Monday, August 31, 2009

Moving Beyond Grief

Tonight Daughter and I were sitting in McDonald's eating supper. An older woman was walking out, and we watched as she stopped, slowly bent over, and picked up two french fries off the floor and put them in the trash. We looked at each other and smiled. "Grandma," I whispered, and we both began to laugh. Mom had this thing for floors. She'd walk through stores, restaurants, or just down the sidewalk picking up trash. When she first moved into the memory care unit, they told us they were always finding her one her hands and knees picking little pieces of lint and such off the floor. We just laughed.
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I told Daughter that it was good that we were remembering Grandma and laughing now, instead of crying. She agreed.
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I am making napkins out of flour bag dish clothes I bought at Sam's Club. Yesterday I began cutting each one into 4 pieces. Mom was a perfectionist, and she would have measured them with precision so the cuts were straight and each one was an identically sized rectangle. Since I'm just making these for our every day use, I decided they didn't have to be perfect. I folded them in half and cut. Some of the sides are crooked, some of them are weird shapes, and it's okay. I don't have to make myself crazy seeking after perfection.
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I can laugh at memories of her quirks and honor all she taught me, and I can discard those burdens she placed on me that no longer serve me. I am grateful for all I learned from her, and for the laughter Daughter and I shared when we watched a woman pick up a french fry in McDonald's.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Watching Weight

When Dad was discharged from the hospital last Monday, he had about 60 pounds of fluid weight. When he went to the doctor on Wednesday, he'd lost 5 pounds, and we celebrated. But then on Friday he'd gained 10 pounds. Yesterday he'd gained 5 more, and the doctor doubled his diuretic. So after a double dose of diuretic yesterday and today, he's only up 4.5 pounds today. Basically, he's now up to about 75 pounds of fluid.
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Next Sunday is our Big Event. Far Away Sister and I were just talking about when he'd have to die in order to have the service next weekend. If Dad dies this week, I'm just not sure I'll be up to the Big Event next Sunday. I've sent an email to a minister who might be here next Sunday morning, to see if he would be willing to step in if my Dad does die. I'm back to worrying about scheduling anything and wondering if this will be the day when I get the phone call. Of course, he could rally again and go for months or years. The doctor is planning to start him back on the diuretic that always causes his kidneys to fail.
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When I talked to Dad today, he was congested and not real with it. It was a brief conversation. On a more humorous note, Sister was there when they checked his blood sugar before supper. She said the conversation reminded her of one of my conversations with Daughter. His blood sugar was very high.
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"What have you been eating?"
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"Nothing!"
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"Did you eat some candy?"
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"No."
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"Are you sure?"
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Sister thought it was very amusing. Dad got a lecture on what he could and couldn't have for supper. Sister said he was very meek. I wonder if he was obedient when he got down to the dining room....

Nice Try

Daughter desperately wants to hang out with Flasher. I have told her I can't control who she chooses for her boyfriend, but because I don't think Flasher is safe, I will not allow him to come here to see her and I won't transport her to see him in Town. At lunch today she suggested that she had heard me say it would be okay if they were supervised. I told her that wasn't the case, and it wasn't okay. She was frustrated and insisted I had said they could hang out if they were supervised. I informed her that I was saying now that even with supervision she couldn't hang out with him.
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I have profound concerns about Flasher. From everything I've seen and heard, he has no impulse control. He reportedly ripped the blouse off a woman. Daughter now insists that didn't happen. I've been around him enough to think that those reports are most likely true.
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On the way home, she told me she had to tell me something. She explained that the story she told me about him exposing himself to her had been a lie. She assured me she knew it was wrong, and was sorry. She said she'd told me the story because she was afraid and wasn't ready to be in a relationship. I told her I believed the first story, and she still couldn't see him. Now she's very angry with me. I've been called a less than pleasant name. I'm supposed to believe her now when she tells me the other story was a lie. I'm not the only one she told the first story, and it fits what happened that day (which at the time didn't seem to make much sense.) It took her several days to get up the courage to tell me about it. The way she told me and her discomfort convinced me it was real. She also told the story to Case Manager.
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I told Daughter that that is the problem with lying, when you tell the truth people don't believe you. She is now back into avoidance mode and is sleeping on the couch right now. She has informed me that she doesn't care what I say, she will see and hang out with the Flasher. That doesn't mean I have to enable it.
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Saturday, August 29, 2009

The Gift of a Day

Daughter and I were sitting in the workshop parking lot waiting for everyone to arrive and load up to go the softball game 80 miles from here when word came that the game had been cancelled. We didn't get much rain, but the community where we were going to play had received 2 inches, and it was too wet to play.
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Daughter was disappointed, and I was a little frustrated, but as I started out of the parking lot, I realized I had been given the gift of a day that wasn't scheduled. So, we went to the store and purchased some things we needed and then came home and I dug into the kitchen. I've washed new containers for storing things, cleared off some counter space, and am going to make tortillas. Daughter bought the Hannah Montana movie, and will probably try to see how many times she can watch it today. She's happy, I'm happy, it's a good day.

Softball and Pancakes

Daughter has a softball game today, and is quite excited. She was up before me, and decided to make pancakes. She was trying to be nice, but it is very hard to calculate the carbs in pancakes. I hate trying to estimate the carbs and insulin, especially on a morning when she is going to be playing softball. She knew I wasn't thrilled. I thanked her for trying to do something nice, and reminded her how hard pancakes are for me to calculate. We've had this conversation numerous times before. I'd prefer she talk to me before she makes breakfast, so I can help her figure out what to make and how to make it....
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Still, it's nice I didn't have to yell at her to get up this morning and that she was trying to do something nice for breakfast.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Spoke Too Soon

Well, I didn't see that curve coming. I received a text from Sister a little while ago. Dad has gained 10 pounds in the last 2 days. That means he weighs 5 more pounds than he did at the worse of this round. The visiting nurse is waiting for a call back from the doctor to see what he wants to do. This is just so exhausting....

Once Again...

Once again Dad has survived a bout of severe congestive heart failure. He now seems to be improving. He is going down to all the meals instead of having them delivered. He told Sister he'd like her to do a cook out for Labor Day, and offered to pay for the meat. He's asking for a bar to help him get in and out of bed. He's lost some weight.
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On the other hand, he's more confused. When I call, some days he doesn't talk at all, other days he asks me the same questions we've gone over numerous times before. One of the aides at the assisted living raised a concern about whether he should be allowed to have his beer every evening. Our opinion is that if he wants one beer in the evening, let him have it. He has so few pleasures in life anymore. Since the concern was raised, they'll have to get the doctor's permission for him to continue. We're not sure what the doctor will say, but hope he will allow him to continue to enjoy his nightly beer.
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Daughter continues to call me every morning to find out what I've heard about Granddad. It continues to be a concern and stress for her. I find myself wondering how many more twists and turns we'll have to endure on this roller coaster. I'm hoping for an extended period of smooth straight away this time....

Thursday, August 27, 2009

HIbernating

I picked Daughter up from the workshop for an appointment with Therapist this afternoon. When I asked her how her day had been, she said it had been her worse day ever, and she'd hibernated. I couldn't figure out what she was talking about. She reminded me that she'd hibernated at a game one time. I was still confused. Finally she said, "I had troubles with breathing." Oh! She was talking about hyperventilating! She was blaming her diabetes, but I told her it was because of stress and anxiety. She protested that she didn't make it happen. I assured her that I knew that, but that her stress and anxiety led to it.
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Interesting revelation when she saw Therapist: she's not concerned about Granddad, "he's better now." Her anxiety is over drama at the workshop. Therapist isn't sure what's going on, but apparently there is more drama there, and Daughter isn't coping well. That's why she hyperventilated. Hibernating may have been a better way to deal with it....

