I finally did something today that I've been meaning to do, but haven't gotten around to it. I went to downtown Venice, which is a really cute, eclectic collection of stores and restaurants, and met a nun who teaches art. She has a studio in which she teaches children and adults alike and I've been wanting to do this for a long time. So this morning I learned different techniques of watercolor. I thought I would start with that since I have most of the supplies already. She also teaches acrylic, oils and clay. I'd like to learn oils and clay eventually, although I'm not sure I would be able to do the clay since my wrists are shot. But I would definitely like to learn to do oil painting.
She was not what I pictured a nun to be. First off, she wore a t-shirt and what we used to call petal-pushers, but I'm sure they call them something different today. She was kind of gruff and meandered about like she didn't know where to start. But after awhile, she showed me and I followed her as we went along, and I got to know her a bit better. She lives in a convent in Venice and she considers her studio as part of her ministry, along with spiritual guidance/counseling. She has all sorts of stuff in her studio for sale, most of which she did, but some of her students did also. She made a pregnant woman out of clay that stands a good foot or two tall and I would love to buy it, but it's $1,000. She paints a lot with watercolors, of the beach and water and foliage type of paintings. She's really quite good. I enjoyed it, since I was the only one she was teaching. Her teaching style is very relaxed and it's by example, which I need, even though I felt like I had palsy trying to hold the paintbrush correctly. A few other ladies came later and one of them worked on the pottery wheel and the other painted china - which is not something I would ever do - it looked too painstaking and putzy. The wheel looked fun, but again, I don't think my hands could tolerate that.
So I came home with a little painting I did which I copied from her. It's really nothing, but it is a start. Now I just have to motivate myself to do it. I don't know why that's so hard. What I also found out today was that there is no art supply store in Venice, which I find really strange. Sis. Maureen said that it is strange, seeing that there are so many artists in Venice (there is a big art center here). I need to buy a palette to mix my paints, so I'll probably order it online, as there is nothing local. I wish I had the means - I would open an art supply store here.
There's something magical when you create something. I can't explain it, but those of you who create, know what I mean. It's very satisfying, like eating a huge meal. Except in this case, you don't gain weight and you have something to show for your efforts. I wish I had my own space to do this, though. All I have right now is the dining room table and that is cluttered with dishes and glasses. I'm not used to living in such tight quarters, but this is not forever. I keep telling myself that.
My mom is doing much better. She's walking with the physical therapist and can even take a shower on her own, as long as one of us is right there beside her. My dad is ornery as usual. I don't know what gets under his skin, but sometimes he can be so mean. Just his look can pierce right through you. If my mom isn't pushing herself fast enough in the wheelchair and he wants to get by, he'll either push her with his walker or let the walker go and push her himself in a rush. They've been arguing a lot lately; I think my dad thinks that she should be "back to normal by now." He told the nurse that he "just wants his wife back," which means, he wants her to be able to do everything she used to do. It wouldn't kill him to learn how to be a little more self-sufficient. It's unbelievable how spoiled the men were in his day. My mom isn 't helping out a whole lot either. She is just rolling along slowly, doing her own thing. Tonight when I was preparing dinner, I told her, "Last time I looked, your hands aren't broken," because she was just sitting there and not helping. I said it teasing, but I think I got my point across too. Today at lunch, I made my father prepare his own yogurt and cottage cheese. What an ordeal. It's a matter of mixing the two ingredients together. I had to tell him how many seconds to put his bagel in the microwave on for. You'd think after all these years, he would take some initiative himself to learn this. After all, their microwave is an ancient machine that was probably bought in the 80's.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Ten Things You May or May Not Know About Me
I'm a naturally curious person. I like to hear what others think about, what they like and don't like and what their lives are all about. I hate those emails where people tell 10 or 20 things about themselves, but the questions are dumb, like who cares if you like chocolate or vanilla, or Coke or Pepsi? I like to learn more about people by listening to their actual stories. You learn a lot, not only about the person who's talking, but also about life itself.
So I was thinking today of writing 10 things you may or may not know about me. Some of you may not care at all and that's fine. This is not for everyone. But because I like stuff that you don't have to rack.your brain over, allow me to entertain myself and possibly you.
1. You might find this ironic, but I hate to read. I really do. I'm sure I had ADD as a kid so it's also carried on with me as an adult, and I find it incredibly difficult to even re-read these blogs to check for grammatical errors. I do, of course, but it's hard. It's weird that I can write fairly well, but can hardly read a lick. The only book I do read, and that is in small portions, is the Bible. I read different stuff people put online or online news, things like that, but I think, besides the Bible, I've only read one or two books all the way through. I have read the Bible a few times all the way through, but it was more for a discipline than for the enjoyment of a novel or such. Yeah, I know it's lame, but this is the truth.
2. I would rather listen than talk. My mind gets all jumbled up when I have good or interesting thoughts in it, and then when I try to express myself, I usually sound like a blithering idiot. I don't know if it's all the drugs I take every day (approximately 15), or getting old, or that I'm just not a good speaker. I actually enjoy listening to others, to hear what they say and talk about how they feel. I do not like when someone monopolizes the conversation, though - that irritates the heck out of me. When that happens, I will either exit the situation or turn my attention toward someone else.
3. Today is my birthday and I am 56. And this is really hard for me to believe. I mean, my physical body feels older than that, but my mind is still stuck at 17. Wow, wouldn't that be cool if my physical body and my mind were in sync - I would have a blast! But alas, that's not the case and so I live with what I have. I'm actually more content now than I've ever been in my life, and that's saying a lot. So getting old doesn't have to be such a drag, although it is in some ways. It's all in the way you look at it, and right now, I'm very content.
4. I love to eat and I hate to diet, much to my mother's chagrin. That wouldn't be a shock to anyone who has ever known me. I've dieted my whole life and my weight goes up and down and up and down, like a huge yo-yo. This is a real drag, because I love food. I'm convinced I'm addicted to food. Not that that is a horrific thing. Much better than cigarettes, alcohol or crack. But still is a problem, especially for my mother. I am getting bolder though, as I will eat a donut right in front of her now. Believe me - that's a major event. I just don't look at her and I'm fine. The Butterfingers are still stashed away quietly in my dresser drawer, just in case, however. That might just put her over the edge if she knew they were there.
5. I love my children and my grandchildren and miss them more than I can say. Now if you know me at all, you'll know this is the absolute truth. My grandchildren are the light of my life. I smile the whole time I'm with them, as they bring me so much joy. Ashanti and I are very close and I miss that. She is getting so big, soon she'll be 7. Time goes too fast. Donovan finally started coming to me and is very loving. He likes to keep my attention by calling my name over and over. I love it. And Jade is just a little pistol. She has big brothers to look up to and romp with and she will be well able to take care of herself in the end. I miss snuggling with her and letting her fall asleep in my arms. I wish Micah and Jasmine were closer because I only get to see them once, maybe twice a year, which isn't enough. Jason, Leah and Parris are closer and I'm looking forward to seeing them in a few weeks when I go to Madison. I'm not used to having my family so far from me and I don't like it. In fact, I hate it. But God knows and He's in control and I trust Him.
6. I am in pain 24 hours a day, literally. Even in my sleep, I wake up to switch sides as my hands are continually falling asleep. I get tired of talking about it, but it's the truth. I take so many medicines, including pain meds, and I'm still in pain. Constant pain. It's the weirdest thing if you've never experienced it. The only time it lets up is when I am in the pool. There, my hands are ok and I can float and move my body with such ease. But I can't live in the pool, as much as I would like to. I'm very much a water person, but when the water is cold, it turns me off. And it's starting to get a bit colder down here, so I won't be able to use the pool as much. Cold water goes through me like electricity - I can't handle it. I'm learning to live with this pain, because there's really nothing else I can do. I cannot remember the last time I wasn't in pain, it's been that long ago.
7. I hate prejudice, egotistical and prideful people. Well, I shouldn't say "hate." You really shouldn't hate anyone, but I find these types very annoying and for the most part, stay clear of them. So if you happen to be in any of those categories, you'll know why I avoid you.
8. I value friendship and love above all. I found out what true friendship and love was when I was in the mental hospital. I learned a lot about relationships there and it has helped me all of my adult life. Not that I've always chosen the best people to be around. And there were times when I had to be pryed away from a few of them by my children or really good friends. But all in all, I look at the person's character and quickly decide whether we would be a good match, so to speak. Not everyone can be friends. But I have been blessed with many diverse friends, all of whom I enjoy in one way or the other. Without friends and love, life must be a most dismal place to be.
