Who Cares What Nansi Thinks?

Here it is, four months after mom's cataract surgery and we're still struggling with her eyes. It's been such a struggle. About a week or so after her last surgery she began seeing "red spots". It turned out to be a retinal hemorrhage. She's had laser surgery, but the spots really aren't clearing up.

The retina specialist won't let me get Mom's glasses prescription filled because he thinks there will be major changes once the problem settles.

Mom can, however, still read with drug store readers. She's also been able to get unlimited large print books and magazines. I'm amazed at her determination NOT to lose her ability to read.

It's been three weeks since I've actually seen her. The nursing home has a ban on visitors with any sort of illness in their family. We've had so much going around our house! We've been five days without a fever though so I think we're good to visit this weekend.

Last week Mom began seeing "red spots" through her right eye. The nursing home rushed her right over to see the surgeon who'd done her cataract surgeries. Her right eye had been the most difficult eye to work on, according to Dr. Daily, so I wasn't too surprised to hear that she was experiencing a retinal hemorrhage. It wasn't much of an emergency because we weren't scheduled to see the specialist for another seven days.

We went to the retina specialist on Thursday. Visiting a new doctor is difficult. There's so much paperwork. Apparently I didn't fill it out to the nurse's satisfaction. She lectured me and talked to me like I was three. I was just too tired to let her have it. (lucky for her, I can be brutal)

The hard part of the paperwork was that Mom couldn't remember her vital statistics. She kept insisting that her birth date was June 3. (That's my dad's birth date.) She couldn't remember her social security number. Just six weeks ago when we started this, she was able to rattle all of that off without hesitation. Now? It's simply not there.

It was a long day at the retinologist. First we had to endure the nurse who was so angry. Then we met the doctor. Then he sent us for scans. After that, they photographed Mom's eyeballs. Then back to the doctor for results. The bleed was very evident. No doubt about it. The doctor felt that it was already resolving and for the time being, has opted not to do any laser surgery. We go back in two weeks to see if the healing process is complete.

Each phase of our visit was separated by a wait in a waiting room full of people. Most of them were between 60 and 80 years of age. To me, they all fit the "Pennsylvania elderly" mold. The women were frail, tanned and white haired with their little matching outfits. The men were nearly deaf, balding, white haired and thick in the middle.

Mom was unusually quiet. She kept looking from face to face. I said, "What's wrong, Mom?" She replied, "I know this can't be true, but the waiting room is full of your dad's aunts and uncles." I said, "Well, they're Pennsylvanians, Mom. They all sort of do look like Dad and his relatives." Her answer to that sort of startled me "Your dad's not from PENNSYLVANIA! He's from FLORIDA!" After she said that, she sort of deflated and said, "Oh yeh. We were from Pennsylvania, weren't we?"

My mom has spent the last three years remaking her history. She forgets sometimes that I was there, and I know the truth. I've heard her tell people that my dad was "the head of P.R. for NASA" or that she went to Medical School but had to drop out when she began having children. She tells of her years as a teacher in a school for disabled children. She told the eye doctor that he goal in Medical School had been to be an ophthalmologist. Her new reality has obscured the REAL reality and she is sometimes very sad when she has to come back. I think she's losing her real memories in the process.

Visiting Mom is getting to be more and more difficult. I want her to be happy. Her two favorite pass times are (1) telling her outrageous stories-- and expecting ME to validate them; and (2) saying shocking and gross things then pointing at me and yelling "oh look, I've shocked my daughter!" Guffaw Guffaw. *wretch*

My mom has completed her cataract surgeries. I would say it was a success. We are having a complication, so it's not yet a complete success, but I feel sure things will work out.

Ten days after the second surgery, I went to pick her up to be fitted for new eye glasses. She was bitterly complaining that the surgery didn't work. Her eyes were worse than ever. (She said this while wearing her glasses. Glasses prescribed before the surgery.)

