Mom & Me Three Archive

    I didn't go. I hope it isn't raining tomorrow when I have to go. I've done nothing about the windshield wipers.
    I just found out that this is a holiday weekend. President's Day, I guess. Hmmmm. Good. I autonomically switched into "Otherworldly Vacation Time" sometime this morning and have been in "a mood" (a not unpleasant mood, but a quiet one) all day. Very internal. Pretty interesting. So, I could use an extra day. I've got business stuff piling up that needs to be handled. I'm not quite ready to do it Monday.
    I just read an NYT (featured in the Sunday Book Review section for this weekend) of a somewhat interesting sounding book, although I probably won't be reading the book. I don't have much time to either read or write and, considering how many years I spent mostly reading and not writing, I choose writing, now. Anyway, the review was interesting in itself. It not only reviewed the book, which is, by the way, PERFECT MADNESS: Motherhood in the Age of Anxiety by Judith Warner.
    An intriguing sentence from the review, written by Judith Shulevitz: "It is our own internalized workaholism that threatens to devour us and our children -- that, and the increasingly untenable absence of a public infrastructure of care." Early in the article she states: "Our neurotic quest to perfect the mechanics of mothering, she says, can be interpreted as an effort to do on an individual level what we've stopped trying to do on a society-wide one. In her view, it is the lack of family-friendly policies common in Europe that backs American mothers into the corner described above -- policies that would promote 'flexible, affordable, locally available, high-quality' day care; mandate quality controls for that day care; require or enable businesses to give paid parental leave; make health insurance available for part-time workers; and so on."
    Again. The village refusing to raise the child.
    I don't know much about the Motherhood section of Intense Needs Caregiving. I never wanted to know much about it. I do, however, know about Intense Needs Caregiving. Unless I'm way off track, I don't detect competition among caregivers who aren't parents. I do detect a competitive spirit among increasingly commercialized services, bargaining for the attention and the soul of the caregiver. I also, as you regular readers, especially readers of my essays, know, feel that over the centuries caregiving in general has fallen victim to Rugged Individualism.
    So, what else about today? Mom has spent a lot of the day in bed but has been in good spirits. No movies today. Barely television. I took a three hour nap in my bedroom. Yesterday I inadvertently took a 2.5 hour nap on the sofa. I collapsed. So I guess that sort of explains my mood today. If you mosey over to the meds and stats journal you'll notice that I took no stats today and informally discussed her meals and meds, although I did record her bowel movement. I feel as though I'm existing above the atmosphere, today...and, this evening. Maybe tomorrow. At any rate, I must go to Costco tomorrow.
    Later.

...recently. All I can tell you is that although I've been staying up past Mom's retirement (for the most part; a few nights ago I went to bed close on her heels), I've been past the winding down point of writing or write-thinking. The evenings have been satisfying for me. I've been sitting back and savoring them after my mother retires, much like a gentle person might lounge in their library and savor a snifter of Cognac. I've also been retiring significantly earlier than normal.
    One of the places I rent and rent-to-own DVDs, here, is a local independent video store that does a brisk trade with its customers. Many of the videos I've acquired lately come from that store. It is also a gold mine for finding obscure and old movies (many of which are not on rent-to-own status, only rentals). Last night, because I'd been reminded of it by entering Mona Lisa Smile at the movie site, when I returned some videos I decided to rto some of the school movies I'd mentioned. The only one I could find was The Paper Chase. I didn't realize it was 32 years old. I can't remember if I saw it on Guam or here in the states. It was released the year we moved to the states, halfway through the year. I know I saw it when it was released. I remember that John Houseman's performance was especially appreciated in the media. Mom and I both really enjoyed watching it. I didn't expect her to remember it, so didn't introduce it as a formerly familiar movie. She recognized it anyway within the first few frames. "Haven't we seen this before?" she asked.
    Once again, as with all movies and TV made prior to, oh, I'd say, probably the early to mid 80's, maybe a little later, maybe into the 90's, music was minimal, sound effects were sharp and the sound production of conversation and voices in general was so clear that we both commented, at one point, that we weren't reading the subtitles. With many current movies (within the last 5 years), I've thought I was developing a hearing problem; but, I'm not. For some reason, the current sound fashion is garbling. Weird. If you get a chance rent the movie, if for no other reason than the stunning opening. You'll see what I mean when you watch it. I had completely forgotten about how it opens and was delighted as though I'd not before viewed it.
    The cranberry almond bread is wonderful. We "tested" half slices two ways immediately: Without anything and with a spur of the moment, stroke of genius spread I invented that is a dried cranberry, orange extract, butter, honey puree. I will publish both recipes over at the food site eventually.
    I have to go to Costco, today. Mom is eating more eggs and we're running out by surprise. It wouldn't hurt, as well, to pick up an extra box of large paper underwear. Shit. I'm sitting here watching the weathercast and it's gonna be raining. Which I love, except that my beleaguered windshield wipers began to shred yesterday. I guess I'd better pick some up and install them. But, I'll have to drive, first.
    I feel like taking a leisurely shower this morning. And, I have the time.
    Later.

