Yesterday's news

I really need to stop reading the newspaper and listening (watching) the news. I am really incensed by what was in the paper. This is a reaction (perhaps a bit skewed to some) to what I read yesterday.

First of all. Good ole’ Tom (DeLay) will get a pension of $67,000 per year - regardless of any convictions that may happen. Plus, all those crooks up there who are helping Shrub try to deny the elderly Social Security and health benefits will all get their medical care through the government. Too bad it isn’t at the same level as the common person. Folks, teachers retirement is probably about $33,000 on average. I am not sure, but I know what mine is. Plus my health insurance, because I had to bail at 29 years costs me $365 of less than the figure I gave you before. I am luckier than most folks on Social Security. I’ll admit that, but when I see what Delay and the rest of the crooks will get, I get infuriated.

Another item in the news was about an area school district being denied a early start date. If we are going to allow most of the school districts (about 3/4 of them state wide) to start early, why was the time wasted on setting the start date of school around Labor Day instead of early August? We have such wonderful politicians in this state. The school funding special session is a prime example of such Tomfoolery. I can tell you from experience that many children do not return to school until after Labor Day. I know most are there on or about the opening day, but you could count on your class rolls swelling after Labor Day. My whole point to this rambling is very simple. You create a guideline; you keep the said guideline. Since there are so many exceptions are made, let’s get rid of the guideline if it’s not going to be enforced. I guess it gives so many of the assistant superintendents (of which my school district has far too many) something to do to justify their positions. Otherwise, they might have to go back to the (gasp) classroom. Can you imagine someone who goes into education having to do that!! Children, nasty!

Let me say at the outset of this part. Public intoxication is against the law, and very uncouth. Drunk drivers should be put under the jail. But the Alcohol Control in Texas is trolling bars to arrest drunks. Um, isn’t ths a little like shooting fish in a barrel? I’ll bet bar owners are jumping for joy over this one. It doesn’t seem to matter that the person may have a designated driver, and the like, they are cuffed and going to jail. I don’t know about this one.

Well, I usually try to steer clear of topics like this that I find in the news, but yesterday’s news was just too much for me. I am a fifth generation Texan, and for most of my life I have been proud of that fact. There are incidents that have been occurring recently that make me wonder about just how proud I should be. It seems we have provided some real clowns in the worlds of politics.

Again

I am such a procrastinator! It was my idea to set up our craft/candle booth at our little city’s celebration tomorrow. I’ve known the date for two months. Have I completed all my projects? That’s an easy answer. A big NO.

I sat the other night to complete some earrings I wanted to do. Today and tomorrow I only have about ten purses to complete. Oh, did I say complete. I have six to complete, and at least four to make. From scratch.

To make things more fun, guess who has another dental appointment tomorrow morning. I get my teeth whitened tomorrow in anticipation of the crowns, This is funny because after I get the six new crowns, I will only have about eight of my own teeth. Oh well.

I was feeling like doing this all at once was such a waste, but I know eventually, if I live that long, all of these teeth will have to be done. When I was in the hygienist’s chair yesterday she told me of one of her patients who celebrated his 50th anniversary a couple of years ago had the same thing done last year. He did it for purely cosmetic purposes. Well . . .

Thanks for listening. I have managed to put off my trek upstairs to the craft room to slave over my sewing machine! Gotta find a new excuse!

Weekend Update

We made a quick trip to the Little Place in the hill country this past weekend. It was a day shorter than we usually spend. Normally when we go, we leave about noon on Friday and return on Monday. On this trip we went on Saturday morning and included a side trip to see G’s parents in San Antonio.

His parents lost their seventeen-year-old poodle in November. They never recognized the poor little thing had been sick for years, and should have been put down about five years previously. They acted surprised that he finally died. He had kidney dialysis about three years ago and suffered at least one stroke. I understand he had convulsions when he woke. Anyway, they tracked down his blood line to get a new puppy. The pup is cute, but I am wondering about his intelligence. I haven’t had a puppy in about ten years, and I don’t remember how long it took to housebreak it, but this one is four months old. He is still not housebroken. G's father said he is really thinking about giving the puppy up. I think that would be wise. I would have gotten a rescue poodle for them if they had just said something. They don't need a puppy.

Of course we had our rescue boxer with us. The puppy would not get out of her space. She continued to growl. I was hoping she wouldn’t react the way our American Eskimo had. He hated poodles. As he grew older and his vision dimmed due to cataracts he really would growl at their other dog. I ended up taking Simone outside to wait for the visit to end. Of course there was another reason. I was afraid she would decide that the house was a great place to relieve herself also. After all, it smelled like it!

It took me a day to understand why we went on Saturday instead of not going at all. The great white hunter I am married to wanted to go turkey hunting, and the season opened on the first. Usually G has an aversion to spring turkey hunting, and it is wise. Spring equals heat in Texas; heat in Texas can equal rattlesnakes. He went out Sunday afternoon leaving me to my own devices. This time it meant spring cleaning.

We have leased the land out to cattle again. The difference is we have more control over the numbers this time. We have ten cows and their calves. Since G took Rusty (the old ‘67 farm truck) hunting, I got to watching two young bulls try to eat the other truck. They licked the tailgate, the bumper, and then tried to eat the F-150 off the back. When their owner came by later to check on them (love him - the other guy never checked on his heard) I told him he needed to name them Ford and Pickup. That truck was covered with tongue marks! Calves are really funny, but they can be pains also.

So that was my weekend. Hope yours was great. I am off to the dentist in a few to prepare for the six crowns that I get after Easter.

It's so much fun to grow old!

This week has certainly been interesting. My follow up with the ENT was fairly good. I am on a two week recall. Ugh. But I may be released after that. Things are looking better. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, and I don’t think it’s a train.

The next day I got back to the dentist to have my permanent crown put on. They put the temporary on in November, and I got lost in the shuffle somehow. That is amazing because my dentist is really good and has a crack staff. With the holidays and Dad’s death, it was really easy for me to forget about calling. It was one of those Gone With the Wind things. You know - "I’ll think about that tomorrow."

I finally called last week, and they got me in yesterday. Imagine my shock when they said they hoped it still fit. Because the temporary had been there so long, there may have been some shifting. I almost died! This tooth is the last molar on the top jaw. When they were taking the impressions, I kept gagging - especially when the compound began seeping down my throat! The good news is that it still fit and is now firmly in place.

I have terrible teeth. I always have. When I was about ten, I had an abscessed tooth that had to be pulled. These days, it would have been treated. There were two in rooms near mine yesterday that were being treated. The dentist I had then was really horrible. He believed that the deciduous teeth (baby teeth) had no roots. He drilled cavities with no numbing. I have been wary of dentists to this day.

My granddaughter, Lady Bug, came across the same type of dentist two years ago. He was a pediatric dentist who should have known better. She had (and still has thanks to him) some horrible cavities. He drilled without numbing. She will not tolerate a dentist now. I don’t know what my daughter is going to do.

I digressed, forgive me. Back to the main point here. I am going to be the lucky owner of six, yes count ‘em, six new crowns next month. He is going to crown all six of my upper front teeth. You would think I’m going to be in the movies now! I guess I would rather have teeth that are mostly mine instead of a partial or full plate. My dad had full dentures top and bottom. I really don’t want that, but gee. As it is, my teeth are fracturing and breaking. I'm sure my feelings about dentists had something to do with it. My dentist has wanted to crown four of them for years.

I do like this dentist, and probably if our insurance (such as it is) had been like it is now all the time, I would have been seeing him the whole time. But it wasn't. We had to go to a large group practice, and I hated them.

Wish me luck on April 20. I will be in the chair most of the day.

Hunidity and ears

I have been fighting with my ears since Thanksgiving. The battle continues to rage. I have fungus in my ears. It is driving me absolutely crazy! It began with my right ear being completely occluded. I could not hear a thing. I let it go until after Christmas thinking it might clear up, but by then I thought it was so infected that the eardrum had burst. Since that was the time that my dad was so seriously ill, I got an appointment with my family doctor. I knew I could get in easily.

When I saw Dr Snake Oil, he said that I Didn’t have an infection, but a fungal infection. Being the superior one to diagnosis, I just knew he was wrong, but I accepted the ear drops and the antibiotics (no infection though???), and went on my way. He told me to come back in a week, and they would suction out the remains. I was not coming back. I felt he should have suctioned first, then treat.

