That was my initial reaction when my daughter called me. No you can't be pregnant. That would make me a grandmother, and I'm absolutely not ready to be a grandmother. Grandmothers are the little old grey haired matrons, and I'm NOT a little old grey haired grandmother. You would have thought I was reacting to a teenager instead of the grown, married woman who had graduated with honors from college while working full time. This plus the fact they had been married almost five years.
So the next morning I was off to work where I bemoaned this fact to my best friend and colleague. Well, being my best friend she reacted in character and there after only addressed me as "Granny." I was mortified. I was crushed. I was OLD!
Now this friend, D, as I have lived strangely parallel lives even though we didn't know each other until about ten years ago. She was born, and has lived in the Megapolis area all her life, and I was born in Hometown, and she is (ugh) three years younger than I. We still have traveled many similar paths. We married about the same time, chose the same rather obscure china pattern, and our oldest children are the same age - and were best friends in high school.
Well, it was just a few months later that D told me her son and his wife were pregnant also. We were BOTH going to be grandmothers. That made things much better. We immediately began fantasizing about pushing strollers around Little Suburb on our arthritic knees. Ah, our lives run parallel yet again. I began to reassess the situation. This could be fun.
Later my daughter shared with me that when she made that initial call, she felt like the young, unmarried teenager telling her mother she was pregnant. I thought I had handled the call well, only falling apart AFTER I hung up, but she knows me all too well. We are very much alike.
As the months went on, I was really getting excited. I told her I had the feeling that the baby was a girl. When she went for the first ultrasound, it was too early to tell, but the technician thought it was a boy. Well, that would be OK, but I wanted a granddaughter! Of course this was the same technician who also had the "feeling" she was carrying twins. Turns out she was wrong on both counts.
Now I had a profile ultrasound image of my granddaughter after the second ultrasound. She looked like her mother, me and my mother. I don't remember my grandmother that well, but we have STRONG genes! Once I found a picture of a girl who was about ten. I told my mother I didn't;t remember posing for that picture. She said she was them girl in the picture! I found pictures of me at one year. My granddaughter, Lady Bug, looks like those pictures.
My daughter paid me the highest compliment in the world when she said that she wanted her parents in the delivery room with her. She was living in Hometown now. Being afraid we wouldn't get there in time, my husband and I, along with our three dogs went to our weekend house close by. Lady Bug was born January 16. It was cold. We spent January 1 to her birth date in a poorly insulated house. It was worth it!
I was able to keep her for almost two years because her mom and dad found work here. I only had to give her up who V got really sick. She is still so precious to me. I love being a grandmother, and now she has a brother. How great.
As for D, she had a grandson following our Siamese twin life style. In April, her youngest got married. Lady Bug was the flower girl and her grandson was ring bearer, and there will never be two grandmothers who were more proud. How things can change!
Friday, September 09, 2005
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Now Dad is moved
The first week we had Dad here was, in reality, a nightmare. It also proved to me that I would be unable to keep him here in my home. At the time I was baby sitting my granddaughter. I was having back problems, and walking for any distance was not an option. Also our little city was having major street construction, and car travel along those streets was blocked.
The first night he was with us was fine until it was bed time. I woke to find him in our bedroom quite confused. We had lived in this house for 28 years at the time. They visited frequently, so the house SHOULD not have been unknown to him. Later that night, he went outside.
The second night, I slept on the floor of our den so that he could not get by me without me knowing. We have an alarm, but I didn't to turn it on out of respect for our neighbors. The floor is hard!
He would become stir crazy in the house. He would want to go outside. OK, that's fine, but his walks would go beyond our block and I couldn't see him. If the hose was strange, what about the neighborhood. He could get lost in the area and I wouldn't be able to get to him. I would have to put the baby (18 months old) in the car seat to get him as quickly as possible.
He was here for a week because the Assisted Living Center was not ready. Fortunately I had visited with the a couple of weeks before. I had wanted Dad and V to come down to see if they could live there. As usual, V drug her feet. This is the same way she had done when I found how Hometown could help them. I found adult day cares, transportation (yes, friends he was still driving them around even though we all begged her to stop him), and help to come in. She dropped the ball. Nothing was done. Then in one quick afternoon, things changed. I had to step in. I made the decision for them.