9. I used to love to sing, but have a hard time even talking now because of chronic laryngitis. It really aggravates me. If I talk too long, which isn't long, I lose my voice. I used to love to sing in church, and I actually frequently sang solos -- which always scared me to death. But I loved it so much, that I would push past my fears and do it anyway. I miss that, but now I can't even get through a song without losing my voice completely, so in church I will sing for awhile, then hum or mouth the words the rest of the time. I actually think I destroyed my vocal cords so many years ago, yelling at my kids. That's what I get...
10. I love Jesus Christ with all my heart, soul, mind and body, even though I was born and raised a Jew. And there will be many of you who don't understand this, and that's ok. All you have to do is ask me sometime and I can give you a clear idea of what I believe, if you don't know already. We may not agree on moral values, lifestyles or religious views, but I can tell you, that I love you just the same. You wouldn't be my friend, and probably not be reading this, otherwise. I can tell you that God has helped and guided me all of my life, but it wasn't until about 31 years ago that I actually recognized this. And it hasn't been the same ever since. If you think that I can raise three children alone to be respected and well-adjusted adults, you're wrong. It was only with the help of Jesus that I was able to do that and still keep my sanity. Aren't you at all curious? Man, I would be!
So there you have it - me in a nutshell. It could appear to be pretty arrogant to talk only about yourself in a blog, but I hope it doesn't come across that way. I wrote it for my behalf as well, because sometimes I need to stop and check and make sure I'm living the way I profess to be living. And if you are ever curious about anything I am about, please ask. I'm basically an open book. An open book who doesn't much read...
So I was thinking today of writing 10 things you may or may not know about me. Some of you may not care at all and that's fine. This is not for everyone. But because I like stuff that you don't have to rack.your brain over, allow me to entertain myself and possibly you.
1. You might find this ironic, but I hate to read. I really do. I'm sure I had ADD as a kid so it's also carried on with me as an adult, and I find it incredibly difficult to even re-read these blogs to check for grammatical errors. I do, of course, but it's hard. It's weird that I can write fairly well, but can hardly read a lick. The only book I do read, and that is in small portions, is the Bible. I read different stuff people put online or online news, things like that, but I think, besides the Bible, I've only read one or two books all the way through. I have read the Bible a few times all the way through, but it was more for a discipline than for the enjoyment of a novel or such. Yeah, I know it's lame, but this is the truth.
2. I would rather listen than talk. My mind gets all jumbled up when I have good or interesting thoughts in it, and then when I try to express myself, I usually sound like a blithering idiot. I don't know if it's all the drugs I take every day (approximately 15), or getting old, or that I'm just not a good speaker. I actually enjoy listening to others, to hear what they say and talk about how they feel. I do not like when someone monopolizes the conversation, though - that irritates the heck out of me. When that happens, I will either exit the situation or turn my attention toward someone else.
3. Today is my birthday and I am 56. And this is really hard for me to believe. I mean, my physical body feels older than that, but my mind is still stuck at 17. Wow, wouldn't that be cool if my physical body and my mind were in sync - I would have a blast! But alas, that's not the case and so I live with what I have. I'm actually more content now than I've ever been in my life, and that's saying a lot. So getting old doesn't have to be such a drag, although it is in some ways. It's all in the way you look at it, and right now, I'm very content.
4. I love to eat and I hate to diet, much to my mother's chagrin. That wouldn't be a shock to anyone who has ever known me. I've dieted my whole life and my weight goes up and down and up and down, like a huge yo-yo. This is a real drag, because I love food. I'm convinced I'm addicted to food. Not that that is a horrific thing. Much better than cigarettes, alcohol or crack. But still is a problem, especially for my mother. I am getting bolder though, as I will eat a donut right in front of her now. Believe me - that's a major event. I just don't look at her and I'm fine. The Butterfingers are still stashed away quietly in my dresser drawer, just in case, however. That might just put her over the edge if she knew they were there.
5. I love my children and my grandchildren and miss them more than I can say. Now if you know me at all, you'll know this is the absolute truth. My grandchildren are the light of my life. I smile the whole time I'm with them, as they bring me so much joy. Ashanti and I are very close and I miss that. She is getting so big, soon she'll be 7. Time goes too fast. Donovan finally started coming to me and is very loving. He likes to keep my attention by calling my name over and over. I love it. And Jade is just a little pistol. She has big brothers to look up to and romp with and she will be well able to take care of herself in the end. I miss snuggling with her and letting her fall asleep in my arms. I wish Micah and Jasmine were closer because I only get to see them once, maybe twice a year, which isn't enough. Jason, Leah and Parris are closer and I'm looking forward to seeing them in a few weeks when I go to Madison. I'm not used to having my family so far from me and I don't like it. In fact, I hate it. But God knows and He's in control and I trust Him.
6. I am in pain 24 hours a day, literally. Even in my sleep, I wake up to switch sides as my hands are continually falling asleep. I get tired of talking about it, but it's the truth. I take so many medicines, including pain meds, and I'm still in pain. Constant pain. It's the weirdest thing if you've never experienced it. The only time it lets up is when I am in the pool. There, my hands are ok and I can float and move my body with such ease. But I can't live in the pool, as much as I would like to. I'm very much a water person, but when the water is cold, it turns me off. And it's starting to get a bit colder down here, so I won't be able to use the pool as much. Cold water goes through me like electricity - I can't handle it. I'm learning to live with this pain, because there's really nothing else I can do. I cannot remember the last time I wasn't in pain, it's been that long ago.
7. I hate prejudice, egotistical and prideful people. Well, I shouldn't say "hate." You really shouldn't hate anyone, but I find these types very annoying and for the most part, stay clear of them. So if you happen to be in any of those categories, you'll know why I avoid you.
8. I value friendship and love above all. I found out what true friendship and love was when I was in the mental hospital. I learned a lot about relationships there and it has helped me all of my adult life. Not that I've always chosen the best people to be around. And there were times when I had to be pryed away from a few of them by my children or really good friends. But all in all, I look at the person's character and quickly decide whether we would be a good match, so to speak. Not everyone can be friends. But I have been blessed with many diverse friends, all of whom I enjoy in one way or the other. Without friends and love, life must be a most dismal place to be.
9. I used to love to sing, but have a hard time even talking now because of chronic laryngitis. It really aggravates me. If I talk too long, which isn't long, I lose my voice. I used to love to sing in church, and I actually frequently sang solos -- which always scared me to death. But I loved it so much, that I would push past my fears and do it anyway. I miss that, but now I can't even get through a song without losing my voice completely, so in church I will sing for awhile, then hum or mouth the words the rest of the time. I actually think I destroyed my vocal cords so many years ago, yelling at my kids. That's what I get...
10. I love Jesus Christ with all my heart, soul, mind and body, even though I was born and raised a Jew. And there will be many of you who don't understand this, and that's ok. All you have to do is ask me sometime and I can give you a clear idea of what I believe, if you don't know already. We may not agree on moral values, lifestyles or religious views, but I can tell you, that I love you just the same. You wouldn't be my friend, and probably not be reading this, otherwise. I can tell you that God has helped and guided me all of my life, but it wasn't until about 31 years ago that I actually recognized this. And it hasn't been the same ever since. If you think that I can raise three children alone to be respected and well-adjusted adults, you're wrong. It was only with the help of Jesus that I was able to do that and still keep my sanity. Aren't you at all curious? Man, I would be!
So there you have it - me in a nutshell. It could appear to be pretty arrogant to talk only about yourself in a blog, but I hope it doesn't come across that way. I wrote it for my behalf as well, because sometimes I need to stop and check and make sure I'm living the way I profess to be living. And if you are ever curious about anything I am about, please ask. I'm basically an open book. An open book who doesn't much read...
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Real Life
My kids have introduced me to some games on the internet that are silly, a waste of time and I am totally addicted to them. One of them is called "Cityville Hometown" that you build houses and shops, etc. with coins which you earn. I love to hear the money go "Cha-ching!" every time I click on the coins. So I'm building a little city with stores and houses, a baseball field, a college and a whole lot more. It's a total waste of time, but I love it! The only thing they're missing are little cars to drive on the little roads. The other game is called "Tap Zoo." This is also a mindless game that you're building a zoo and the more animals you get into the zoo, the more coins you get, thus more money! I love to see the numbers run into the hundreds of thousands of "dollars." It's really funny how I scramble to get on these two games in the morning to see how many coins I can get in one day. And when I "pay" for more land on either game, it's awe-inspiring because I can build or place new animals in the empty space. Of course there is a point to where you have to stop and begin your real day, but for just some moments in time, I feel like I'm actually in control of my little city and zoo, in contrast to my real life. Maybe that's why these types of games are so addictive. You can be in control of something. I don't know. I just know that they are really fun.