I let a a couple of weeks elapse, and went to the ENT specialist, Dr. Renown Doctor 2004. He said it was fungus, but he suctioned first. Things were great - for a while. Two days before I was to go back, the ear occluded again. Back to square one. I could not hear a thing.

Back I go to Dr. Renown. He suctions again, but this time gives me pills for killing fungal infections. That ear clears up. I have a follow up with another physician in the same group. My right ear is clear. Yea!!

But, he decides to check the left ear. Guess what. Two small pieces of fungus. This doctor removes them by suctioning them out. He showed me what it looked like. They look like Rhizopus - common bread mold.

I guess this is the joy of living in a swamp. Although our rainfall has been sparse, there is still plenty of humidity. So, as I sit here, I am treating the left ear which last week was completely occluded, was suctioned, and I am back on all the meds - again. I get to go back Thursday.

Want to take odds on this coming diagnosis?

School days

I have many memories of my twenty-nine years of teaching. A good many of them are pleasant memories. I know I was able to make a difference in many of my student’s lives. My philosophy was that teaching the child to be a responsible person was far more important that teaching them the steps of mitosis (cell division). Learning to take responsibility for one’s actions will take a person much further in life. I also learned that the responsible student became the successful student. It was a win/win situation.
As the years progressed however, the state standardized testing took over the schools. We were teaching the test - only. I found myself teaching reading in my science classes. I was teaching math, which wasn’t a very big stretch since we did use so much of it. But teaching the test did more devastating things than take away from the science curriculum. The message with this test was that if the child did not do well on the test, it was the teacher’s fault. The parent and child held no responsibility. It was the student.
Along these lines, the administration also changed. At one curriculum meeting I attended, I was shocked to listen to one of the new administrators debunking the "bell curve" to replace it with the ‘j curve." Most of the students would make "A’s" and "B’s" with very few (read no) failures. Her rationale was something like this: this is the generation who will be in charge when I am retired, and I want them to be able to handle the job."
What? They are functionally illiterate, but they feel good about themselves because they never failed. It seems the administration forgot how you get a good self image. It isn’t bestowed on you like a title. You have to work to get it. If a teacher "gave" more than 5% "F’s," they were called into the principal’s office and asked what they were going to do to solve the problem. So you rigged grades. I understand that now the teachers cannot give a grade less than 50. If no work was turned in, the student gets a 50. How would that fly in your workplace?
Dealing with some of the parents was quite interesting. I understand wanting to be supportive of your child. I certainly was, but some of them were a little misguided. One of the more memorable things that I experienced happened to my best friend about ten years ago. We had a fire drill. This leads to organized chaos. The students just see it as a chance to be out of class, not a serious learning situation. D was bringing her class back into the building. One boy picked up a handful of gravel and threw it at his classmates. D called his father who said he would talk to the boy. The next day, D had a message to call the father. He told her "Mrs. X, you didn’t see what you thought you saw. I spoke with my son, and he denies doing that. He never lies to me." I always thought I would like to sell that man some swamp land!
Good teachers are there to try to make their students successful, both in the subject and in life. They are the ones to champion successes that student makes more than anyone else. Sometimes the teacher knows the student better than anyone else. There is so much written about poor teachers now the good ones are not allowed to teach their students so they will learn. There is a lot of rhetoric about learning styles and the like, but what the students is getting is a "cookie cutter" curriculum - and they better fit it.

Things to ponder

First. Things are going to be very nasty with my son in law’s family. For years, M was the only grandchild. She was doted on. She could do no wrong. Even though they have seen the other side of M, the side that lies and manipulates, now they are reverting back to the perfect child image of her. S’s sister called M, and M turned on my daughter. She blames my daughter for everything. That family easily jumps on that bandwagon also. Oh my. K doesn’t need all of this.

Second. My dad left me property at a lake near San Antonio. It needs work! S and K have voiced an interest in it, but they have some questions about the building restrictions. They were supposed to look into them, but haven’t. I got a phone call from a potentially interested buyer this morning. Something else to ponder. I just don’t know if I am willing to sell this property. Dad built the place - almost from scratch. There is so much of him there.

Third. With our upcoming trip that is in the planning stages, I got to thinking about having to kennel Simone. She has only been with us since December. I’m afraid she will think she is being abandoned. Again. That is the problem with rescue dogs. We would be leaving her for a week. When she had to stay at the vet’s office overnight, she was not happy. I can only imagine how she will react.

Thanks for listening. I really have such simple problems. I should be happy these are at the top of my list!

Traveling with a 36 year old kid

Our children and their cousins are very close in age. The girls are three months apart, and the boys about two weeks apart. When each pair reached five, my in laws took them either to D*isneyland or D*sneyworld. It was a trip that my children really enjoyed.

Lady Bug is now five, and we wanted to continue the tradition by going to D*isneyland. One small problem. She will not stay apart from her parents. She has never spent a night with us unless her parents were also with her.

She does have a severe separation anxiety. School seems fine, but the prospect of going to bed without her parents being around is a no go. In a way, that isn’t bad for me. There’s not many times I get called on for overnight baby sitting. The only time I did was at their house, and Lady Bug was fine.

It seems that all six of us will be going on this trip. K and S want a vacation, so it is deemed this is the proper place. It should be fun because we can see V’s family while we are there.

I remarked to my husband last night that we are actually going with three children: Lady Bug, Monkey Boy, and S! His family didn’t take vacations when he was growing up. This will be a first for him too.

It should be fun! I am really looking forward to it!

Difficult time

My son in law had his heart broken yesterday. His daughter went to visit her mom in San Antonio for Spring Break. She called on Friday stating she wanted to spend one more day with her mom because they were going to see a friend of her mother’s who now lives in this general area. That started K and me to think. She must want to move back to her mom’s

Yesterday morning, she called and said she wanted to "talk" to S. We all had a really strong feeling then. K called me and asked if I could keep the other two kids if things became heated. That can happen regularly between M’s mom and S. Apparently, M stated her case with as much sense as she is capable of - and that’s not much - because the whole thing took place without any fighting. She packed up her clothes and is gone.

S feels she doesn’t love him. This is probably true. She only came here because she made up things that were supposed to be happening at her mom’s house because she didn’t want to move to California with her mother and step father two years ago. So S and K went to court to get custody of her. It wasn’t pretty. And it wasn’t cheap. They thought they were protecting her from abuse.

When M went to her mother’s last Spring Break, she pulled the same stunt, but K told her she had to stay through the school year. Custody was still joint, and that was the deal they made with M. When M went to her mother’s for the summer visit, she was miserable, so more money went to the attorney to get full custody. We have suddenly time warped back a year.

Part of this may be due to the fact M has chosen girls who could have been cast in "Me*n Girls." They are a bunch of snippy little teenagers. M loves drama and wants to be in the middle of it, so she causes it. She could not understand why when she spoke poorly of one of the group to another girl in the group, it would come back to M. They finally left such terrible messages on her cell phone, and I think this was a good part of the reason M chose to go back to San Antonio.

The poor girl has been through some counseling with a psychologist, but she really needs a psychiatrist. I have read the research about teen brains not being complete. I know there is much growth that must happen, but in the five years I have been retired from teaching that age group, they couldn’t have change that much. M needs serious help.

At least this time even her mother has said this is it. There will be no changing again. There are six siblings involved. M’s 4 siblings with her mother are old enough for her bouncing back and forth to bother them. My grandchildren really don’t feel it as strongly.

I wish her the best.

Now you are family!

I’m going to let you in on a secret that only my family knows. I have resorted to wearing a wig.

When I was a child, I had thick, wavy hair. I am one of those unfortunate women who lose their hair as they age. My hair is quite thin now, and I think it never looks good. Every time I would get a haircut, the beautician would tell me how good it looked. It didn’t.

I used to have her highlight my hair in a vain attempt to cover the gray. Then the home highlight kits came out. Since I was retired, I could save some money. I still had to get it cut though. That was $42 a pop. I know, some of you pay lots more, but my hair never looked good..

I decided it was time to try a hair piece. I ordered one. When it came, I decided that there was no way for me to "blend" it in partially because of the style, but the color was all wrong. It resembled a dead rat on my head!
Then they advertised wigs - two for the price on one. Well, OK, let’s try that. When they were delivered, I thought one was way too dark while the other was too light. I put the darker one on my head. I had hair! I was really afraid to go anywhere. It would be so obvious I was wearing a wig, but I got so many heartfelt complements. Even my sister in law didn’t know it was a wig, but she really liked it. When I get the complements I have to stifle the desire to blurt out "I must let you wear it sometime."