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Shifting My Focus

Years ago, when I was directing junior choir, there was one little boy who was ADHD to the core. He could not sit still. I would have him come up and stand next to me while I directed. I'd direct with one hand and hold his hand with the other. That little boy is now a senior in high school. This summer I got a call from his Mom. He had freaked her out by telling her he thought God might be calling him to missionary work. I've been bugging him to come talk to me ever since, and this evening we finally sat down to talk.
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He's not sure what God wants of him, and now he's talking about joining the marines. He's a very intelligent young man, and is scared by the thought that God might be calling him into some form of ministry. I can relate. It is a scary thought. I gave him some resources and pointed him to our denomination's website for additional information. I suggested he do a volunteer year after high school before deciding to join the marines. I'm sure the conversation will continue, but it was fun to be able to talk to him about possibilities and God's call on his life.
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I'm going to focus on that and forget all about the other stuff for now. I have an outreach committee meeting for tonight. It will be another welcome diversion.

Living with Not Knowing

I am a person who deals with stress and challenges by seeking out knowledge and understanding. If I can gain some understanding of behavior, no matter how irrational the behavior, I can deal with it. I have shelves overflowing with books, and with the internet at my disposal, my appetite for answers has become even more voracious.
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This morning Dad is not answering his phone. Far Away Sister and I have both been trying to call him. We don't know why he isn't answering his phone. We think that if he were dead or unconscious, we would have heard by now. But we don't know why he isn't answering his phone. We are concerned. Those who are closer to the situation don't seem to share our concern. Of course, those who are closer to the situation don't seem to share many of our concerns. We think both of them are having a harder time dealing with Dad's decline. Thinking that they are in denial makes it easier for me to deal with some of their strange comments and actions. It's just very hard dealing with not know what is going on. Far Away Sister and I were speculating this morning about what we don't know. Is he just going to die in his sleep some night? Will he be unconscious and unresponsive for some period of time before his death like Mom was?
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Of course, all of this avoids the bigger question: Is he going to come back from this bout of congestive heart failure, or will this be the one that finally kills him?
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I continue to seek a new call, though sporadically due to the stress of Mom's death and Dad's declining health. What I have now discovered is that it looks like it will be impossible for Daughter to step into some kind of program as soon as we move. There are waiting lists everywhere for the most basic services. So now I find myself pondering what I will do with her. Will I be able to find an adult daycare that will accept her? Could I keep her busy with volunteer jobs around a new church? She is not able to stay home alone, and she doesn't do well with unstructured time. Not knowing what I will be able to find or even what might work for her is very frustrating, to say the least. Once again, I'm frustrated by all I don't and can't know.
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Ultimately, all of this is in God's hands. Ultimately, I know it will all work out. I just wish that God would provide me with a little bit more knowledge so that I could be a little more comfortable with life right now. One of my favorite questions is, "What is God teaching you right now?" Right now God is teaching me how to live with not knowing. It's not an easy lesson.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Irritated


Today I am very much on edge. Even the littlest thing can irritate me. I suppose it has something to do with all the stress, and of course there were ample things to irritate me this morning.

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Daughter insisted she didn't need Miralax last night. I've been giving it to her nightly for the last week or so because she was back to regularly clogging the toilet. I know it has to do with her stress level. I finally decided we'd just go back to the nightly Miralax so I wouldn't be plunging the toilet several times a week. So this morning she clogged the toilet. It's a great way to start the day.

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This morning I was trying to finish the newsletter. The leaders of all the programs that are starting in September failed to get information on the office for the newsletter, despite numerous reminders. Of course, if people don't show up for their events, it will be because no one cares, not because they failed to publicize it.

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Secretary still hasn't mastered formatting documents. As I was trying to finalize the newsletter (which wasn't cooperating this morning), she was trying to format the program for the Big Event which is happening September 6. She kept answering me questions, which distracted me and which I couldn't answer without going over to look at her computer. I finally told her to set it aside and I would fix it. When I opened it, it was a mess. She has things in different fonts and there are so many layers of formatting that I finally saved it to a flash drive and brought it home to finish.

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I got ambushed Sunday evening, and over my concerns, youth group will now include one 6th grader. We also have several high school seniors. It's just not going to be possible to meet the needs of this wide an age range. The 6th grader came to me and asked to join with a high school junior and senior. I couldn't say no without looking totally unreasonable.

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Sunday School is starting. I love to teach. Every year I try to teach a class, and the members don't show up regularly. There will be a large group one Sunday and they'll talk about how much they enjoyed the class. The next week, only 1 person will show up, and eventually I'm alone most Sundays. I want to teach, but am not sure I want to go through the frustration yet again.

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Yesterday I had to take Daughter to Big City for Psychiatrist. Tonight she has a softball game. Tomorrow afternoon I have a youth stopping by to talk and an outreach meeting in the evening.

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Dad is now home, and says he slept well last night. He walked to breakfast and back this morning. He still is carrying around 48 pounds of fluid. I'm still wondering how much longer he'll be with us, and what I'm going to have to rearrange so I can leave town in a hurry for a funeral.

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I got a phone call this morning from a man who was referred to me by Former Member. FM grew up in this church and moved away. He comes back for the Big Event and other things through the year. He always has some great idea for what we need to do to solve problems we don't have. He told this man to call me, because he knew we would want him to do the program for our heritage celebration in March.

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Secretary's foster sons still haven't started school, so they were hanging in the church office asking questions this morning. When I got the newsletter done, I gathered my things and left. If I stayed any longer, I would have said things I would have regretted. I would have growled at someone and maybe even bitten them. I'm just irritated today. I'm going to put a warning sign around my next so people will know not to get too close or ask me any questions....

Monday, August 24, 2009

More Drama

At least this time the drama isn't in my house. Dad was discharged from the hospital this afternoon. Brother took a day off work today so he could spend all day at the hospital. Sister spent all day at the zoo, and so was unavailable when Brother asked her to help get Dad home. To say he is not happy would be an understatement.
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Far Away Sister got to referee this one. I was tied up with Daughter at Psychiatrist's office. Everyone is stressed, and many are not coping very well. I'm sure at some point I'll hear about this from both of them.
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Dad is still retaining 48 lbs of fluid. He is still short of breath because of all the fluid he is retaining in his abdomen. We were at this point in February, and he pulled out of it. I still question whether he has the will to pull out of it this time.

Of Course

Daughter's blood sugars have been running high. I had suggested she might have been into some extra food, but she assured me that wasn't the case, of course. So I was pondering the options: had her insulin gone bad? was she really sick? was this the result of stress? was I somehow miscalculating her carbs and insulin? was she having lows and rebounding?
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Yesterday afternoon I walked by her bedroom and saw her moving quickly to hide something in her closet. She had a box of cereal hidden in her room. At least it was whole grain cereal and not presweetened, but it certainly explained why her blood sugars were running high. I confiscated the cereal and what was left went into the trash. This morning her blood sugar was back in range. I'm just glad I hadn't decided to increase her insulin in response to the higher numbers.
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She continues to be angry because I don't trust her. She can't figure out why....

