A Dead Dog and a Diary

I'm not sure now if words can adequately explain the range of feelings thrust upon me today by events out-of-my-control. I hope talking openly about the events will be cathartic and help me deal. It was a tough day, for sure.

In the past few entries I have talked openly about my mom's condition. I am sorry to say, in a few short days things have gone from bad to worse. There can be no doubt; I am looking out across the edge of an abyss.

I took my mom's car from her a couple weeks ago. At that moment she became completely dependent upon me. I now have to be sure she gets all that she needs. In this brief time 'groceries' became an issue. I took her to the store one day and we shopped for her. We bought $50 in groceries.

When I checked two mornings later it was all gone. I had noticed that she may have been feeding the dog her food. After each and every absence I would find her food in the dog's bowl. Ham, Turkey, pasta salad, dried pineapple, dried apricots. It was all mom's food; mixed with canned dog food. It was all in the dog's bowl. After days of pleading with her to NOT feed the dog her food; I finally put a sign on her refrigerator that read, 'Do NOT feed the dog YOUR food!' I am sorry to say, it was to no avail.

Yesterday morning as I was on my way to work I told her I did not know what to do. I had spent $100 in groceries in a few days; it all disappeared. I told her I thought I should take the dog, for the dog's protection, as she was over-feeding her. She cried and cried and told me not to take the dog. She told me the dog is all she has. She told me she wouldn't feed her anymore of her food. I had heard that many times before as I pleaded with her to understand that she was hurting the dog.

Now that her car is gone; I now not only have to provide for her needs but the timing of some of them, too. After her doctor's visit on Friday she now has medications that need to be taken at certain times. That has only complicated matters for me juggling my job, her needs and the timing of them. Not to say anything about the monitoring that I now see she requires. It's been an abrupt life change for me, you can be sure.

I decided last night that I could no longer take groceries to her as they would only be fed to the dog. I stopped on my way over before work in the morning at local McDonald's. I bought an egg McMuffin value meal with orange juice, no coffee. I drove the short drive to mom's and she unusually met me at the door. She opened the door, I said 'Good Morning, I brought breakfast for you.' She smiled and said, 'That's nice.'

I walked into the entry foyer and glanced into the living room. I saw Sammy, the pug, laying near the kitchen entry-way covered with a towel. It was a warm, very humid morning here; the air-conditioning in the house was not on. I asked, 'Mom, why do you have Sammy covered up with a towel?' Mom said, 'I want to keep her warm.' I asked, 'What do you mean, it's warm outside and warm in here?' She said, 'I just wanted her to be comfortable. Sammy was aging, deaf and familiar with me so it was not uncommon for her not to stir from a sound sleep on my arrival. I walked past her as I took mom's breakfast into the kitchen; pulled it out of the bag and told her to eat. Mom thanked me.

I walked over to the dog and reached under the towel to 'roust' her awake. She was unresponsive. I rubbed a little harder; again, no response. She was lying in a sleeping position, her front paws curled underneath her. I reached underneath her to see if she would respond. I am sorry to say, as I lifted her she did not. The floor was warm underneath her; she must have just died. I looked at mom and said, 'The dog is dead.' Mom said, 'I was just playing with her.' I said, 'I'm sorry, mom, she's gone.'

It was 7:30 and I immediately called my boss and told him I was sorry but would not be in as mom had an emergency. I could not possibly leave a dead dog in mom's living room; was unsure other than to bury her with what to do. I searched for a box, mom got a blanket. I dug a hole near where mom's last pug was buried and I buried Sammy. I cried and apologized as I did. I really tried to look out for the little dog, too. It was very heart-breaking. All that know me know how much I love pugs. I will never forget her passing and burial. I am so sorry for the dog, sorry for my mom, too. The dog had been her companion for 12 years. The dog had been very good for her.

After I buried the dog I set about some 'administrative' chores for my mom. I had changed her bank accounts to prevent her from sending money to 'illicit' charities. Two sources were 'covered,' one was not. I did what I could to cover that base; the VA advised me to download form, take to bank to initiate the process required for them. I followed their directions but need information on the form that could only possibly be located at mom's. I went there to look.