One of my problems now is that summer is coming. Summer in Houston, Texas. Hot summer. I was lucky enough to inherit the trait of a sweaty head from my mother. This is not good.. Heat, humidity, and a wig equals sweat! I’m not sure how I am going to handle this because I have taken to cutting my own hair. And I cut it short. Does. Not. Look. Good. Alone.

I have to go to the dentist soon. I was supposed to get my permanent crown in December. They have not called, and things have been busy here. I also am worried about the wig. The crown to be put in is all the way in the back of my mouth on the upper jaw. To get to it, my head gets moved around - a lot!

It ought to be especially fun and interesting when I make an appointment with the dermatologist! I want to have a complete skin scan since my mother died from melanoma. I will be a vision. No makeup and no wig. Such is the life of this grandmother!

Mothers and daughters

The mother/daughter relationship is something of a wonder. Some mothers and daughters fight like tigers all through their lives. Others become best friends. I’m not sure why the relationships develop the way they do.
My relationship to my own mother was more adversarial than friendly. Being an only child is really a problem. I never wanted to be an only child, but I had no control over that decision! My cousin recently told me that my mother would give me anything I wanted. I don’t quite remember it that way. Now don’t get me wrong - I did have a number of things. It was my aunt who really spoiled me. She would buy the most expensive dresses and toys.
My mother never let an opportunity slip my without reminding me about how much she did for me. In other words, she was a master at putting me on a tremendous guilt trip. That does wonders for your self confidence. It was well gee, she is doing all of these things for me, and I am such a lout I don’t deserve it. I finally simply stopped listening.
She also thought everyone in the world did things better than I. This extended into adulthood. When we bought our first house, it was like so many others in the Houston area with no curbs because there were bar ditches for drainage. I overheard her speaking to the aunt who also lived in Houston when they were visiting. She was incensed that I didn’t have a house with curbs! But this was par for the course.
We had horses at the time. Sugar was technically mine, and Wendy was G’s. Which horse do you think she thought was better? Bingo! It was Wendy. Another bad choice by me. See, I can’t do anything right.
I observe relationships like mine all around. Some are much worse. I think putting 200 miles between us also helped. I was 22 when she died. She never got to see grandchildren, and I often wonder how she would have reacted. I’ll never know, but I’ll bet someone else would have better children.
I vowed I would never have that type of relationship with my children. I never put them on a single guilt trip. They knew I did things for them because I wanted to. They never asked to be in my life, I did. I never compared them to others where they would be in an unfavorable light. If I were to compare them, it would be to point out their better points.
My daughter and I are truly friends today. I value our relationship. We live within a mile of each other, and we spend most weekends together. We have our little candle and craft "business" together. We occasionally make a local craft show and make a few pennies. We generally talk at least once a day. I treasure this relationship, and I wish all mothers and daughters could have what we have.
My relationship with my son is also good, but since he had married it has changed a bit. We still have good conversations, but not as often. We are diametrically opposites when it comes to politics, so we just listen politely. I miss the closeness we once had, but he has another relationship to work on. That is the important one.

Ride 'em cowboy

We were given tickets to the rodeo yesterday. I love going, but G often doesn’t want to go. Last year, B anc C had tickets and invited us. I realize it was a night performance, but G didn’t go. Needless to say, I was surprised when he said he would go.
The weather was typical for Houston. Hot and muggy. That’s not rodeo weather however. It should be cold and wet!
He decided that we would drive ourselves however - which turned out to be a very good idea. It seems K and S got into a huge argument. Had we ridden with them, we would have gotten there for the bull riding segment. We left the house at 1:30 and then took the Park and Ride to the Park. Since the Astrodome has been "decommissioned" we had no idea where things were. Lets just say the Reliant complex is huge! We got off the shuttle and began walking. We went into the old Arena thinking they would have the vendors there. That was another surprise. When we used to go to the stock show all the time, G was never interested. There wasn’t much going on, so we decided to take the tram to the stadium.
Our tickets were on the club level. It was G’s only time in the stadium. He was fairly impressed. We got to take an elevator up. That was great. Last year I went up an outside escalator that seemed to go up three floors. I am so afraid of heights! This year while the club was beautiful and luxurious, when we opened the door to the seats the steps were so steep! It almost sent me back into the club! We were about the only ones in the seats, and I could look straight down. Oh boy!
The rodeo was really good. We enjoyed it. The concert was outstanding. K finally found us just before the concert. Just at its end, they left to avoid traffic. We stayed. We were to take the bus. But there’s the rub. We don’t know the grounds. We looked at a map and realized that the bus tents were all the way across the complex. The line for the trams was a mile long, so no tram for us. OK. Go around the Dome then veer right. I wanted to turn right after leaving the stadium. G said left. About the time we got to the food court, I remarked that I thought we took the long way. That ticked G off - surprise. When it is hinted he is wrong, that is his reaction. Anyway, after a 30 second sit on a bench, and two blisters on my feet we made it to the tent. Our busses were at the far end. Oh agony.
Anyway we made it to a bus right away. It was nice and cool on the bus. What a relief. K called me and said they were 10 minutes from home. She got quite a kick that we were still on the bus - not moving yet. I told her I got to see some beautiful palominos, the entire rodeo, and the entire concert. The highlight, however, was as we were sitting there, G admitted I was probably right and we did, in fact, take the long way!

But it was so tempting!

I’m glad I just sat on the check I got from the mortuary in San Antonio. I knew it was only about half of what I asked to be returned. I also decided not to fight it, but simply had not gone to the bank with it. Yesterday I got another check. It was for the amount I had asked for along with a short letter from the general manager with whom I had spoken.
It would be so very easy to simply take both checks to the bank. I could rationalize I deserve all the money. They put me through such hell. I will always remember the funeral with shame, but that makes no difference. They are due the money I didn’t ask for. They did perform those services.
I am not trying to sound like someone who is so perfect and holier than thou. I really believe this entire country has gotten into the all for me syndrome. If someone makes a mistake - especially with money - in our favor we act like that is just too bad for them. There are those who if a clerk gives them too much change simply pocket it. I know the clerk should be much more careful, but mistakes do happen. At the end of their shift, this clerk will have to make up the deficit out of their own pocket.
I have tried to teach my children and now my grandchildren that you need to treat people as you want to be treated. Capitalizing on a mistake is not the way to live. I guess that’s the premise in the hit show "My Name is Earl." I won’t call it karma, but there is a certain good feeling knowing you didn’t hurt someone else by taking what is really not yours. And yes, it was so tempting!

Bah!

I have yet another ear infection. It has been recurring for a couple of months now. It began during the holidays, and then with my dad getting so ill I had no time for an appointment to have anything done about it.

I had another infection about two years ago. It was so serious that my eardrum ruptured. I thought I just had gotten water in my ear. Having had a swimming pool for years, I knew one remedy for water in the ear is alcohol. So I proceeded to pour alcohol into the ear. I learned a new equation. Ruptured ear drum + alcohol = PAIN! Imagine if you will, rubbing alcohol on what amounts to raw flesh.

At least this year I did not choose that route. What I finally decided to do was to go to my family physician. I knew I had a ruptured ear drum, and I told my doctor. Usually he will listen to me when I self diagnose. We have had a 30 year relationship. This time he was sure my ear was just full of fungus, so he treated accordingly. I left with the instructions to return the next week, and he would suction the gunk then. That was not the treatment I wanted, nor was it the treatment that I needed.

As time went on, the ear cleared up - sort of. Last week the ear finally became completely occluded. I could hear NOTHING. I called the specialist. I was amazed to get an appointment for the next afternoon. The first thing he did was to suction. What blessed relief! I could hear, and the right side of my head no longer felt numb. I was in heaven - until Monday night. When I put the drops of antibiotics in my ear, it became occluded again!
I called yesterday with great hopes of being able to get in today. It is so annoying to constantly say "huh?". I have an appointment for Friday. And as fate would have it, the ear drained overnight. This is par for the course for me!

Well, this has turned into a really silly post. Oh well, this is my life these days! I don't know if I can stand the excitement.

