Friday, January 7, 2005
Our hours have been settling, for the last three or four days...
...into my mother's favorite hours. Even on Wednesday, when I thought I was going to be able to get to bed early, no such luck, my mother was heading into the bathroom as I was going to bed, telling me she was "wide awake" and interested in "watching a little TV". Which we did. More than a little. And talked, and watched an episode of Deep Space 9. I haven't been entering anything in here the last few nights because either she's stayed up or reawakened and we've accompanied one another through the wee hours. You'd think I'd be celebrating this. I'm not mourning it but I'm used to those wee hours as my alone hours if I "chose to accept them" rather than going to bed. Although there is a certain magic to our relationship that only reveals itself during these hours that my mother likes to think of as "forbidden", I'm feeling a bit journal deprived.
Immediately after breakfast yesterday morning I found myself staring out over our snow valley through the kitchen window while washing the skillet and thinking:
Usually I ignore the advocate and don't think about my answer but yesterday, through the kitchen window, I faced the advocate. I realized that I won't be forlorn or grieving over time we didn't spend together, primarily because we've spent so much time together in the last 11 years, most concentratedly in the last six years. My attention has been so closely focused on her that it will probably take a few years after her death for me to feel as though she is no longer around. Our relationship long ago passed the point where it means anything to wonder if one or the other of us has "had enough" of the other. No such state is any longer possible. I am she and she is me and...we are both together. In this state, one can have neither too little nor too much of the other. I don't long for her death but neither do I long for any unusual extension of her life. I figure she will die when she's ready and until then neither of us is ready for her to die.
What would my imagined vacation-from-caregiving weekend be like for my mother? If it was with one of my sisters' families it would be stimulating, enjoyable, I'm sure. What would it be like for the family? Enjoyable and hectic as they discovered both the joys and the limits of having an Ancient One in the home who requires intense attention of all types.
What would it be like for my mother if I was able to put her in a skilled nursing facility for a few days? She'd endure it in fairly good humor, consider it a chance to sleep all the time unhindered, she'd be a little confused and miss me and be very glad to be home when it was over.
What would the days following the nursing home weekend be like for me? I wouldn't want to experience them. They'd involve all sorts of triage including, I'm sure:
It wouldn't be bad if she returned from one of my sister's homes, though, as I expect they'd drive themselves crazy being as meticulous as they could manage. Her blood sugar might be a bit high, as I'm sure they'd all take advantage of this time to let her eat what she wanted and/or what they had handy, but this is never a problem. The variety of food would be good and healthy and I'd tell whomever she was with not to bother with testing her, just administer her prescribed pills when necessary and test her only if they have a reason to worry about her. She'd probably be tired, but happily so, probably having moved a bit more than she does here, certainly having her powers of perception exercised, perhaps even a bit more exercised as she worked hard, for three days, to prove that she was more mobile and agile than she feels the need to prove around here.
I've noticed over the last few days that I have to work at entering the zen state I normally and automatically inhabit when handling my mother and the chores connected with her maintenance. Lately as I bathe her I have to hold myself back from anticipating the next limb, the next wash cloth, the next stanza in our Washer-ing Women song. I'm sure I'll return to "normal", but it seems I'm still in need of an Overwhelm-ment Outlet. I suppose I'd be better off if zenning was a discipline for me rather than a talent which I can apply when I feel like it. But, you know, I like who I am and wouldn't want to miss out on the ecstacy or the despair of allowing myself to remain spiritually undisciplined, at least not right now.
This morning as I was setting up the dishwasher and thinking about cleaning the skillet I found myself thinking, "All I want to do today is eat bacon (the gods only know why my food desire today was for bacon, but it was), watch my favorite movies, most of which are not my mother's cup of decaf instant coffee (although, as I've noted, she sometimes surprises me), stuff like Once Upon a Time in America, Scarface (both the 1932 and the 1983 versions), Waking Life, American Splendor, Anything by Peter Weir and, oh, yeah, Finding Nemo, and laugh and cry whenever I feel like it."
I ate two extra pieces of bacon but I doubt if the rest is going to happen today.
Immediately after breakfast yesterday morning I found myself staring out over our snow valley through the kitchen window while washing the skillet and thinking:
"I wish I could have one weekend, just one:There are times when I'm aware enough of my self (those two words are separated on purpose) that I attempt to lash myself by inviting my internal devil's advocate to take on the guise of one of those thoughtlessly sentimental folks saying, "Yes, but, how will you feel after your mother dies and you will not ever, again, have intense, concentrated time with her?"Hmmm, I thought, additionally, I guess my vacation wasn't really a vacation after all...just a slowing of the work schedule.
