Rejeuvenation?

I'm back now, arrived after they were well asleep, and got my computer back together and hooked up. Don't know what my reception will be tomorrow, but for now I'm thinking that I've had a great week of going and doing and being free of obligations beyond my own choosing. And that will change somewhat, with the resumption of my care-giver responsibilities. But I will retain the expectation of "time off" daily -- between the hours of 4 to 7, when my mother's behavior turns alcoholic -- and will use that time to focus on my career choice, my own identity. The lucky part is, they can afford to hire a replacement for me, if they recognize that help is needed then.... as I hope SHE will.

Stay tuned.....

I'm Leaving ... P.S.

Tomorrow I head off for a week of necessary recuperation. I'll leave Bitchy a note to remind her why I'm not coming in with their meds, and what could be happening if she actually "sends me packing."

I want her to know what's driving me away for a week. Here is what I want to say:

***************

Mom,

"Don't put your shoes on, you're getting back in bed."

"What?"

(a little louder) "Don't put your shoes on, you're getting back in bed."

"What?"

(louder still) "Don't put your shoes on, you're getting back in bed!"

"What?"

(loudest) "Don't put your shoes on, you're getting back in bed!!"

"I'm not"

"What are you doing??"

"I'm pulling them over."

"Ok."

I hear versions of this over and over during the day... and night... last night I put something in the kitchen just after lights out. Then, it went like this:

"Oh damn, I have to pee."

"What?!"

"I have to pee."

"You do not!"

"Yes."

"You do NOT!! You just got in bed."

"I have to pee."

"Well go ahead then! Do it yourself, I'm tired!" (then, bitterly) "Call me if you need my help."

The worst comes without your immediate input, in the early morning, around 6:20.

(tap, tap, tap) "Hellooo?"

"Unh, huh? Dad? That you? What's up, what's happening?" (I sit up in bed, rubbing my eyes awake.)

(he totters into my room) "Can you help me?"

"Sure! What do you need?"

"Well, your mother's on a rampage. She refuses to help me. I... I don't know what I've done. I want to get dressed and she just berates me and won't help."

"Oh dad, I think she just doesn't like getting up so early? But you haven't done anything wrong. You just want to get dressed, yeah? And you need help with it now. So. I'll help you."

"Alright, dear, thank you, dear." (The worst part is he gets choked up saying this.) "I just don't know what I've done wrong."

"It isn't you, dad. It isn't your fault. I'll come help you get dressed, just give me a second to put on my robe and I'll meet you in your bathroom and give you some help. Ok? I'll meet you there."

"Thank you, daughter." (and he totters out)

Breakthrough?

Today I went to the post office, to mail the birthday cookies to my son, when who should I spot sitting on a bench in the sun, with her husband, and her doggie, but Gee!!!!

Last night, Bitchy had said she should not bother coming here again! But bless her, Gee told me she'd be back at about 6:30 today.

When I got home I went right to work in the shop, taking advantage of Bitchy's tentative agreement to give me my 3 hours "free-time" from 4-7. Did my best to stay downstairs without interruption (except for b.r.b.) until 6:30 came around and she flashed the lights, calling down to say that Gee was here! (She did NOT sound happy about that.)

Reluctantly I went up to greet her, thinking there would be a confrontation. Instead there was silence, with H&B sitting at the dinner table eating, so I had Gee come in my room to make the plan. She said she would just go into dad's bathroom and start preparing the Depends for overnight use (laying the extra pad inside each one). "Ok," I said, "I guess I'll ... go in an say..."

"Don't say anything. Just go back downstairs." She was confident and reassuring.

I said alright and went on down. Back to the lathe, and my audiobook, continuing to work as I wanted, thinking that everything up above would be just fine.

Finishing up my day at precisely 7 PM I went upstairs to put away my finished turnings and to see what I could do to help. Hunk and Gee were in his bathroom and Bitchy was doing some cleaning in the kitchen. I was upbeat, not commenting on Gee's presence, but offering to finish up in the kitchen, and give them their meds.

She stopped soon after, pouring her whiskey digestif to enjoy with Inside Edition. (Oh, yes, she must stay current on the girl who threw acid in her own face. Just the kind of story that people with dementia should plant in their brains before bed...)

While she took her meds, I prepped Hunk's, and finished cleaning while I waited to hear him ready for bed. Went in to give him the pill/pudding mixture and Gee said everything went great. (She even got to clean "between his legs" so all was good!)
I cajoled him into removing his hearing aid ("just to let it dry out overnight, and let he ear dry out, too") and then he wanted Bitchy to come in.

Gee and I left, and B went in. I overheard dad say something like, "The girls took care of me!" Oh! That made my heart sing.

I'm so confident, now, that things will turn out fine. I just hope nothing big goes wrong while I'm gone, and that Gee will be able to pull things together so I can really enjoy my short vacation!