A learning experience

It is hard for me to believe that "cleaning up" after Dad’s death would be easy. I thought handling the estate wouldn’t be too difficult since I had been involved in it for three years. When my uncle died, I was co-executor. There was nothing to it. Perhaps the simple excuse for that was my second cousin who is an attorney married to an attorney was the other executor! It was a breeze.
The first stumbling point was when Social Security sent me a letter which be gins "We are sorry to learn of your recent loss. Please accept our sincere sympathy." Yeah, right. They then go on to say that even though he died on the 13th of the month,. He was not entitled to the monthly benefit since they didn’t stop the payments until February he was paid too much that should be refunded to them within 30 days. Well . . .
Dealing with the insurance companies is proving to be just as interesting. My mother died in 1972. She is listed as the beneficiary on a policy I didn’t even know existed. It was taken out in 1939 (Dad was 93 if you remember). I have to get a certified death certificate for her death. This is another quite unexpected turn. So we will wait for the state to send me the death certificates (I ordered 4 - never know when something will pop up again) which will take about 3 weeks. I know I could have gone to the office in town to get it right away, but I’m not good at standing in lines.
I did his income tax and realized I really screwed it up last year. G was so busy with ours that I didn’t want to bother him. I realize now after asking the insurance companies where the 1099's were that the interest was not taxable. He way overpaid. It will be interesting to see what would happen if that return gets audited. They will pay me back.
And pay backs - the wonderful mortuary send me a refund, but it was about half of what I wanted. I am torn. Part of me wants to fight the refund even taking it to the state board that governs the funeral industry, but the other part of me really just wants to put this all to rest. I think that is the way I’m going. This is going to be a long enough road.
My attorney is getting ready to file the papers to probate the will, and the CPA in her office is preparing the final posting with the guardianship thing. Someday, someday!

This and That

I am still waiting for the refund of monies from the botched funeral. I knew it would take a couple of weeks. I guess we'll see what happens in the next few days.

With that in mind, I have been trying to attend to the affairs of bank accounts, insurance policies, having the will probated and getting the final estate accounting done with the court. I have to be very honest. I am so glad I don’t have that responsibility any longer. Keeping up with all the receipts was driving me crazy, but I guess I would become his guardian all over again. I’m still not convinced there wasn’t some "things" going on with the monies.

On a lighter note, we spent last weekend at our other place. I knew it would be cold on Friday night, but I expected sun on Saturday and certainly on Sunday. Was not to be! On Saturday, our thermometer never got above freezing! We were iced in. Sunday was a little better in that the temperature did rise above freezing, but the sun eluded us all weekend. Simone and I kept to the house as much as possible. I did manage to make 20 sets of jewelry for the Founder’s Day celebration in April. Now we just have to get the booth ready!

It appears we will do a couple of more fairs after the one in April. I think we will do one in June as well as July. I really would like to begin making some money with the jewelry.

A Soft Place to Land

That’s what happening here. B and C asked if they could come to live with us at last night’s family dinner. It seems as though C’s mother is, at least according to C, going through the middle aged crazies. Her mom has had this particular boy friend for a long time. In fact, when they vacationed at the little hill country place, Mom and boyfriend went with them. It seems theat Mom has decided to move in with boyfriend and sell her house.

All this comes after two weeks of C and her mom not speaking. That is not a new situation, but this time it appears to be causing a real problem. I guess Mom is looking for a more simple life. From my perspective I don’t think this is the solution, but it’s not my decision nor my life.

When B and C moved in with Mom, I was afraid something like this would happen. C and Mom are together 24/7. That is just too much. K and I couldn’t do that, and we have a good relationship. C works for Mom in a child care facility. C doesn’t know how to work for someone else. She tried for a few months. She cannot take orders. Bless her heart, she just has not had to grow up. Her parents divorced when she was twelve. That was a bad situation for C. She had lots of money thrown at her. It's my understanding she got all the child support monies.

I know they hated to ask if they could move in here. I frankly am scared to death because I know how hard C can be to get along with. I don’t want to have this situation hurt the fragile mother in law - daughter in law relationship, but I cannot tell them they can’t move in here. B told us last week he is taking over the household money. I knew C would have a fit, but she keeps going through money like there was a big money tree in the backyard. He earned $700 in overtime that he wanted to be put away. It was spent.

I am sincerely hoping this situation will bring them into the world of mature married adults. They want to be there. They want to have all the things the rest of us have. They want a house, a baby and all the other things. I hope this is the turning point for them. In the mean time, this house will be their refuge. We will be the soft spot for them to fall, and we will be here to help them rebuild their lives. We will be praying for their success.

Squeak

I guess being a squeaky wheel is a good thing at times. I sent the letter about how poorly the funeral service was to the mortuary. I requested more than $500 to be returned to me. As the days went on, I was afraid that I would have to take my situation further. In the original letter, I was going to contact everyone from the Texas Funeral Commission to the Attorney General’s office. G suggested that I not saber rattle at the beginning. I should save the big guns for later if I needed them. I was getting ready to write another letter with all the "cc’s" included.
Day before yesterday the phone rang. It was the General Manager for the mortuary. He told me he reviewed all my claims, and that I certainly should be reimbursed for those services that were paid for but not delivered. I further indicated that he would be finding out why the obituary was not published. Well, it’s all water under the bridge now and things can’t be undone. I just hope that the same things never happen to another family.
Yesterday I got a notice of a certified letter left in the mail box. Initially that got my goat because I was here. I believe the carrier was too lazy to get out of his truck to come to the door. So this morning I went to the Post Office to get the letter. My original thought was to put the notice back in the mail box and make him deliver it, but I didn’t. The letter was the death certificates. Apparently the General Manager called the mortuary here to have them delivered straight to me, without them going to San Antonio. Well, at least they are here. More importantly, I don’t have to deal with that San Antonio mortuary again - that is unless I don’t get my refund in a couple of weeks!

Money

I spent about two hours yesterday with the banker I got to know well when I was the guardian for my dad. She is a very out going person, and we usually spend a lot of time talking when we get together. She was sharing some of the weird and terrible things bankers see in their everyday business. They see spouses that come in - some to take exactly half of the joint account - some to take the entire account before surprising their spouse with the news they are leaving. She was telling me about one poor woman who came in to open a checking account This bank runs a credit check before you can open a checking account. She was denied an account. She was appalled saying that she always paid her bills on time. The banker asked if she had any joint accounts. That was a bulls eye. Her husband opened a joint charge account, and he was often late paying his bill. Her credit took a hit because she was on that account. Ouch!

When I got home, B was here taking care of the cats. They have had a time figuring out their finances. C was used to being able to buy whatever she wanted and whenever. B really wasn’t too much better. I have no idea how much credit card debt they are in, and I don’t know if I want to know. At least they are not using the plastic anymore.
But just not using the credit cards doesn’t mean they are not still spending money. C has the idea that they will be able to buy a house, have children, and she quit working, and continue spending money the way they do now. If B wanted to take over the finances, she would have a temper tantrum, and he would back off. He told me yesterday he was taking over the finances. I was really surprised. He handled the situation really well. My baby is (finally) seeming to grow up. I really wish them well. He outlined the way they were going to handle money from now on, and it seems like a really good plan. I wish them luck. It isn’t going to be easy.

It is all too easy for people to get into real trouble these days. Credit is so easily available. I am
so sick of getting offers for cards. I use two on a regular basis. They are used like checks for me. At the end of the month I pay the balance, and it’s done. I also choose to use cash back cards. It works well for me. For some though, it is all too easy to just make the minimum one month or so. Before they know it, they are completely over their heads. I wish these people well. It is a rough way to live.

I really wish B and C great luck. I hope they can get a handle on their money management skills, and can make all their dreams come true. I also hope it doesn't hurt their marriage. I guess we will see what's in the cards.

It never ceases to amaze

I don’t know why I should have been surprised yesterday at church when our pastor used his mother with Alzheimer’s as an example. I could so relate when he spoke of going to see her, and she was non-verbal. He remarked how difficult it is to try to visit with someone when you are the only one who is doing the talking. He didn’t indicate how long these visits lasted. I would imagine they were to be rather long because he had to travel the 200 miles to visit, therefore he would only be once a month. My visits with Dad would be only about 30 minutes, but they seemed to be much longer.
I am really amazed at the number of in my circle of acquaintances are relatives of Alzheimer/dementia patients. Our Parish Associate had her mother die two years ago from the disease. She, too, had to travel about 250 miles to check on her mother. She would go every other week. I really admire her for doing that. I’m sure she did it to help her sister. Being the only caretaker - even if the loved one is in a facility - is a draining experience.