- From Friday night to Monday morning, all by myself, in my home, not in some motel someplace, with my Little Girl and my stuff around me;
- to catch up on writing, on movies, on sleeping;
- to sleep whenever I want;
- to hang out in the yard without worrying about what my mother's doing inside [I can get her out there in the summer if she's feeling good but it's "nothing doing" in the winter];
- to cry at will in order to relieve a little of that chemical caregiver emotional back-up;
- to spend no more time in the bathroom than the time it takes for me to use the bathroom on my own behalf;
- to not find my head stuck between my mother's legs four to five times a day changing her underwear, cleaning up leakage if necessary and smelling her urine;
- to not have Animal Planet blaring through the house most of the day or prime time shows I'm not interested in blaring through the house at night;
- to not having my fore concentration interrupted by my constant hind concentration on my mother.
Usually I ignore the advocate and don't think about my answer but yesterday, through the kitchen window, I faced the advocate. I realized that I won't be forlorn or grieving over time we didn't spend together, primarily because we've spent so much time together in the last 11 years, most concentratedly in the last six years. My attention has been so closely focused on her that it will probably take a few years after her death for me to feel as though she is no longer around. Our relationship long ago passed the point where it means anything to wonder if one or the other of us has "had enough" of the other. No such state is any longer possible. I am she and she is me and...we are both together. In this state, one can have neither too little nor too much of the other. I don't long for her death but neither do I long for any unusual extension of her life. I figure she will die when she's ready and until then neither of us is ready for her to die.
What would my imagined vacation-from-caregiving weekend be like for my mother? If it was with one of my sisters' families it would be stimulating, enjoyable, I'm sure. What would it be like for the family? Enjoyable and hectic as they discovered both the joys and the limits of having an Ancient One in the home who requires intense attention of all types.
What would it be like for my mother if I was able to put her in a skilled nursing facility for a few days? She'd endure it in fairly good humor, consider it a chance to sleep all the time unhindered, she'd be a little confused and miss me and be very glad to be home when it was over.
What would the days following the nursing home weekend be like for me? I wouldn't want to experience them. They'd involve all sorts of triage including, I'm sure:
- Dosing her with a laxative to get her to move what would surely be her backed up bowels;
- Returning her skin to its well hydrated state;
- Clearing up the irritation around her groin area from having worn the same diaper way too long;
- Bringing her up from an over-insulinated state;
- Nourishing her, fibering her...
It wouldn't be bad if she returned from one of my sister's homes, though, as I expect they'd drive themselves crazy being as meticulous as they could manage. Her blood sugar might be a bit high, as I'm sure they'd all take advantage of this time to let her eat what she wanted and/or what they had handy, but this is never a problem. The variety of food would be good and healthy and I'd tell whomever she was with not to bother with testing her, just administer her prescribed pills when necessary and test her only if they have a reason to worry about her. She'd probably be tired, but happily so, probably having moved a bit more than she does here, certainly having her powers of perception exercised, perhaps even a bit more exercised as she worked hard, for three days, to prove that she was more mobile and agile than she feels the need to prove around here.
I've noticed over the last few days that I have to work at entering the zen state I normally and automatically inhabit when handling my mother and the chores connected with her maintenance. Lately as I bathe her I have to hold myself back from anticipating the next limb, the next wash cloth, the next stanza in our Washer-ing Women song. I'm sure I'll return to "normal", but it seems I'm still in need of an Overwhelm-ment Outlet. I suppose I'd be better off if zenning was a discipline for me rather than a talent which I can apply when I feel like it. But, you know, I like who I am and wouldn't want to miss out on the ecstacy or the despair of allowing myself to remain spiritually undisciplined, at least not right now.
This morning as I was setting up the dishwasher and thinking about cleaning the skillet I found myself thinking, "All I want to do today is eat bacon (the gods only know why my food desire today was for bacon, but it was), watch my favorite movies, most of which are not my mother's cup of decaf instant coffee (although, as I've noted, she sometimes surprises me), stuff like Once Upon a Time in America, Scarface (both the 1932 and the 1983 versions), Waking Life, American Splendor, Anything by Peter Weir and, oh, yeah, Finding Nemo, and laugh and cry whenever I feel like it."
I ate two extra pieces of bacon but I doubt if the rest is going to happen today.
