Losing My Mind

One thing that seems to be a big dark secret among those who are grieving is the fact that no matter what your age, you seem to suddenly develop Alzheimer's and ADHD. This was told to me by a grief counselor after a few weeks of not being able to finish a sentence or concentrate on one thing for more than two minutes. And it does not end in a few weeks. You seem to be getting better and suddenly it starts all over again.

Today was a perfect example. I did not see my sister-in-law yesterday and wanted to make sure she got my Mother's Day card. Since postage rates have gone up, I try to either drop things off or e-mail them. The house is on my way to work, but you cannot turn down certain streets between 7-9 AM since they don't want a lot of traffic cutting through the side streets to get to the main streets. In order to get to my brother's house between those hours, I have to turn about 5 blocks before their street. What did I do today? Sat at that street waiting for the light to turn green thinking that I have to turn down that street. Of course, I did not turn and had to go out of my way to get the card to her. It have been easier to go after work, but I would probably forget again and I would end up with a card that I would have to remember to give her next year and forget about that.

That was just the start of my morning. When I turned down the main street to get back to the house, there was a street cleaning truck in front of me. He decides to lower his brushes and start cleaning just before we got to the corner. He then proceeds to turn down the same side street I was going to go down. He did move into the middle of the street and I was able to get around him. Got the card dropped off and, to make a long story a little shorter, ended up going around the block to start to work. Oh, by the way, girlie, picking at your nails is not attractive and blocking an intersection is against the law.

Of course, with my wonderful memory, I forgot to get gas on Sunday, so on I truck to the gas station. Got in and out, but I had to pick up a cake for a co-workers birthday. I was picking it up at Dominick's Food Store. I could see the sign. I was almost there when the red lights started flashing and the gates came down. I just thank God it was not a freight train, so it went through fast. Got in and out with the cake. I got to the intersection in which I can make a right and be slowed up by a few stop signs or go straight and may be stopped by another train. Since the light was red, I thought it would be just as fast to make the right as to wait a chance getting stopped by another train. Wrong. The street I would have normally turned down was closed, so I had to go down another block and then up and around to get on to the street I needed to be on to get to work. I decided to park the car in my usual spot and make a couple of trips through the parking lot instead of stopping by the door and then trying to park. Who knows what I would find to block my way in the parking lot.

And it's only 12:05 PM. I sure hope my day gets better.

Motherless Daughter

I got up this morning and said Happy Mother's Day, but there was no answer. No thank you for the card or present, only silence. There was no card or present today, because I am a Motherless Daughter. My Mother died 69 days 8 hours and 8 minutes ago. That's March 1, 2009, at 8:15 PM. The past couple of years since my Mother was sick, we have not had big Mother's Day celebrations. Last year, since my sister-in-law and younger nephew went up to the trailer to open it up and my older nephew was at his girlfriend's house, my brother brought over some ribs that he had barbecued. We heated them up and made some sides. (He asked about a vegetable and did not believe me that baked beans were a vegetable until Mom said so.) It was a nice quiet day. We did not know that it would be our last Mother's Day. Yesterday I was at a workshop for Motherless Daughters. We didn't so much morn our Mother's passing but shared our memories and thoughts about our Mothers. It doesn't matter how long ago you Mother died, you still miss her, as I found out from those who had lost their Mother's years ago. At one point we sat at tables with large blank sheets of paper. When looking closely you could see a circle drawn and we were asked to draw anything we wanted in the circle or outside of it. I cannot draw, at least nothing that anyone can decipher. I did draw a stick figure with a big smile and a heart next to it. Underneath I had an oxygen tank and a walker along with another stick figure that was bent over, my Mother died of complications of osteoporosis. I do like to think that my Mother is now up in heaven straight and tall and, since she hated the oxygen and walker, she is now free of them. The last thing she said to all of us is that we would always be in her heart. Sounds nice, doesn't it? The actual last thing she said directly to me, as I used the stick with the sponge on the end to moisten her mouth, was get that thing out of my mouth. Thanks, Mom.

It was hard this morning, but the hardest thing was for the first time I realized that my Mother was dead. It's not that I did not realize it before now. In my head I knew it, but there was always that feeling like it wasn't real. Like I would wake up or come home and she would be there. That the message on my phone at work was from her. That when I was out, I had to either call her or go home to make sure she was alright. This morning it was real. My Mother is not coming back. When I was out shopping I did not have the feeling that I had to hurry home to check on her. I didn't have to go into the living room and stand by her chair and let her know where I was or what was going on out in the world and then see that she wasn't there. Do I want the old feeling back that it is not real? No, I don't want to go through the pain of this morning again. I am just praying that she will still be by my side, that little voice whispering in my ear as to what to do. Telling me to look here for this or that, or when things look bleak to say the rosary and then tell me that everything will be OK. I don't want to lose that feeling.