I also play two word games on my phone. One is like Scrabble and can get really tough. I usually do this one right before I go to sleep at night. Most of the time I lose. The other game is like "Hangman," which also is tough. And I usually lose that one as well. I'm obviously geared more toward mindless, money-making, control freak-type games. There is a great deal of pleasure in owning property, stores and animals without competition and without using real money.
So real life happens after I pry myself away from the computer and my phone. My mom is getting better slowly but surely and my dad is about the same. I am so tired of having to say something over and over and over again, though. And if I yell it in the first place, my dad will get angry. A typical conversation is like this: "Dad, what does G-men mean?" "Green tea?" "No, G-MEN." "Mean men?" "NO. G-MEN!" "OH, G-men, well that means government men." If it gets that far, I get my answer, but usually I just say, "Never mind" and end it after the second try. They both have to get their hearing checked. My mom practically whispers and my dad can't hear her unless he's right next to her, and even then he can't. So I am forever interpreting what each of them are saying. I can't even tell you how annoying that is. It would be far easier if we all knew sign language. I mean, we're sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner and he's got the news on full blast because he can't hear it, even though it's a few feet away. And then if we try to have a conversation, he tries to talk over the tv which of course doesn't work. I think my mom whispers just to aggravate him and get him to turn the tv down.
When you look at my dad in the face, one of his eyes goes one way and the other goes slightly another way, which is really weird. So I asked him, "Dad, why does one of your eyes go way off somewhere, while the other one is looking at me?" He said, "I don't know," kind of gruff and annoyed. But he told me tonight that he wants to make an appointment with the eye doctor to see what's wrong with it. I would say that my dad is turning into a pirate and his eye is just preparing him for his role. He's already got the scowl and growl down. Or maybe it's part of his costume for Halloween. But then, there goes my imagination again. My dad would never go trick or treating. In fact, no one goes trick or treating around here - there's just a bunch of old people here. I did hear the sound of kids earlier in the afternoon, but it must have been a figment of my imagination.
However, I do intend on buying a jumbo bag of Butterfingers for October 31st, just in case...
I also play two word games on my phone. One is like Scrabble and can get really tough. I usually do this one right before I go to sleep at night. Most of the time I lose. The other game is like "Hangman," which also is tough. And I usually lose that one as well. I'm obviously geared more toward mindless, money-making, control freak-type games. There is a great deal of pleasure in owning property, stores and animals without competition and without using real money.
So real life happens after I pry myself away from the computer and my phone. My mom is getting better slowly but surely and my dad is about the same. I am so tired of having to say something over and over and over again, though. And if I yell it in the first place, my dad will get angry. A typical conversation is like this: "Dad, what does G-men mean?" "Green tea?" "No, G-MEN." "Mean men?" "NO. G-MEN!" "OH, G-men, well that means government men." If it gets that far, I get my answer, but usually I just say, "Never mind" and end it after the second try. They both have to get their hearing checked. My mom practically whispers and my dad can't hear her unless he's right next to her, and even then he can't. So I am forever interpreting what each of them are saying. I can't even tell you how annoying that is. It would be far easier if we all knew sign language. I mean, we're sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner and he's got the news on full blast because he can't hear it, even though it's a few feet away. And then if we try to have a conversation, he tries to talk over the tv which of course doesn't work. I think my mom whispers just to aggravate him and get him to turn the tv down.
When you look at my dad in the face, one of his eyes goes one way and the other goes slightly another way, which is really weird. So I asked him, "Dad, why does one of your eyes go way off somewhere, while the other one is looking at me?" He said, "I don't know," kind of gruff and annoyed. But he told me tonight that he wants to make an appointment with the eye doctor to see what's wrong with it. I would say that my dad is turning into a pirate and his eye is just preparing him for his role. He's already got the scowl and growl down. Or maybe it's part of his costume for Halloween. But then, there goes my imagination again. My dad would never go trick or treating. In fact, no one goes trick or treating around here - there's just a bunch of old people here. I did hear the sound of kids earlier in the afternoon, but it must have been a figment of my imagination.
However, I do intend on buying a jumbo bag of Butterfingers for October 31st, just in case...
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Just Don't Let Go
My mom keeps getting up after we put her to bed, after she's done all her personal stuff and taken her meds and has something to eat. She says she's hungry. So tonight, my dad helped her out of bed again and she made herself a sandwich and ate it in the kitchen. Instead of asking my dad to help her get back into bed, she thought she would do it herself. Through the walkie-talkie thing I could hear my dad yelling and swearing and calling for me. Apparently she started to fall, not getting all the way on the bed. So I rushed in there and helped my dad lift and scoot her where she should be. I thought my dad was going to have a heart attack he was pushing so hard and was so angry. She's dead weight and can't help us push, so it's real hard to get her where she needs to be if she gets out of place. On top of that, she had just had a hydrocone and a sleeping pill, so she was half asleep and probably won't remember a thing in the morning. It's getting really frustrating for my dad - you can tell my mom over and over again what not to do, and she'll do what she wants to do anyway.
The nurse finally came yesterday and today, the physical therapist came today and someone from Home Health will be coming to bathe her tomorrow. Thankfully it didn't take a long time for these folks to get approved to come to the house for her care. Now I'm hoping her healing will begin and she will recuperate soon. It seems like a long time that she has been incapacitated, but I'm sure for her it seems like an eternity.
Earlier in the night, we ordered pizza and they made it "3-way." My mom had cheese, I had onion, green pepper and mushroom and my dad had the same as I did but with pepperoni on his. We're eating and I happen to notice that my dad had taken one of "my" thirds, and I said, "Dad, you took one of mine." He said, "Oh, yeah, right - sorry," and he proceeded to hand the almost-finished piece to me. I said, "Gross, I don't want that," and he put it back in the box. My dad is something else, I tell ya. He cracks me up sometimes and doesn't even know why. He was telling my mom and I that women are better suited for certain jobs rather than men because women can do "boring" or "monotonous" jobs because they don't have a problem with them, but men can't do those jobs because they can't do boring work. I laughed and just shook my head and he said, "What? Is that prejudice?" I said, "NO, dad, what do YOU think?" He just mumbled some stuff that didn't make sense, my mom rolled her eyes and I had to smile. Wow.
I've had a touch of bronchitis the past few days, I know it's bronchitis because I get this on a regular basis on account of my asthma, but in order to get meds, I have to see a doctor. So off to urgent care I went. I waited an hour, saw the doctor for 2 minutes and the charge was $138.60. My insurance in Wisconsin does not pay for health care down here. So there goes a lot of money down the drain. Next time an "emergency" comes up, I'll go to the emergency room. My insurance may cover that. I wish I would have done that in the first place. But when you're sick, you don't think straight. Like my mom sliding down the side of her bed thinking she made it on top. And then when she was in bed, she asked me if she was in bed. Life is topsy-turvey like that a lot lately. Sometimes all you can do is grit your teeth and hang on real tight.
The nurse finally came yesterday and today, the physical therapist came today and someone from Home Health will be coming to bathe her tomorrow. Thankfully it didn't take a long time for these folks to get approved to come to the house for her care. Now I'm hoping her healing will begin and she will recuperate soon. It seems like a long time that she has been incapacitated, but I'm sure for her it seems like an eternity.
Earlier in the night, we ordered pizza and they made it "3-way." My mom had cheese, I had onion, green pepper and mushroom and my dad had the same as I did but with pepperoni on his. We're eating and I happen to notice that my dad had taken one of "my" thirds, and I said, "Dad, you took one of mine." He said, "Oh, yeah, right - sorry," and he proceeded to hand the almost-finished piece to me. I said, "Gross, I don't want that," and he put it back in the box. My dad is something else, I tell ya. He cracks me up sometimes and doesn't even know why. He was telling my mom and I that women are better suited for certain jobs rather than men because women can do "boring" or "monotonous" jobs because they don't have a problem with them, but men can't do those jobs because they can't do boring work. I laughed and just shook my head and he said, "What? Is that prejudice?" I said, "NO, dad, what do YOU think?" He just mumbled some stuff that didn't make sense, my mom rolled her eyes and I had to smile. Wow.