It just makes me wonder if we will ever find a real cure for this disease. I really believe it won’t happen. We are living so much longer these days. I believe our bodies simply wear out. But when I do see hale and healthy (for their ages) people who are 95+ and they are sharp as a tack, I wonder why my dad was stricken. That is the factor I hope will be discovered.

Be sure to visit with your older loved ones when ever possible and let them know how much you love them while you can. They will not always be with you.

ALS

Last evening’s ER was quite an emotional ride. James Woods portrayed a patient who had ALS. He had reached the stage where his facial muscles and throat had gotten so paralyzed he could no longer swallow so he had a feeding tube inserted. I drew a little analogy with Dad. He had forgotten to swallow.

The character was also admitted with pneumonia. That was the death knell for Dad. He could not get over the pneumonia. At least there was no mention of putting him on a respirator, whereas there was that decision made on James Wood’s character. For that I am grateful.

These situations brought raw emotions flooding back. The gut wrenching decisions that have to be made by those who love the patient. The agreements and disagreements. But after I could separate Dad from this, I thought about out friend/relative J who is suffering with ALS now.

J is such a great man. He was an educator, a principal, an administrator, and finally an author. He and his wife V retired to little hill country area a couple of years ago. He was active working cattle, as well as the activities of the area. I so clearly remember him coming over to out place one morning to look for a lost bull. He was seemingly in top condition.
All that was to change about two years ago. He had a sensation in his left hand and arm. He went to the doctor, and came back with the diagnosis of ALS. Things went well for a while. Not many people knew he had the disease. We had contacted J about leasing our land to him and his then partner E for cattle. He said that his son was now in charge of the cattle business. We didn’t think much about it.

About a year later, he had published an editorial in the little local paper stating he did have ALS. He too, like James Wood’s character, is waiting and hoping for stem cell research. I’m afraid he, like so many others, will die before there is any cure coming for this disease. J’s left arm is unusable, and the right is being effected. I try to stay away from controversial and political themes here, but this is terrible. Stem cells do not have to come from aborted embryos. Stem cells could be a saving grace for so many diseases like ALS, Alzheimers, Parkinson’s. I have seen too many close to me die of these diseases.

These diseases are horrible. In ALS and Parkinson’s, the brain remains alert. The patient is aware of what’s going on. They can’t control their bodies. Think about that. What a prison. Eventually ALS patients suffocate. This is a horrible way to die. In a way Alzheimers is easier for the patient, but all of these deteriorating diseases are sheer hell for the family.
I worry about the decisions V and her family are facing in the future. I pray they will be given the strength to make wise decisions,. and more over, the strength to believe they made the correct decision. They are in for a really tough time.

First pet

Sunday night before dinner, Lady Bug got her first pet from her Aunt C and Uncle B. She got a Beta. She was so excited she could barely eat her dinner without worrying about the fish.

When I was talking to K the other evening, Lady Bug interrupted with the news that it was 6:30 and time to feed her fish. I can only hope the two resident cats in that house don't decide to make the fish their dinner.

I wonder what she named him. I'll have to find out!

I really don't remember what my first pet was. I am sure it was a cat. Since my dad was a waling letter carrier, he professed his complete dislike for dogs. The funny thing about that is he usually had at least one dog on his route that would accompany him for many streets. He was a natural "dog person."

Over the years I have had many pets, and I cannot see myself without one. I guess my love for animals spurred my interest in biology. Of course my high school biology teacher really helped my along that path. In the 38 years we have been married we have had 12 pets - six of those were at one time. We only have one now, that being the rescued boxer, Simone. I don't count the two cats that we are fostering for B.

I hope Lady Bug had a long and happy life of enjoying pets. They can being so much to human lives.

Coincidence?

After V's funeral, I was able to take a kalanchoe plant that had been sent. I have nurtured, petted, sung and pampered in everyway I could imagine. It never bloomed again. So I decided to ignore it. It still never bloomed. It just sat in its pot looking ratty.

Dad died on January 13. That blasted plant began sprouting blooms. What do you think?

Family dinners

We had our weekly family dinner Sunday night. It began when we would watch the Sopranos together. It is now an occasion that had dropped by the wayside as we became increasingly more busy in our lives. It is incredibly difficult to always get nine people together on a regular basis on a given (Sunday) night. Part of the reason the family night began to vanish is due to the fact that we are usually gone twice a month during the "winter" months because we go to the little hill country place. Even in the other months, we are gone once a month. When Dad was alive, K and I would go to the assisted living to visit him on Sunday and when I got home I would usually be emotionally exhausted. The last thing I wanted to do was to fix a big meal.
At the funeral, B was deeply moved. He is the one who was so stoic about Dad’s passing. He wrote a poem for K and me. It was saying that Dad would be "born again into a new place."
B said he was excited for him to be going to heaven. I believe when he went to the coffin, B realized he could have had a better relationship with his grandfather, even though in these last years Dad was not his same grandfather.
The old saying: a daughter is a daughter all of her live, but a son is a son until he takes a wife is alive and well in our family - even the extended family. G was closer to my family. In fact he was proud to tell people it was a privilege to have known his father in law for 38 years. S is closer to us than his family - or at least some. My brother in law is closer to M’s family. My niece’s husband is closer to her family. Some of this has to do with location. The sons in law live closer to the maternal side of the union. Well, so it goes with B. He has been closer to C’s family after they married. Part of that is they live with C’s mother. This is a long explanation for his recent desire to be with us once a week again.
It is nice to have the family together again. It IS easier because I am not so emotionally drained. Right now it can be every weekend because Simone has just gotten her first heartworm treatment (if you forgot she is our rescue boxer). She can’t travel for 4 weeks. But to sit and share a meal and share our time is so rewarding. It is a way to keep the family connected. That is important. It gives the kids, Lady Bug, Monkey Boy, and M a real sense of being connected and having a foundation. I pray it can continue.

Memories

Memories come flooding back with various and often unusual prompts. I know that I am still in the early stages of grieving Dad’s death. This final fact that now even the body is not here. While watching TV, there was a commercial for better fitting "protective underwear." That made remember that I won’t have to buy that item - at least for a while. I remember D telling me how she was relieved that when her mother died she wouldn’t have to buy the adult diapers anymore. Strange how buying that item can make you feel. In this age the emphasis is youth and the young; you can really find yourself caught up in trying not to grow old. You feel that everyone in the store is looking at your purchase while thinking "that poor old woman - no control over her body functions." One would think I would get over this way of thinking, but, alas, no.

I was also reminded on Sunday that Dad was gone. When we were coming home from church I was reflecting on how I was going to spend the rest of the day when I realized that the Sunday visit with Dad wasn’t going to happen that afternoon. Then G said he also remembered that I wouldn’t be going. K told me Lady Bug asked her if we were going to visit Grandpa. Even the little ones remember.

I know that I will never forget he is gone. That is the way it is supposed to be. I am a Christian, and I believe in the after life, but, at least for right now, he lives in our hearts. That is the way it should be.

Details to attend

Fool that I was thinking I wouldn't have to do a final reporting to the court, I find myself once again finding and arranging receipts for all the expenses I have incurred taking care of Dad. I have spent two years holding on to every little scrap of receipt to show the court that I wasn't buying something for myself.

This is another example of how one can be punished for the actions of others. I am fully aware that there have been guardians out there that use the estate of their charge for personal benefit. This is almost comical to me in my case because the money would be mine after his death anyway. I am the only living survivor for one thing, and I am the only one names in his will.

When I signed on to be his guardian, I was only looking to protect his investments because I was seeing some things that just didn't add up. I will continue to be cloudy on this point because I have no proof that there were things that were amiss, but there was something going on. I went into this guardianship being very naive. I didn't know I would have to report to the court every year. That incurs another attorney fee. I didn't know there would be a $3000 for the bond on me - every year. I just didn't know there would be so many expenses with this whole thing.

If I had waited, I was his power of attorney, but V was first. I would have had to get her deemed incompetent to act for him if I wanted to really protect him. That would have been a terrible thing to do. The way I did it could be explained without really getting nasty.

My first shock was the second year of accounting. My instructions when I began were to treat his monies as if they were my own in taking care of them. He had several certificates of deposit that were coming due. The new interest rates were horrible. I began looking for what would be a safe investment with a higher yield. I found two annunities. Guess what! The court didn't like annunities. They thought that annunities were not a safe investment. So the CDs have just rolled over since then, except for one time I found a long term CD that paid a higher percent.