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Short Circuiting the Drama

Daughter found a new audience for her drama at church today. Following worship the woman she was sitting with came over to tell me that Daughter wasn't feeling good and they were just having her sit. I assured her Daughter was fine, but rather than talk about her feelings she was developing physical symptoms. When I finished greeting people at the door I went to the pew where Daughter had an audience.
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"What's your blood sugar?" She told me. I assured her she was fine and to suck it up.
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She was furious, and stood up and stormed out of the church. No sign of being dizzy or not feeling well.
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When I got home, she was laying down in the living room again. I pointed out that talking about her feelings was more helpful than developing physical symptoms and dwelling on them and making herself feel bad. She informed me that was the way she coped with feelings. I asked her how it was working for her. She acknowledged it wasn't.
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After we ate, I told her that if she vacuumed the stairs and upstairs hall, we'd go to town. If she didn't, I'd go tomorrow while she was at the workshop. I told her she wouldn't go to town again until the steps had been vacuumed. After several false starts and much drama (which I ignored), she vacuumed the steps, and did a decent job.
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I was developing a menu and grocery list for our trip to town. She came into the study and dramatically grabbed the door frame because she was so dizzy. "If you're feeling that bad, I'm not going to take you to town. It would be dangerous for you to be in a store when you're that dizzy."
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She finally decided that maybe going to the store and walking would be good for her. We went to City and did some shopping. All signs of illness have vanished. I suggested that getting up and focusing on other things had resulted in her feeling better. Her response, "I refuse to admit anything."
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I know that she will be back into drama mode soon, but for now, I'm enjoying the break. Dad made it through another night. Sister is now acknowledging that he's not doing well and probably doesn't have much time to live. They were giving him iron today. Sister is making a list of questions for the doctor tomorrow.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

I Yelled

I don't raise my voice very often, so usually when I do, it has a powerful impact on Daughter and she seeks to be more cooperative. Usually.
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I let her sleep in this morning, and then fixed homemade macaroni and cheese for her for lunch. She has been bugging me to make it-- I know it's a comfort food for her. I washed the pans and everything that wouldn't go in the dishwasher, then I asked her to rinse out her bowl and put it in the dishwasher and start it. She wanted to go to a movie today. I told her not today, but if she was helpful and cooperative, we'd go shopping later and to a movie tomorrow.
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I came upstairs to work on my sermon so I'd be able to go shopping this afternoon. Two hours later I ventured back downstairs with the sheets off my bed to put in the washing machine. I was going to ask Daughter to unload the dishwasher. Except she didn't do what I asked. After she ate, she went into the living room and went back to sleep on the couch.
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I woke her up and asked her what I'd asked her to do. She told me. I pointed out all I had done for her this morning, and the promises I'd made to her. All I'd asked her to do was clean up her own dishes and start the dishwasher, and she couldn't even do that. She got up and did what I'd asked. Then she came upstairs and sat down next to me and tearfully apologized. I told her to show me she was sorry by her actions. I pointed out she was getting a collection of empty water bottles in her room. So she went into her bedroom, closed the door, and went back to sleep.
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I know she's stressed about Granddad. So am I. I'm trying to offer her support and ease up on my expectations of her. It's obviously not working. I may yell again. Of course, yelling didn't work either.

Distracted

It's Saturday, and I'm not even close to finishing the worship planning for tomorrow. I've been very distracted this week by Dad's continuing decline. I've done the necessities, but the things that could get pushed off and have gotten pushed off. Sister called this morning with the news that Dad won't be discharged today because he still needs three more breathing treatments. She said she was glad, because he was having difficulty breathing yesterday, and she had to help him change position before he could talk. Interesting. Yesterday she told me he was doing great and his lungs were now clear. What I know first hand is that he still has no interest in having phone conversations. I'm lucky if I can keep him on the phone for a minute.
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Daughter is complaining of a variety of vague physical symptoms. She's having a hard time with all of this. Her needs are one more thing to distract me from sermon writing and such. For now I need to set aside the distractions and get busy with finalizing tomorrow's worship service.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Trying to Understand

The fluid is out of Dad's lungs, but they've only been able to get 1/2 a pound off of him. According to most of the doctors, he's ready to go home. He still has about 49 pounds of fluid they can't get off. They want him on a strict renal diet. We don't want to restrict his diet that way. I again raised the possibility of hospice, so Sister called hospice and found out they wouldn't take away his insulin as she had thought. She began to be more open to the possibility. I explained again that I want him comfortable at home, and thought hospice could get him a hospital bed so he could sleep with his head elevated, oxygen so he wouldn't struggle so much to breathe, medication to manage his pain and anxiety, and the emotional and spiritual support he needs.
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Sister finally called his doctor. His doctor says he's not ready for hospice. He thinks Dad still has a will to live, and that if we mention hospice he'll give up and die right away. He said to forget the renal diet and let him eat what he wants (of course, if he's not on hospice, that means they'll ship him back to the hospital in a few days when his lungs fill up with fluid again). The doctor promised a hospital bed and medication for the pain and anxiety.
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The diuretics are not getting the fluid off. If he goes home on a regular diet he will retain more fluid. His lungs will fill up again. What is the goal? How long can he live like this? Why is hospice such an evil thing? Far Away Sister says that I am more familiar with hospice and thus more comfortable with the idea. She also points out that this doctor resisted putting Mom on hospice. The irony is that he is the medical director of a hospice program. How can he direct something he doesn't believe in?
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Sister now has me feeling like somehow the fact that I have suggested hospice means I want to kill Dad. That's not what I want. I do want comfort and peace for him. I do want him to be able to enjoy whatever life he has left. I do think he's dying. Today Dad asked Sister about Golden, who they will probably put down next week. She told him that when Golden wants to get up, he barks and one of them goes over and lifts him up. Dad said that was no quality of life and they shouldn't let him go on like that. This was after Dad called for someone to help him get out of bed and sit in a chair for a while. But Sister thinks Dad isn't thinking of death and still has a will to live. I just don't understand.

Dad and Computers

Dad made it through another night. His voice was strong this morning, but again, he wasn't very talkative. He says he didn't sleep well last night.
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I've been thinking about Dad quite a bit, obviously. He fought in Korea, and then came back and finished college on the GI bill. He got bachelor's degrees in business administration and electrical engineering. They were married for his final 2 years of college, with Mom working as a public health nurse to support them.
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When he graduated, the best job offer came from GM, so they moved across country to Detroit. He was a pioneer in the field of computers, beginning to work with them in the late 1950's. He was involved with computerizing manufacturing processes. He was an expert at what he did. For years he lived in the sub-basement. Computers were huge and heavy, so they were housed on the lowest level of the building. He'd call Mom at lunch time and ask her what the weather was like.
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Dad has always been intrigued with technology. He spent $100 for one of the first electronic calculators. That was a lot of money at that time, and all it did was add, subtract, multiply and divide. It was a big monstrosity. He was an expert with computers until he met Windows. He was used to talking directly to the computer, and this intuitive interface was beyond him. To further complicate matters, his vision was beginning to fail, so he couldn't always read the instructions on the screen.
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Brother and I became his computer consultants. We both spent hours helping him resolve issues on his PC. It took us forever to convince him that many problems could be solved simply by restarting the computer. It became our first question when he'd call us wanting us to fix his computer. "Have you tried restarting it?" At one point Brother and I were keeping track of whose turn it was to spend hours trying to talk Dad through a computer problem.
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Of course as it became possible to do more on the Internet, he wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to shop and bank online. With his poor eyesight and rotten keyboarding skills, there were times when it was a disaster. As Mom sank further into dementia and Dad's hearing failed, he tried to use the computer to avoid the phone. He's never liked using the phone, so of course he wouldn't call technical support, he'd wait for one of us to come over and sort things out for him. For a while, he was ordering their prescriptions through an online pharmacy. The system was not very user friendly, and he was not a friendly user. Every time I'd go visit, he'd tell me he'd gotten locked out of his account again and I needed to fix it for him. I'd then spend long periods of time on hold with the pharmacy, and of course, both Mom and Dad would have to talk to the tech and give identifying information before they could let me into their account. It reached the point where Mom couldn't answer the questions, so I'd stand by and prompt her with the answers so I could get into her account. I'd order the forms so they could give me permission to manage their account, but Dad was always reluctant to sign them. He wasn't ready to give up control.
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We'd leave post-it notes all over the desk outlining how we'd solved various issues and what the current id's and passwords were so that the next one of us who visited and was asked to fix a problem would know what the status was. Since I stayed with them when I visited, I was often the one who got the job. Brother and Sister never had time on their shorter visits. They just smiled when I told them how unfair this was. Of course, I think I was also a little more patient with it than they were, so if it was possible to wait for my next visit, Dad did.
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My favorite, though, was the day Dad asked me to check one of his credit cards to see if he owed any money on it. They had offered him the option of signing up for on-line statements, and of course he'd jumped at the chance. He couldn't remember his user id or password, of course. I finally got into the screen where it asks you to answer your security question and then will give you access to the account. The question he'd chosen was his mother's maiden name. As I typed it in with confidence, he said, "Uh, I may have spelled it wrong when I put it in." It is a complicated name, so that wasn't surprising. "How did you spell it?" "I don't remember."
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I ended up calling the company, getting the balance and due date (and setting up an online payment with his bank), and asking them to put him back on paper statements. I said, "Dad, switching to online delivery of your statements is a wonderful convenience, but I think you are better off with paper statements." He just grinned sheepishly and nodded.
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Fortunately, Far Away Sister has now taken over all of his financial matters. I was paying his bills during one of his hospitalizations and discovered he'd paid $12,000 on a $120 bill. He'd put the wrong account number on the payment, which made it even more of a challenge to track down. That was the point at which we began to make plans for the transfer. By that time, Dad was glad to turn it over. Far Away Sister is also an electrical engineer, so it was easy for him to trust her with that responsibility. They think alike. She's more competent with Windows and keyboarding, fortunately.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Coping