I looked more deeply and thoroughly through mom's desk drawers and hiding spaces than I had at any time before. I needed that benefits number to assure that her benefits get to where they need to be; so I can provide the help she so obviously needs. I am sorry to say, nowhere did I find any documentation of the benefit claim number; I am still searching.

Deep in one of her desk drawers I did find a spiral notebook labeled, 'Diary for Chris.' That would be me. I pulled it from the drawer and opened to the front page; no doubt, I was curious. On the first small, lined page she noted, 'My first thought in writing all this down is to say to you, 'So you thought you would have the last word.'' Oh my.

I took the spiral notebook with me after I gave mom her medication and put her to bed. My friend, Jeff, in Michigan called me soon thereafter on my ten minute drive back to my home. I told him of the diary; what I had read. I pulled into my driveway; pulled out the notebook and read random entries to him. We talked on the phone as I sat in the driveway for some time.

He was shocked by the passages I read. I advised him 'that's my mom.' He knows me well. My diary readings only confirmed; mom and I were two very different people. There was never any doubt she loved me, so sad to see her fade. We had a long talk about the 'culture' of our family; he understood things he may not have before. My life was always about how I 'reflected' on my mom; not how 'happy' I was. The diary pretty much confirmed that. It's very interesting. When people comment about how polite and respectful I am, my knee-jerk response is, 'My mom would be proud.'

Jeff's response to the diary passages; 'How sad.' It was clear the book was not meant to be read until after she passed. On the first page she wrote, 'My first thought as I begin this is; 'and you thought you would have the last word.' I can only surmise part of our internal 'half-empty/half-full' thing. After reading that line one of my first thoughts was, 'take this home and just burn it back in the woods.' At the same time it was, obviously, 'raw mom.' Given her current mental state and wanting to preserve ANYTHING that remains of who she was; I could not possibly destroy it.

I read some passages to Jeff as I sat in my car in my driveway. Jeff labeled the entries and comments as 'poison.' He told me how sad that my mom would want to strike at me like that; she wanted some control even from the grave. Perhaps a reason we have had our 'troubles.' So sad, indeed.

Jeff is my best friend in the world. He has shared so much with me. Our spirits seem entwined with not only our common Zodiac sign; but some deeper spiritual 'kismet,' too. Through many of our troubled times we have always been there for each other for support. Just last night he told me I was more important than his yard work. Sure sign of true friend!

THANK YOU, so much; for EVERYTHING!

I didn't ask him to change his plans for the evening; he sensed I needed some attention. I love him very much. We live 500 miles apart but the technology is great as we can keep in touch in different ways more than once or twice daily. Gotta love it; gotta love Jeff, too!

Thank you so much, my friend.

Just an update.

Hope all's well with everyone, too.

'night

Yesterday and Today

The picture above is my mom on 'my' island beach last Spring. It was 'Cinco de Mayo,' to be exact.

That place is in the far right distant foreground in the picture of my mom leaning against my car on a windy hilltop overlooking the river as seen below. The following pictures were taken today.







As I have spent more time observing and evaluating my mom the past few days it’s been interesting for me to talk to her. She remembers things from 60 years ago; yet her ‘here-and-now’ is gone.

I took her to the doctor yesterday. It had been almost a year-to-the-day since she had been in to see him. I took care of all the paperwork and guided her back to the examining room. This was a new experience for me as I had never taken her, or anyone other than me, to the doctor before. I know she really likes her doctor; my first meeting with him.

He made sure I knew he was not a board-certified geriontologist; yet most of his patients ‘qualified.’ He is very good; I liked him, too. He handled things very well. He made sure I knew things that she clearly didn’t understand. At one point he asked her if it was okay for me to respond to the same questions he would be asking her. She said, ‘Of course, he’s a good guy.’

He asked a few questions. She would nod yes, as I would shake my head, no. She told him she hated to come back in there and take up their time as she was doing fine and was never one to complain. He asked her if there was anything she thought was wrong and that she needed help with? She said, ‘No, everything’s working just fine.’ That is when I shed some tears. She happily can’t see what is so wrong. I did my best to hide the tears as she continued to respond to the doctor’s questions.