As I thought of how I could honor my Mother today, I thought of what she always asked for, not a present or card, by our time. Just to spend some of it with her. Of course, I now feel that I never did spend enough time with her. I looked around to see what would make her happy if she was here. The one thing that bothered her as she got older and weaker, was that she could not keep the house as clean as she wanted. So today, I washed the dishes that I had let pile up, washed the counters, sorted through all mail that I had thrown on the kitchen table. And I promise you, Mom, you won't be ashamed of the house if anyone comes over. I am going to keep it clean. To all the Motherless Daughters and Sons out there, if you think you can no longer to anything for your Mother because she is no longer with you, just look around and think about what is was that your Mother held precious and do that in her memory. It won't make the pain go away, but you may feel a little better.

Tonight I am also going to make our usual Sunday night dinner, brats and french fries. I even bought the coleslaw you liked, Mom, GrandPa's. And after dinner tonight, I will make my self a cup of tea and have a little desert and wish you a Happy Mother's Day, Mom. Thank you for all you have given me. I love you.

Time Out

I was going to make my second post about life after caregiving, but I saw an article at CNN.com which made me change my mind. I am not the most political person, but I do occasionally watch the news or get bored with work and check out the news on the web. The article I am referring to http://www.cnn.com/2009/HEALTH/04/30/galanos.plan.b/index.html talks about Plan B and the fact that 17 year olds can get it without a doctor's prescription or permission of their parents.

Mike Galanso asks what is to prevent a 17 year old from buying Plan B and giving it to a 15 year old. First, I want to know any 17 year old who doesn't have an 18 year old friend or a fake ID. 18 year olds are of age and can get Plan B. What is to prevent them from buying it and giving it to their 12 year old sister, if you want to go that route?

The author also states that "Here's some perspective for you: In most states, minors can't get a tattoo, body piercings or go to a tanning salon without a parent's permission...". OK, in order for a 17 year old to get a tattoo, piercing, or tan, they physically have to be present. They don't have to be in the store in order to have someone buy them Plan B.

He does bring up one good point, Plan B is more powerful than the birth control pill, which in all states a doctor's prescription is necessary and most states will not allow a 17 year old to get it without their parents permission.

But the big point he is missing is that parents should be more open to listening to their children. It begins when they are small and should not stop just because they are teenagers and slam the door in your face. The parents must let them know that they can come and talk to them. They have to learn not to be judgemental. I know that this is not always easy. Everyone has their opinion, but when it comes to your children, your opinion doesn't always have to play a role. Just listen to what they are saying sometimes. Let their opinion be the one that counts and make them feel like they have a say in their lives and not just living the lives that you wish you had lived. Once a teenager realizes that are taken seriously, they are more likely to be open and honest.

If your teenager does come to you and says that they think they are ready for sex or already having sex, don't tell them they are the scum of the earth. Listen, really listen. They may not be ready and being able to talk openly will let them come to their own decision. It may not be the one you want them to make, but if they know they can come to you, then they will be making more responsible decisions regarding protection and not just relying on Plan B.

What to Write About

When I first thought of doing a blog, I wondered what I would write about. I settled on Caregiving since that is what I presently know best. I am not talking about the person who stops by every now and then to say hi and see how things are going, and then complains about having to do that much. I am talking about those of us who are there 24/7. Who sees the person every day and doesn't have to ask how they are doing, they just know. The person who has given up their lives in order to care for their loved one. Yes, when you take on this job, you lose a large portion of your life. You are not the one who always say that you are doing it because your loved one gave so much up for you. Oh, sometimes you do, but there are more times that you wonder why you are doing it. Why you have given up so much for this person, no matter how much they love you. If you say this out loud to someone who is not a Caregiver, you sound harsh and not a very nice person. Only another Caregiver understands what you mean. You say if I don't do it who will? That is something you think about constantly. You worry about getting sick because, if you do, you look around to see who else would or could step in. Even something as minor as a slight cold is reason to panic. You don't want to infect your loved one and make them sicker than they already are, but who takes care of them when you can't? And who takes care of you? There are other family members, but they are too old or too busy. They have lives.

And then there are friends, not friends of your loved one, but your friends. You don't have the time to see them. You have to decline invations to parties, go out to eat, or any other social event, because you are needed by your loved one. Unless they have gone or are going through this, many don't understand and just drift away. They may call now and then and ask how things are going and let's get together, but you know that your time has to be devoted to you loved one.

If you are lucky(?), you work out side the home. That is a two edge sword. You get out and get to talk to others about something other than the person you care for, but there is the fact you have to have someone come in to care for your loved one. Having someone come into your home is a whole other post. And there is the worry. If your loved one needs constant care, you have to make sure that the person stays the whole time you are at work. If you have a late meeting or get stuck in traffic, can they stay? If your loved one can be left for a few hours alone, will they be OK? What if they fall and can't get to the phone? Do you have a home monitoring system installed? And will they be able to use it? That is why I say you are lucky(?) to be working outside the home.

That is what I was going to write about, but my days as a Caregiver are over. My mother died March 1.