Mom & Me Three Archive

...today's Breakfast Stats post contains a rundown about an interesting little phase Mom experienced throughout her "morning", in case you're interested; not too much different than normal, but I concluded from both parts of it that today I'm not one of her daughters, although I'm not sure who I am. At least, during these phasings, I remain familiar to her. That's a relief.
    I'm hoping to have some time to report in depth about a few items later today. Despite Mom having a prone day, today (the above post explains why), my attention is turned to a variety of things that need to be done or topped off.
    Later.

...is that certain movie reviews come into sharp perspective because of the constant stream of Animal Planet and National Geographic programs flowing through one's home. Day before yesterday the much awaited by Mom movie March of the Penguins arrived in stores. I had to make a supply run to Costco and picked up a copy of the movie. I noticed the blurbs on the cover, "Astonishing! Unbelievable! Riveting! Amazing!" and thought, whoa, this must break new ground in animal films. Well, it doesn't. Although we will keep the film because Mom found it as entertaining as watching the two aforementioned channels, by the end of our first viewing Mom thought she was watching television. Nothing about the movie is astonishing, unbelievable, riveting or amazing to anyone who watches animal programs regularly on television, including the excellent narration by Morgan Freeman, the mind boggling photography, the story of the life cycle of Emperor penguins, the landscape footage, nothing. I'm surprised that film critics across the board seem to lack exposure to animal footage and filming techniques. While it's true that filming in Antarctica, one of the top few harshest environments on earth, had it's special challenges that allowed for the invention of groundbreaking filming techniques, if you watch animal shows regularly you are aware that every wild environment has challenges that require photographers to invent and adapt and reconnoiter their equipment on the spot.
    Today's Breakfast Post contains a rundown on a recent injury I sustained and my mother's and my efforts to live through the healing. Although telling about it was prompted by my mother's blood pressure this morning, my mother's reaction to my injury all day yesterday and today has rent my heart. This part I didn't talk about at the previous post. I empathize to the nth degree with her fears. Despite her independent spirit, she is, now, extremely dependent on me physically. When I can't squat and rise, thus turning bathing into something of a physical comedy routine, when I autonomically wince going up and down our steps, when I know better than to try to bend my right leg into the position required to drive, thus can't, for instance, pick this or that up from the store at my mother's request and when I am overly cautious with my mother when she moves around because I'm using the knee bandage instead of her (this episode has taught me that we need two) and I want to make sure that she doesn't do anything that might cause her to fall because I wouldn't be able to squat to lift her off the floor, all of these contingencies bring into laser-sharp focus how much we both count on me to remain healthy and free of injury. Even, as in this case, when I know that within a few days I'll be good as new, my mother experiences anxiety over my temporarily lowered ability to tend to her in a care-free (hyphen important) manner. This, in itself, is an excellent reason for our society and others who are currently ignoring their Ancient Ones and those who take care of them to turn in on themselves and consider how important it is to incorporate those in the advanced stages of aging into some kind of a framework that does not allow for the intense isolation most caregivers now experience. While there are some (on the lower end of "some") resources available, while there are pockets of different cultural communities here and there in our nation that silently require all their members to incorporate their Ancient Ones into a strong caring and support network, for most of us caregivers in this nation (including parents, by the way) support requires that we do the footwork. Unacceptable. When one's feet are positioned firmly toward an intense needs Ancient One, attempting to turn toward support often causes us to loose our footing with our Ancient One and someone risks, well, a knee injury, figuratively and sometimes literally.
    While I'm on the subject, although I know caregiver support groups function well for some people, let me tell you why many of us caregivers don't "take advantage" of these opportunities. One reason: When I can maneuver a few moments to myself the one thing I don't want to do it focus on caregiving. I don't want to focus on anyone else's caregiving and I don't want to focus on my own caregiving. I always have it in the back of my mind, anyway, even if I am doing something that appears not to be related. I certainly find it therapeutic to write about my experiences here; I even relish the opportunity and miss it when I can't "get back" here on my fairly regular schedule. When I'm with other people, though, even caregivers, I don't want to talk about caregiving. I want to hear and ask questions about someone's recent brain surgery, as I did the other day. I want to joke about almost anything except caregiving. I want to hear political and spiritual opinions, especially those with which I don't agree. I want to notice someone's jewelry and comment on it. I want to relate the story of my many-be-earringed ears. I want to laugh with a stranger in a parking lot over a bizarre bumper sticker. I want to fuss and flirt and engage in fanciful talk. And, I do. I do not, I repeat, I absolutely do not want to talk about caregiving, unless it's with people like my treasured Fed-ex delivery lady with whom I've forged a share-stories-of-taking-care-of-parents relationship. Although I suppose this could be considered a type of caregiving support "group", it is completely informal and we talk about other things. As well, she and I are honed in on each other and only each other when we cross each other's paths. Since our "meetings" aren't planned there is always an element of delighted surprise when we get a chance to chat. We both turn back to our lives feeling revived. And, we don't have to practice polite and often fake compassion for several other people while we are indulging in real, focused compassion for one another. Finally, our meetings usually take place when I am in the middle of caregiving. Thus, I don't have to set aside precious "time for myself" in order to talk and listen about caregiving.
    For caregivers like me, and there are many, communicative caregiving support works best (for lots of reasons) on an informal, day-to-day, surprise level.
    The Mom's up from her nap.
    Later, by surprise.

...an interesting little Dementia-Lite glitch.
    When my mother was in the hospital and skilled nursing facility last August I removed all her jewelry, which included her engagement and wedding rings. The day she left the skilled nursing facility I brought these items with me so she could leave fully bejeweled. She put on all her jewelry herself. A month or so later I noticed that when she replaced her wedding rings she put them on her right hand. I mentioned the discrepancy to her and, said that I found the misplacement interesting because in some cultures when someone is widowed they move their wedding rings from their left to their right hand.
    She was startled; not that I reminded her of Dad's death but that I thought her rings were on the wrong hand. Not only did she insist that she had placed them correctly, she "remembered" that the rings had never left her hand "since the day your father put them there" and that she had worn them in the medical facilities. Although this particular pair of rings is her second pair, the "upgrades" which my father purchased for her on Guam several years into their marriage, and, as well, every time she's been hospitalized since we've been living together I've been entrusted with keeping her jewelry, I didn't argue.
    To this day, her wedding and engagement rings remain on her right ring finger.

...and let you know that I'm hoping to do a catch-up post here later today. Aside from being pretty busy the last few days, I've also been engaging in some deep thought prompted by our Thanksgiving adventures and misadventures. I wanted to work my way into my usual less removed state before I wrote about what happened and my reactions.

    I've been adding minor detail about our days over at Mom's Daily Tests & Meds if you want to check up on how Mom's been doing.
    Must take a short shopping trip.
    Later.