The doctor required that I be present during the exam. I was amazed at how well she was seeing without any glasses. The doctor said her vision had an 80% improvement as a result of the surgery. EIGHTY PER CENT! She's actually able to read large print without any correction at all. No WONDER she couldn't see with her old glasses!!! The doctor advised me to take her glasses away from her and get her some readers from the drug store until the new glasses can be made. She so accustomed to having glasses on her face that she won't go without. The old lenses are massively too strong.

Her newly improved vision has been (at the risk of throwing out a shameless pun) a real eye opener for her. She's taking more pride in her appearance and is even more critical about the appearance of others! :-)

So now that Mom's vision is restored, she's full of vim and vigor. She announced that the nursing home is holding a Senior Prom. (Please shoot me.) She wants to make herself a dress. Mom can't sew anymore. It's not her vision that prevents her from sewing. She lacks the ability to organize the project. After the first stroke, she became unable to lay a pattern out. She'd spend hours trying to figure out where the pieces go.

When she went into the nursing home, after the third stroke, I got rid of her machines. Somebody at the nursing home brought her a sewing machine. It became a MAJOR source of frustration for her. She couldn't figure out how to get it threaded and would call Sears over and over. The local Sears store actually blocked her cell phone number because of all the phone calls. When they moved Mom to the renovated wing, someone knocked the machine over and broke it to smithereens. (And I didn't even have to pay a BRIBE!)

Now she's fixated on sewing again. For the past decade or so, sewing to my mother has not been about making actual garments. It's been about acquiring fabric and patterns and stacking them in every corner of her house. I did manage to salvage some of Mom's fabric, but most of it was full of bugs.

Mom was a fabulous seamstress. I remember a gorgeous gown she made for my sister. You'd never know it was home made. It was the prettiest pink and white. She looked like a princess in it.

The thing my mother created MOST successfully was to turn ME into a total clothing addict. After my siblings were married and gone, Mom would make me a new outfit every week. It was a rare day when I didn't just LOVE what she made for me. She made my bridesmaids dresses. They were so gorgeous! They appeared in at least two other weddings besides mine!

I miss my mom's sewing days. Believe me, it hurts to be the one who has to keep telling her "no" to the sewing. It's another aspect of the role reversal that parents and children experience as time goes by. On the way home from the doctor's office the other day, I actually caught myself putting my arm across my mother's check when I had to slam on my brakes.

One of my more embarrassing moments was when I sold my Oldsmobile Intrigue. I had actually gone to the dealership to look around and wound up signing on the dotted line. They guy said, "Let's clear out your old car so you can drive home in your new car." I almost tore up the contract.

I was not at all prepared for ANYONE to lift the trunk of my Olds. It was FULL of Mom's stuff. I had been carrying it around for over a year. It was crap that I didn't have room for in my house, but couldn't bring myself to toss.

I purged about half of it the next day because I went from a mid-sized luxury to a compact economy (VW Jetta) with about half the trunk room.

So, I've driven around another year and a half with a trunk full of mom's crap.

Last week, when I took Mom to the eye doctor, I had a heck of time cramming her wheel chair into the backseat of my Jetta. Plus it left black marks all over my seats. It would have been SO much easier to tuck the thing into the trunk...

Yesterday, Mike and I went to Mom's new room (yes, she's moved AGAIN) to rearrange her furniture. Her room was full of JUNK. I wish they would admit her to the hospital on the days they have rummage sales out in the parking lot!!! She had several serving platters and bowls. (This did not include the stack of Christmas platters I brought home with me a few weeks ago.) She had stacks of ancient magazines and ripped up puzzles books. She had a ton of bizarre little figurines--crap she would have pitched in her better days. etc. etc.

Mike watched as I rearranged and reorganized to get her two extra hospital tables OUT of the room. She was thrilled when she came back to see the finished product.

She's always thrilled. She can NEVER tell me what's missing. So why am I carting around a load of crap that she hasn't lain eyes on in nearly three years? Guilt.

