mother's room. She bought a LOT of stuff at Wal-Mart today." I have told them and told them "Don't take my mother to Wal-Mart." Did they listen? Noooooo. I told her "You took her to Wal-Mart, YOU deal with it." Hmmmm I think I ticked her off!

So if Wal-Mart wasn't enough, they had a big yard sale at the facility on Saturday. Mom's room is FILLED with stuff. She got a ton of clothes, shoes, books, TOYS (for babies!), kitchen stuff, tons of things.

As so often is the case with bi-polars, she's momentarily come to her senses. She's found herself sitting in chaos. She realizes it's a chaos of her own making and is coming down. She's headed for an emotional crash.

Her chair, again, was piled high with schtuff and she complained of how sore she was from sitting in the wheel chair. What to do, what to do...

I didn't have the energy to clean it up again today. She wants to go shopping on Sunday. How can we? There is NO PLACE LEFT to put anything. I'm hoping that by Sunday, I'll be rested up and can dig in once again.

Oh... and on a "lighter" note. Remember that 84 page PDF book I was so afraid to let my mother read? I found food soaked pages all over her room. Apparently she's not too broken up by it! LOL

They say bi-polars have a predictable pattern to their lives. So do the people who live with them. I know it sounds like I've got the short end of the stick here, but I think it's my mom who's suffering the most. She looked so bewildered and overwhelmed today. And there wasn't anything I could do to help her. One hundred percent of my energy was being put toward pressing my upper lip against my lower lip and shutting the heck up. I WANTED to scold, yell, question, advise, and fix. I just kept my mouth shut. It was EXHAUSTING!!!

Note: Before I launch into today's post, may I direct you to a web page that gives an interesting little history of the phrase that titles today's thoughts?

http://www.worldwidewords.org/qa/qa-hor2.htm


Yesterday I put a CD into my player at work. It was a John Denver duets collection. My co-workers were concerned when they saw me tearing up to the Placido Domingo pairing. It was beautiful. The result of listening to this ancient selection of music was a trip down my own memory lane. Each of the songs from my teen years brought back faces and places near to my heart.

Several weeks ago my niece sent me an 84 page PDF file that she'd found on line. It was "The History of Temple Baptist Church, Titusville, Florida". My dear husband spent hours printing out all of the pages for me to give to my mother. I've held it back and didn't even tell Mom it existed. A recent visit from my niece resulted in the cat being soundly let out of the bag.

I've truly been on the horns of a dilemma. Do I give it to Mom or not? You might wonder what the deal is.

I read the book. I don't know if it was the writing style or the fact that most of my entire life is on those 84 pages. At least from the years of five to thirty. I was carried from one page to the next until suddenly, it was over. Isn't life just like that?

The story begins in 1964 when our comfortable pastor was our music director. He and his family were the main "entertainment" in our church in Orlando. For every Correll kid, there was an Edsell kid. My oldest sister still maintains contact with their oldest daughter. I was the youngest and started first grade with their youngest. Ten minutes after first grade, my mom was driving both of us from Titusville, Florida to Springfield, Missouri where we both attended Baptist Bible College.

In 1964, Brother Correll was "called" to save this decrepit little church 38 miles away from Orlando. The book takes you from that first night with just eight people in attendance to the present day church that is the largest and most wealthy in the area. Mrs. Correll goes year by year mentioning births, deaths, marriages, graduations and other landmark events.

Today I sat at my desk at work and tearfully read about that horrible day in 1984 when an arson burned that gorgeous church to the ground. My heart broke all over again when she lovingly chronicled the life, ministry, and tragically untimely death of her beloved son Kim. Kim had been a professor at Baptist Bible College when I was a student. His wife often fed the poor starving kids from home. And like his father before him, Kim stepped away from a pretty comfy and cushy life of a professor and ventured out into the mission field. He died there of undiagnosed leukemia.

In the pages of that book I saw my own young life. There was my graduation, my departure to Bible college, my marriage, the birth of my daughter. And a loving tribute to my dad.

The past few days have been almost torturous for me. I am so filled with longing for happier and simpler days, and with regret for roads not taken--or roads taken and taken for granted. What will this do to my mother???

After much thought and prayer, I decided to take the book to Mom today. I started reading some of the old names and places to her. We both gave into tears.