I was really hoping that I wouldn't have to get this accounting together again. I'm getting better at it though. I have learned to be much more organized in record keeping - even though I had lost my very own check book for about three weeks. I guess you can try to teach an old dog new tricks, but there is still backsliding that happens!

Alzheimers

Just another thought about that horrible disease. It is a strange disease. Not all those afflicted progress the same at all. My daughter in law's grandfather also died from it. He turned mean at the end. He would lock his wife out of the house and often hit her with the broom. My dad stayed his sweet self until the end. He would, if possible, smile when asked.

I really have empathy for those who have loved ones with this disease. It is so sad to see your loved one slowly disappear.

Dad's funeral

Thinking that since my dad had to foresight to plan his funeral and prepay the same, handling the specifics of the funeral would be easy. Not. At. All. The entire ordeal was a nightmare.
Even though his death was certainly not a surprise, his being 93 was a great factor , when death does ultimately comes it is a very emotional time. We were staying at the little place in the hill country, and came into San Antonio on Monday morning to finalize the funeral and bring his clothing. We had set the funeral date for noon on Wednesday over the phone on Saturday so the family would be able to get there and return home easily. I should have known something was amiss when they kept referring to Dad by another name. They switched two letters which gave him another very common German name.
We sat down with the funeral director to go down the list of things that were "required" or were "expected" with a funeral. I knew there would be a fee to bring the body to San Antonio, but the fees added up to an additional $875. Well, OK. I wanted Dad to have the best and what he wanted. Then I got to thinking about the $210 fee for the motorcycle escort to the cemetery. On the original contract, that was to be included. Another thing that was listed was funeral cards for $20. I knew it was going to be a very small affair, at best. Why did we need them? Everyone who would attend would know all the information. But I still wanted things to be good. I didn’t know that was only the beginning of the ordeal.
We then were told we had to go to the cemetery to sign papers that would authorize them opening the crypt and putting him in. That was the beginning of the end. They had no records of Dad. They had the other name, but not his. Fortunately I had the deed, and after a few moments they were able to find the information. The only problem, they already had all the funerals they could handle on Wednesday.
One role of the funeral director is to call the cemetery to let them know they had a coffin coming and when. The cemetery claimed they got no such call. They did, however, have the other name on the board. I know that because they said the other name. Since we had not contacted them, they did not reserve a spot. Now I have the immediate family coming from Houston. They have made arrangements at work and all. I have V’s son coming from California. There would be no placing in the crypt. The cemetery person called the funeral director to tell him that it couldn’t happen. He asked to talk to me. He asked if we couldn’t put the funeral off until Thursday! He knew the situation, but still had the nerve to ask that!
I dissolved into tears. I couldn’t bear up any longer. Finally, the cemetery said they could put him into the tomb at 3. We decided that would have to do. I knew we couldn’t be there, and my son was going to drive back to Houston that afternoon. We were in a quandary. The cemetery person told us that only the funeral director had to be there. I didn’t like this, but what was I going to do? The family had made arrangements.
In the meantime I called Dad’s Pastor. He was out to lunch. I called two hours later - he was still out to lunch. The church finally called me three and a half hours later. He could do the service. One more worry line for me though.
When I called my daughter, she was very upset. She thought we should be there at the placement into the tomb. I tried to explain to her that was the worst part for me anyway. There was no pleasing her. I just let it go.
Tuesday was a fairly pleasant day. I thought everything was covered. What a fool I was. I was in blissful ignorance. I wish I could have stayed there.
Wednesday we go into town. I am so upset with the funeral director, I waited in the car for the time to get closer to the funeral time so I didn’t have talk to him. I am beginning my letter of complaint to the funeral home. He comes out to the car and begins to explain that the cemetery should hire more people. HIS cemetery makes allowances. Why couldn’t the one we were going to do the same?
About the time we get ready to go in, I notice the two police escorts. What are they escorting? There will be no procession.
My cell phone rings. My son is lost. It takes him an hour to get to the mortuirary. The tension is rising.
There is only the family at the funeral. Me, G, our two children and spouses, G’s brother and sister in law, G’s parents, and V’s son. I know Dad had been gone from San Antonio for three plus years, and I know he outlived most of his friends, but this was unreal. I couldn’t believe no one else was there. I felt like such a failure. I couldn’t even pull off a pre-paid, pre-planned funeral.
I paid for an obituary for Tuesday’s paper. It was not there! It was not in Wednesday’s paper. I couldn’t believe I spent about $150 for something that never appeared. Finally on Thursday night, K called me to tell me that her mother in law found it on Thursday. What good does that do? If people wanted to come to the funeral, it was too late. If they wanted to express condolences, they have no address. That also explains why there was no others in attendance at the funeral.
So I had to deal with the grief of my dad’s passing, the discontent caused by not having the procession to the cemetery, and the fact that the obituary never ran as it should have. I always felt dealing with funeral directors was detestable, but now I really feel that way. They prey on people when they are at their most vulnerable. I plan to get as many details of my funeral nailed down as I can, and let my loved ones know that if there are the same type of problems they should not take it personally. I’m gone and won’t know about it. Let it go. Now if I could do that now . . .

The end came

My dad died on January 13. It was most certainly expected. I was fully supported by hospice. I was out of town when the end came, but the social worker helped me to see that it would not make a difference if I were there or not. I was not. We went to the hill country place. G wanted to hunt that last weekend and we left in such a rush we needed to check on the place.

As we were driving through San Antonio, I got to remembering Dad's last trip out. G said that would be the last time Dad saw San Antonio, and it was. I was thinking about Dad so as we were going through. At 4:03 pm I got the call from the social worker. I just wish we had made it through town.

But Dad is at peace now. He is no longer trying to figure out where he is and who people are. I miss him terribly.

Today was Lady Bug's birthday party. As we were coming home, I told G I wondered if I would ever get over the bit of anxiety I felt when we had been away. The anxiety that there would be a message that Dad had fallen again, or that he had taken ill. I think that will remain for a long time.

I wish his funeral would have gone the way he had planned it. I'll tell you about that later when we have more time together.

On hold

It is a sad fact that my entire world is wrapped up in this waiting. Our lives are on hold as we wait for the end of a life. I know he wouldn't want us to live this way, but this is the reality of our lives - just waiting. The waiting then brings more time to second guess things we have done - decisions we have made.

I still second guess myself about the feeding tube while everyone I discuss it with (health professionals all) have told me it was absolutely the right thing. Even as I wrote specific advanced directives for myself I saw I was doing the right thing. I was specific because I don't want my agents to doubt it is what I wanted.

I am now feeling some quilt because we will be going to the hill country place today. I know there is no difference I can make here. I will be closer San Antonio there than here. But I feel as though I shouldn't get away. Perhaps I feel I shouldn't do anything that would bring me pleasure.

Yesterday while my son took Dad's dresser and night stand to donate it to Habitat for Humanity, I stayed back in his room at the assisted living facility. I thought back on all those days he stayed there. I remembered how miserable he was. Then I started remembering the good things of his life. In 93 years there were by far more good times than miserable. I hope as the days go on I will be able to focus on the good days instead of the bad - especially the last two weeks.

May you only remember the good days with your loved ones.

Time is still standing still so to speak. I continue to wake at 1:45 am thinking the phone rang with "the" news. Nothing has really happened. Yesterday his pulse seemed to be slower and weaker. I think the word is thread.

I am struck with the similarity between birth and imminent death. We, as mere humans, are not allowed to know the exact date or time. We know what the outcome will be, but it is not for our planning. It will happen when it happens. And while some births can be arranged, death cannot.

It was January, five years ago, when we were huddled in the house at the lake - the one without good insulation - waiting for the birth of Lady Bug while freezing. The difference was the outcome would be joyous. An new, precious life would be the result.

This January we are faced with the loss of a loved one. Even though he has been leaving us little by little, this is the final loss. We are dealing with the suffering - our suffering. The social worker and I were talking yesterday and I said I couldn't stand to see him suffer. She asked me if I really thought he was suffering, or was it that we were placing our suffering on him. I think we are placing our suffering on him. He is sedated. His breathing, while still rapid, don't seem to be a struggle. He is on morphine, and that does relax him. We living think that because he isn't taking anything by mouth, then he is miserable. Not true. We have all experienced toddlers who refuse to eat. Their body doesn't need it. The body makes that decision. His body has made that decision. Like it or not, we have to live with it.

This, like Lady Bugs' birth, has humbled me. Peace be with you.