When I woke up this morning, my first thought was, "I didn't get a phone call. Dad lived through the night." Then Sister called to inform me she had talked to Dad and he was feeling great and eating breakfast. Brother got over to the hospital in time to see the doctors and send us text message updates.

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After lunch Daughter called me, sobbing, because she missed Grandma.

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Sister called me, angry, because I knew she had called Dad and "everyone" was accusing her of neglecting Dad. I knew she'd called. It wasn't her fault he couldn't remember. Then she wanted to know if it was okay to buy him generic instead of name brand cough drops.

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Far Away Sister is pricing airline flights and trying to figure out what weekend would work best for a memorial service for Dad. Her husband is currently on a business trip on the other side of the world.

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Secretary informed me I should just pick up Daughter and drive up to where Dad is and demand to speak to the doctor and force everybody to face what's going on.

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This morning Dad told me he was feeling great, but couldn't talk because he was on the commode. This afternoon he was feeling lousy and having lots of pain in his shoulder. I have no idea what that's about.

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Sister claims he looks great and the fact that he's complaining and in pain means he's much improved over yesterday.

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I'm listening and interpreting. I reminded Sister that everybody is stressed and none of us are at our best and I knew she called Dad this morning and it's too bad Dad doesn't remember. I told Daughter that I miss Grandma sometimes, too, and it's okay and she could make it until I picked her up for her appointment with Therapist.

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I finalized the bulletin for Sunday, worked on the newsletter, planned the senior luncheons with 2 other women, found items for our welcome boxes, visited the nursing home, and went shopping for light bulbs and a locking cabinet.

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I have all of our meds locked in 2 file cabinet drawers, but that's not working very well. I've been thinking about getting a cabinet for them, and Therapist and I think it would be a good idea to lock up the knives. Daughter says she's hearing voices again, but we think she's angling to get into the hospital. It's another attempt to run away from her feelings. We offered her another alternative, and she's going to decorate some shoeboxes. She'll have one for sad feelings and one for angry feelings. She can write down the things that are causing those feelings and put them in there so they don't bother her. It worked when we put her worries in an envelope for God. Maybe it will help with her sadness and anger. She's also going to put together a scrapbook or box with pictures and good memories about Grandma. That way she can go look at those things and smile. I'm willing to try anything.

This Morning

We have a very small kitchen. Brother gave me a small portable dishwasher several years ago, and when it is moved from it's place under the window and hooked up to run, it takes up a great deal of space in our very small kitchen. When we got home from softball last night, it had completed a cycle, and I told Daughter I wanted her to unload it this morning (I knew she would object that it was too late at that point).
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This morning I overslept a bit, and so when I got into the shower at 7:00 I told Daughter it was late and she needed to get up and moving. When I got out of the shower, I called out to ask her if she was up and dressed. She wasn't. I told her she had to move it.
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I came downstairs and began to gather things to make her a peanut butter sandwich for lunch. Because she has type 1 diabetes, I need to measure everything she eats to determine carb content so I can give her the appropriate amount of insulin. I pulled the 1/8th cup measuring cup out of the dishwasher, and it still had some peanut butter in it.
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"I thought I told you to wipe the peanut butter out of this before you put it in the dishwasher yesterday morning." I held the cup out for her to see.
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"I did!" I was now wrestling with the dishwasher to get it out of the way so I could wash the cup at the sink before making her sandwich.
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"Wow! That's amazing! We must have magic peanut butter! It jumped from the jar to the measuring cup in the dishwasher!"
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"Thanks for calling me an idiot."
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"Thank you for wiping the cup out like I asked you to."
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She stormed out the door, refusing a hug because she claimed I had called her an idiot. I pointed out I hadn't, but she was quite insistent. She just called to apologize, and ask how Granddad is doing. He's supposedly feeling better, but he always has an excuse why he can't talk on the phone if one of us calls....
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Brother says a kidney doctor stopped by this morning, wanting to know why Dad doesn't have a specialist treating him regularly. He doesn't have one because his doctor doesn't like to refer people out. He'd rather have the office visits (and money) himself.
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Some of the things Sister told me yesterday evening:
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"Dad isn't ready for hospice! He is still fighting and enjoying life."
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"Well of course he doesn't want to talk to you and doesn't respond to your conversation. He doesn't feel good."
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"He's been much worse than this and come back from it."
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"He always enjoys watching (her 4 year old's) antics and laughed at them."
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"He was just telling her to be quiet and settle down because he doesn't feel good."
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"He loves having us visit and spend time with him."
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"Well of course he hasn't wanted long visits in the last month."
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"He's still fighting and enjoying life."
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She's not ready. We'll just wait as she comes to terms with the painful reality of his condition. Who knows, maybe she's right and the rest of us are all wrong.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

So Much for the Conversation

Dad is not in good shape. The doctor took one look at him and said he was admitting him to the hospital. Brother tried to talk to the doctor about the situation, but Sister resisted the conversation. Dad is in the hospital. If the IV diuretics don't get the fluid off, they're talking about doing kidney dialysis.
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His lungs are full of fluid. He's cold and clammy. I'm not sure he's strong enough to survive dialysis. I do know it's much easier to make the decision not to start something like a feeding tube or a ventilator or dialysis than it is to stop it.
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Far Away Sister told me that Sister isn't comfortable with hospice. I'm not sure why. She was comfortable with it for Mom. I wish we'd had this conversation with Dad 5 years ago.

Alaska

This morning when the aide went in to get Dad up, he was sleeping in his recliner. He was cold and clammy, and his blood sugar was very low (in the 40's). When she asked him where he was, he said he was in Alaska. They stuffed him full of orange juice and donuts, and his blood sugar didn't come up very far or very quickly. They couldn't reach Sister, so they called Far Away Sister. They wanted to transport him. Far Away Sister called me as the family expert on diabetes. I said they needed to transport him if his blood sugar hadn't come up after that much food. I also said that the hospital needed to know that he has a DNR order and is not to be put on a vent.
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By the time the paramedics got there, his blood sugar was over 140, and he knew where he was, so they didn't transport him. He already had a doctor's appointment scheduled for this afternoon. I spent over 2 hours on the phone with various assorted siblings. At one point all 4 of us were talking to Dad, who was slightly overwhelmed by having all 4 of us on the phone at the same time.
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Next week would have been their 54th wedding anniversary. They had talked about going on an Alaska cruise, but never had the opportunity because of family responsibilities and health issues. I find it significant that Dad thought he was in Alaska. I suspect he was thinking about the cruise that never happened and their upcoming anniversary.
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Sister is having a hard time with all of this. They are making arrangements to have their 13 year old golden retriever put down. He can't get up on his own because of arthritis, and has difficulty swallowing because of a large tumor in his throat, one of many throughout his body. Sister is afraid to talk to the doctor about options, because she feels talking about hospice is the same as putting their golden down. She doesn't want Dad to think she's tired of taking care of him.
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I am convinced that it is time to look into hospice care for Dad. Let's get him a hospital bed so he can sleep with his head elevated and it's easier to breathe. Let's put him on oxygen. He is now carrying so much excess fluid from his congestive heart failure that walking to the bathroom leaves him short of breath and one eye is swollen shut. He's not responding to the diuretics this time. Far Away Sister and I think he and Mom may be together again for their anniversary next week.
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Brother is going to go to the doctor's appointment this afternoon with Sister and Dad. I hope and pray that together they will be able to have the conversation with the doctor and Dad about end of life options. If he's not going to get better, let's make very sure he's comfortable. I wish he'd had this conversation with his doctor years ago. He has told us he doesn't want any extraordinary measures taken. He hasn't told his doctor. The doctor had a hard time letting go with Mom. I think it is going to be even harder for him to let go of Dad.
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This is very hard, especially so soon after Mom's death (June 9th). But for Dad's sake, I hope he is able to spend their anniversary with Mom again. Maybe they can go to Alaska....