I've had a touch of bronchitis the past few days, I know it's bronchitis because I get this on a regular basis on account of my asthma, but in order to get meds, I have to see a doctor. So off to urgent care I went. I waited an hour, saw the doctor for 2 minutes and the charge was $138.60. My insurance in Wisconsin does not pay for health care down here. So there goes a lot of money down the drain. Next time an "emergency" comes up, I'll go to the emergency room. My insurance may cover that. I wish I would have done that in the first place. But when you're sick, you don't think straight. Like my mom sliding down the side of her bed thinking she made it on top. And then when she was in bed, she asked me if she was in bed. Life is topsy-turvey like that a lot lately. Sometimes all you can do is grit your teeth and hang on real tight.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Poop and More Poop
It's been very interesting the past couple days. My mom was discharged from the hospital yesterday morning, and they took her to the same nursing home she was at before. She said she wanted to go there, for reasons unknown. My dad and I got to the nursing home about 3:00 and she was sitting in the hallway waiting for us. She almost cried when we got there. She said she wanted to go home. With that, I asked a nurse what we had to do to get her out of there and she called the head nurse. The head nurse came in our room and tried to discourage us, in fact she had an attitude about it, and that if we take her out against medical advice, basically it would be on us. My parents had to sign a statement, stating such. She was very unhappy and I was more than glad to get her out of there, as her roommate was crazy and kept asking everyone where her bed was at. Also, my mom accused one of the CNA's of stealing her clothes. Her clothes. I said, "Mom why would anyone want to steal your clothes? Look, your shoes are still in the bag along with your flowered blouse and culottes." But she was hallucinating again and she believed that the "little, round CNA took her clothes."
Ok, well I pulled the car as close to the front door as possible because there was a big van in the way. The head nurse said no one there would help us get her in the car. At one point, I felt like I was going to rip her head off and asked her why she was giving us such a hard time. She backed off a little at that point, but really. No one to help us get her in the car? My adrenaline must have been pumping, because even though my mom weighs very little, she's dead weight, and between my dad and myself, we gathered her up and got her in the car. For a moment there, I had to yell at my dad and tell him I was stronger than he was and to move out of the way, and of course he said he was stronger than I was. Well, it was hot, I was sweating and in no mood to argue with him or the head nurse, but we got my mom in the car. I prayed a silent prayer that I wouldn't drop my mom and incredibly, I had the strength to get her in.
So we were off and I had to stop at Sprint because my phone had been acting up, but my parents stayed in the car with it running. Soon enough we were at the house, and this time it was a bit easier getting her out of the car, into her wheelchair. The whole time, she was talking nonsense and was really out of it. We got her in the house, I made dinner and eventually put her to bed. She was hallucinating the whole time and the way she was talking to me really bothered me. It was so not like her. But anyway, I gave her her sleeping pill and we put her to bed and all was well.
Today it was all about poop. Without going into great detail, the laxatives finally worked for my mom as she used the portable potty. When I emptied it, unfortunately the toilet couldn't hold it all and up it came. I had had it at that point and yelled for my dad to come in and fix the toilet. Of course he couldn't do it gently, but instead jammed the rubber thing in the toilet real fast making everything flow over the top onto the floor. I heard him swearing from the kitchen and I just shook my head. He won't touch the bucket - that's "my" job, and here he is standing in it in his socks. It was actually funny until I had to go in there later to get her pills that I asked her if she wanted when she was going to bed. Now she decided to take them. So, barefoot, I tiptoed, or as best as I can do that, into the bathroom. My dad had put down several towels but of course they were soaking wet. So when I got her pills and water, I told her to please go to sleep now. She said she would.
I went immediately into mine and my dad's bathroom and turned on the shower and stuck my feet in the water. I mean, with kids it's bad enough, if you know what I mean. I had to keep shouting at Kita to stay away cause that was all I needed was for her to roll in it or something.
In addition to the fun and games we've been having here, Kita ate something last night that made her real sick. I think she might have picked up a pill one of us had dropped, because she was laying on the floor with her tongue hanging out and her eyes wide open and glazed. I picked her up and she just laid in my arms and I became very worried, so I prayed that God would touch her. She gives me so much joy that I couldn't bear it if she would have died. That's how serious it looked. Even my dad was worried. She wouldn't sleep with me last night like she always does, but I felt her early in the morning come up on the bed. In the morning, her tail was wagging and she looked like her old self again. I was relieved and thankful - God hears and answers even prayers like that one.
So it's the end of the day and I'm safely in my room with the door closed. No more poop or sick dogs or swearing parents. Peace and quiet at last. That is, until I have to empty the "bucket" or venture into her bathroom for her pills. Tomorrow, I will wear shoes and clean the floor. Oh no. I just heard her still calling for my dad through my room. I think I'll turn the lights off and just pretend I'm in here sleeping...
Ok, well I pulled the car as close to the front door as possible because there was a big van in the way. The head nurse said no one there would help us get her in the car. At one point, I felt like I was going to rip her head off and asked her why she was giving us such a hard time. She backed off a little at that point, but really. No one to help us get her in the car? My adrenaline must have been pumping, because even though my mom weighs very little, she's dead weight, and between my dad and myself, we gathered her up and got her in the car. For a moment there, I had to yell at my dad and tell him I was stronger than he was and to move out of the way, and of course he said he was stronger than I was. Well, it was hot, I was sweating and in no mood to argue with him or the head nurse, but we got my mom in the car. I prayed a silent prayer that I wouldn't drop my mom and incredibly, I had the strength to get her in.
So we were off and I had to stop at Sprint because my phone had been acting up, but my parents stayed in the car with it running. Soon enough we were at the house, and this time it was a bit easier getting her out of the car, into her wheelchair. The whole time, she was talking nonsense and was really out of it. We got her in the house, I made dinner and eventually put her to bed. She was hallucinating the whole time and the way she was talking to me really bothered me. It was so not like her. But anyway, I gave her her sleeping pill and we put her to bed and all was well.
Today it was all about poop. Without going into great detail, the laxatives finally worked for my mom as she used the portable potty. When I emptied it, unfortunately the toilet couldn't hold it all and up it came. I had had it at that point and yelled for my dad to come in and fix the toilet. Of course he couldn't do it gently, but instead jammed the rubber thing in the toilet real fast making everything flow over the top onto the floor. I heard him swearing from the kitchen and I just shook my head. He won't touch the bucket - that's "my" job, and here he is standing in it in his socks. It was actually funny until I had to go in there later to get her pills that I asked her if she wanted when she was going to bed. Now she decided to take them. So, barefoot, I tiptoed, or as best as I can do that, into the bathroom. My dad had put down several towels but of course they were soaking wet. So when I got her pills and water, I told her to please go to sleep now. She said she would.
I went immediately into mine and my dad's bathroom and turned on the shower and stuck my feet in the water. I mean, with kids it's bad enough, if you know what I mean. I had to keep shouting at Kita to stay away cause that was all I needed was for her to roll in it or something.
In addition to the fun and games we've been having here, Kita ate something last night that made her real sick. I think she might have picked up a pill one of us had dropped, because she was laying on the floor with her tongue hanging out and her eyes wide open and glazed. I picked her up and she just laid in my arms and I became very worried, so I prayed that God would touch her. She gives me so much joy that I couldn't bear it if she would have died. That's how serious it looked. Even my dad was worried. She wouldn't sleep with me last night like she always does, but I felt her early in the morning come up on the bed. In the morning, her tail was wagging and she looked like her old self again. I was relieved and thankful - God hears and answers even prayers like that one.
So it's the end of the day and I'm safely in my room with the door closed. No more poop or sick dogs or swearing parents. Peace and quiet at last. That is, until I have to empty the "bucket" or venture into her bathroom for her pills. Tomorrow, I will wear shoes and clean the floor. Oh no. I just heard her still calling for my dad through my room. I think I'll turn the lights off and just pretend I'm in here sleeping...
Friday, September 16, 2011
Laughter and Parents
Some things strike me really funny, sometimes so, that I literally can't stop laughing, and possibly to others, it would seem silly or not funny at all, which would only make me laugh more. One of the funniest things I ever saw in a movie was in "George of the Jungle." It was a silly movie about a guy who grew up in the jungle like Tarzan and he meets this pretty girl, and then, well you can probably guess the rest. The funny part was when George was calling for his (I thought) dog, and a great, big elephant comes running at him with his tail wagging. George has a log in his hand and throws it like a stick and the elephant tries to run after it after getting his feet grounded. Now if you've never seen this or have and thought nothing about it, I'm sorry. I still laugh every time I see that part. My son Jason and I seem to laugh at the same things and he was watching it the first time with me and we both couldn't stop laughing. We kept rewinding it back at the same part over and over. I'm smiling while I write this because it just strikes me as being very funny and totally unexpected. Maybe that's why it was so funny.