So I sucked in a deep breath and went through the boxes and bags in the trunk. I could not find one item of hers that I thought she gave a fig about. I can't even figure out why I felt so compelled to keep the stuff.

It's all gone. The only thing in my trunk today is a big umbrella and an emergency roadside kit. I could fit TWO wheelchairs in there if I wanted to!

It's been a hard lesson for me to learn. It's not WHAT Mom collects, but THAT she collects that is the issue. Hoarders will hoard whatever is in their pathway. If they live in a diamond mine, it'll be diamonds. If they live in a nursing home, it's straws, butter pats, and salad dressing packets. And no matter what a hoarder hoards, they'll stack it to the rafters if you let them!

Today I decided that if MY rafters are going to be stacked, it'll be MY STUFF I stack!

Mom's eye surgery was uneventful today. She came out of it just fine. They didn't give her general anesthesia, but they gave her a sedative. She was still sort of happy in recovery.

We got there plenty early and had time to sit in the waiting area. Mom spotted a young woman across the room and commented that the woman looked like an idiot. WHAAA???? The lady was just sitting there. Mom swore that she was jumping up and down and "gyrating" like a floozy. Honest. She was just sitting there.

Mom accused me of trying to make her think she was crazy.

I was reminded of the last time Mom was in the hospital for a urinary tract infection. She kept seeing ME. The nurses told me that mom buzzed them several times to say her daughter, Nansi, was out in the hall looking for her. A few times they brought in people who happened to be out there. Mom would be so relieved, but the people weren't ME. And mom wouldn't believe them.

As the fog cleared, Mom realized that she'd been seeing things.

With the cataracts it's hard to tell when Mom's "seeing things" or just unable to clearly see what's really there. Last Sunday at dinner, the aide put a piece of cake at mom's plate. It was strawberry cake with a dollop of whipped cream on it. Mom thought it was smoked salmon with butter on it.

Today when we were driving back to the nursing home, Mom asked what I thought of the surgery. I said, "I don't know, Mom, I wasn't there." She said, "YES YOU WERE! I heard your voice the whole time!"

It dawned on me that when Mom's in distress she sees me, or hears me. Something tells me that fixed eyes isn't going to correct that misconceptions. :-)

My mom is having cataract surgery tomorrow. I'm a wreck. When this first started I was under the impression that all they did was scrape off the cataracts and it was over.

NOT ANYMORE... they actually remove the affected lens and replace it with an artificial lens. That just has me buggin' big time.

Recently, my mother told me that she'd been classified as "loud and disruptive" by her social worker. Imagine that!

Under the best of circumstances, my mother is loud and disruptive. She just is. I can't even imagine what she'd be like if this eye surgery somehow goes awry.

I had a dream the other night that I went to my husband's company picnic at a baseball game. Everyone in the stadiums got quiet and began chanting "you stuck your mother in a nursing home and now she's blind." Woke up drenched in sweat....

So the first eye is tomorrow... the other eye is two weeks later. By July 4th things will be OK... right???

I've had friends say "My mother and I have switched places.... when did THAT happen?"

I remember exactly when it happened, when I became the mother and my mother became the child... It wasn't the day my father died, or even the day we moved her in with us.

One day I was driving my oldest daughter to cheer leading practice. I was pregnant with my son. We drove by a car accident. About a quarter mile down the road, it hit me, "That looked like Mom's car!" I turned around and sure enough, there stood my mom with a police officer. Her car was a wrangled mess.

Thankfully Mom was unhurt. Up until that day, my mother and I had pretty much lived separate lives under one roof. Mom paid her own bills. She had her own auto insurance. She had her own car. She just resided with my family and me.

After we dealt with the tow truck and the police officer, I loaded Mom into the front seat of the car and headed home. It was the first time (but not the last) that I saw that wild, disconnected look in my mother's eyes. He car had been totaled. It was a miracle that she wasn't hurt, and the accident had been deemed "her fault". But Mom was elated. She was euphoric. "This is EXACTLY what we needed, Nans. We don't spend enough time together. Now I won't be able to go anywhere and we can just be together all the time!"

