God will take care of you.....

Last week we took my mom to the neurologist.  The trip didn't go poorly,  exactly.  It seemed a little fruitless-  we went on the advice of mom's general practitioner to see if any of her physical ailments of late could be connected with her dementia.  In the end  he performed a variety of tests,  diagnosed her with Alzheimers,  and offered us more medicine.  It was good that we went,  but it wasn't an appointment full of earth-shattering revelations. 

Nor was it full of impeccable bedside manner.  Most of mom's doctors are bastions of acceptance and caring.  It's why they remain her doctors.  So perhaps I'm spoiled.  This doctor was not unfriendly,  but neither was he very amiable. 

Even that is not why I find myself toying with firing him,  however.  That is because of how he ran the appointment.  Throughout the appointment,  he continued to offer to prescribe medicine,  to suggest treatment options,  and to recommend therapeutic courses of action-  to me. 

He offered me anti-psychotics if mom became agitated or confused.  He recommended melatonin if she wandered at night. 

Throughout the appointment I was left with the distinct impression that he was not searching for ways to improve my mother's life,  but to make her more manageable for me.

It is as if he had given up on ever helping her,  so his goal was to make her as easy for me to deal with as possible.

It almost seemed like he treated the appointment as if she,  instead of having an illness,  were an illness.

When I told him we wanted to avoid anti-psychotics,  he told everyone did,  but if she became too out of control they might make things manageable.

When I told him we planned on avoiding a nursing home for as long as humanly possible,  he told me everyone said that.  He flat out said that delaying nursing home placement was the end goal of any treatment.   

Alzheimers is an incurable disease,  I understand that.  I am not that naive.  My mother however,  is not a burden.  She is not a disease.

If she had an incurable cancer,  would he treat her as a foregone conclusion?  Would he try to help her anyway,  to try and prolong her health as long as possible,  to try and make her comfortable,  to allay her fears,  or would he tell me that the best he could do is maybe delay the inevitable and then offer to give her pills so I could sleep?

What is it about Alzheimers that dehumanizes our loved ones in the eyes of society?  What is it about this disease that makes it alright for them to be controlled not treated? 

The appointment was not entirely bad.  He did offer some practical assistance and advice,  and it is possible I misread him or caught him on a bad day. 

He will probably receive one more chance.  If this performance repeats however,  it will be time to seek out a new neurologist.  If you are treating my mother,  then your job is to treat my mother.  Otherwise,  you may be fired. 


That is her right.  It's my job to ensure that she gets it. 

Just an everyday girl.....

So i just read that a friend read at least one post on here.  (Hi Kate!)  That's progress.  :)

I suppose since it was today,  maybe it's time to write that single's conference post I talked about a few weeks ago.

Except that i just realized i don't want to.  So let's sum it up thus:  i was invited to a church single's conference.  It was tempting,  for a time to go.  To hang out with other singles,  and just be young and carefree for a night. 

Then i realized how young many people there might be.  It may sound strange,  but does anyone else see that almost generational gap between your early twenties and your early thirties? 

I really saw it one night,  when I went out with three girls.  One was my age,  and the other two were barely into their twenties.  When i entered the car,  the twenties were giggling.  They confessed that they were a little tipsy.  They continued to giggle and goof for the duration of the drive to wherever we were going at the time. 

It occurred to me at some point that i just wasn't connecting with them.  It occurred to me that they just seemed silly,  and that i'd actually rather be home,  hanging out near mom and either watching real tv with bubs or bad internet tv alone.  It wasn't judgment,  it wasn't elitism,  it was just.....  distance,  a lack of relation. 

So when part of my turning my "maybe" at the single's conference website to a "no" was probably just fear and shyness.  Part of it,  though,  was not really wanting to spend that time hanging out with a bunch of young women who,  like me at that age,  desperately wanted to find the one. 

Would i like a life-mate?  Sure. 

Have i thought and prayed about it even recently?  Sure. 

Did i think chatting last night with my best friend about her matchmaking scheme was positively pleasant?  Sure. 

The last time i went on something that even remotely resembled a date was,  well before the last guy i went on something that even remotely resembled a date with moved on (literally and figuratively).  It's probably two years or more now. 

In truth,  i'm still a (quasi) normal female human.  That means that if God wanted to bring a husband my way,  i would say "thank You".

It's not the driving need it was in my early twenties though.  If it never happens,  that's God's will.  There are so many other things to spend my time on right now.  There are so many other ways to direct my heart.

So because of this,  and because i went to high school with the husband of the couple leading the conference ("Hey,  we're the same age and yet you're throwing a singles conference as a ministry for me-  yeah, no."),  and because it was a married couple leading the conference ("Hi,  i'm happily married but let me minister to you as a single.")  and because it seemed disloyal to my plan of waiting on the Lord,  i canceled. 

Tonight,  when i'm (Lord willing) hanging near mom and watching real tv with bubs or bad internet tv alone,  i hope i remember to stop and appreciate just where i am. 