Another time I can remember, and there have been lots of times I laugh uncontrollably, was when I was with Jason, and we were driving to Chicago. We were listening to Chicago talk radio when the guys on there were talking about a man who was singing the national anthem to begin a ballgame, and he forgot the words to the song. So they played the recording over and over and over. They were laughing about it and making fun of this guy and Jason and I laughed so hard we couldn't stop. Because they kept playing it over and over. It was kind of like "Groundhog Day" and the guy wakes up every morning to the same day - that was also hilarious.
It's moments like those, that I laugh with huge belly laughs and they exhaust me, but I feel so good inside. Sometimes I laugh so hard that I can't close my mouth and I think that it will stay like that. I have to keep my asthma spray nearby because I will need it like I just ran a mile or something. Laughter is so good not only for your soul, but your physical body as well. I read somewhere that it is "aerobics for the soul." How absolutely true.
So my mom had surgery and it went well and now she is recovering in the hospital. She should be discharged in the next day or so and I'm hoping she will come home instead of going to the nursing home. One of the reasons for that is that she has been hallucinating again. Apparently, the other night she called the police and told them she was lost and she didn't know how to get home, and today when I went to see her, she was mentally in and out. She started crying when I got there, as she was telling the physical therapist that she was at some party for a friend of hers and didn't know where to go tonight. When someone she knows is there, it's much better, and I just want her to come home so we can help her here. Part of the problem is the anesthesia from the surgery, she's old and she has the beginnings of dementia. All these rolled up into one, causes delusions and hallucinations. I wish she could just sit back and enjoy them, but it freaks her out and scares her. She calls my dad to tell him strange things and he's actually gentle with her when he's talking to her. When I went up to the hospital today, my dad said, "Make sure she's all right and not hallucinating." I said, "OK dad," like I have some kind of power to control it. He doesn't like to see her like this, but then neither do I. They have an alarm on her bed, in case she gets up and tries to walk out of the room like she did with the first surgery. They found her down the hall mumbling about something, in her nightgown at the nursing home. After that, they also put an alarm on the bed. When she comes home, my dad has an intercom fixed up where he can hear every sound in her room, so hopefully all will be well when she does come home.
Yesterday, I did the unimaginable. I got my dad to go to the doctor. I had hopes that the doctor would check him out thoroughly, but he didn't do much, to my disappointment. He listened to his lungs and that was about it. My dad said he will wait until he has to go to the VA to get his blood drawn and he didn't give them his urine because the lab was closed. How can the lab close before the clinic? How ridiculous. Anyway, my dad wiggled out of this one but I'm going to make sure he gets his blood work done as soon as my mom gets out of the hospital. And when we do go to the VA for this, I'm going to ask them to test his urine as well. All the way home, he kept telling me, "I told you I'm fine - I'm not sick - I know when I'm sick." To me, he looks emaciated, but he's the same weight he was a year ago when he was there, so I don't know. While we waited to see the doctor, I told him he should have shaved because his beard is white and long. I told him he looked like a rabbi. He said, "At least I'm not a priest," whatever that means. Only Bob knows for sure.
Another time I can remember, and there have been lots of times I laugh uncontrollably, was when I was with Jason, and we were driving to Chicago. We were listening to Chicago talk radio when the guys on there were talking about a man who was singing the national anthem to begin a ballgame, and he forgot the words to the song. So they played the recording over and over and over. They were laughing about it and making fun of this guy and Jason and I laughed so hard we couldn't stop. Because they kept playing it over and over. It was kind of like "Groundhog Day" and the guy wakes up every morning to the same day - that was also hilarious.
It's moments like those, that I laugh with huge belly laughs and they exhaust me, but I feel so good inside. Sometimes I laugh so hard that I can't close my mouth and I think that it will stay like that. I have to keep my asthma spray nearby because I will need it like I just ran a mile or something. Laughter is so good not only for your soul, but your physical body as well. I read somewhere that it is "aerobics for the soul." How absolutely true.
So my mom had surgery and it went well and now she is recovering in the hospital. She should be discharged in the next day or so and I'm hoping she will come home instead of going to the nursing home. One of the reasons for that is that she has been hallucinating again. Apparently, the other night she called the police and told them she was lost and she didn't know how to get home, and today when I went to see her, she was mentally in and out. She started crying when I got there, as she was telling the physical therapist that she was at some party for a friend of hers and didn't know where to go tonight. When someone she knows is there, it's much better, and I just want her to come home so we can help her here. Part of the problem is the anesthesia from the surgery, she's old and she has the beginnings of dementia. All these rolled up into one, causes delusions and hallucinations. I wish she could just sit back and enjoy them, but it freaks her out and scares her. She calls my dad to tell him strange things and he's actually gentle with her when he's talking to her. When I went up to the hospital today, my dad said, "Make sure she's all right and not hallucinating." I said, "OK dad," like I have some kind of power to control it. He doesn't like to see her like this, but then neither do I. They have an alarm on her bed, in case she gets up and tries to walk out of the room like she did with the first surgery. They found her down the hall mumbling about something, in her nightgown at the nursing home. After that, they also put an alarm on the bed. When she comes home, my dad has an intercom fixed up where he can hear every sound in her room, so hopefully all will be well when she does come home.
Yesterday, I did the unimaginable. I got my dad to go to the doctor. I had hopes that the doctor would check him out thoroughly, but he didn't do much, to my disappointment. He listened to his lungs and that was about it. My dad said he will wait until he has to go to the VA to get his blood drawn and he didn't give them his urine because the lab was closed. How can the lab close before the clinic? How ridiculous. Anyway, my dad wiggled out of this one but I'm going to make sure he gets his blood work done as soon as my mom gets out of the hospital. And when we do go to the VA for this, I'm going to ask them to test his urine as well. All the way home, he kept telling me, "I told you I'm fine - I'm not sick - I know when I'm sick." To me, he looks emaciated, but he's the same weight he was a year ago when he was there, so I don't know. While we waited to see the doctor, I told him he should have shaved because his beard is white and long. I told him he looked like a rabbi. He said, "At least I'm not a priest," whatever that means. Only Bob knows for sure.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Mish Mosh
I noticed something when I was driving my mom to the hospital this morning. She can't do two things at the same time. She can't talk to me while I'm driving, because she has to concentrate on what I'm doing. She watches every move just in case she has to use her pretend brakes, or shout out to me to "look out" or wave her arm in my face in order to protect me if we get into an accident. It's really irritating, because I know what she is doing, so sometimes, I just talk the more. Then she gets a bit flustered because, like I said, she can't do two things at the same time, so what I'm trying to do is to get her to stop driving for me.
Well we got to the hospital in one piece, thank God, and we proceeded on up to the place where she had surgery today. The nurses surrounded her and I left since her surgery wasn't scheduled for several hours and she would be busy with prep for the surgery. Today, she had a total hip replacement on her left leg. This was the original leg that was broken and a different doctor did a lousy job of putting pins in the bones of an 83-year-old woman with no bone density, and of course they broke off, protruding into her hip area. She was to have surgery on this hip the day after I got here, but she broke the other hip and so this long ordeal has been plaguing her all these months. So hopefully this will be the last surgery she has for a long time.
When I returned to the hospital later in the evening, I took my dad with me. He's always so ornery to go anywhere and he was especially tonight. I told him he could stay home this morning, but I thought my mom would want to see him when she woke up, so I made him go with me tonight. On our way home, we were driving behind a driver who was going very slow and my dad was shouting out to him/her that he was an "idiot" and he was doing this to "aggravate" my father, and few other choice adjectives. Of course the windows were closed with the a/c on high so no one heard him except me. There is no doubt that I get my lack of patience from my father. He also tells me where to go and when to stop when I'm driving, but he doesn't have a pretend brake and he can do two things at one time. We can be having a conversation and he can cuss the guy out in front of us all in one breath.
I thought I would take a picture of my living quarters where I watch tv, sleep, work on the computer and eat my secret stash of Butterfingers. The pictures are below.
This is where all my personal items, drugs, hairstuff, and everything else you can possibly need in the world are, all crammed on this aluminum table. The garbage can is also on the table because Kita likes to tip it over and chew up all the kleenex in it.
