And the air smells like lilacs…

Last weekend … a difficult one.  Along with it being Mother’s Day, it was also Dad’s birthday.  And yesterday was the anniversary of his death 2 years ago.  A lot of weight to carry these past few days.  Yet, as well last Sunday, my son and his family were out at the house for dinner.  We collected rocks and built cairns in the backyard as memorial, enjoyed each other’s company and today the sun is shining, the air smells like lilacs and the dog is patiently (well … maybe not too patiently) waiting for me to post this blog so we can go to the park.

Here is the start of a list of websites we found helpful through the years.  If you know of any and would like to include them, please do:

www.ctcommunitycare.org
Our mission at Connecticut Community Care, Inc. (CCCI) is to identify choices and provide services to help people of all ages, abilities, and incomes to live at home. Our nursing and social services care managers look at care management from every perspective, including caregiving, housekeeping, social, emotional, medical and financial needs.

http://www.aplaceformom.com/
We help seniors and families make informed decisions, save time and feel less alone as they search for senior housing and senior care.

http://www.agingcare.com
AgingCare.com is an online community that connects people caring for elderly parents to other caregivers, personalized information and local resources.

http://www.familycaregiving101.org/
If you’re caring for a loved one who is ill or disabled, this site was created for you. It’s a great place to find assistance, answers, new ideas and helpful advice — for you and your loved one.

Be good to yourself-
Elizabeth

Thank you…

Don’t write for 3 weeks and now …

I know the phrase is overused, but it takes a village to care for an aging parent (or grandparent, spouse, relative, friend … you get it) or two.  Through these past years with Mom and Dad, we were fortunate.  We are caring, involved family and had each other to fall back on (including aunts and cousins) and when even that was not enough … we had CT Community Care and the various aides, nurses and companions they put us in touch with.

Living the process is seldom easy and typically becomes more difficult as time goes on.  We are human, after all.  And for us, it was both parents at once.  But we had each other and for that, I am so very thankful.

It may not come out as it sometimes should in this blog (it is merely a blog, after all), but I have 3 (had 4) awesome brothers who were there through all of it.  Did we sometimes disagree?  Yes!  Did we sometimes feel slighted or wronged?  Yes!  Did we sometimes express ourselves loudly?  Ohhh, yes!  But, still we love and have each other.  And always tried to do what was best for Mom and Dad.

Yet, it is my sister-in-laws … Vicki, Ana, Gerry, Sandi … who deserve most of the hugs and heartfelt thanks.  Along with my husband, David.  They put up with us, and they were there when Mom pooped her pants or said mean things or spilled her coffee for the 100th time.  Mom and Dad were so very blessed.

My heart goes out to anyone who is traveling this road, this maze alone.  It is frightening and complicated. There are too many dark hallways and abrupt stops … and sometimes, it is overwhelming to backup and start again.  There is no book or website to explain the ‘rules’.  As well, each state is different, each community, each individual.

And for most of us, we wake up one morning and life as we knew it has changed.

There are various organizations out there to help and within those organizations there is typically a kind staff person willing to hold your hand.  Sometimes you have to cry to get to this person, but tears can be cathartic.  Once on the phone, I had to pretend I was my father (who could not speak due to his stroke) while questioning a billing statement.

Next week’s entry will list several organizations we found helpful, along with contact information.  If you have any you’d like me to include, please send them to upwordspoetry@earthlink.net.  We can become our own village.

Be good to yourself-
Elizabeth

An anniversary…of sorts

It’s been a few weeks since I last posted a blog entry.  I’ve been busy in schools and with poetry (and zombies), but deep down … I’ve been avoiding the page.  Last year at this time, I was battered at the bottom of a dark hole and have been avoiding its ledge ever since.