    We watched The Dirty Dozen last night [as well as The Bells of St. Mary's (which Mom remembered seeing) and she made it through the first 45 minutes of Oklahoma! (I watched it all)]. No, it's not one we'll be adding to our collection. Truth is, before a few days ago when I saw an ad preview for it I could have told you it was some kind of male conflict movie, but not whether it was western or war and would not have been able to name the cast. I probably would have gotten it mixed up with The Magnificent Seven, about which I also know next to nothing: Based on The Seven Samurai; bonding movie for regular Cheers crowd; that's it.
    The preview that caught my eye featured a particular character, the description of which played a multi-layered chord in my life involving part of the character's name. Anyway, the description of the character intrigued me so I had to watch the movie.
    Mom was game. She admitted she doesn't "particularly care for" war movies but found what Robert Osborne had to say interesting and leaned into the TV when the movie started.
    Funny thing about war movies...their character and focus is determined by which war they're about. This particular movie brought that home to me. The military on which this movie is built is the military of those wild, rugged, individualistic small town men of the period. It is a military of strategy over rules and fierce pride in "doing the job". It's the military of my mother. I wish I could remember what particular scene it was that provoked my mother to laugh out loud. All I remember is that it was in the first third of the movie when the strategy was being hatched and it was a piece of military rigmarole designed to allow the broadest possible means to an end, the end being a highly moralistic value. Although, having been cued by Osborne that there is a hint of The War Debate in this film, nested in the implication that war is best fought by the unbalanced and the criminals in society, the film is clearly a "pat us on the back" movie not a "what were we doing" movie, as all the Vietnam war movies have been, in one way or another. Even We Were Soldiers is a caution-in-arrears tale, despite seeing itself as a showcase for bravery.
    As can be expected, during certain portions of the movie she "looked for something", never really pulling her attention away from the movie long enough to realize she was looking for cigarettes. All things considered, I was surprised how few times cigarettes were smoked in the movie.
    I'm letting Mom determine her own waking time today. She's been doing very well on her own the last more than a couple days. Yesterday she had a pretty much uninterrupted 12 hours (her naps were miserly affairs) ending at midnight.

    A Piece of Family History - I:  Probably uninteresting to anyone but members of the family, and then only a select few. Not a story, no point, just a piece of history. My grandfather created a speech 'short cut' (I use apostrophes because, at least in the example I'm about to use, it is not a short cut). Instead of saying a word, such as "up", twice to exclaim for people to do one's bidding, one says, instead, for example: "Double up", as in the phrase of which my mother was reminded which prompted her to tell me this piece of history, "Double up, Lucy..."
    I asked her about the "Lucy", as I recall she had a cousin named "Lucille" who played, with talent, the violin, contracted a "brain fever" as a child in India when her parents were on mission there (not LDS, Methodist), developed a variety of strange behaviors as a result of her bout with the disease, one of which was laughing uncontrollably. But, no, Lucille was not invoked, although apparently the above was a line in a short poem my grandfather would spurt every time someone said, specifically, "Up, up...". However, he also used "double" to 'shorten' other doubled words.