This is a view of my laptop and chair that is so low that it is nearly impossible to get out of because I am practically sitting on the floor. Kita's doggy bed is in front of my laptop and one of her many toys is laying next to it.
This is my bed with some junk on it, and peacock feathers that are taped up on the wall by my mother about 40 years ago. I think I got them from the zoo when I was a kid and she kept them all these years. They also serve as a mini dust collector.
This is another view in case you couldn't see the feathers in the previous picture, along with something someone made her for her 70th birthday, taped on the wall 14 years ago.
This is the tv I watch and chair I sit on when I take my drugs. My shoes are on the table too because Kita likes to gnaw on them. Notice the shell mirror on the wall to the left. I think I made that about 20 years ago and my mom has kept it on this wall all these years intact. The second drawer to this dresser is where I hide my Butterfingers and any other treat I may secretly get.
These are pictures of my brothers and I from our "confirmation" days so I was about 16 there. Richard is on the left and Danny is on the right. I actually was pretty back then but there is no resemblance of the current me in that picture. I can't even turn my head to the side like that anymore.
I did think of something this week that I thought was worth passing along, and that is this: The most humble thing you can do for another person is possibly the greatest thing you will ever do.
Something to chew on, other than kleenex...
Well we got to the hospital in one piece, thank God, and we proceeded on up to the place where she had surgery today. The nurses surrounded her and I left since her surgery wasn't scheduled for several hours and she would be busy with prep for the surgery. Today, she had a total hip replacement on her left leg. This was the original leg that was broken and a different doctor did a lousy job of putting pins in the bones of an 83-year-old woman with no bone density, and of course they broke off, protruding into her hip area. She was to have surgery on this hip the day after I got here, but she broke the other hip and so this long ordeal has been plaguing her all these months. So hopefully this will be the last surgery she has for a long time.
When I returned to the hospital later in the evening, I took my dad with me. He's always so ornery to go anywhere and he was especially tonight. I told him he could stay home this morning, but I thought my mom would want to see him when she woke up, so I made him go with me tonight. On our way home, we were driving behind a driver who was going very slow and my dad was shouting out to him/her that he was an "idiot" and he was doing this to "aggravate" my father, and few other choice adjectives. Of course the windows were closed with the a/c on high so no one heard him except me. There is no doubt that I get my lack of patience from my father. He also tells me where to go and when to stop when I'm driving, but he doesn't have a pretend brake and he can do two things at one time. We can be having a conversation and he can cuss the guy out in front of us all in one breath.
I thought I would take a picture of my living quarters where I watch tv, sleep, work on the computer and eat my secret stash of Butterfingers. The pictures are below.
This is another view in case you couldn't see the feathers in the previous picture, along with something someone made her for her 70th birthday, taped on the wall 14 years ago.
I did think of something this week that I thought was worth passing along, and that is this: The most humble thing you can do for another person is possibly the greatest thing you will ever do.
Something to chew on, other than kleenex...
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
My Phone
So on Sunday mornings, it takes me a long time to wake up as I drink some coffee, have something to eat and get dressed for church. It's the same way every Sunday, no matter how early I go to bed the night before. I usually wake up by the time I'm in the car driving with the a/c on full blast. This past Sunday, I couldn't find my phone and I hate going anywhere without it. I don't know why - it's a security blanket thing. Just in case. So I'm frantically looking for it before I leave and it's not in my purse or on the car seat, so I have to go back in the house to see if I left it on the counter. Unfortunately, Kita thinks my trip was extremely short so she's jumping around hysterically to greet me as if I've been gone for hours and I'm pushing past her to find my phone. Finally I gave up cause it was irritating me, and I left Kita, again, and went on my way to church. My dad says she howls and cries the whole time I'm gone every time I go somewhere, poor thing. The pet store I go to has an organic substance that you can give your dog before you leave, that helps her chill out a little bit. I have yet to try it but I plan on buying some soon.
So church was up and running with a good worship service when I got there and I settled into my pew. I've been sitting up in the front pew for a real change, and I kind of like it. It forces me to pay more attention, because I get easily distracted further back. I'm sure I have had ADD all of my life, but you know they didn't have this disease when I was a kid. I was just considered BAD.
It wasn't until toward the end of service where I looked down and lo and behold, like a mighty revelation in the Bible, there was my phone protruding through my blouse. I had stuck it in my bra because I couldn't hold onto everything that I was carrying into the kitchen at the time and I forgot that it was in there. Oh no. I didn't know what to do, but because I didn't want it ringing right while the pastor was preaching, I waited for an opportune time - like when he was really shouting and folks were amen'ing. So when this moment happened, I slipped my hand ever so carefully into my bosom and retrieved the sucker. I quickly put it in my purse and hoped no one saw me do this; I looked down for a moment, pretending that I do this all the time, just in case someone did see me. Thankfully, the phone never rang, but there is this weird image on the face of it that won't go away. I have some theories what that might be, but I am just happy to have my phone "back" that I don't even care.
So church was up and running with a good worship service when I got there and I settled into my pew. I've been sitting up in the front pew for a real change, and I kind of like it. It forces me to pay more attention, because I get easily distracted further back. I'm sure I have had ADD all of my life, but you know they didn't have this disease when I was a kid. I was just considered BAD.
It wasn't until toward the end of service where I looked down and lo and behold, like a mighty revelation in the Bible, there was my phone protruding through my blouse. I had stuck it in my bra because I couldn't hold onto everything that I was carrying into the kitchen at the time and I forgot that it was in there. Oh no. I didn't know what to do, but because I didn't want it ringing right while the pastor was preaching, I waited for an opportune time - like when he was really shouting and folks were amen'ing. So when this moment happened, I slipped my hand ever so carefully into my bosom and retrieved the sucker. I quickly put it in my purse and hoped no one saw me do this; I looked down for a moment, pretending that I do this all the time, just in case someone did see me. Thankfully, the phone never rang, but there is this weird image on the face of it that won't go away. I have some theories what that might be, but I am just happy to have my phone "back" that I don't even care.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Actions Speak Volumes
I took my mom to her pre-op appointment today at the hospital and I sat in the lobby waiting for her, listening to the piano that played by itself and the automatic door opening and closing for an hour and a half. I actually knew some of the tunes the piano was playing, so I hummed along. I did notice something, in between watching all of the people come and go. A nurse went up to an elderly lady and told her it would be awhile yet before her husband would be done with his appointment. The lady smiled and graciously thanked the nurse and said a few other polite words I couldn't hear. I thought about that for a minute and realize that most, not all, but most elderly people have etiquette down pat. They are appreciative, graceful and kind. Here the nurse was telling her that she would have to wait even longer, and instead of complaining about it, she smiled graciously and thanked her. I thought that was very cool. I hope when my generation gets to be that age, that we will be as kind and appreciative as this lady.
That really struck me, probably because of something my father said to me a few weeks ago. It was after my mom was in the hospital and we were re-telling our adventure to a neighbor and my dad said, "Sharon, you were really mean to that doctor." I was pretty surprised by that remark and asked what he meant. He said that he just thought I was a little mean to the doctor that was in my mom's room for nothing. In defense, I said, "Dad, he couldn't answer any of our questions, he's not our doctor and I didn't know why he was even visiting mom. I asked him 'why are you even here?'" Maybe I was being a bit sarcastic, but I really didn't see his purpose. He waltzed into the room, telling us he was a "hospitalist" and came to check on my mom. Well, we had a lot of questions for him, but he couldn't answer a one. That's why I got beligerent.
I was shocked by my dad's statement, partly because he is one of the meanest men I've ever known, and partly because I felt I was in the right. Also, if my dad thought I was being mean, then I really must have been, coming from the King of Mean. After thinking more about it and after seeing the lady at the hospital today, I realize I wasn't in the right. Sometimes it's just better to shut up and not say anything at all, like my mom. She smiles and says nothing which has always driven me crazy, but the more I see life, the more I understand her position. It's not always necessary to speak one's opinion. It's not always necessary to give your advice. And it's not always necessary to tell how you feel about something. After all, if I look at a newborn baby and it's a homely baby, I definitely wouldn't say that - I would say something kind to the parents, like "Oh, what a nice baby!" Who wants to hear that their baby is homely??