(Please note that this post is in no way meant to be negative to single's conferences,  or early twenty-somethings,  or internet tv,  or anything.  It's just me thinking more on my life's journey.) 

Guess that was the post on the single's conference.  Maybe i'll get to why i want to dump mom's neurologist later. 

Life me up so high that i cannot fall.....

Thinking about what i'm about to write feels pretentious.  i know it is not set,  and i would be happy were it not to be realized.  It's just something i need to think through however,  so i'm going to write about it.  Catharsis anyone? 

i guess the point is that i feel as if my future life is a big muddle.   i'm happy to give this to God to straighten out.  Sometimes though,  at a Good Friday service,  and again recently,  i feel almost like i get flashes of an idea which may be the plan for my life.  There's some confusion in my brain regarding whether this is my imagination,  or something i should listen to.  And of course even as i process this,  i want God's will for my life whatever it may be.

i wish i could explain what i mean by a flash,   by that intrusion of a thought that you can't be quite certain isn't just in your brain but feels oddly significant. 

Here's the flash though-  that i may never get married and should live my life serving others.  That i could care for mom and my aunt and any other elderly person who lands on my stoop,  and maybe throw a few foster or adopted children into the mix.  That i ought to expend my energy in the care of others,  like Paul advises in the Bible to certain people,  without the distractions of marriage,  without the distractions of romance.  i just described it to an old friend as like a sort of voluntary Protestant celibacy. 

i formulate grand designs as to how this could work itself out.  i daydream about spearheading a cognitively stimulating and emotionally supportive nursing home for dementia patients,  one devoid of the use of chemical sedatives and room restrictions. 

i daydream about bringing an adult day center to my rural area so we don't have to transport our loved ones 45 minutes away to go to work. 

Yet i feel very inadequate to this sort of a calling.  i'm selfish,  i fall asleep early.  i like my comfort.  i can be downright emotionally unstable at times.

Dog is insistent that my reverie be superseded by his need to go potty.  So i'll leave all this in God's capable hand anyway. 

yes, it's another grocery store post.....

Today we went to the store.  That in and of itself was not out of the ordinary,  i go to the grocery store generally once a week.  It was slightly out of the ordinary,  however,  in the use of the pronoun,  we.  Today we went to the store.  Not me alone save God and a handful of coupons.  Nope,  today bubs was sitting in a trailer recording a music festival-  which meant mom went to the store with me.

Now we actually had a good time,  at least for much of the trip.  The parts that weren't really good were completely my fault as well.  The trip,  however,  painted to me yet once again the ways in which my life is reminiscent of motherhood,  but isn't.

There are several differences between shopping alone and shopping with mom.  Firstly is the elephant in the room,  the time factor.  From leaving the house to pulling into the driveway,  my shopping trip (in which we hit exactly one store though we did drive around some) took roughly three hours.  Roughly three hours to shop at one store approximately fifteen minutes away from home.

Mom likes to look at things.  She likes to find deals.  She likes to call me back to look at cheap prices.  This,  of course can be actually kind of fun,  as i try to cajole her to come along,  and we just enjoy each others' company.  However it can make for a quite slow trip through the store.  In one aisle a mildly attractive seemingly older man kept smiling at our verbal interplay.  It didn't appear to be the pitying or annoyed genre of smile,  more like a honestly amused and affectionate consideration of the cute little old lady sort of smile.  i fancied that he was the sort of guy who would treat someone like mom really well.  The amusing point the the interplay was when mom started intently perusing the coffee.  "Mom,  you have never drank coffee,"  i said,  or something close to it,  trying to move us down the aisle.  "Might be a good time to start" the man quipped before we parted ways.

Mom likes to suggest we buy various items.  The amusing part of this is that she will generally eventually intersperse such requests with pointed comments about how much i've put into the cart,  and questions about whether or not we have the money to purchase it all.  There's a lingering awkwardness to this part of the trip.  See,  if a mother is telling her child she can not buy cookies because the cart already hold too many sweets,  the average other shopper would not blink twice,  this is commonplace.  However,  when i have the same conversation with mom i sometimes wonder if my fellow shoppers are judging the horrible ogre who will not allow her mother to choose what she buys and what she eats.    They don't know that were i to let her put everything she wanted into the cart we would leave heavily laden and with much less money,  after which she might ask why it all was purchased.  They only see a grown woman ordering another grown woman around,  and dictating her culinary selections.

At the end of the trip,  we checked out at a register.  Mom chatted up the kindly young woman behind us,  who was patiently caring for her child while standing behind my (slightly less than normal but still rather fully) loaded cart and acting rather spacey.  By this point i was undergoing some anxiety about my health (though i know i'm fine sometimes the anxiety gets the better of me) and was nearing the end of my patience (which not long before i was commending myself on).  i was worried about having enough money (less in my account that i thought) and trying to watch this situation carefully.  By the time we were through (with money to spare-  woohoo!!) i was ready to leave.  Which i did. 

Mom however did not. 