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Worship Planning

A colleague and I had a phone appointment this afternoon to do some worship planning for September. Last night the worship committee met, and we made some plans for World Communion Sunday. Both of these meetings energized me and got me excited about worship in the next month and a half. I was able to set aside my concerns about Dad for several hours, and focus on the Good News and struggle with how to communicate it and lead a congregation in discovery and worship. I'm grateful.
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Dad has gained another pound. Sister says it is obvious he doesn't feel good. He goes to the doctor tomorrow. For now, it's nice to have things that I can focus on and that excite me. One of the upcoming Scripture lessons talks about prayer. My prayer for Dad is for peace, and for strength for the rest of us. It will be hard, but I know that death will bring healing to Dad. Maybe he will be with Mom for their wedding anniversary at the end of the month. Or maybe he will rally and last several more months. All I ask is for peace, strength, and welcome distractions.
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Tomorrow afternoon I'm going to travel 30 miles south of here to visit one of the saints who is failing rapidly. I'm sure it will be a bittersweet visit, filled with thoughts of Mom and Dad. I will minister to her, and hope that someone is ministering to Dad.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Seven Pounds

So about 10 days ago Dad was taken off his diuretics because his kidneys were failing. During the time he was off the diuretics, he gained 5 pounds. Last week blood work showed his kidneys had recovered, so the doctor restarted some of his diuretics. Since that time, he has gained 7 more pounds. He's now carrying around about 50 pounds of water weight.
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Sister got Far Away Sister and me on the phone at the same time, and told us what was going on. She had a phone call into the doctor at that point. I suggested that it was time to talk to the doctor about whether we should seek to keep him comfortable or continue to run him to the doctor weekly and tell him he can't eat food he loves. Sister was shocked. Far Away Sister agreed. Far Away Sister went so far as to say, "If you and Brother want to continue to take him to the doctor weekly, we won't object, but what does it accomplish?"
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When the doctor returned Sister's call, she didn't ask him our questions. The doctor questioned the weight, but Sister assured him she had checked the weight against his scales in the office, and it was accurate. He told her to get Dad on the powerful diuretic (that causes his kidneys to fail) and take away all his diet pop. He said Dad isn't to drink anything but water, and because he won't like it and won't drink much. He wants to see him on Wednesday. Sister didn't tell him Dad drinks a beer every evening.
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I've known Dad is failing. If he didn't have a pacemaker, I'm sure he'd have died long ago. I've known this. I've thought I was ready. But the conversations today were hard. I'm not ready.
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I sent Daughter upstairs to watch TV during my phone conversation. I wanted to protect her. But she knew what was going on. When she came down to supper, she raged. She's not ready. None of us are ready.

The Box

Yesterday Daughter emptied a box and left it in the middle of the floor of our very small kitchen. This morning I asked her why she had left an empty box in the middle of the kitchen floor, and asked if she was trying to trip up her Mom. I told her to take care of it. "Sorry," she responded.
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I then left the kitchen. When I went back in, she had moved the box from the kitchen floor to the kitchen table. Of course by the time I'd discovered it, she'd left for the workshop. Sigh. At least it's no longer in the middle of the kitchen floor.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Above and Beyond

One of the youth in the church worked with Daughter for an hour today on softball skills. It is 93 outside and humid. An hour. In the heat. I think I owe her a gift certificate for McDonald's or something. Daughter was so excited. She came home hot and tired, but very happy.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Arghh!

Daughter had a softball game today. It was over an hour away. There is a young woman on her team, A, who has not been very dependable this year. They were balancing trying to get everyone in with keeping the players in who gave them the best chance to win. A was put in to play the outfield, but the best hitters on the team went down in order, so she didn't get to hit. They lost the game, which meant they didn't get to play a second game.
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A number of the athletes were upset, but they did their best. I was secretly glad, because I didn't really want to spend the whole day there, so it didn't bother me that they didn't have to play the second game.
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When A came out after the game, her mother said to her, "Why didn't you get a chance to hit? We drove all this way for nothing. It was a complete waste of time." A sat down and began to cry, and her parents turned their backs on her. Her stepfather is a registered sex offender-- the highest level there is in this state. I felt so bad for A.
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Some people shouldn't be parents.

Friday, August 14, 2009

For the 35,983rd Time

Daughter was supposed to be cleaning her room yesterday.
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"Mom, I just don't know where to begin-- there's too much!"
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"Start with the laundry basket in your room." I had noticed that she had a laundry basket piled high with various items.
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As the evening progressed, she began emerging from her room to find me with great excitement. She was finding things that had been missing, things that I had been after her to find. Several times she asked me to come in and see the progress she had made. At one point she came in and told me, "Mom, I'm feeling so much better!"
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This morning I asked her how full the hamper was as a result of her room cleaning. She knew I had just finished laundry yesterday. She knows that I get rather frustrated when she keeps her dirty clothes in her room and doesn't put them in the hamper. She tried to minimize what she had placed in the hamper. Then she said, "Mom, I promise that from now on I will always put my dirty clothes in the hamper right away."
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I wanted to say, "Yeah, right." What I said was, "I hope so." Who knows? Maybe on this 35,983rd time she will actually remember and follow through. Maybe she will begin to get cause and effect. Maybe she will actually learn from her mistakes. I can always hope.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Morphine


Yesterday, when Daughter was complaining about her terrible headache, she told me it was worse than what it had been at the workshop. "It wasn't hurting that much there so I didn't need to ask for any morphine."

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"What?"

"That's what they call Tylenol at the workshop, morphine."

"I don't think so. Morphine is a completely different medication. They wouldn't be giving it you at the workshop."

"Oh. Well, they call it something other than Tylenol."

"Acetaminophen?"

"Yes! That's what they call it!"

Daughter has an auditory processing disorder. It's conversations like this that remind me of that. I did have to smile, though.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Should I Be Concerned?

Daughter rushed in from the workshop today and changed for softball practice. She practiced for 90 minutes in the heat, and after the practice was quite pleased with herself for actually chasing balls hit in her direction in the outfield. Some of the other women just stood there watching the birds or something (but definitely not the ball). We went to a restaurant for supper, and then headed home.
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We weren't even out of town when she was moaning beside me.
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"What's wrong?"
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"I have a really bad headache."
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"How long have you had it?"
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"Since I was at the workshop." At this point I decide that if she could play softball with no problem the headache can't be that bad. Then she begins to cry, first quietly, then when I didn't react, more loudly.
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"What's wrong?"
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"My head and stomach hurt really bad."
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"I'm sorry you don't feel good."
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"And I have housework to do when I get home."
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I remained silent, and she reached over and grabbed my right arm. She put her head on my shoulder and wrapped her arms around my arm. She stopped crying, and by the time we got home came in the house and got busy with her chores. I worry that someday she will really be sick and I won't believe her. I was really beginning to wonder what horrible disease she might have as she sat sobbing next to me. I wouldn't have thought contact with my right arm could cure it, but apparently it did.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

What Is Real?