Waiting still

While we are still waiting, I can see that hospice had been a great benefit in less than twenty-four hours. When I went in yesterday, Dad's breathing was much less labored. They ordered a patch that would be placed behind his ear that lessened the secretions so that there was not as much mucus as previously been there. He seemed to be so much more at peace.

His death is still not an easy one, so I puts me back into the arms of guilt. I keep asking it I have reacted properly. Have I made the right decisions? The pneumonia is getting worse even with the antibiotics and the breathing treatments every six hours. The dementia is not going away. Even if we were able to stop the kidneys from failing and kill off the pneumonia, he would be bed ridden. He has been in bed too many days. He is probably a "silent" aspirators, so the pneumonia will be a constant threat. He has not been happy for several years. He somehow knows that something is not right. He is aware that is doesn't remember many things, and was already retreating into more sleep than normal to get away from social situations.

I'll be meeting with the social worker from hospice later today. I am looking forward to the meeting. She is good at what she does.

I really do hate praying for Dad's death. Death will be a blessing when it comes. Hospice has been such a good thing for us all. That is one decision I do not regret making. Later today I will be writing up a very specific set of advanced directives so that who ever I name will not have the same questions that I have.

Peace be with you.

Hospice

Dad was admitted into hospice care yesterday. He will remain in the hospital because his oxygen saturation is only 92% on 100% oxygen. His pneumonia has gotten worse, and he has not eaten anything in over a week. Hospice will make sure that he is more comfortable by getting the morphine administered on a regular basis. The nurse on duty yesterday was hesitant to administer it.

I emailed V's son (who is technically my step brother), but he still doesn't understand this situation is terminal. His response was to be sure to give him clear liquids and make sure he has a good pulmonologist. I guess men are like this. I was discussing that very fact with the hospice nurses yesterday. When V was comatose, R didn't believe it. We had to put it simply to him - if you want to see her alive you have to come NOW. So I don't take his response negatively. That's just the way he is.

The will to live is certainly something. I cannot believe Dad is still with he. His respiration is so rapid, as is his heartbeat. I cannot believe he has the reserves.

I can admit this now. My ex-pastor has shown me it's OK. I am really angry with God right now. I shouldn't have to pray for Dad's death. He is suffering so much. No child should have to pray for their parent's death, and here I am two for two. My mom was suffering from her cancer so much all those years ago, I prayed for her release. She did - that night. I felt so much quilt after that. I wish God would step in now.

The wait continues

Today marks day twelve of Dad's hospital stay. I cannot believe he is still hanging on - even though it is really by a thread. His respiration rate is up to about thirty six now. He cannot take anything by mouth. When I was there yesterday, I requested he get something to easy his discomfort. It only took about ten minutes for the nurse to contact the doctor and got an order for morphine. It almost immediately eased his breathing, and he face was more relaxed.

I am so sad that he is lingering like this. I don't want him to suffer. It is killing me and my daughter to see him in such a condition.

I never thought this would be as difficult as it is. Even though I have said so many goodbyes as the dementia has progressed, this final one is so hard.

The dye is cast

I spoke with the assisted living facility administrator yesterday. Dad's condition precludes his returning there. So now the place for him to go is to a nursing home. I called the hospice social worker to get some ideas, then had his primary doctor call me. My next step is to talk to the social worker at the hospital to facilitate the transfer.

While all of this is extremely hard, I have such support from my family. Those close and those in the extended family comfort me and assure me that I have done the right things so far. The feeding tube situation was one that really was getting me down, but everyone I speak to about it assures me that it is the right decision. I suppose the primary doctor sounded like I should put it in because he is all about keeping Dad alive. The problem with that is we can't fix the real problem with Dad. He has dementia, and that can't be changed by a feeding tube.

So we continue on. I had my "talk" with him yesterday. There was only the two of us in the room. I assured him how much I love him, but if he wanted to go, he should. All these things that sound so easy when you are not in the moment are not in reality. They take their toll on me. I'm addressing the physical weariness, but the emotional part will be with me for a long time.

We're on track

Yesterday I was able to speak to the hospice social worker. She is an angel on earth! After visiting with her, I no longer felt the huge burden of guilt. She was adamant that there should be no feeding tube. In her experience, they cause more trouble that they are worth. She also confirmed my fear - once it is in place, it will stay there. She explained that my dad's body is doing the natural thing. It wants and needs no more food. It is finished.

I also got to be present when the speech therapists came in to do the swallow evaluation. It was rather inconclusive. I vetoed the test being done in x-ray. He couldn't cooperate. They also didn't believe in the feeding tube.

I feel better about the situation today than I have. My guilt is ebbing to some extent. I would like to say that I won't grieve his death. That is not the fact. I know that his death will be a release for him. He looks so lost - so scared. I know that his life no longer has the meaning it did several months ago. His mind is not there. He really has nothing to go to. He doesn't know us. The look on his face and in his eyes tears my heart out. For these reasons, I pray for the end, but it still hurts.

But today I am armed with specific questions for his primary physician. I know that the insurance companies involved also are going to have some specific questions soon. Let's face it - they are in business for the money, and there is a serious drain of that right now. But we will see what happens tomorrow.

Still waiting

I finally got to speak with the doctor last night. I got the idea the doctor was pushing for a feeding tube for Dad. It is so tempting. When I first realized that I was his Power of Attorney, I didn't think it would be like this. I never thought I would be watching him slowly starve to death.

The speech therapist came in while we were there this morning to do the swallow test. It was inconclusive. She said he could be taken to x-ray and offered several things to drink and eat to determine swallowing. I turned it down. He won't/can't cooperate with them.

I think he has given up. I used to see some hint of recognition when he saw me. There is none now. He looks so lost. I really don't think he knows who I am anymore. I knew this would happen at some point. I just didn't think it would all happen at once like this.

At an age of 93, 4 months, 8 days, it is obvious there will be an end to his life. His mind has been slowly dying for 4 years. Now there is the death of the mind as well as the body. This is a death I have the ability to delay. I can't. I cannot sentence him to more days of being lost and unhappy.

I don't know what the future brings. I meet with hospice this afternoon. I would love for this meeting to bring me some solace. I don't count on it. My guilt is there. It is a living thing. It keeps telling me how horrible I am for not having a feeding tube inserted. I have to remind myself that I wouldn't want to live the way he is right now. I want to run away from all this. I don't want to go to the hospital. I don't want to sit there watching him die. But I have to. God, being an adult really sucks.

Waiting

December 29th we were at the hill country house when we got the call from my son. Dad was going to the ER with breathing problems. He was admitted at 4 am on the 30th. We were on the way home later that morning. When we got to the hospital, he was diagnosed with terrible pneumonia and a slight heart attack. The pulmonary doctor did not give him a good prognosis.

It is now the 3rd. He has responded to the antibiotics, but we still don't know the future.

The weekend adventure

This weekend should prove to be very interesting. Simone gets to go to The Little Place in West Texas. It is a long trip from here - some five hours. Thankfully she does appear to like riding in the car.
We are supposed to go to the Community Club Christmas Party tonight. I just am not sure about leaving her alone. It’s a case of getting to the house, taking things out of the truck, and going to the party. Simone has never seen that house. I’m not sure what she will do.
Here at home, she is getting very adjusted. Today was trash day. We have back door pick up. When she heard the trash cans rattle, she was very interested. She then did something she has never done - she barked. The only time I have heard her is when she was sleeping and having a dream.
I had to go out again this afternoon. She hid the handset to the phone AND the tv remote. The handset was fairly easily found. The remote was in her crate. Oh, my - we are in for some interesting times. G said we will have to start putting things up more. Well, if I put the remote up somewhere, Sasha, B’s cat that I am fostering, will knock it down.
Sasha loves to watch things commit "assisted" suicides. She will tap them until they fall off the surface they are resting on. We are trained to put glasses away - especially since most of my house has tile floors. I think she loves the sound of glass shattering.
I think Simone keeps Sasha fairly honest though. Simone is cat friendly, but Sasha seems to push the envelop. She is always around. Sebastian is smarted than that. He has always been the black ghost cat, but it is even worst now, but Sasha is constantly running around in front of Simone.
The only thing that beats having children is having "fuzzy" children.

Simone is a thief!