When she got out of the nursing home where she was to rehab, they were to be in the assisted living portion of the center. When the room was ready for occupancy, I moved the furniture, and got him ready for the move. They were going to watch him that night to be sure he wouldn't leave. As it turned out, even though it was just a trip to the rest room, he "got away" from them. So he ended up in the locked unit. He is still there.
V was in a terrible nursing home. We, for all intents and purposes, took her out AMA. We brought her here. She was in the original room; he in the locked unit. They would spend most days together. When she got really sick, she spent about two weeks as a inpatient at M D Anderson. She returned to Assisted Living on Christmas Eve. We tried to have Christmas in her room, and then she died the next day. When we brought him over for Christmas, he seemed to know her, but the next day, he didn't know her.
After having him for the week, I did realize I could not keep him. He would lock door knob locks that could lock us out of the house, he wandered. V's niece and V's sister kept their Alzheimer's patient at home, and I felt I was a failure. But with the two of them, I believe I made the best decision. I didn't consult her son, I just acted. V's family, who were scattered all over the US constantly called me, assuring me that I did so the right thing and they were so happy that I did. Come to find out, her son was not as dedicated to her as I once thought. They all saw him as being very selfish, and they felt I acted more like a child to her than he ever did.
It is still not an easy thing. But I have to accept, and do the best I can.
The first night he was with us was fine until it was bed time. I woke to find him in our bedroom quite confused. We had lived in this house for 28 years at the time. They visited frequently, so the house SHOULD not have been unknown to him. Later that night, he went outside.
The second night, I slept on the floor of our den so that he could not get by me without me knowing. We have an alarm, but I didn't to turn it on out of respect for our neighbors. The floor is hard!
He would become stir crazy in the house. He would want to go outside. OK, that's fine, but his walks would go beyond our block and I couldn't see him. If the hose was strange, what about the neighborhood. He could get lost in the area and I wouldn't be able to get to him. I would have to put the baby (18 months old) in the car seat to get him as quickly as possible.
He was here for a week because the Assisted Living Center was not ready. Fortunately I had visited with the a couple of weeks before. I had wanted Dad and V to come down to see if they could live there. As usual, V drug her feet. This is the same way she had done when I found how Hometown could help them. I found adult day cares, transportation (yes, friends he was still driving them around even though we all begged her to stop him), and help to come in. She dropped the ball. Nothing was done. Then in one quick afternoon, things changed. I had to step in. I made the decision for them.
When she got out of the nursing home where she was to rehab, they were to be in the assisted living portion of the center. When the room was ready for occupancy, I moved the furniture, and got him ready for the move. They were going to watch him that night to be sure he wouldn't leave. As it turned out, even though it was just a trip to the rest room, he "got away" from them. So he ended up in the locked unit. He is still there.
V was in a terrible nursing home. We, for all intents and purposes, took her out AMA. We brought her here. She was in the original room; he in the locked unit. They would spend most days together. When she got really sick, she spent about two weeks as a inpatient at M D Anderson. She returned to Assisted Living on Christmas Eve. We tried to have Christmas in her room, and then she died the next day. When we brought him over for Christmas, he seemed to know her, but the next day, he didn't know her.
After having him for the week, I did realize I could not keep him. He would lock door knob locks that could lock us out of the house, he wandered. V's niece and V's sister kept their Alzheimer's patient at home, and I felt I was a failure. But with the two of them, I believe I made the best decision. I didn't consult her son, I just acted. V's family, who were scattered all over the US constantly called me, assuring me that I did so the right thing and they were so happy that I did. Come to find out, her son was not as dedicated to her as I once thought. They all saw him as being very selfish, and they felt I acted more like a child to her than he ever did.
It is still not an easy thing. But I have to accept, and do the best I can.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
My dad's disaster
I'll never forget the call. It was three years ago. I had been in hometown just the week before. I knew things were not good. I knew V had terminal cancer, and I knew that Dad wandered. In fact he wandered off one night while we were there. It scared me to death.