She needed some blood work and other lab work, too. I was directed to a waiting area as she went through the processes. I sat in a small ‘notch’ off the main waiting area. There were just five or six chairs there in an L-shaped format. A window to the lab area was off on the one side. I sat in a chair facing out towards the main office area, one of two facing that way.

A VERY LARGE gentleman and a small young girl came into the area to sit down. He sat off to my left next to another waiting patient. In light of the small confines of this notch he directed the young girl to sit next to me. The gentleman to his left was called and vacated the seat. She immediately went to his side. We waited for several minutes.

As we waited she told him she needed to go to the bathroom. He told her where it was and told her he might not be back when she was done as he might be called. He wanted to be sure she would be okay. He asked her, ‘You know what to do….’ She stopped him dead-in-his-tracks and said, ‘If anyone touches me I will scream.’ I chuckled and thought is was good she was taught that. She got up and went to the bathroom.

After she was gone I said to the VERY LARGE gentleman that it was ‘funny’ for me to hear that. I told him I was glad someone had taught her. He told me her mom did, and she REALLY could ‘scream.’ He then got called as she was still gone. I told him I would be sure she knew when she came back that he got called. I assured him I would not touch her. He thanked me as he left.
She got back and I told her he had been called. I smiled and then said, ‘and I promise I won’t touch you.’ She laughed as she knew I overheard. I didn’t tell her he warned me of her scream. Mom came back and we left.

Considering local traffic when I drove from the doctor’s office I made a turn in a direction I would not often make; a local short-cut. As I drove down the road I knew I would pass by a farm-lane of a place mom worked at MANY years ago. She had been a ‘private duty’ nurse for the family; caring for their aging matriarch. True to the local culture of this area this was a well-heeled family with deep roots and ‘old money’ in the community. Their family stories that mom told at the time were interesting, indeed.

Mom had probably never driven down that entrance to the property before. She would have had no reason to go ‘that way.’ As soon as I got within sight of the farmhouses; she knew EXACTLY where she was. She said, ‘This is Sarah Anne’s.’ Indeed, it was. Amazing after all these years, and with no concept of the ‘here-and-now;’ she knew exactly where she was.

This morning I went over to her house and told her, C’mon, I am taking you for a ride.’
I took her for a drive down along the river. We had a picnic lunch at the water’s edge and she liked it very much. The pictures above were taken on our travels today.

She loved it. I did, too, as I have to grasp what’s left while I can, too.

The Picture Frame

A year or so ago I was talking to a friend at work and told him, ‘Something’s wrong with my mom.’ He asked what I meant. I replied, ‘Every time I see her she wants to give me money and that’s NOT my mom. Something’s wrong.’

Six months later I showed up at her house on Christmas morning. She greeted me at the door with a huge grin on her face. I smiled, too, and said, ‘Merry Christmas, Mom. How are you?’ She looked at me, smiling, and said, ‘Were you talking to your dad this morning?’ My jaw dropped. My father has been dead for over 30 years. Something was definitely ‘going wrong.’

I began checking in on her almost daily as she lives a short ten minutes away. Suddenly, a couple months ago she began talking of trouble with her bank. She would ask me to come over to help her. I would show up and she would tell me she talked to someone else and it had been taken care of. At the same time I noticed some days things would stick with her better than others. She would often seem confused when she was tired and getting ready for bed.

A couple weeks ago I got a call from the local Office of the Aging. The woman advised me that a hearing had been scheduled to establish a guardianship for my mom as she was no longer capable of caring for herself. She asked if I was interested in the ‘position.’ I said, ‘Ma’am, it’s my mom. Of course, I am.’ She advised me that sometimes some people want someone else ‘to do it.’ She advised me that she asked my mom if she had any power-of-attorney paperwork and mom told her she did; but she tore them up. I was stunned as I had just held such papers a few weeks earlier; was sorry, then, I hadn’t taken them. I told her that.