(Until this evening, I was expecting to kind of sneak off in the wee hours Wednesday morning, to start without any uncomfortable fanfare. But maybe I'll take a minute to say goodbye -- especially to my dad, who will undoubtedly miss me the most. I hope he doesn't change too much in my absence...)

My Father's Fungus

Last Tuesday night the first paid helper lady came for the 2 hours I go to stitch&bitch. It was a hellish beginning to the day -- can't summarize it, but suffice it to say when she came in and asked how my ma was doing her answer was "I've been better! I'm mad at 'daughter.'"

But I got to leave and never think back.

Only now I am back and she called today (Wed) to say that, during the shower she gave my dad, she discovered an... ahem... infection in his penis, and now BITCHY has to deal with that, 'cause I've decided, as long as she is alive and physically able, THAT is her domain. period.

(Then my friend MCary misunderstood another comment I made, so I corrected it)

Oh, I'm sorry if I misdirected you. He is not bowel-incontinent yet. And he still totters into the bathroom during the day to pee -- I know, because he doesn't remember to flush.

But he doesn't clean himself at all well, obviously, IF he's got a UTI. When I finally "took over" the job of helping him dress in the morning and at night, I'd get to the point of changing the Depends and would hand him the "baby wipe" and say, "Ok, now dad, you use this to clean your private parts while I go get fresh underwear, ok?"

When I'd come back in he'd be dabbing absently on his knees with the wipe. Then I would chicken out, and seeing that mom was nearly "asleep" in bed already (having consumed her daily 3-5 ounces of vodka, maybe some wine, and a shot of whiskey before bed), I'd just have him step into the clean Depends.

When mom first wanted someone to help him shower, she stated clearly she wanted to hire a male nurse/helper. When I said I could certainly help she insisted no, "You shouldn't have to do that." Which meant (to me) that she didn't want his daughter handling his private parts!

Although later, when it came down to being too expensive to hire someone (e.g., Home Instead charged only ~$14/hour, but they required a 3-hour minimum), I got pro-active and purchased a shower seat and installed the hand held sprayer, and she devised a means of privacy whereby he would wear jockey shorts to shower with my help, and then to finish his private areas, she would come in.

This worked ok for a while, but I became a little concerned listening to her "help" him, thinking she wasn't being thorough or careful enough with slippery/safety issues. So I butted back in a little and she got exasperated with me, huffing, "Oh for God's sakes, you've seen a man's penis before!!"

A very true statment, and as an individual striving for enlightenment, I should be able to rise above my inhibitions and just help the man clean his body! After all, he NEEDS the help, and it's not like HE is exhibiting any discomfort with this... But for some reason, I'm feeling that -- as long as mom is alive and "well" -- this should be HER responsibility! God knows she doesn't hesitate to proclaim dominion over everything else to do with dad... why should she pass on this very intimate task?

As for his current "condition," who knows how long he's had this (probable) urinary tract infection. I haven't noticed any behavior hinting at pain, and he never complains, so maybe it's new? (At the ER on Aug 17, his urine sample came back clean...but, don't know what they looked for...)

In any event, BITCHY said (just now) that she doesn't think he EVER cleaned "that area" (I assume she means under the foreskin), and says that he does not remember! She thinks it just shouldn't matter. "What difference does it make, and anyway, he's not in any pain."

Still, we're going to the doc today, and I hope I can be present to at least HEAR what he has to say. Maybe I'll still be unable to bridge that comfort zone and will leave it to others for his hands-on treatment. Whether mom or hiring Gee to do the task, if mom balks.

Flashlights

Hunk has a passion for flashlights. Maybe it goes along with that "Energizer" thing just discussed, but since I got here --now TWO YEARS ago-- he has always had a flashlight within reach. Even during the day.

At night, he would not settle down until the little mag light was tucked safely in the breast pocket of his pajamas. (Along with his wallet and keys in the pants pockets!)

Of course, BITCHY was fit to be tied about it all... "What the hell do you need those for? You're going to bed, for Christ's sake, not shopping!!"

But I saw them as his security blankets and indulged his near-desperate need to find all the items (which often got misplaced during the day) and put them safely in their places for his overnight "passages." What harm does it do to let the man have his way with this?? They do not wake him -- he sleeps like a log until morning.

Thankfully, he's forgotten about the keys and wallet, and they are not an issue any more. (For him OR especially for her!)

But the flashlight is of paramount importance, even though I leave a nightlight on in his bathroom, in case he manages to make it there when "nature calls" (he rarely does anymore). He still wants one within reach.

The little old mag light doesn't work well since he tends to unscrew the thing trying to turn it on, and then wonders why it won't function.

The push button models are no better, since his grip has become so weak he cannot get it to "click" fully on or off.

Finally, after buying batches of several types to try out (and returning them when they failed), I resorted to the old sliding-switch variety, which is overall sized much bigger than the tiny mag or pen light styles. But at least the movement required to make it work is one long-ingrained in his muscle memory, and he can turn it on!

Now, if only he would "go to the light" some night, he won't have any more worries!!!!