    So, I took a break, back there. She arose at a little before noon, almost exactly 12 hours, of her own accord. Was eating by 1300. Is, now, as I write, napping through a ferocious rainstorm while I'm backing Almond Cranberry Yeast Bread in the bread machine. I happened to notice that the yeast "expired" Sept 2004, and, anyway, I usually buy fresh yeast in very small amounts when I use it. But it had been in the refrigerator, barely opened, so I used it, then remembered I had a packet of yeast in the cupboard which was much fresher. I hope the bread turns out. If not we have enough ingredients and it is a simple enough process that I will repeat it with the fresh yeast.
    With the cooperation of the yeast, the bread should be rich (egg) and slightly sweet with a distinct almond aroma, loaded with dried cranberries. White flour all the way. I might puree some cranberry-honey butter (oooh, if I do remind me to publish the recipe...this stuff is divine) spread.

    I am, frankly, glad Mom is observing a low key day in order to keep from having to look out at the rain. According to the revised forecast, which only barely indicated rain today, we are now in for six days of rain and a seventh of snow. I, of course, am internally ecstatic. My mother has dismissed this information as though it will be only a bad dream. For her benefit I will keep the house warm and bright and I'll bake a lot; maybe put up a variety of pot pies. If any of the stuff turns out well, I'll dash off the recipe at the companion food journal and mention it over here.

    I was thinking we'd go down to Mesa for an interim check-up appointment next week but I don't now think it's necessary. If she continues to remain UTI free I think we'll wait until after the next labs; see how she looks. I talked to MCS today about how Mom seems to be going through another revival [perhaps it would be more 'medically' accurate to say 'a remission of old age syndrome']. She agrees with me that Mom's "Chronic Renal Failure" sounds like it's in the early stages and, good as her heart is and improving as her pulmonary system is, it's anybody's guess what might take the woman out. It might take an Act of God to get this woman to leave her bed behind. Sometimes I wonder if my mother's idea of heaven is the ability to sleep and dream whenever one wishes.

    A Piece of Family History - II: More Peelings off the Family Stick:  It seems that one of my father's ancestors in North Carolina fought for the Union during the Civil War. He died two years into the war; not sure if he died on the battlefield. I mention this in case any family are reading. This is the "bastard" (in quotes because my father's side of the family includes much bastardry and inbreeding) of whom MCS has previously spoken, the one named after a mysterious, disappeared Hudson and birthed by a mysterious woman who was so inordinately proud of her bastard son's sire in an age when such pride was considered foolish that she gave her son his father's last name. Unfortunately we don't know after which Hudson sire the ill-fated William (he died at age 32) was named. On this side of the family it is more than likely his father was married...to someone other than his mother.

    Mmmm. The smell of baking bread...
    ...later.

but despite the two short naps it was a busy, engaging day. We still haven't taken down the Christmas tree, although it was mentioned twice yesterday. I headed that way during her first nap but something waylaid me. Anyway, I don't remember much of what we did although Mom was up a lot. I guess we watched at least one movie, maybe two. I remember watching something on TV in the evening on one of the educational channels that she and I were both interested in and discussed as it was rolling but don't remember what it was. I also remember that by the time Mom decided to retire around 2330 I was ready for bed, too, and decided, out loud, to leave all end of the day chores until this morning. After readying Mom for bed I don't think I even peed before I stripped, snugged down and slept.
    We were going to do some baking, too, something with berries, probably muffins or maybe lemon berry bread. We never found time.
    Good day, even though the specifics weren't memorable. I do remember she moved a lot yesterday, walking around the house, throwing Kleenex in the trash, moving her magazines and crossword puzzle books back and forth. I was very pleased to see this and tried to:

1. Stay out of her way;
2. Follow her at a distance, and;
3. Not discourage her or jump in to do something she wanted to do.