Obviously, I had to immediately spring to action to care for my mom. I went over to her house the next morning after consulting with some friends and decided to ‘test’ her. I said, ‘Mom, what happened to those power-of-attorney papers?’ She went right to them and handed them to me. I called the attorney listed on the documents and scheduled a visit with him. He advised me to take the papers to the case worker at the Office of the Aging and I would be okay. I did as I was instructed.

The woman at the agency was very nice. She told me some incredible things. Mom had given $8000 to charity over the past six months. The social worker had paid a home visit to my mom with a doctor. Whatever denial I was clinging to was over; mom is suffering from ‘moderate’ dementia. Mom had gone to the bank one day and wondered where the doctor was as she had an appointment. Someone from the bank had called Office of the Aging. The people at the bank sent her home. It turns out, she never had a doctor’s appointment. Hence, I received the call.

I cried at the meeting as my worst fears were officially-confirmed. I really am losing my mom. Little-by-little she is fading away. Told the social worker I thought she said she tore up the POA paperwork out of some 'suspicion.' That she thought, 'I really don't know you;' easy to say she tore them up. She is such a strong woman; too proud to ask for any help. I sensed but now knew; now how best to help? I digested the news with a focus on not only her personal affairs; but also the need to preserve what is left of her memories and cognition of all that she holds dear to her heart.

I am NOT a shopper. I don’t pay attention to many ‘new’ things; not much to trends or styles, either. I am not one to look for a bargain, either. The only time I ever shop for anything is if I need it and know what I want. I am NOT impulsive that way so it’s usually quick, and one-stop. In my current circumstance I struggled trying to think of what I could buy to give to mom to help her. I remembered something I had seen more-than-once in my work travels and thought it might be cool to give her.

I began shopping for a digital picture frame. The concept is totally cool. A memory card, LCD display. Now that the local Circuit City is closed; where to find one? I first stopped at K-mart and they didn’t have them. I thought about going to the mega-Store Wal-Mart but really don’t like to buy anything there. As I drove aimlessly towards the HUGE local mall I thought about Staples or Office Max. The freeway pattern had me passing Staples first.

I grimaced as I walked in as a friend had a bad experience there and boycotts the chain. He would ‘kill’ me if he knew I bought anything there. I did find several digital frames there. I looked at their features carefully as I had a specific purpose for it in mind. The least expensive that did what I wanted it to was $79.99. Price wasn’t an issue but given the friend’s ‘tarnish’ on them I thought I would look at Office Max, too. The same friend had told me he really didn’t like the local Office max as he felt it ‘dingy;’ but said he would NEVER do business with Staples again.

I didn’t find the Office Max dingy. I did find digital frames there, too. They had unbelievable deals as one of them was marked down to $39.99; another $49.99. I was examining the different features as I was approached by a clerk. She asked if she could help me, told her I was evaluating and then looked at her, pointed to the $39.99 one and said, ‘I’ll take two.’ It was so cool, I wanted one, too.

She talked into her headset; advised me only one left. I looked at her and uttered words I NEVER; EVER thought I would say…
…’Can I have a rain-check?’ She had to ‘call that in,’ too. They were very nice about it as I walked out of the store with one of the frames and a rain-check, too.

I brought it home and set out on my mission. Those people that know me know I love my digital camera. I take and save a lot of pictures. I loaded the card slot with a 2-gig card; it can hold over 800 pictures. It really is totally cool. It can play movies and music, too. It provides many options; including, type-of-fade, intervals, brightness and many more. It even has a REMOTE! It was perfect for what I wanted. I did NOT give her the remote.

I loaded over 200 pictures onto the memory card. I didn’t want to set the ‘intervals’ too low as I didn’t want her to ‘freak-out’ if she looked at it once and then later the image changed. I set the speed at ten seconds so she would ‘get the idea’ that it changes. She loves it! She has commented a few times that she sometimes watches it more than the TV. They are within the same view for her. I was so glad.

I slowed down the intervals yesterday. It now changes once-a-minute. I loaded pictures of me, her, the dogs and cool pictures from my travels. I am sorry to say I am sure as the images change for her it's like the first time she's seen it. So sad. She told me how she wakes up sometimes at night. The TV is off. She sees pictures of me and it helps her fall back to sleep. Mission accomplished, I am so glad it gets her attention.