At 3:30 my phone rang. V, with a shaky voice, said she guessed she would have to go to the hospital. What an opening - no details - just she thought she would have to go to the hospital. After what seemed like a million questions, she gave me the details.
Dad had gone for a walk, and it seemed he was gone too long. V decided she would get into the car to look for him. She hadn't driven in many years so her skills were limited. She located Dad and brought him home. Their garage was a small single car one attached to the house. It was tight. She got the car too close to the work bench for the drivers door to open. Apparently Dad took over. He used a piece of 4x4 lumber about a foot long as a stopping block. In his confusion, he put the car into drive instead of reverse. In the mean time V was at the front of the garage. He accelerated so fast that the car jumped over the block. V was in the path. She suffered a huge bruise (as it turned out later) on her thigh.
The thoughts racing through my mind was that there was no way I could get there before 8 pm. Here in Megapolis's suburb, the "rush hour" had already begun and wouldn't stop until 6. I was completely beside myself. She did tell me that she had called 911, but no one else but me.
Fortunately when we were there the week before, we met their neighbor. She noted that Dad was getting so much worse, and she was very concerned. Her mother in law had just recently passed away from dementia, and we compared notes. She gave me her telephone number. I used it that July afternoon. This angel went over and stayed with Dad until V got into a room. Dad stayed in the room with V that night. He couldn't be trusted to go home. He would have gotten in the car to go back to the hospital and would have at the very least gotten lost.
She went back the next day to check on them. Then we knew we had to go get my dad. It was so sad. I sat in the back seat with my dad in the passenger seat. We watched him looking out the window knowing he would never see hometrown again.
Tomorrow I'll tell you about that first week.
At 3:30 my phone rang. V, with a shaky voice, said she guessed she would have to go to the hospital. What an opening - no details - just she thought she would have to go to the hospital. After what seemed like a million questions, she gave me the details.
Dad had gone for a walk, and it seemed he was gone too long. V decided she would get into the car to look for him. She hadn't driven in many years so her skills were limited. She located Dad and brought him home. Their garage was a small single car one attached to the house. It was tight. She got the car too close to the work bench for the drivers door to open. Apparently Dad took over. He used a piece of 4x4 lumber about a foot long as a stopping block. In his confusion, he put the car into drive instead of reverse. In the mean time V was at the front of the garage. He accelerated so fast that the car jumped over the block. V was in the path. She suffered a huge bruise (as it turned out later) on her thigh.
The thoughts racing through my mind was that there was no way I could get there before 8 pm. Here in Megapolis's suburb, the "rush hour" had already begun and wouldn't stop until 6. I was completely beside myself. She did tell me that she had called 911, but no one else but me.
Fortunately when we were there the week before, we met their neighbor. She noted that Dad was getting so much worse, and she was very concerned. Her mother in law had just recently passed away from dementia, and we compared notes. She gave me her telephone number. I used it that July afternoon. This angel went over and stayed with Dad until V got into a room. Dad stayed in the room with V that night. He couldn't be trusted to go home. He would have gotten in the car to go back to the hospital and would have at the very least gotten lost.
She went back the next day to check on them. Then we knew we had to go get my dad. It was so sad. I sat in the back seat with my dad in the passenger seat. We watched him looking out the window knowing he would never see hometrown again.
Tomorrow I'll tell you about that first week.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
My father has dementia
That is a strange way to open this musing session, but it is such a big factor in my life. I am an only child. My mother died 34 years ago. His second wife died two and a half years ago. Since I am his legal guardian it is my duty to manage his affairs, and I have to see his needs are met. This meant that I had to put him into a Altzheimer Care Unit. That is a decision that I still, after three years and two months, makes me feel very guilty and very incapable.
He was not happy when we placed him there. He escaped at least three times, although I believe there were more times. The first time a wonderful good Samaritan found him near a busy street about 9 pm. She picked him up in her car and brought him back. The second time he got about a mile and a half away. This time he was at a very busy intersection. He had fallen into a bar ditch. By the time the administrator for the center got there, the EMS and police were there. Fortunately he was just wet and muddy with nothing (i.e. a hip!) was broken.