There was only one stunt I stopped her from doing and took over: She decided, after lunch, to pile her hands and arms up with dishes (before standing, I might add) and take them to the kitchen sink, up two steps and across two differing floor surfaces. "Nope, nope, nope," I said. "You can follow me into the kitchen if you want the exercise but I'm doing the busing," I said. She didn't argue.
    Later we watched the weather channel for awhile. Suddenly, during one of the local broadcasts, my mother gave me a sly glance and says, "Who do they read the forecast out loud for?"
    I autonomically responded, "Those who are blind and watching TV." Before I'd finished the sentence I'd burst into laughter, taking her point.
    After we settled down we discussed that, now-a-days (versus the days when TVs were few and far between) there are probably a lot of the blind 'watching TV', in part because they live within TV saturated families and in part because TV is only partially a visual experience.

    I took off early this morning to purchase a humidifier filter at Target. I noticed, once I exited the driveway, that I am much calmer about leaving Mom alone than I am when I'm around her in the house. It's very hard to tear myself away but, once torn, I know she's fine and I often extend my trips a bit without worry. Reviewing this while I was driving, I decided to take a lesson from it. I think, though, considering how much better she seems to feel, that she'll be getting out and about, slowly but surely, soon.
    Damn, this woman never fails to amaze me!

    Either a storm is approaching or it's here, I'm not sure which. It's had a long, low front which has kept our weather unusually warm for this time of year. I'm going to have to claw the herbicide into our ground soon. Probably after this storm passes. No rain yet but we had rain day before last when it was supposed to be sunny and windy. It's very cloudy. I'm sure Mom's feeling it.
    Sounds like she's up. Yep. Later.

...powerful and benign. I don't know why, I suddenly felt the need to mention this.

    It's possible we'll be doing semi-formal physical therapy sessions again. If so, I'll be recording progress and posting it over at the =>Moving =>Mom site, again. Thought I'd mention that. For you and for me.

...I went into a spontaneous, personal, yet literate rant about medications and the elderly while I was reporting Mom's statted lunch, today.
    Today's been a bit strange although I wonder if some of that strangeness is due to me continuing to feel as though I am encased in a sick box. Mom shows absolutely no signs of getting whatever it is I've got. Thank the gods. Yes. I'm going to try to get her down to see the FNP in a couple of weeks. This time we will get her a flu shot. If they have enough serum I'll get one, too, but if not, I'm not going to worry. With this illness, anyway, my lungs remain unaffected. Perhaps it's because we are now living in a non-smoking household.
    Although she took two mini-naps today she's been unusually alert and active (I've been the lackadaisical one). I'm not sure if it's the rise in her iron supplementation or the fact that I can tell from the clarity of her urine that her UTI is gone; maybe a combination of both, maybe simply a Fifth or Sixth Wind. I don't care. I think we'll go with it.
    Hold on...let me check something.
    Hmmm...although I can't find what I'm looking for, it was either the recitation or synopsis of a conversation she and I had a few days ago regarding her rediscovery of the deaths of a variety of people, and me patiently filling her in and telling her not to worry, I would update her whenever she needed to be updated, and, as well, assuring her that she didn't always have these "blanks", as she was calling them.
    Today while we were bathing her she suddenly looked directly at me, terribly worried, and said, "Well, what are we going to do now that Mother's gone?"
    I quickly adjusted. "What do you think is going to change, Mom?"
    "Well, she was the last one and now she's gone. Now, it's just you and me."
    "Well, yes and no," I explained. "There's also your other three daughters and their families. And your three cousins in Iowa and your cousin and cousin-in-law in California. My entire generation is here."
    Consternation. "But, you're of my generation."
    "Well, Mom, no, truly, thank you for the compliment, I would have loved to have been a part of your generation, but I'm your daughter."
    Indignance. "Well, yes!"
    Okay, slight readjustment. "Anyway, you know, Grandma's been dead for I think at least 15 years."
    Shock. "What do you mean?!?"
    "I mean, you and I have been doing very fine for 15 years since Grandma died, on our own and together. We'll continue on like this. No changes. Everything is fine."
    Settling. Visibly. "Well, good. I'm sure glad you're here, girl. I don't know what I'd do without you."
    Okay. So. That was this morning. This evening before dinner when she was leafing through her new weekly batch of celebrity gossip tabloids and I was doing something at the other end of the table she announced, "Well, since they're all gone, I think we should do something."
    Whoa. Cool. Maybe some of her lethargy has been due to not quite feeling free of her roots. "Ummm...do you mean travel, maybe?"
    She looked at me as though this was a capital idea. "Well, yes, that, too."
    I teased her with a sly look. "What else do you have in mind?"
    "I think we need some changes." She paused. Thinking. "Tonight, I think I'll take the Christmas tree down."
    Double cool. "Absolutely. It's easy. We'll do it together."
    "I sure like those plants in the baskets up there." I put the azaleas in the hanging baskets on either side of the access between the dining and living areas.
    We didn't put the Christmas tree away. Forgot about it. Hmmm...oh, yeah, we got caught up in Judging Amy. But there's always tomorrow.
    So, maybe it's also early spring fever. I've got the fever, she's got the spring.
    Oh, yeah. I lucked into a copy of Driving Miss Daisy today. I also 'lucked into' a copy of Pretty Woman, and, to be fair, bought it. We watched the former today. We were both excited. I imagine we've seen this movie at least four times, maybe more. When the theme starts we spontaneously look at each other and smile. It's a gem of a movie on several levels, an experience each time. Anyway, I'll be entering those and a few others at the movie site over the next day or so. I'm curious to see how many times I've mentioned Driving Miss Daisy.
    Later.