I am learning more of ‘life’s lessons.' Trying the best I can, anyway. I had a purpose in mind when I bought the picture frame. So glad it instantly got her attention and she LOVES IT!

She knows transition is in-the-works. My heart was broken as she asked, ‘Will I at least be able to stay in the house for awhile?’ I assured her I will be sure she stays in her house as long as possible. I’m hoping when she can’t be home anymore THE PICTURE FRAME provides her comfort and something to cling to. It’s clear from what I am finding she has fought this EVERY STEP of the way. She was too proud to ask for any help; that breaks my heart, too.

I’ve tried to keep this blog somewhat generic.

Tonight I got more personal for my distant friends that read this to check in on me to know what’s going on.

It's the beginning of a new part of my life now.

Hope all’s well with everyone.
Have a good weekend, too.

Niagara Falls

I decided that while I was traveling around the Great Lakes I might as well visit Niagara Falls before the passport requirement kicked-in on June 1. I left Michigan early one morning and headed east around the southern shore of Lake Erie. I had never seen Pennsylvania's Lake Erie shoreline so I was curious to pass through the area. I had been to Niagara Falls before but it had been many years.

I drove around Lake Erie and got a hotel room very near the bridge from the US into Canada. I could easily walk there and I did. The only thing I carried across the border with me was my camera, my wallet and a copy of my birth certificate that I had 'over-nighted' by UPS to Michigan from the state records office in Idaho. The first time I walked across the bridge into Canada the nice woman asked if I had a copy of it. I replied that I did. She told me she didn't need to see it but they might ask on my way back in. She smiled, told me to have fun and gladly allowed me into Canada.

It was evening but the area is beautiful any time of day or night. I met a freind of mine that lives near Toronto on the other side of the door into Canada. We wandered about the Falls area and had a nice dinner in town. The nice Canadian border guard was correct as they did want to see my birth certificate on the way back in. I had to wander if they would really deny me entry?

The following morning I got up early and wanted to head back over there. It was warm and humid. There was a lot of fog/mist in the air. It was beautiful. I walked onto the bridge and realized how high it is above the turbid water below. The walkway is adjacent to the roadway. There is nothing but a hand rail that separates the walkway from a LONG FALL. It's hundreds of feet; I didn't like it. I am sure the view was beautiful as I contemplated kicking up my pace from a quick walk to a jog as I was the only one walking the bridge at that time. I certainly was NOT going to stop to appreciate the view and take any pictures until I got to the other side of the bridge where there was a wall. That's where I could stop to take pictures and a 'breather,' too, as I was 'hoofin' it.' I really did just want to get to the other side.

I had checked out of my hotel room. I was just going across to take a walk and some cool pictures of the falls with the morning fog, too. The sun was begining to burn-off the clouds and with the flowers along the promenade it really was very cool. I spent more time there than I planned as it was so beautiful.

I crossed the bridge back into the US; anticipated easy crossing just like the night before. Again, all I had was my camera, my wallet and my birth certificate. Sorry to say, the US Border Guard must not have been a 'morning' person. I was a bit surprised by his suspicion.

I approached the 'check area' as directed. I had my drivers license out to present to him and all I had was my camera bag. He took my license and entered into his data system. He asked if I was employed in the United States. I said, 'Yes.' He said 'What do you do?' I replied, 'I'm the Cable guy.' That was a completely honest response and the quickest way for me to say what otherwise would be my official job title, 'field service representative.' He seemed to think I was joking somehow. Ugh.

He asked who I worked for and for how long? I told him.
He asked for my passport. I told him I had my birth certificate. He sternly warned me of the impending change in a few days. I produced the folded, torn copy from my camera bag. I unfolded it, handed it to him and apologized for it being torn. He took it, looked at me and asked, 'Why don't you have the original?'

I looked at him and said, 'Sir, my father was a West Point graduate and an Air Force pilot. I came along as the family moved around the country in Idaho. Do you want to know how many times I moved from the time I was born there...until now?' I wondered if I was going to have to tell him my paternal roots go back to Chester County, PA...1732. The first 'native American' son was born that year of Welsh parents and went on to become Lieutenant in the Revolutionary Army.