This past April was an ‘anniversary’ of sorts.  Last April (2011), after 15 years of care-giving for both parents, Dad was gone (about a year) and Mom was entering a facility better suited to her level of necessary care.  Instead of feeling a sense of relief, the very next day I finally allowed myself to fall apart.  It is hard work to be the ‘strong one’.  It is unhealthy.  No one has all the answers (or all the right questions) and no one should.  Too many of you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Even with a supportive family and friends, most care decisions were mine to make and I never took that lightly.  The weight was often staggering.  Again … many of you know how that feels.  And you know how much I loved both mother and father.  I often joke and say, “I hope my kids are paying attention!”  Actually, I hope they love me, but will not be faced with the same situations.

The other day I was asked to speak at a 3-day teacher’s conference in Florida in late June.  I looked at my calendar, checked with my husband and said, “Yes!”  This would not have been possible in the past many years.  There would have been several phone calls to make, other schedules and lives to check and most importantly, Mom and Dad to consider.  I would have probably still gotten to “Yes”, but the path would have been more like a maze and taken much longer.  It was a revelation to me to be able to confirm within minutes.

Of course, this is not to say I wish them gone.  Maybe it is more like letting go and allowing myself to breathe again.  I’m still on the Lexapro the doctors prescribed last year (though now at half the lowest dose available) and understand extreme anxiety up-close and firsthand.  I know how a panic attack feels and no, you can’t “just get over yourself”.  You instead, puddle on the floor of Super Stop & Shop because you can’t find key lime juice.

The therapist I’ve been seeing says it is okay to fall apart, as long as you put yourself back together … differently.  It took 53 years to get to that point last April, so I do not expect to finish rebuilding anytime soon.  This is okay though, since I am enjoying the process along the way.

As always, be good to yourself-
Elizabeth

Happy Easter…

This past Saturday night, my niece and brother came over my house to collaborate on the making of the Easter ravioli.  We brought out flour and eggs, ricotta and Parmesan cheese from D & D market, Mom’s rolling pin and pizza cutter, the macaroni machine … and the wine.  Working directly from Mom’s recipe (which was supposed to make 75), we made 20 of the homeliest ravioli I’ve ever seen.  She always said the trick was in the dough and quoting from her recipe, “You’ll know the dough is ready, when it is.”  Thanks, Mom!

Throughout the evening though we laughed a lot, reminisced a lot and spoke to Mom/Nonie out-loud a lot.  Once when my brother was doing something particularly discourteous to the dough I said, “I’m going to kick your little ass!”  and at the same time we both said, “I/You sound just like Mom.”

The evening left me with thoughts of how certain foods (sometimes just the smell) become rooted in our lives and can conjure people and moments.  Most of us have a relationship with food like that and many of you are right now thinking about it.  Take your time …

Ravioli does it for me.  Every holiday and birthday celebration, we’d have those little saucy pockets of cheese.  Easter ham?  What’s that?  Thanksgiving turkey?  What planet are you from?

And now, I feel even more connected, since it took 3 ½ hours for three of us to make 20 ravioli, while Mom would make about 150 all by herself (in way less time).  Heck, we needed one person to crank the macaroni machine, one person to feed the dough through and one to catch it coming out the other end.  Some came out looking like lumpy faces, but one batch looked just like hers.  And didn’t we high 5 and toast each other.

Today at dinner when we sat down to eat (our 2 ravioli each), there was a lot of smiling and nodding and yes, a few deep sighs.  And many thanks since a couple days ago, I’d made a back up Easter lasagna … just in case.

I'm going to kick your little ass!! ~Mom~

On drawers and dots…

I received a lot of email/comments regarding looking like our Moms (and Dads) and our mother’s pocketbooks.  When writing that blog entry, I hesitated to use the word ‘creepy’ when explaining how it felt to see my mother in the mirror.  Needn’t have worried about sounding offensive.  You get it!

From Mom’s pocketbook, it was an easy road to her ‘secret’ bureau drawer.  The bureau itself is heavy, dark wood and now sits in my basement.  As a kid, it was one of my chores to dust it once a week and while dusting, I always took the opportunity to examine the contents of the 3^rd drawer down on the right.

This was the mystery drawer where she kept her nylons and garter belts, safety pins and costume jewelry, lipstick and tampons.  With four brothers, I had no concept of these feminine items.  This particular drawer held all the riddles of womanhood and I was stumped trying to puzzle it all out – particularly tampons, which I decided were some type of magic trick.  I would furtively tear them open and pull them apart, try to figure out how it worked.