    Those were my mother's parting words to me when I roused her briefly at 0915 to let her know I was heading out to the grocery and Costco and would be back between 1130 and noon, and would awaken her as soon as the car was unloaded.
    So we had Costco danish this morning. Yesterday I switched stats from dinner to lunch. I'm very curious, after a Just Desserts Dinner last night and a sweet roll this morning, what sort of numbers she'lll have when she awakens to lunch, which, believe me, is going to be light, today. And Cobb Salad tonight. I think I can generate the energy for that. I purchased a superb black bean/corn Mediteranean salad that I thought I'd made the highlight of the Cobb salad. Add some of the more colorful vegetables, you know, radishes, carrots, green pepper just because it tastes so damn good raw, a few greens on the bottom, I think I've got a boiled egg in the refrigerator, some fresh ranch dressing over the stuff that's not dressed, and I bought some roasted garlic hummus and pita chips...perfect to substitute for the corn chips I usually use instead of croutons.
    As my mother would say, someone must be hungry. Actually, I'm not. I'm thinking of all the work this will involve, when I can take my next ibuprofen and diphenhydramine (I think that is the correct spelling), how I can cut away some of the work, if I lay down now would I be able to get any kind of a nap in, even a relaxing session, it's cloudy and raining, maybe she'll have a longer nap, then again, I'm continuing to hear her cough...maybe she's already up...maybe I can take a little nap while she's up...she's pretty alert today, I think she would be okay left to her own devices for an hour, maybe in front of Dances with Wolves with an array of things for lunch, you know, yoghurt, some bread and butter pickles, V-8 juice w/cinnamon; so, how can I streamline this dinner project...
    Ah. She's up. So, all questions will be answered momentarily and in the moment.
    Later.