In the same sense, something I really need to learn is how and when to give my opinion, my advice and explain how I feel. Being a product from the 60's and 70's, and being in a mental hospital where we had group therapy every day, I learned how to speak my mind at an early age; and now I need to unlearn some of that at an older age. There's a lot of good in speaking one's opinion, in debate, in discussions, in this Blog and all of that, but what I have yet to accomplish is getting the timing right. Timing is everything they say, and boy, is that ever true.
So a little elderly lady taught me a valuable lesson today and she will never know it. A perfect example that sometimes your actions speak louder than your words.
That really struck me, probably because of something my father said to me a few weeks ago. It was after my mom was in the hospital and we were re-telling our adventure to a neighbor and my dad said, "Sharon, you were really mean to that doctor." I was pretty surprised by that remark and asked what he meant. He said that he just thought I was a little mean to the doctor that was in my mom's room for nothing. In defense, I said, "Dad, he couldn't answer any of our questions, he's not our doctor and I didn't know why he was even visiting mom. I asked him 'why are you even here?'" Maybe I was being a bit sarcastic, but I really didn't see his purpose. He waltzed into the room, telling us he was a "hospitalist" and came to check on my mom. Well, we had a lot of questions for him, but he couldn't answer a one. That's why I got beligerent.
I was shocked by my dad's statement, partly because he is one of the meanest men I've ever known, and partly because I felt I was in the right. Also, if my dad thought I was being mean, then I really must have been, coming from the King of Mean. After thinking more about it and after seeing the lady at the hospital today, I realize I wasn't in the right. Sometimes it's just better to shut up and not say anything at all, like my mom. She smiles and says nothing which has always driven me crazy, but the more I see life, the more I understand her position. It's not always necessary to speak one's opinion. It's not always necessary to give your advice. And it's not always necessary to tell how you feel about something. After all, if I look at a newborn baby and it's a homely baby, I definitely wouldn't say that - I would say something kind to the parents, like "Oh, what a nice baby!" Who wants to hear that their baby is homely??
In the same sense, something I really need to learn is how and when to give my opinion, my advice and explain how I feel. Being a product from the 60's and 70's, and being in a mental hospital where we had group therapy every day, I learned how to speak my mind at an early age; and now I need to unlearn some of that at an older age. There's a lot of good in speaking one's opinion, in debate, in discussions, in this Blog and all of that, but what I have yet to accomplish is getting the timing right. Timing is everything they say, and boy, is that ever true.
So a little elderly lady taught me a valuable lesson today and she will never know it. A perfect example that sometimes your actions speak louder than your words.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
A True Idiot
I've been seeing a physical therapist down here who I really like personally, and I think whatever she's doing is helping my hands somewhat. Her name is Linda and we had a really interesting conversation on Saturday when she was manipulating my arms. We were talking about religion and somehow our conversation got on Adolf Hitler. She had a client, a very old woman, who was from Austria and she told her this story: When she was a little girl, Hitler hadn't come into power yet but he was in Austria for some reason and he was up and coming in his political reign. He came to visit her school one day, and because she had blonde hair and blue eyes, the teacher picked her to give flowers to Hitler. She told Linda that she remembers when she gave the flowers to him, that she looked into his eyes and became terrified and ran all the way home, crying into her mother's lap. The story was fascinating to me because I can't get my mind around a person who was so evil as he was. And even a child could sense that before he ever came into power.
I have a weird interest with Hitler and everything he stood for. When we were just kids in religious school, we were forced to watch film strips of the war and the hell Hitler created, with real-life images. It scared the living daylights out of me at the time, and for years, I had nightmares that I was back in that time period, running for my life. I can't imagine anything more horrifying than what those Jews and others went through. And the brave souls who helped people escape brought that same horror into their own homes if they got caught. I remember reading about Ann Frank in religious school and watching a film strip about her and that just added to my fears. So now, as an adult, I have a fascination to visit a concentration camp to actually see and feel that in person, but I am also scared to death to do it. I've heard that there were so many people that were burned to death at one of the camps, there is a mist or something in the air that still exists today from all the ash from the dead bodies.
My parents used to know a couple who were in a concentration camp and had numbers branded on their arms to prove it. I was too young at the time to really understand that when I met them. I don't think I have any relatives that went through it - they had come over to the United States before World War II, thankfully. I've heard about some idiot who is a professor at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois, that proclaims that this portion of history never happened. That's ridiculous to me. How can he, and others, proclaim that when it happened to millions of people? Now, that man is a true idiot.
I've been sleeping a lot lately and I think partly it's because of the medication I take and partly because the weather has been so gloomy. Yesterday was a beautiful day and I was in the pool a good portion of the day -- but it has been really dreary here for the most part. I also miss my grandkids really bad. I miss Shanti telling me long stories with no beginning and no end; I miss Donovan talking and now I finally can understand what he's saying, for the most part; and I miss Jade's smile and laugh. I also miss Tay Tay and Shania - two of the neatest kids around, and I'm proud to be their grandma too. My grandkids are truly the light of my life.
I have to keep reminding myself why I am here. My parents need me and I need to be here, and yet it's so hard being so far away from my kids and grandkids. But then, I learned a long time ago that nothing worthwhile is ever easy or convenient. And so I need to make the best of the situation and remember why I'm here.
I have a weird interest with Hitler and everything he stood for. When we were just kids in religious school, we were forced to watch film strips of the war and the hell Hitler created, with real-life images. It scared the living daylights out of me at the time, and for years, I had nightmares that I was back in that time period, running for my life. I can't imagine anything more horrifying than what those Jews and others went through. And the brave souls who helped people escape brought that same horror into their own homes if they got caught. I remember reading about Ann Frank in religious school and watching a film strip about her and that just added to my fears. So now, as an adult, I have a fascination to visit a concentration camp to actually see and feel that in person, but I am also scared to death to do it. I've heard that there were so many people that were burned to death at one of the camps, there is a mist or something in the air that still exists today from all the ash from the dead bodies.
My parents used to know a couple who were in a concentration camp and had numbers branded on their arms to prove it. I was too young at the time to really understand that when I met them. I don't think I have any relatives that went through it - they had come over to the United States before World War II, thankfully. I've heard about some idiot who is a professor at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois, that proclaims that this portion of history never happened. That's ridiculous to me. How can he, and others, proclaim that when it happened to millions of people? Now, that man is a true idiot.
I've been sleeping a lot lately and I think partly it's because of the medication I take and partly because the weather has been so gloomy. Yesterday was a beautiful day and I was in the pool a good portion of the day -- but it has been really dreary here for the most part. I also miss my grandkids really bad. I miss Shanti telling me long stories with no beginning and no end; I miss Donovan talking and now I finally can understand what he's saying, for the most part; and I miss Jade's smile and laugh. I also miss Tay Tay and Shania - two of the neatest kids around, and I'm proud to be their grandma too. My grandkids are truly the light of my life.
I have to keep reminding myself why I am here. My parents need me and I need to be here, and yet it's so hard being so far away from my kids and grandkids. But then, I learned a long time ago that nothing worthwhile is ever easy or convenient. And so I need to make the best of the situation and remember why I'm here.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
On My Soapbox Again
My dad has been watching this show that I find revolting, and it's causing me to jump up on my soapbox to vent a bit. The show is something about officers on the Mexican border that try to arrest people who are trying to cross the border. I'm sure I will no doubt offend someone with this blog, so you may want to stop reading it now.
I know very little about politics because I hate it, so these are just my personal feelings and viewpoints. How and when did crossing the border become a crime? I know, I know, they have been policing the Mexican border, in particular, for a long time, but what I mean is, why is this a crime? It's a simple question, with what I assume is a complicated answer, but I want to know. When my grandparents came over to the United States from Russia and Poland, it wasn't a crime; in fact, it was very common at that time because so many people immigrated here from all parts of the world. So why should it be a crime for Mexican men, women and children to want a better life for their families, by trying to come here? It shouldn't be.
I understand that there are "bad" people who smuggle drugs and arms and lord knows what into our country, but I'm not talking about them. Those guys have so much money that it's probably quite easy for them to come into this country. I'm talking about the scores of poor people who only want to provide for their families by taking jobs here that no one else wants. How many Americans do you see washing dishes in a restaurant or providing maid service at hotels, for minimum wage or even lower? Very, very few. Most of those who I've seen are Mexican and probably here "illegally" because the goverment has made it nearly impossible to get work Visas.
Now I know very little about this issue. What makes me so angry is that good people are being deprived the opportunity to come into the US to work because they can't find this economy in their own country. This is the same scenario it was for immigrants at the turn of the previous century. No different. They wanted to provide more for their families, so they immigrated here. So why is it now "illegal" for Mexicans to try and do the same? On this show, they treat these people as criminals because some idiot came up with the idea to make it illegal to cross into the U.S. from Mexico. Why?