Clearly she was in shock.

On the way home, she kept prattling on about how she didn't want to drive anymore, and how now *I* was responsible for *her*. I was numb.

It had been about seven years since my dad's death at that time. It was the first time I felt the weight of exactly what I had taken on when I'd promised him on his death bed that I would take care of Mom for the rest of her life.

OK... I felt the weight, but it was WAY lighter than the reality would prove to be.

I could almost feel the *snap* in the universe as mother became child and child became mother.

The regression from that day forward was gradual. Even though Mom had stopped driving, I managed to get her into her own apartment shortly after my son was born. I think I was terrified of having her in my home when the day came that she would need round-the-clock care. That was a happy accident. I've since learned that it is almost impossible to place an aging adult who lives with family.

Here we are at today. The nursing home thinks Mom is ready to "graduate" to assisted living. If everything works out, Mom will be in a more independent part of the nursing home. She'd still share a room, but she'd be in a section where there are no nurses or nurse's aides. In Mom's world that translates to one simple thing: No call bell.

If she goes to assisted living, she wouldn't be able to hit a button if she drops her pen, or if she can't reach her water, etc. No one will bring her water. She'll be expected to get her own water. She won't get breakfast in bed, and no one will help her get dressed or shower every day. I personally can't see her being able to do it, but we'll see.

We had a mother/child role reversal moment last week. Mom has decided that she wants an electronic book reader. I think she'd do really well with one. She'd be able to enlarge the print so she could read easily. They're light weight, so her hands wouldn't hurt when she holds the book. But I know how my mother lives. She'd have something spilled into it before a month went by. If not that, she'd lose it. She loses her remote all the time. She'd lose her cell phone when she had it. She loses money like crazy. How can I justify spending hundreds of dollars on a devise that mother will either lose, break or toss in a pile and never use. Trust me, one of those three things will happen. Maybe she'll forget about it and I won't have a decision to make. Ha! Maybe!

Mom fixates. She will nag and nudge and plead and prod until she gets the item that is so vital. Then I'll find it, unopened, unused and forgotten. And I clean her room, nag her to get organized, determine what she can and cannot have, etc. etc. etc.

And the beat goes on....

All things considered, life is pretty dull right now. Dull is good!

Mom and her roomie, Frances, have had a bit of a trauma, but have recovered well. The second week in January there was a water main break at the nursing home. At first they thought moving them to different rooms was for a night or two, but the damage is taking WEEKS to repair.

Both ladies were extremely upset at being apart. They were across the hall from each other, and each of their temporary room mates were none too happy with all the yelling across the hall. "JAN???? You OK over there???" "I'm FINE FRANCES, WHAT DO YOU NEED?"

Cuties.

After complaining from four different families, the nursing home shuffled things around and got the rabble rousers back together! Peace has at last been restored.

I love how these two ladies have bonded. They are so opposite, it's not even funny! Frances never worked a day in her life (outside the home.) She was a fastidious homemaker. Mom's pretty worldly. She's owned her own businesses, worked in factories, restaurants, and DISNEY WORLD!!! Oh and do I need to tell you that Mom wasn't a fastidious homemaker? I've mentioned that, right?

Frances is way into soap operas, Nascar, and reality shows. Mom likes the news, 700 club and infomercials. Mom's an evangelical Christian and wants to win the world for Jesus. Frances worships God in her heart and considers it an extremely private matter. (Go Frances!) I think she messes with Mom by refusing to engage in religious conversation. Mom's scare to death that her room mate's going to Hell. Her room mate thinks it's none of her damn business.

With all those differences, each is lost without the other. When Mom was in the hospital in January, Frances lost five pounds. She wouldn't eat. When Frances was so ill that all she did was lay there, Mom drove the nurses NUTS trying to make sure Frances didn't want for anything.

Now they're both pretty healthy, happy to be back together, and waiting for a spanking new room!