Who Cares What Nansi Thinks?

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.