The answers I've heard are:
"Because they take away jobs from Americans." They work jobs most Americans won't work.
"Because they smuggle drugs into this country." Ridiculous. ALL of these people are drug smugglers??
"We have too many people here now." Ridiculous. Give me a break. I told you, I would offend some of you...
"They get on welfare and drain our welfare system." That could be true, but not any truer than the millions of people who have descended from African, and European relatives who also drain our welfare system.
Any way you slice it, this whole issue makes me really angry. Angry - not mad - my mom says "only dogs get mad." I'm not saying just open up the borders and let everyone in the world in; but what I am saying is to stop making it criminal, and give these people a chance at a better life for themselves and their children; they're obviously not getting this in Mexico.
And now, as I descend from my soapbox, I hope you still love me as I still love you. We can always agree to disagree, as someone wise once told me. Who that was, I can't remember, but I like the phrase, so I use it often...
I know very little about politics because I hate it, so these are just my personal feelings and viewpoints. How and when did crossing the border become a crime? I know, I know, they have been policing the Mexican border, in particular, for a long time, but what I mean is, why is this a crime? It's a simple question, with what I assume is a complicated answer, but I want to know. When my grandparents came over to the United States from Russia and Poland, it wasn't a crime; in fact, it was very common at that time because so many people immigrated here from all parts of the world. So why should it be a crime for Mexican men, women and children to want a better life for their families, by trying to come here? It shouldn't be.
I understand that there are "bad" people who smuggle drugs and arms and lord knows what into our country, but I'm not talking about them. Those guys have so much money that it's probably quite easy for them to come into this country. I'm talking about the scores of poor people who only want to provide for their families by taking jobs here that no one else wants. How many Americans do you see washing dishes in a restaurant or providing maid service at hotels, for minimum wage or even lower? Very, very few. Most of those who I've seen are Mexican and probably here "illegally" because the goverment has made it nearly impossible to get work Visas.
Now I know very little about this issue. What makes me so angry is that good people are being deprived the opportunity to come into the US to work because they can't find this economy in their own country. This is the same scenario it was for immigrants at the turn of the previous century. No different. They wanted to provide more for their families, so they immigrated here. So why is it now "illegal" for Mexicans to try and do the same? On this show, they treat these people as criminals because some idiot came up with the idea to make it illegal to cross into the U.S. from Mexico. Why?
The answers I've heard are:
"Because they take away jobs from Americans." They work jobs most Americans won't work.
"Because they smuggle drugs into this country." Ridiculous. ALL of these people are drug smugglers??
"We have too many people here now." Ridiculous. Give me a break. I told you, I would offend some of you...
"They get on welfare and drain our welfare system." That could be true, but not any truer than the millions of people who have descended from African, and European relatives who also drain our welfare system.
Any way you slice it, this whole issue makes me really angry. Angry - not mad - my mom says "only dogs get mad." I'm not saying just open up the borders and let everyone in the world in; but what I am saying is to stop making it criminal, and give these people a chance at a better life for themselves and their children; they're obviously not getting this in Mexico.
And now, as I descend from my soapbox, I hope you still love me as I still love you. We can always agree to disagree, as someone wise once told me. Who that was, I can't remember, but I like the phrase, so I use it often...
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Bedtime
My mom is doing something very annoying lately. She will get ready for bed and get all tucked in, having taken her medicine, done everything she needs to do and then we all say good night and I go on the other side of the house to my room and my dad goes into his office, which is next to my room. But, oh, about a half hour later, as I am sitting down with my laptop doing whatever I'm doing, my mom calls from her bedroom for one of us to come there. I just saw her. What could she possibly want now? The other night, she was hungry and asked me to bring her some cereal. So I told her to keep the box in her room so when she gets hungry, it's right there for her. She thought that was a good idea, so I journeyed back to my room. Last night, she called again, about a half hour after "going to bed," and this time I went over there and she said that my dad didn't put the walker close enough to the bed, so I pushed it over to the bed. I said, "Ok, mom, now go to sleep," half-kidding and half-serious. It's like the child that is constantly asking for something after putting them to bed - milk, having to go to the bathroom, etc. She and my dad have a walkie-talkie thing-a-mi-jig that she can talk into and my dad hears her if she needs him. So she does this every night after she is supposed to go to bed. My dad is getting really aggravated, so I am left to go over there to see what she could possibly need. Apparently, the sleeping pill isn't kicking in or strong enough and that's why she lays awake, probably wondering what she can ask for next.
This afternoon, I came into the kitchen and mom was making "her" dinner. I asked her what she was doing and she said that we have been eating so late that she would try eating earlier - it was an "experiment." I said that we would just eat earlier and my dad growled something from the den. Apparently, she woke him up to see if he was ready to eat. He wasn't. But since she insisted on eating earlier, I continued to make dinner for everyone. Her theory was that if she eats dinner earlier, then there is more time from when she ate until when she goes to bed, and maybe that will help her fall asleep better. Whether her theory is right or not, it's silly and a pain for me to have to make meals twice, so I said we're all going to eat at the same time. So we all ate together and boy, was that a joyous moment. My dad was particularly unhappy about being woken up and was very crabby at the table. He kept yelling at Kita which I was getting mad about, so I quickly ate and cleared the table in lightening speed. He went back to his chair (where he wanted to be in the first place) and fell back asleep.
I have to figure out how to get both of their hearing checked - it's driving me crazy. Neither one of them can hear me, much less each other and I am constantly saying or asking the same thing twice - as they are. Maybe I need my hearing checked too. I feel like an interpreter, telling my dad what my mom said and vice versa. I try to start out loud but that doesn't always work either. I'm learning that if I say "Dad" first before the sentence, then I have his attention and can continue on, although he still doesn't always hear me. But I also think he has selective hearing because he hears things he's not supposed to hear when I'm whispering to my mom. My father refuses to go to the doctor, for any reason, so that's a wash right there. My mom would go, but that just means another doctor appointment I have to schlep her to.
Surgery on her left hip is now scheduled for September 14 and the pre-op is a week before that. In addition to all of this, she just found out she has Vertigo, which is a disorder that causes you to be very dizzy and she finally got medication for it. For a woman who was extremely healthy her whole life, my mom is sure acquiring a lot of problems. I guess that is inevitable as you age, though. Hopefully, after she heals from this surgery, she'll feel well once again. If that does become the case, I figure, my work here will be just about done...
This afternoon, I came into the kitchen and mom was making "her" dinner. I asked her what she was doing and she said that we have been eating so late that she would try eating earlier - it was an "experiment." I said that we would just eat earlier and my dad growled something from the den. Apparently, she woke him up to see if he was ready to eat. He wasn't. But since she insisted on eating earlier, I continued to make dinner for everyone. Her theory was that if she eats dinner earlier, then there is more time from when she ate until when she goes to bed, and maybe that will help her fall asleep better. Whether her theory is right or not, it's silly and a pain for me to have to make meals twice, so I said we're all going to eat at the same time. So we all ate together and boy, was that a joyous moment. My dad was particularly unhappy about being woken up and was very crabby at the table. He kept yelling at Kita which I was getting mad about, so I quickly ate and cleared the table in lightening speed. He went back to his chair (where he wanted to be in the first place) and fell back asleep.
I have to figure out how to get both of their hearing checked - it's driving me crazy. Neither one of them can hear me, much less each other and I am constantly saying or asking the same thing twice - as they are. Maybe I need my hearing checked too. I feel like an interpreter, telling my dad what my mom said and vice versa. I try to start out loud but that doesn't always work either. I'm learning that if I say "Dad" first before the sentence, then I have his attention and can continue on, although he still doesn't always hear me. But I also think he has selective hearing because he hears things he's not supposed to hear when I'm whispering to my mom. My father refuses to go to the doctor, for any reason, so that's a wash right there. My mom would go, but that just means another doctor appointment I have to schlep her to.
Surgery on her left hip is now scheduled for September 14 and the pre-op is a week before that. In addition to all of this, she just found out she has Vertigo, which is a disorder that causes you to be very dizzy and she finally got medication for it. For a woman who was extremely healthy her whole life, my mom is sure acquiring a lot of problems. I guess that is inevitable as you age, though. Hopefully, after she heals from this surgery, she'll feel well once again. If that does become the case, I figure, my work here will be just about done...
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