...we're running out and we can't run out of that! So here I am, up, showered, shivering, I just medicated the hell out of myself (three ibuprofen to address body aches, to settle my throat a little so I can talk and lower what I imagine is a low grade fever; one diphenhydramine to turn off the sinus faucet, one shot of Clear Eyes so that I don't look as though I am suffering from malarial delirium...and off to Costco. For a very short trip. Damn, she goes through these things fast. I just got a box of the Large size a few days ago and we're needing more. That size is the size by which I double her up when she sleeps, though, and, well, although she has been sleeping at the more generous end of her sleep scale she's also been doing it in more than two sessions a day. A little nap here, a little nap there, if I hear her heading for the bathroom in the middle of the night, which she's been doing a lot, lately, thanks to the Detrol, which amplifies her bladder's signals that she needs to urinate, thus, awakens her so she urinates in the bathroom and not in her bed; although, unfortunately, she has an old bladder that sometimes says, "Ah, to hell with it, I'm comfortable, she's old, she doesn't want to get up, I'll just unload here."
    I remember remarking yesterday to my mother while I was once again squatting between her legs coaxing her feet, one by one, through the holes in a pair of paper underwear, "Seems like I've been spending an awful lot of time squatting at your feet, lately, Mrs. Hudson. I'll be glad when your urinary tract infection is cleared up."
    The combination of her memory dementia, her continued intelligence and her life experience (which remains intact) sometimes expresses itself in an automatic, mindless wisdom, especially when her attention is elsewhere. It did yesterday morning in response to what I said above: "Well, don't worry, you'll find something else to do to me that'll require this of you."
    We also had a new edition of our "You Won't Ever Be Able to Take a Bath Again" conversation. She initiated it. "I sure do miss taking a bath," she said.
    "I know. It's not a question of strength anymore, Mom. Now it's because of your pronounced tendency toward urinary tract infections. Do you understand how it is this works?"
    "I know, I know."
    "I've got an idea, though. If we can find just the right sized raiser, it might work in this bathtub; once you were squeaky clean all over..."
    ...she knows what this means...she shudders when I say this...
    "...I don't see any reason why you can't sit in a tub of hot water right after your bath."
    "Will there be enough hot water for that?!?"
    "Oops! Good point. No. When we start looking into having the bathroom remodeled we should consider getting a larger water heater or maybe having one of those new ones that heat water as needed super quick."
    She looked at me in confusion. "Bathroom remodeled?!? Who's idea was that?!?"
    I'm not fazed. This happens all the time, sometimes in the worst of circumstances. "Well, actually, Ken first suggested it. You and I have discussed changes we'd like to make. Remember when we got some ideas from that handicapped shower in the Motel 6?"
    "I'm not handicapped!"
    "You're also not an athlete and athletes pamper themselves with amenities that make physical life easier and more pleasant. Why shouldn't you?"
    "Well, when you put it that way..."

    Oh, man, I don't want to do this today. Luckily, I've got an hour before I actually have to go.
    Mom is finally 'getting better'. I can see it. She is awakening earlier. It is not uncommon for me to place breakfast in front of her before noon. In case she awakens today, I'll rouse her before I leave, let her know what I'm doing, tell her she "can sleep until I get back, between 1100 and 1130, and I'll wake you up." This relaxes her and, normally, she either awakens as the car drives into the carport, or her eyes are open when I dash in the house to check on her before I unload the car.
    I'm hoping moving around will jog me into feeling a little better or, at least, a little more lubricated. The Little Girl was not on my bed this morning when I awoke which means I had a really restless night. And, of course, I set my alarm. When it went off I was in a sort of down comforter womb in a fetal position, shivering. Aching...ohhhhn. Good day to watch Jacob's Ladder.
    I made that muffin mix berry thing. It turned out kind of like a stiff berry custard. It was delicious with freshly hand whipped (with a whisk) cream. I started writing down the recipe but decided that it really was a little too weird to publish. I can't guarantee that it will always turn out the way it turned out last night.
    Later.