Last Monday Daughter called me in tears and said she'd broken up with Flasher. She told him she didn't want to speak to him ever again. Saturday and Sunday she began asking me to take her to town to meet Flasher and D. She said they wanted to meet both of us, and I could be there and listen to her conversation. I explained that I thought Flasher might misinterpret this as meaning she wanted to be his girlfriend again. She finally told me they'd gotten back together.
Sigh.
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Obviously, I wasn't thrilled. I explained that I couldn't stop her from being his girlfriend, but that I would not encourage or enable it. I would not take her to meet him, and he was not welcome in our home. I explained why. She called and talked to him and said they were just going to be friends and he said there were other fish in the sea.
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Yesterday afternoon she had an appointment with Therapist. I provided a brief update before Daughter went in, and told she had broken up with Flasher, and that I was tired of lies. Therapist called me in because there was something Daughter needed to tell me. Therapist reminded Daughter about how important the truth was, and Daughter said she'd never broken up with Flasher. I reminded her of her tearful phone call. She became confused. Therapist kicked me out again.
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Therapist is thinking that Daughter no longer knows what is real and true, at least in terms of Flasher.
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When we got home, I explained to Daughter that Cat had urinated in the back porch bathroom because his litter box was so dirty, and she needed to go in and scrub the floor and baseboards.
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"I'm done."
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"How did you do it?"
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"I used the swiffer wetjet."
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"What about the baseboards?"
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"Um, I used the wetjet on them, too?"
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"Go get a rag and the bathroom cleaner and use that on the floor and the baseboards."
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"Okay, I'm done."
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"The baseboards are still dirty."
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"I see what you mean, Mom, they were disgusting. Now they're clean."
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"Did you clean behind the toilet?"
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"Oops."
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"Now I'm done."
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"You didn't clean the baseboards behind the toilet."
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"I did it, Mom."
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"Did you get the black footprint off the middle of the floor?"
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"That's from my shoes. I guess now I have to take them off to do it."
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"No, clean the floor and then back out, cleaning as you come."
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I don't know if she did that or not. By this time, I was worn out, and I hadn't even cleaned it. All of this just points to how hard life is for her right now. I've got her taking miralax again every night, as she was regularly clogging the toilet. She becomes severely constipated when she is under stress. It's a control thing. This morning she came out and said with wonder, "Mom, it didn't hurt when I went to the bathroom!" Dad has gained 5 1/2 more pounds of fluid, but he's doing pretty well considering all the excess weight he's carrying. He had more blood work done today to see if his kidneys have recovered enough for him to go back on the diuretic. I suspect that as long as we're on the roller coaster with Dad, I'll be dealing with more challenges from Daughter. She's wanting to me next to me all the time, and being around her is exhausting, to say the least.
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I really need to wash her hair, but right now I need the break I get when she's taking her shower in the evening. I'm going to try to do it tonight. Maybe if she gets that attention from me, she won't be as clingy. I can hope.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Lies

Daughter is supposed to clean out the litter boxes every day. Friday, as we were getting ready to leave, she said, "I'm going to go clean out the litter boxes."
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When we got back Saturday, I said, "Make sure you clean out the litter boxes."
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Again yesterday she supposedly cleaned out the litter boxes.
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This morning I walked by the one in plain view and looked down. It definitely hadn't been cleaned out in several days. I informed her she had to clean it out this morning. Then I said, "I hope you've been cleaning out the others."
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"To be honest, I haven't cleaned them, either. I'll go clean them before I go to work."
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I get so tired of the lying. I get so tired of following her around to double check on everything. I recently discovered that when she was brushing her teeth, she wasn't using toothpaste.
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I hope that part of this is just her grief about Grandma and worry about Grandpa. I really don't want to spend the rest of my life following her around to make sure she's doing the things she's telling me she is doing. I need to put a new battery in the alarm on her bedroom door. Her blood sugar was high this morning, so I suspect that the night raid on the kitchens have returned.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Grandmas


Yesterday we celebrated Dad's 80th birthday with an open house. He was able to be there, and I think he enjoyed it. The weather didn't cooperate, but there was a steady stream of people and I think he had a good time. I really enjoyed just sitting around talking to old friends. Daughter went from enjoying herself to sobbing in my arms. She was very much aware that Grandma wasn't there. It was the first family gathering since Mom's death. At one point she said, "I feel haunted."
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I was holding her as she sobbed when some of Mom's friends walked in. They have seen Daughter at church when we've visited over the past 19 years. They surrounded her with love. The informed her that they would be her grandmas now. Then they told her about a young man who is a couple of years older than she is and also involved in Special Olympics. She came away with his email address.

These women gave Daughter and me a wonderful gift. I sat and talked to this Eligible Bachelor's mother. She gave me hope. Her son is 3 1/2 years older than Daughter. She said that in the past 4 or 5 years he has matured tremendously. She assured me that Daughter will still grow and improve. I had begun to despair, thinking that I was looking at these same struggles for the next 30 years. Now, I have hope. We laughed over the similarities between Daughter and EB. Will anything come of their correspondence? I doubt it. But hopefully they will have fun together. What did came out of yesterday was hope. I'm grateful.

Friday, August 7, 2009

A Rant

I just waded into the health care debate with someone who went onto a social networking site and labeled one side of the issue as "evil" and stated that they "had to be stopped." I am concerned about the direction the debate has taken. At least one member of congress has received death threats because of his stand on the issue. I am concerned about the lies and distortions that are creating so much fear. I spoke to my aunt this week, and she had heard that the legislation said she couldn't have kidney dialysis because she is too old. It doesn't say that (I checked). Someone sent me a list of evil things that are in the bill with citations from the actual legislation. I went online and checked those citations. None of them said what the list claimed they said.
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Groups are actively trying to shut down the debate by distributing instructions on how to interrupt and keep people from completing their sentences. How is this helpful? Where has all this fear come from? When did any idea or plan become too dangerous to even discuss? When did those who disagree with us become evil?
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I am convinced that our health care system has problems that need to be addressed. I know too many people who can't get insurance for various reasons. I hear too many horror stories. Too many people are being driven into bankruptcy by medical expenses. I don't claim to know the answer or solution to those problems. I know, however, that maintaining the status quo is not the answer.
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During the last election, I prayed that God would guide us in the voting booth, and that the outcome of the election would reflect God's will for our country. I didn't tell God what I thought the outcome of the election should be. Why is it that so many Christians are now convinced that the administration is evil and that the country is headed in the wrong direction? Do they think God ignored their prayers? What if God answered all those prayers and this is the direction God wants us to take? Why are so many people convinced that God wants what they want?
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Whatever happened to integrity? Why do people think it is right to scare people and advance lies and distortions if that gets them what they want? Why do they think it is good to treat those who disagree as the enemy who needs to be stopped (or destroyed). I don't forward stories that come to me as truth without first checking them out. I stopped reading a blog that posted a bunch of urban legends as true stories and refused to post the comment I wrote that provided a link to a website that had researched the truth of them.
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I believe that as a Christian I have a responsibility to verify facts and promote the truth. I'm not going to tell people what the solution is to our health care challenges (though I will offer stories to those who claim the system is fine just the way it is). I am going to confront those who are using lies and distortions to generate fear. I am going to work to get the truth out there.
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I'd like to see those who are fighting against the legislation and promoting fear to put that energy into praying for God's guidance for our leaders. I'd like to see them trust God to guide the nation and recognize that God doesn't need the help of their lies and accusations. I'd like to see them put forward a plan that will address the challenges in a way that is in keeping with their beliefs.
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My fears for our country have nothing to do with socialism and government health care. My fears for our country are about the loss of civil debate and the loss of a willingness to work across the political spectrum for the good of our country. My fears have to do with the idea that anyone who has different beliefs is evil and must be stopped. My fears are about a society that no longer seems to be willing to tolerate diverse views and ideas. I think those things are far more likely to destroy our nation than any particular health care legislation.