He examined my birth certificate and the information on his computer monitor, handed the certificate back to me and allowed me entry back into my country. Whew!

I joked with my friends that dad would have rolled over in his grave had I not been allowed back in. The guard was a bit of a jerk. I resented my 'American credentials' being questioned; especially when it's just me and my camera, ya know? I grew up all over the US, how much more 'all American' can you be?

I understand the need for border security but it was just me...'All-American son of the Revolution,' ya know?

Another beautiful summer weekend here in NE US.
Hope all's well where you are, too.

'night

Kentucky Fried Chicken

This afternoon saw me running around doing some errands. A friend had helped me in the morning. I was going by a local KFC franchise and decided to stop again at his house and surprise him with lunch.

It had been years since I had eaten there. I decided I should go in rather than use the drive-thru as I was unfamiliar with the current menu and didn't want to slow down any of their processes.

I went inside and stood back to examine the menu. It appeared the line wasn't moving very fast so I stepped inside the ropes. A woman waiting near the door announced from the pick-up line that I may be in for 'some wait.' I wasn't in much of a hurry; I was hungry; I was there so I thought I would just deal with it. I couldn't have imagined how bad it would be. It was 23 minutes from start-to-finish. The most astounding part? Twenty-three minutes and they didn't get my order right! Unbelievable!

Before I had a chance to witness the poor service I was a bit stunned by the prices. The most shocking was $1.69 for a 12 oz. soda. The 8-piece/2 side dinner I was about to order ran a shocking $18.99. I ordered such a dinner 'Extra-crispy' recipe; a side of potato wedges and a side of cole-slaw with one soda. My total for one dinner/2 sides, one soda with sales tax was over $21. A little bit more than I wanted to spend for lunch; but, again, I was there.

I had plenty of time to study the menu. Over five minutes passed from the time I stepped into the line until I actually placed my order. I then took my place waiting with others in the 'pick-up' line. Five minutes into this wait a woman advised me there were not enough pieces of the 'extra-crispy' recipe to satisfy my request; it was going to be eight minutes. She tapped and handed me my soda. She asked if I wanted to wait. It had been interesting to watch the crew as they stumbled their way through order after order. Confusion clearly reigned as orders got mixed up between the drive-thru and the counter and the staff was obvioulsy unprepared for what seemed to be just a steady flow of customers. One couple got out of the line before ordering seeing how things were advancing. I decided to wait and watch and made my way as far to the left as I could be.

An older woman found herself to my right as those of us waiting simply moved slowly to the left. It was obvious to me that the confusion was obvious to her, too. She knew I was waiting eight minutes; told me she was a church organist and hoped she got her order before the sermon on Sunday...lol. The gentleman who had taken my order reappeared behind the counter and began preparing my order. I watched as he pulled the potato wedges from the heat tray and put them in a box. He grabbed the bucket and began to retrieve the chicken. He realized there weren't enough pieces and approched me. He told me there wasn't enough and asked if I wanted to substitute 'original recipe' instead of waiting. Knowing that my potato wedges were getting cold I wanted to to say, 'Yes.' I really had seen enough. The woman who was working nearby snapped, 'NO! He is waiting.' He then emptied the bucket as the potato wedges cooled on the counter. The woman waiting to my right finally got her order, tapped me on the shoulder and told me good luck. Suddenly, they called to her just as she was making it to the door. There had been an error. Her order was destined for the drive-thru; they were continuing to wait for a specific item she had ordered. We both laughed as she returned to her waiting position. I welcomed her back. She joked again about the sermon on Sunday morning.

Somehow, in the on-going confusion my cold potato wedges made it to a different order. It got to the point that it was amusing that when my chicken was finally prepared and packed up there were now no potato wedges in the heat tray. Luckily, they were done quickly. My order was packed up; handed to me and I bolted for the door.

Imagine my dismay when, after twenty-three minutes in the store I arrived at my friend's; unpacked the meal and saw that my cole-slaw had morphed into instant potatoes and bland gravy.

It's been many years since I stopped there.

Now I know why.