...in the form of OTC sleeping pills - one 25 mg pill; probably about 4 years old. I couldn't find the original packet. It worked. I was having such trouble with sneezing and coughing and thought if I could divest myself of these I wouldn't be swallowing my own spit so much and my sore throat would be a little easier to bear. I expected to be taking a nap at this time because dyphenhydramine always makes me sleepy. The coughing and sneezing and runny nose went away, thank god, although the sore throat did not. I am feeling very draggy but it's sort of pleasant. I got all my chores done in a daze while Mom read the lastest issue of Oprah at the kitchen table. We discovered, too, that apparently there is no longer a Cold Stone Creamery in this area. The closest one, apparently, is now Sedona. It looks as though this franchise bit the dust after moving from the Minor Old Mall to the Major New Mall, just after Baskin Robbins opened a location in Prescott Valley. I guess this area is a Baskin Robbins area. Too bad. So that took care of the Valentine's Cake. Damn, and I was beginning to savor the idea of Cinnamon Red Hot ice cream melting down my throat!
    Mom seems to be observantly sympathetic to the way I feel, today. I'm amazed; I must look like shit.
    Maybe we'll do movies, later. I found an old blueberry muffin mix in the cupboard, Krusteauz, so it's probably not too offensive. MFS bought it when she was here last, in 2002, I think. I vaguely recall something cautionary in the news about blueberries in blueberry muffin mixes but I'll probably toss theirs and use some of the raspberry/marionberry/blueberry frozen mix in the muffins...maybe dredge the moist berries in light sugar before dumping them in the mix. Add some extra vanilla, make corrections for altitude...maybe Mom and I will snack out on berry mix muffins tonight if I can get myself moving again.
    Something a little scary that I'm noticing...what I tend to think of as arthritis in my knees, feet, and probably in my hands, has eased considerably since I took that sleeping pill and so has the occasional aching down the side of my left leg. I suppose diphenhydramine is something of an analgesic but it's like I don't have what I was calling "arthritis" and the side-of-the-leg-thing that doesn't have a name, anymore. That's a little strange. We'll see what happens when I stop taking the pills and let them wear off. By this time in the day I'd be normally be considering taking a 600 mg dose of ibuprofen. I frequently take some kind of a dose of ibuprofen at night before I retire. I doubt that I'll be doing that this evening because I'm sure I'll be on dyphenhydramine all day.
    I've decided to track Mom's "least predictable (the VHP's designation) blood sugar reading, which is the lunch reading. It is, I am partly sure, unpredictable because the more Mom sleeps, the more likely that the outside range of breakfast and dinner is often 7 hours, sometimes just over 6, which is barely adequate for her medication to optimally work. She's not moving all that much either, as she was before. So, her middle of the day reading is always likely to be unlikely. We've tracked her evening readings, which can be blippy, for a couple of weeks and those look stable. Now, time to see if observation will give me some ideas on how to work to lower her midday blood sugar. I started today. I just served her lunch and took stats. The results will be posted over at Mom's Daily Tests and Meds shortly.
    Later.