For 6 months his wife was "with him." I put this in quotations because she was in assisted living and he was in the locked unit. They would bring him over to her, but then all they would do is sleep. Sleep seems to be one of the things that dementia patients do the most.
Of course V, his wife, was terminal with bladder cancer. She didn't know this, but I did. I wanted to tell her, but her son who was working in another state, said he wanted the doctor to tell her. She never got to see that doctor again, but that's the story for tomorrow. When we brought her here, her son, R, wanted to get her the best of care. He wanted her in M D Anderson Cancer Center. I moved heaven and earth to get her there. My blessed husband would take her the 25 miles there. R did NOTHING. He never even took time off to come see her. He didn't come until Christmas Day when she was in a final coma before death. She died on the 26th.
My father has been there for three years, two months and 10 days. He goes further down every day, but it is a slow decline. He is in a wheel chair most of the time. I don't know if it's die to his terrible arthritis in both knees, or if it is the progression of the disease. He walks very slowly and falls often. He just turned 93. He seams to still recognize us, but has lost the ability to formulate his thoughts. He parrots what is said to him. If asked if he remembers someone when they are referred to he says yes. This is all part of the coping mechanism he used for so many years. Sunday I asked if he remembered his mother's name and he responded no.
He was not happy when we placed him there. He escaped at least three times, although I believe there were more times. The first time a wonderful good Samaritan found him near a busy street about 9 pm. She picked him up in her car and brought him back. The second time he got about a mile and a half away. This time he was at a very busy intersection. He had fallen into a bar ditch. By the time the administrator for the center got there, the EMS and police were there. Fortunately he was just wet and muddy with nothing (i.e. a hip!) was broken.
For 6 months his wife was "with him." I put this in quotations because she was in assisted living and he was in the locked unit. They would bring him over to her, but then all they would do is sleep. Sleep seems to be one of the things that dementia patients do the most.
Of course V, his wife, was terminal with bladder cancer. She didn't know this, but I did. I wanted to tell her, but her son who was working in another state, said he wanted the doctor to tell her. She never got to see that doctor again, but that's the story for tomorrow. When we brought her here, her son, R, wanted to get her the best of care. He wanted her in M D Anderson Cancer Center. I moved heaven and earth to get her there. My blessed husband would take her the 25 miles there. R did NOTHING. He never even took time off to come see her. He didn't come until Christmas Day when she was in a final coma before death. She died on the 26th.
My father has been there for three years, two months and 10 days. He goes further down every day, but it is a slow decline. He is in a wheel chair most of the time. I don't know if it's die to his terrible arthritis in both knees, or if it is the progression of the disease. He walks very slowly and falls often. He just turned 93. He seams to still recognize us, but has lost the ability to formulate his thoughts. He parrots what is said to him. If asked if he remembers someone when they are referred to he says yes. This is all part of the coping mechanism he used for so many years. Sunday I asked if he remembered his mother's name and he responded no.
I don't know exactly what his real functioning is, but it is so terrible to see the once active, vibrant, intelligent man the way he is now. It takes everything I have to go to visit.
Come back tomorrow to see how I finally got them out of their home (in hometown) that is three plus hours away.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Welcome to my attic!
I have been reading blogs over two years now. I've finally decided to take the leap and join in the fun.
It's the time to tell you a bit about myself. I am a wife, mother of two married children, and grandmother to two grandchildren. I am a retired public school teacher. At this time I have no pets of my own, but we are fostering my son's two cats because he can't have them with him at this time.
My "attic" is my crazy brain. So I invite you to stop by and come on up into the attic. There are cobwebs and dust up there, but don't let that scare you away! I really can have some decent thoughts from time to time, and i can be lot of fun sometimes.
It's the time to tell you a bit about myself. I am a wife, mother of two married children, and grandmother to two grandchildren. I am a retired public school teacher. At this time I have no pets of my own, but we are fostering my son's two cats because he can't have them with him at this time.
My "attic" is my crazy brain. So I invite you to stop by and come on up into the attic. There are cobwebs and dust up there, but don't let that scare you away! I really can have some decent thoughts from time to time, and i can be lot of fun sometimes.
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