For those who are not animal people, the following statement is probably not "incredibly cute." To me it is endearing as can be. Simone is a little thief. My suspicions have been proven in aces.
On Sunday, I got my first inkling she had a shoe fetish. I left my dear ($5/pair) moccasins in the bathroom. When I went into the bedroom, there was one. I checked and the other was still in the bathroom. Since I have a bad habit of not putting shoes into the closet, I noticed she had rearranged some other shoes. OK - no damage.
Yesterday I observed her taking off with one of my shoes I had just taken off. I stopped that immediately, but still found it quite amusing.
While I was out yesterday, I called G to tell him I had gotten the Christmas presents he asked me to pick up. He told me he left a message for me, so I called home to retrieve the message. When I got in, I noticed the light for the messages was still blinking. I began looking for the phone. It was no where to be found. When I went to the bedroom to change clothes, there it was on the floor. It was on. The thief had struck again!
Today when I came in here to the study, her new D*entabone was on the floor where she had left it. She is a sneaky one! I’m curious as to what else we are going to find out about her personality.
I look at her and fervently wish I could roll time back to take away all the pain she must have endured. Her canines wouldn’t just break themselves. I really feel that she was kicked in the mouth or something along those lines because her sweet little tongue often slips out of her mouth. It gives her a certain character, but it isn’t normal. Even for a boxer.
I think she is going to be a source of great stories. After all Boxers are the clowns of the dog world.

Simone

Things have been jumping around here for the last week. The first thing was that I filled out an application to adopt a rescue boxer. We lost our boxer about four years ago, and I wanted another. We had two other dogs at the time, and at their ages it was not prudent to try to bring another dog into the home. Sam, the last one, died in July, and I felt it was the right time to put in my application. When I was checking the web site, I found a new boxer that would probably fit out needs. She liked cats and kids. Well, ok then.

After several attempts to get the application submitted (the first email address was incorrect) I got a response stating that a volunteer would be calling me. She did, and we set the home visit. I felt almost like a was trying to adopt a child! When the volunteer came, she had a beautiful flashy brindle female. She was so incredibly sweet. She is a real people dog. She obviously had not been given the attention she so wanted. She also was probably used as a "puppy mill." It is obvious she has delivered many litters of pups. But she won my heart.

Friday morning early, G was awake and moving about. I was awake wondering what was wrong with him when he told me to either call the ambulance or take him to the hospital. He was having chest pains. That will get your blood moving. I was set to take him. I had the car warming up since it was one of our unusual cold snaps, and he had complained he couldn't ever get warm at work on Thursday.

He said that the pain was worse. I called the ambulance. They got here after what seemed like an hour, but I know the response time was actually good. We are a volunteer service, so they had to get up and get to the station. G was a paramedic with them some years back. After their assessment, we all arrived at the hospital an hour later.

He spent the day there getting treated like a pin cushion. He had an emergency stress test, Fortunately all was normal as far as the heart was concerned. Now he just has to heal the bruises from the needle sticks!

We were supposed to go to Little Hill Country Place. Obviously that was out. I had told the boxer volunteer that we would be gone, but would like to look at dogs the next weekend. When I called and explained our plans had drastically changed, she said there was no problem to come on Saturday.

We got to her house. She let Simone out of the crate and into the back yard - which is the way she does the dogs. G fell in love with her too. When Simone came into the house, she was all over G. We paid our fee and brought her home. As I was leaving I told the volunteer she knew what she was doing when she brought Simone to the home visit. She said she did!

She has fit into our routine like she has always been here. I feel really bad though because normally I am here all day. Sunday was church. Then my son and his band were part of a benefit concert for Toys For Tots. We had to go there -well we really wanted to, and it meant so much to B.

Yesterday Lady Bug was sick and K asked me to come watch her for an hour. I should have known one hour equals two. The reason I am beating my self up is because I believe Simone may have opened her stitches from her recent spaying. I have to go out and get her things - a collar, sweater, etc. She will be alone for a while again.

We are really happy to have her. She is a really good companion. She is beginning to settle in, and is not as needy as she was. I feel really good to have given a home to a worthy boxer who didn't have one.

Learned lesson!

After I posted yesterday, I realized that I completely forgot to use spell check. It's not that I am that much of a poor speller, it's just that as a typist I make a much better speller!! I really make many typos.

Probably the reason I make so many typos is that back in the dark ages when I was in school, my mother absolutely forbid me taking typing. She was so afraid I would become a secretary, and she wanted more for me. One of the ironies here is that she refused to type my papers for me. My high school was a college prep school, and every course had a term paper. What fun that was. Folks, this is before PCs.

The other irony is that good secretaries these days make more than teachers. I think I could have been a great secretary.
I also learned that if I go to blogger later in the day to try to redeem by post, I can just forget it. I guess they get so busy that I am constantly trying to edit and repost, but all I can do is to go through the password stuff again and again.
I promise that I will not post again without going through spell check.

Slipping further away?

G went along with me yesterday to visit my dad. The new activity director had three women pulled over in the dining area coloring. My dad was standing when we got there picking up a crayon. I could never ascertain if he was actually coloring with that group or not. When he looked up and G greeted him, there was clear confusion on his face. When he looked toward me, there was the same confused look. G "introduced" himself, and it was clear that the name meant something, but the look was still there. He said "and this is your daughter" to which Dad parroted back "this is your daughter."

We went to another table to sit. I was frantically looking for something to talk about. In a flash I pulled out pictures of Lady Bug and Monkey Boy. I asked if he remembered his great grandchildren, he, of course, indicated he did. I just don't know where he is right now. He has been so successful at covering up all these years he remembers how to do that.

My heart is ripped out of my body every time we go to visit. I told G that's the reason I usually try to go with a crowd. You can see that Dad wants to participate in some kind of conversation, but he struggles to find the words. This must be incredible frustration. If K and the kids are there, he seems to be content with watching them and listening to our conversation. The down side of taking the kids is that the women in there revert back to the time they were mothers or functioning grandmothers. It really scared Lady Bug when they try to tough her. This is going to sound like a very proud grandmother, but the girl is stunning. She has the curls of Shirley Temple, and her face is beautiful. Monkey Boy is 16 months which in itself draws all the women to him, but he too is a very handsome kid. The last time I was afraid one of the women would hurt him without meaning to because she was sure that he was part of her family (who fortunately showed up after a bit - and she didn't recognize them).

I pray every day that this terrible disease will pass me by, or that I get lucky and something will take me either before I am afflicted with it or in the very early stages. I don't want to be in a place like that. I know Dad didn't. I don't want to be in diapers that the aides have to change. I don't want to try to join in a conversation, but can't find the proper words. I don't want to say things that may be the obvious truth that hurt someone's feelings.

I guess we have no choice in our fate. We can try to do things to protect out health. My father is pretty well physically. His knees have no cartilage left and the arthritis is so painful, but how could he have protected his wonderful mind?

Profitable day

Yesterday I participated in our little incorporated suburb's "Holiday in the Park." It's a fun little celebration where they bring snow in for the children of our city, and collect food for one of the shelters nearby. I was hesitant to go. I feared the weather wasn't going to allow the event, but it didn't rain until the whole thing was over, so it was a success.

K and I started a little candle and crafts business about four years ago. We never have made a profit, but it was fun. I have been making jewelry this year, and began making purses also. K talked me into taking a vendor"s booth to sell these things. We also brought the candles along for good measure. The idea was "let's get rid of these suckers."

We have had those candles for about 3 years. We are getting out of business with that particular brand because they don't want us and other small dealers anymore. They have a new policy for ordering the candles. To order candles wholesale now, you must place a $500 order. When we first ordered, the minimum was about $150. We have about $300 invested in the candles. Do you see where I'm headed. If we placed a minimum now, she would inherit my half because I don't think we could sell that many in my lifetime!!

So we packed up the jewelry, purses (including the cigar box ones), candles, and what we described as "fun purses" for the little girls, and headed off to the park. We really weren't prepared to set up. The last time we set up was probably two years ago. We were a table short, so we were very cramped. We couldn't display the items - namely the jewelry well. One woman came over to look at the jewelry. She found a set she was quite taken with. She asked if we had a mirror. Eghad, we never thought of THAT!! Needless to say, even though she said she would be back - she wasn't.

We severely slashed the candle prices. People who normally buy that brand saw the price, and bought. Now these candles are wonderful candles. I love them. I'm just mad at their new policy for us small dealers. We always tried to sell them for the MSRP. Well they just didn't move. SO we set out to get rid of them. We sold eight! In four short hours, we sold eight!! To make a long story short, I'm glad K insisted we participate. We made $189!! Christmas is looking much sweeter now!