Peyton Place

Daughter was obviously anxious yesterday evening. She would go do a task, and then come sit in the chair in my study so she could be near me. She asked what I was going to be doing today, and then asked if she could stay home and help me. I'm not sure how she thinks she can help with a sermon and a funeral, but she wanted to stay home. She hates going to funerals, and I warned her she'd have to go with me if she stayed home. She said that was okay. I knew she was worried about Dad, and I attributed her desire to stay home to anxiety over his health.
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I put her off several times, saying we'd talk about it later, because she often talks about staying home and then changes her mind. At bedtime, she was still insistent. I asked her how much of this was about being anxious and wanting to be near me. "All of it. There's something I haven't told you that happened at the workshop today."
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It seems that D is upset because his wife, B, is paying a great deal of attention to Flasher, who is a former boyfriend. He informed Daughter if she didn't keep B away from Flasher, she'd have hell to pay from him. She's terrified. I asked her if she reported this to anyone. He told her she couldn't tell anyone about what he'd said. I reminded her that she isn't responsible for B and can't control what she does.
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I'm going to call Case Manager today. Daughter is home, and I'm going to give her lots of work to do today. She's already showing that she'd rather sit in the study beside me and sleep that get up and do some work that takes her away from me. I think it's going to be a very long day.
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The workshop is a regular Peyton Place. They don't help matters any by failing to provide structured activity during down time. Therapist and I have both explained to them repeatedly that Daughter needs structure, and that they need to give her things to do, even if it is just having her work on a puzzle book for 30 minutes. They don't follow through, and when the clients are left to fend for themselves, it is a breeding ground for all sorts of soap opera style intrigue.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Balancing Act

Right now life and ministry are requiring some balancing. Daughter is not doing as well as I would like. She threatened to take a knife up to her room and cut herself last night. Fortunately, she doesn't have access to her insulin or medication anymore, and she hasn't cut herself in years, so I'm not too concerned. It is indicative, though, of her lack of coping skills.
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Dad's kidneys are failing, so the doctor stopped the diuretic. Stopping the diuretic is not a good thing when you're in congestive heart failure and your lungs are filling with fluid. Far Away Sister and I told Sister that this could be fatal today. She was shocked to hear that bit of news.
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Brother insists Dad is fine and will be able to handle the open house on Saturday without any problems. He refuses to consider contingency plans. I hope he's right, but I have my doubts.
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I have one more funeral this week, need to get a sermon done for Sunday, and needed to go to the nursing home today to visit the 3 saints still there. I've buried 3 of their friends in the last few weeks, and so I wanted to make contact with them. As expected, M was unhappy because she hadn't seen me in over a week. C & D assured me I didn't need to worry about them, and they knew I was busy. I told them all that I couldn't guarantee I'd be there next week since Dad isn't doing well.
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Last night the power steering went out on my car. This morning I started calling dealerships looking for someone who could get it in right away and give me a loaner. It's still under warranty. One dealer wasn't willing to help at all. He said they couldn't look at it until late today and wouldn't give me a loaner until they knew what was wrong with it. The other gave me a loaner, but warned me it couldn't go out of state if they didn't have my car fixed by tomorrow. Since I need to go out of state for Dad's birthday open house, this was a bit of a concern. I called Far Away Sister, who has ties to the auto industry. Turns out Brother-in-law is visiting a corporate officer of the company that made my car this week. She told me where to start in the quest for a car I could take out of state, and promised to make some calls if that didn't work. Fortunately, I got a call this afternoon. The problem is a module they can replace tomorrow. The dealership is in the same town as the funeral, so I will pick up my car before or after the funeral, depending on when they get it done.
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Daughter is going back and forth between sleeping and complaining this evening. It could be a very long evening with her. I need to get the funeral for tomorrow finalized tonight. I'm also working on laundry. I will finalize Sunday's sermon tomorrow morning.
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In the midst of all of this, I'm doing well. I'm at the level of stress that forces me to think clearly, prioritize, and make effective use of my time, which I am doing. Of course, the next think I have to throw into my balancing act may be the one thing that causes me to drop everything, but for now, things are balanced.

Funerals


Yesterday evening I sat and listened to a family tell me stories of L. He was truly a remarkable man. He had been in the nursing home for a couple of years, and I always enjoyed my visits with him. Amazingly, he was one of those people who rallies and thrives in the nursing home. He was around people and had no responsibilities, quite a change from life alone on the farm.

He used to seek out arguments with me by making provocative statements, "I'm nothing but a waste of space and resources."

"I see you as a source of wisdom."

"I'm just a poor, dumb farmer."

"I am amazed by how much farmers need to know about so many different things."

"Christmas is for families, they shouldn't be burdened by having me there with them."

"Without you, none of them would exist. You're the founder of the family."

He had been on hospice for months, and had far outlived expectations. Last week I asked him how he was. "I'm still alive."

"Is that good news or bad news?"

"Bad news." Of course, he had a huge smile on his face when he told me that.

His son is a farmer, his daughter a teacher, so they have had the freedom to spend lots of time with him through the summer. It wasn't unusual to go visit him and find one of them and several adult grandchildren sitting in the room with him.

One of the greatest honors I have is walking with families through times like these and celebrating the life of their loved one at the funeral service. This will be my second this week, and both of these individuals were very special to me. Both had lived long lives and were ready to go on to the next. A was 93, L was 89. Both had outlived their spouses and were ready to be reunited with them. A's son told me yesterday, "You won't be able to repeat this service on Friday. There will be too many of the same people there." I assured him that it would be a new service.

L's son and daughter were at A's service yesterday. I was surprised to see them, as I knew it would be hard on them. A had been in the same nursing home, and they had renewed their relationship with her during the long months of their Dad's decline. It was hard, but they were there. They were there to honor A's life, and A's sons will be there tomorrow to honor L's life. These families made this journey together. It is a sacred journey, and I'm grateful I've been allowed to accompany them.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Dad

Dad is turning 80 this week, and we've planned an open house in celebration for Saturday. Unfortunately, he's back in congestive heart failure, and has been for several weeks. Far Away Sister and I are concerned that he sounds terrible. He's congested, short of breath, and showing no interest in life. The increases in diuretics have not gotten rid of any of the fluid, and at various times today the report on today's doctor's appointment has been that he gained 1 1/2 lbs, 1/2 lb, or nothing. Far Away Sister and I have been comparing notes, and it seems that the more time that passes after the appointment the more the report we gets improves.
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Far Away Sister and I believe his life is rapidly winding down. Brother and Sister who live there seem much less concerned, or deeper in denial. I led a memorial service today for A. She never woke up from a nap on Saturday. She'd been struggling with congestive heart failure and had been in and out of the hospital much like Dad. My hope is that death will be as easy for Dad when it comes. I also hope that it isn't until after the funeral I have Friday afternoon. I will be heading out after that funeral to visit Dad. I'll see him at the party, his apartment, or the hospital, but I will be there to wish him a happy 80th birthday. I will celebrate the time I've had with him and be grateful for any time I can still have with him.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

It's Only Fair....


Since I posted a picture of Daughter's attempt to burn the house down some months back, it's only fair that I post a picture of mine. The timer on the stove doesn't work, so I've been using the timer on the microwave. Yesterday I turned set it, but forgot to set the power level to zero. By the time I realized something was wrong, here's what the potholders and baked potato bag in the microwave looked like.

My brain still isn't functioning on all cylinders-- still too much stress. Dad is not doing well. He turns 80 on Thursday, and we have a birthday open house planned for him on Saturday. Sister and I doubt he'll be strong enough to be there. He's back in congestive heart failure, and even with increased diuretics, the excess fluid is not coming off.