I don’t remember my mother explaining my period to me, but am sure it was a brief, dark discussion and made to sound dirty.  Dirty enough, that I swiped a can of spray paint from the garage and tagged the side of the school with the letters D-O-T.  I knew it must be a really bad curse word … just couldn’t quite remember the particulars, only that the word had to do with punctuation (a period is a ‘dot’ at the end of a sentence, right?).  Still smiling to imagine what the school custodian must have thought while scrubbing those spray-painted letters off the brick wall.

By the way, I also have my father’s wallet from the day he had his stroke.  Besides his license and a few dollars, all it contained were wrinkled photos of his grandchildren.

On pocketbooks and bags…

Lately, I’m feeling old.  Not exactly old … but … it is kind of like I’m becoming my mother.  The other day I tried on a pair of shorts and looked in the store’s full-length mirror … and was horrified to see my mother’s legs.  Or at least her chicken-thin thighs.  Now, some of you are wishing you had thin thighs.  I get it!  But, these were my mother’s very thin and unattractive thighs.  And even if they had looked good, they were still hers.  It was kind of creepy.

People tell me often, “You look just like your mother!”  Not especially so, except when I make certain faces.  And there’s one glaring look I tend to have when shocked, but … not really shocked.  And having never witnessed the look on my own face, it even feels like her when I make it.

Anyway, about ten minutes after ogling my mother’s thighs, I’m at the register and reach into my purse to pay.  Before I can grab my wallet though, I must remove many (many, many) crumpled tissues, old receipts and yes … a little pink packet of Sweet and Low (I do not use S & L and have no idea why it was there).

My hands flew back and I almost screamed.  It was like reaching into Mom’s purse; though I’m pretty sure the tissue in mine was clean.  You never knew with Mom.

Once while driving with her, I looked down at her pocketbook (for all the obvious reasons, I’ve never understood why it is called a ‘pocketbook’) on the passenger floor of my car.  Hundreds of ants were crawling out of it.  Immediately pulling over, I grabbed her bag and threw it out the window.  Inside, besides all the ants, was a slightly rotten stalk of celery she’d swiped from the supermarket.

Me – WTF?

Mom (looking not the least bit guilty) – Damn crooks want me to buy a whole package when I only need a little piece to chop into my tuna salad.  Adds a lot of flavor, you know!

So, the other day, standing at the register with a pile of crumpled tissue between us, I asked the clerk if she used Sweet & Low, then gave her one of my mother’s looks.  It felt good!

And I feel much younger (or maybe not) after listening to this … http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HxKeCmTCDV4

Oh yeah...and I forgot to mention how much we both hate the bags under our eyes. Again, bags...hmmm...what's that all about?

At 54…

At fifty-four (and yes, I had to do the math), when I chat with friends, our children are no longer the center of our conversations.  Instead, we often talk about our elderly parents and the various questions and decisions we’re faced with, ranging from healthcare to finances to questions about their ability to drive.

We worry they don’t have enough to keep their minds / bodies busy and we worry they will try to do too much.  Often our conversations are poignant and hard to imagine, but as often, we laugh so hard we spit our wine.  I believe God gives us both sides (including the wine) to allow us to manage with grace.

We are living longer and living well for longer periods of time. This has created a growing area of health care and services. Elder care encompasses a wide variety of issues, including choosing an appropriate physician, making decisions about moving an elderly person from the home environment to a residential care setting or moving a parent home with you.

Persons age 65 and older are the fastest growing segment of America’s population. Many elderly people are living healthy, active, and independent lives. However, as more people reach their 80s and 90s, the number of elderly needing assistance with daily living increases, along with the responsibilities of those who provide care for them.

I was sent this link from Connecticut Community Care, but it goes beyond Connecticut.  It is an interesting read (the page is a bit busy, but the article worth the desktop frenzy) – http://seniorjournal.com/NEWS/Medicaid/2012/20120305-State_Funding_Begins.htm