She didn't want to go,  she was enjoying talking to people.  She also had a quarter,  i discovered when i gave up on her following me out.  She wanted to know what to do with it.  i tried giving it to the cashier who would not take it.  She told me it had to go to the customer service desk-  where no one was and a man was already waiting in frustration.  For a quarter that we wanted to leave in case anyone else needed it,  which in the end i was only doing to get mom to stop fixating and leave the store.  

With some semblance of pleading in my voice i commented to mom that i wanted to go home.  This is when it happened-  the cashier excused herself from the man she was waiting on,  took the quarter,  and put it on the customer service desk for me,  dismissing us.  It was just like the kindly cashier you might see taking pity on the young mother with the screaming child. 

Except that i. am. not. a. mother. and. my. mom. is. not. a. screaming. child.  She was actually in a good mood.  Yet the feeling was still there,  and it was odd.  Just something to note.  The action was very much appreciated too. 

Next weekend,  i hope to  have bubs with mom while i shop.  Though shopping with mom can be fun,  it transforms me form the powerful huntress to the harried mom.  i enjoy my weekly powerful huntress delusion.  i wonder if that's why you see so many single women in grocery stores.  It's a place where we can still be actively serving our homes while still getting alone time and reveling in delusions of grandeur.  Or,  perhaps i am reading too much into this. 

who i've become grocery store edition

"No problem,  before i was me i wouldn't want to be stuck behind me either." 

This (or something very nearly like it) was said to the young apparently college aged man behind me,  holding his few items,  after he thanked me,  after i offered to let him check out before me in the grocery store line. 

It's true you know-  i have become "that woman" at the grocery store. 

Today i felt kind of badly for the people behind me.  An elderly gentleman holding nothing but some garlic cloves,  a woman who wasn't certain she even had enough in her cart to satisfy the "5 dollars off a 50 dollar purchase" coupon i passed back.  i didn't need it-  i was already using the "25 dollars off a 150 dollar purchase" coupon. 

There was once a time when my hard and fast rule on grocery shopping was this-  if i can't carry it home myself then i shouldn't be buying it.  This was a fine rule when i was the twenty-something college kid.  i might spend $100 every two weeks,  with a $20 brush up purchase in-between.  Now i celebrate a little if my grocery ticket is in the $180 a week realm.  The goal now is not to carry all my purchases alone,  but to avoid the dreaded embarrassing double cart push-out. 

i am the woman with the full cart,  who separates orders and asks that they be bagged separately.  i'm the woman who asks to make sure that special really did ring through,  because that's the only reason that item was purchased.  The one who hands over a pile of coupons with each order,  and internally chortles with glee when the young cashier looks in awe at the number of coupons the machine spits out.  If you use them they provide them.  It's a wonderful system. 

i purchase flush-able wet wipes,  zip lock bags,  childrens' toothpaste,  childrens' soap,  cleaning supplies,  and pain pills.  At times i purchase ensure;  i've been known to be happy at the sight of a depends coupon.  i'm shopping for two elderly women,  an adult man,  two cats,  a dog,  and myself. 

i love my shopping trips.  There's something about combining deals and coupons to provide for your family that makes you feel fulfilled.  The store becomes my battlefield.  i smile and swerve about the other warriors bringing home their spoils to their families.

i talk to myself,  to the products and the coupons,  not caring who hears me or what they think.  i go in what's comfortable,  not minding if i look nice much of the time.  After all,  i'm not there to flirt,  i'm there for battle.  Fighting is ugly so why should it matter if i am pretty??

This is the shopper i have become,  despite not being a mother or a wife.  This is my weekly tradition,  and yet another blessing in this life i've come to love.

So yes young man,  purchasing beer on the way to a night out.  Before i was me i wouldn't have wanted to be behind me.  Now,  however i'm glad to have become who i am.  It may be many years yet before you realize how much fun shopping can be.
 

sorry, so

I toyed with apologizing that it has been so long since I've written.....  then remembered that no one reads this blog (yet) anyway. 

There is so much that I think to write as I go through my daily life- 

like the tail of hurricane Irene (hope that one is still forthcoming).....

like how much I adore my mom's doctor's office (not so much for their medical practice but for the bed-side manner of the nurses and receptionists.....

like how I don't understand why an insurance company would decline a ct scan for an elderly woman with mild dementia,  balance issues and an impending neurologist appointment (and the pleasure of hearing one of the aforementioned nurses assure me they would fight for us).....

like how I was invited to a single' retreat,  and just tonight officially told them no,  as I just can't bring myself to attend a single's retreat led by a married couple with a bunch of twenty-somethings who I may not really relate to.....

like the simple joy that watching mom interact with our vicious dog can bring,  who is so adorably devoted to her I've dubbed him dementia dog.....

like my thoughts on fund raising.....

like our adventures in flea treatment.....

Maybe all of these blog ideas will remain blog ideas,  maybe they will become blog posts. 

For now,  however,  I'm going to count this a blog post and head toward bed. 

Good night.