    I so rarely entitle my posts with something conventionally cheery and I'm feeling a bit dour, this morning, so I thought I'd indulge myself in a bit of irony. I've had plans to recognize Valentine's Day this year: Mom saw a picture, last week, in the coupon section of the Sunday paper, of a Cold Stone Creamery Valentine's Day Cake and she's been day dreaming over that coupon section since last Sunday, keeping it meticulously on the eating side of the table. I called the "800" number, since I couldn't get through to the local number: Unless you want writing, you don't have to pre-order the cakes; they have a variety of cakes in a variety of sizes available. My plan was to pick one up this afternoon, while she was napping, for dinner tonight, a Valentine's Day Just Desserts Dinner. I haven't said anything, I was waiting to see how her health, and thus her appetite, played out; They've been hearty. In fact, I think, right now, my illness demonstrates that her immune system is better than mine.
    So, I spent yesterday becoming progressively sick. I think today is going to be the peak of whatever bug I have: Sore throat, very tired, probably a little fever as I awoke sweating this morning and, believe me, I keep my bedroom quite cold in the winter, luckily no lung involvement neither yesterday nor today but some kind of bizarre stomach thing, including cramps and diarrhea last night at an unfortunate time. I awoke wasted late this morning.
     Nonetheless, we had a pretty good day yesterday; slow, but good, mostly watching movies. Throughout the day we saw two and a half movies: The last half of Chocolat, the first half of which we'd seen the night before; What Dreams May Come, with which we were only peripherally pleased (our reactions to which I'll record on the movie site); Boys on the Side, which was, as always, delightful. The last movie ended about 2200. During the last half hour I'd begun to notice that my intestines were beginning to cramp. Not connecting it with actually being sick (the sore throat, stuffy, blah, blah, blah feeling), I decided to spend a couple of hours taking home remedies for the stomach problem, thinking it might have been dinner (no, one of the "home remedies" is not purging...it was too late for that, anyway).
    Around midnight, when I was over the hump and recuperating from the worst of the stomach problems, Mom floated into the living room, turned her rocker to face me (usually, the rocker is facing the TV), I noticed she was clearly troubled by something, and she said, "You've got to straighten me out about the two weeks I seem to have lost!"
    I had to scramble a little to understand this even though I knew it was connected with her memory. Over the last several days she's remembered Grandma, her mother, as though she is alive. She has also remembered several other people alive including her sister and her brother. She remembered some surprising ones as dead: A first cousin who had diabetes his entire life (died in 2003); Her only brother-in-law; her only on-her-side sister-in-law; her father and, of course, her husband and her husband's relatives; the daughter of one of her cousins.
    I won't repeat the conversation as I often do. Suffice it to say, it lasted until she went to bed at 0200. It was agonizing for her because, even as I filled in details she was so agitated she'd forget them and we'd restart the conversation as if anew. The only aspect of all this of which she understood, although I didn't think she would, is that she is not missing two weeks, she's missing about 20 years.
    I also characterized her forgetfulness in detail:

• I explained to her that she never completely forgets anything. The character of her forgetting, I told her, changes. There are some days when she remembers everything except what happened a few minutes ago. There are some days she remembers only what happens a few minutes ago (although those days are exceedingly rare). Some days she remembers that her parents are dead; but, then she remembers someone else who is dead as not being dead.
• Although she rarely expresses it, I know that when she is agitated over this her underlying, massive concern is that she is "going to end up like Mother," who probably did have Alzheimer's and spent 6 months in a fetal position in a nursing home prior to her death. I always address this whether she mentions it or not, as I did last night: Telling her that her memory loss is stable, has a completely different profile than Alzheimer's and, as well, she is neither losing herself nor others she sees regularly, as is typical with the Alzheimer's demented.
• I explained to her that some bouts of memory problems stem from not having enough oxygen so it's important that she not take the oxygen cannula out at night (she's been doing this the last few nights).
• I assured her many times that she doesn't need to worry about her memory lapses. I am her memory and I will see to it that she remembers what she needs to when she needs to. I will also store in my memory all those things she has trouble remembering.

    As a footnote, at one point in this long and involved conversation last night she rummaged for cigarettes and we had yet another conversation about how she no longer smokes.

    Although she's not yet up, she was awake a bit ago. I checked in on her. She does not remember her memory anxiety last night. She is tired, she mentioned she "can't figure out why", I reminded her of our late night conversation (not the specifics) and she said, "Oh, that's nice! I don't think I want to get up, yet."
    So, I'm feeling as though I'm in an enclosed Sick Box. My energy level is on the floor so I am going to do as little as possible and hope that Mom's energy level isn't too high. I'm not sure about Valentine's Day. I feel too miserable to shower and I can't go out without showering. I'm thinking I might need to take a nap late this afternoon when Mom takes her midday nap.
    Well, it looks like I'm getting a reprieve this morning, which I need. I just peaked in on her and she's still sleeping. Good. I need some time to be alone and sick. Sometimes, you know, I think she senses when I need time alone and purposely grabs that as a chance for extra sleep. When I think about this I resolve to try to keep her from having that excuse, but, eventually, when I really, really need time alone, I think we collude.