I feel so bad for my mom. That church and the people there were her very life. It all came to a screeching halt when my dad died suddenly. Mom lived with me for a few years, and decided to try to go back on her own. She was back in Florida for about 4 years before she was too old to work and too broke to make it on her Social Security. She came back to PA to live with me. As the years slipped by, Mom has lost contact with all of her old friends from Temple.

I worry that reading Mrs. Correll's words will break her heart. I hope that she will be able to look back over the years fondly and not have too much regret. I hope I did the right thing by giving it to her.

If I messed up, I'll pick up the pieces.

Wednesday is my regular day to go to the Nursing Home. I just couldn't do it yesterday. I knew that if I went, I'd leave upset.

I spent the better part of Sunday hoeing out Mom's room. It's just half a room! How can she fill it up so full???? I took four large kitchen can liners out, FULL of schtuff. What baffles me is, how does she get it? I am very careful not to bring things in that she'll just stock pile.

I threw out twenty magazines that were from 2004 or earlier. I found dozens of pages that she ripped out of magazines. I think the theme was cooking, although there were pages that didn't have any reference to food or recipes. These pages seemed to mean something to Mom, so I put them in a pretty gift bag that had sturdy sides and bottom. (Filled it up!)

Mom's collections are interesting if you're a passer by, however, if you've got to deal with it, they're annoying. Her collections can be broken down into four categories. 1) Things for her scrap book. (i.e. pages ripped out of a magazine.) 2) Straws and plastic utensils. Now this collection baffles me. My mother hates plastic utensils. She thinks they're cheap and trashy. She wouldn't rest until I bought her a set of "real" eating utensils. So why save all the plastic stuff??? Why save straws in a place that uses thousands of them a month. Why ask why? (I digress.) 3) Books and magazines, and finally 4) food stuff.

Mom has four scrapbooks. All empty, but she's got plans for them. I hope she gets them done. I'm very interested in what captures her imagination. The books and magazines are ridiculous. She's read all the books and many of them don't belong to her, but she refuses to part with them. The hardest part of this collection is the bulk of it. She had books piled on her recliner, on the floor, on TWO over the bed dinner tables (she had three of them, and is only supposed to have one), on top of her TV, on the dresser and on top of the bookshelf. (This doesn't include the books that I neatly categorized onto her bookshelf six months ago--which she hasn't touched.)

With her recliner being full of junk, she's only got one place to sit: her wheelchair. Her wheelchair is plastic and the result of spending 18 hours a day in a plastic seat has created two problems. First, her feet and legs stay swollen because she doesn't lift them up unless she's asleep. Second, and more alarming, is she's developing bed sores. Being a diabetic, a bed sore can be deadly. I left harsh instructions to both Mom and the nurses: NOTHING IN THE CHAIR EXCEPT MY MOTHER'S BUTT!!! I wish you could have seen how comfy she was when she sat down in her chair.

The last, and most disconcerting collection is her food. Mom's food drawers tell a sad story of delayed gratification that ends up with disappointment. Case in point, her peach wine factory. On Saturday someone brought in fresh peaches for everyone. Pennsylvania peaches beat the crap out of Georgia peaches. Having lived in both states, I can say this with some authority. Mom put her peach in a ziplock bag and stuck it in her drawer. Overnight it was reduced to a bag full of rotting pulp.

I think Mom was so thrilled with the peach that she wanted to save it for tomorrow. What happened "tomorrow"? A bag of garbage that was drawing flies. Not only did Mom miss the chance to enjoy her peach, she set herself up for disappointment when she finally decided to partake.

I saw many examples of this tendency. Her food drawer was filled with salad dressing packets, dipping sauces from various fast food restaurants, moldy muffins, stale gourmet cookies. All things she wanted to save to enjoy later. All gone un-enjoyed.

I spent hours in Mom's room organizing, scrubbing, tossing and sweating! I got cheers from housekeeping and nursing staff alike. Mom throws them out of the room when they try to clean. I just wheeled Mom down to the dining room and told her not to come back until I came to get her.

So why did I skip my trip yesterday? I am certain she's trashed the room again. I'll find her in her wheelchair with junk and clothes piled on her recliner. And I'll be mad. I don't want to be mad, so I stayed away.

It takes me a couple of days to assimilate visits with Mom. I just wasn't ready to go back into the fray yesterday. Tomorrow night I'll go up, we'll run to Taco Bell for mango fruitistas. I'll clean out her chair, scold her for trashing the place again, and ask the nurses to please see that Mom sits in her recliner more. All exercises in futility.