I now have 2 funerals this week, plus running around for Daughter. It's a busy week, and I need to get my brain back in gear. I won't be using the timer on the microwave anymore.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Adoption: The Dream and the Reality


Someone sent me an email with this picture in it today, it was sent as a commentary in life in general. But it started me thinking about adoption. I think for many adoptive parents, we start out on this journey expecting to find a pot of gold. We often end up, though, as a porta-john, a disposable dumping ground for all the pain and anger in our children's lives. We are told that with love and stability, our children will heal and become productive members of society. We dream of the day when we will visit them in their homes, and take pride in their careers and our grandchildren.

Too often the damage is too great, and our children will never live up to our dreams for them. We downsize our dreams. Instead of dreaming of a lawyer, we dream of someone who is able to stay out of jail. Instead of dreaming of a teacher, we hope for someone who will finish high school. Instead of dreaming of marriages and children, we pray they stay out of abusive relationships and worry about the safety of our grandchildren. It's not just the big dreams that are compromised.

I knew Daughter was having a rough day, so I fixed a salad she loves for supper. I was planning to go for a walk while she was gone, but I remember she's always saying we should walk together when she gets home from the workshop, so I held off until we could go together.

She got home and I told her to check out the bowl in the refrigerator. She did, but with no enthusiasm. She began her sighing and moaning that indicates she's in great physical pain (since she won't talk about her emotional pain, it comes out in vague physical symptoms). I told her we were going for a walk. She told me she wasn't. I insisted, so she ran 2 houses ahead of me and then turned around and headed back for the house, telling me she was done. I stopped her, and explained that we were always talking about walking together, and I had thought this would be a good day to begin. She reluctantly turned around, but then started in with her verbal abuse.

I told her to forget it and turned around and headed back to the house. She was shocked. I told her I had tried to do some nice things to make up for her bad day, but she'd been verbally abusive since she got home, and I wasn't going to listen to it anymore. She then informed me I had never cared for her and that was her whole problem, the fact that I didn't give a damn about her. Yes, the preacher's kid in Tiny Village went storming up the street swearing and telling the world about how terrible I am. I said, "Stop it!" She informed me that was it, she was packing her stuff and leaving. I told her that wasn't the point. She stormed to her room, and after several door slams, began throwing things at her door. There is now silence, so I suspect she has gone to sleep.

We have good days, and I am grateful she is in my life. But too often I am her dumping ground. I have watched my dreams for her vanish as she becomes more dependent and requires more one on one supervision with each passing month. For me, the end of the adoption rainbow didn't hold a pot of gold. Love and structure were not enough. Yes, she has healed. Yes, she has made progress. When she came to me she had shut off her hearing and was nonverbal. She was shutting out the world to protect herself from the horrors of an abusive family. Even with all the healing, her adult life is not about discovering her independence, but about proving to me that she can't live without me, and then punishing me because she can't.



I do not regret adopting her, but I have not become an advocate for adoption, either. How could I wish this life on anyone? How could I let anyone set off thinking they would find a pot of gold and discover a porta-john instead? Yes, I know there are adoption success stories, and I am happy for those families. But there is also a great deal of pain in adoption, and that pot of gold is too often elusive.

Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

Today Daughter went in to the workshop and broke up with Flasher. I received a call from her, and she was in tears. Her day was not going well. Flasher seems to have zero impulse control, and according to Daughter, he was talking to everyone and blaming Daughter for their break up. I felt bad for her, but pointed out that just showed she'd made the right decision by breaking up with him.
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I suggested she sit where she couldn't see him, turn her ipod to her most soothing music, and focus on doing her piece work. Fortunately, they do have work in today. Poor Daughter. She so desperately wants to have a boyfriend. There just aren't many good options available to her. Her PTSD makes it hard for her to sustain any relationship with a man, so it would take a very special guy to be patient and stick by her through her struggles. I don't think she'll find such a guy at the sheltered workshop.
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I've been very lazy so far today. It's been kind of nice. I think I'll see about fixing something special for daughter for supper tonight. Maybe it will help make up for her bad day at the workshop. I think we'll play a game tonight after we finish household chores. Daughter lost TV privileges by not getting up with her alarm this morning, but we can play a game together, and that will distract her nicely.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Remaining Flexible

I looked at my calendar for the week and was pleased to see that there wasn't much on it. I was even happier to see that I have tomorrow completely free-- the first day off that has been free in quite a while. Daughter has an appointment with her family doctor on Tuesday afternoon and a softball game Tuesday evening. At least this is a home one, so it's a 2 1/2 hour commitment instead of a 5 1/2 hour commitment.
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Last night I prayed at a banquet, and when I got home there was a message from a daughter-in-law. I knew immediately what it meant. A had finally died. L, who has been on hospice and dying for several months now, continues to hang in there. Hopefully his day will come soon. On one of my visits last week, I asked L how he was. He said, "I'm still alive."
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"Is that good news or bad news?"
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"Bad news." The poor man has been ready for death, and is frustrated with the waiting. The waiting is hard for everyone. God's time is not our time, as I keep reminding him and his family.
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A had been ready, too, and I'm pleased that she finally has been called home, as she had been praying for some time. When I talked to her daughter-in-law last night, they didn't know what the arrangements were going to be, but wanted to check in with me. So this morning I started trying to figure out what the timing would be for visitation and the service. I had visions of having to rearrange my entire week. This time, though, I was fortunate. Visitation and service will both be on Wednesday. They're going to come talk to me this evening about the service.
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I still have tomorrow to myself. I won't have to rearrange Daughter's appointment on Tuesday, and she'll get to her game. It will be good. Daughter and I both know that we always have to be flexible, but its nice that for now, at least, our week can go forward as planned.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Closed


For many years now, I have had a Shell MasterCard. I purchase most of my gas on it, and get a discount on my gas through the rebates. It has worked quite well for me. I just finished closing the account. Why? Well, they give you less than 2 weeks to make the payment from the time you receive the statement. This year, that happened to coincide with my 2 weeks of vacation. So, I got home Sunday night, got my mail Monday afternoon, and paid the bill on line Tuesday morning.

When I got my next statement, it was the largest of the year. I had charged over $200 worth of gas on it those 2 weeks we were on vacation. They had credited my payment, which, as expected, had been late. They also charged me a $39.00 late fee and over $2.00 in interest. This had happened once before, and that time, when I sent an email to customer service and explained the situation, they had credited the late fee. This time they refused. I pay my balance in full each month, so I guess they saw this as their one chance to make money off of me. So, I called and cancelled the card. It was a convenience, but not one that was worth $39 anytime I'm away for 2 weeks.

A number of years ago I was on vacation for 4 weeks. As a result, I was late with a payment on a card with a much longer grace period for payments. The next month's statement had closed before they received the payment, and so I deducted what I'd paid when I got home and paid the rest, including interest and the late fee. I wasn't quite as assertive in those days. I had used the card throughout the vacation, so it was obvious I had been travelling. The following month, without me even asking, they refunded both the late fee and the interest they had charged. If I need to buy Shell gasoline in the future (and I will avoid it when possible), I will use my GM Card.

It is the kind of thing my father would do. We used to joke about all the places we couldn't go because he'd gotten mad at them over something and refused to do business with them anymore. I'm beginning to see his point.

Progress

The stress list in the envelope addressed to God seemed to help Daughter. She was not nearly as anxious yesterday. She actually worked at the workshop, completing half a box of her piece work (the day before she'd done one item). We went out to supper last night, and then to a concert in the park. At the intermission she pointed out that she wasn't begging to go home and trying to convince me she was too sick to stay, like she usually does.
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I also think the tremors have lessened some, so maybe the reduction in her depakote will work-- as long as she doesn't start her rapid cycling or become manic. This evening I am doing a prayer at a community event. It will get us a free banquet meal. Daughter is already telling me she's not going. Some things never change. For now, she's still in bed, and I'm enjoying the peace and quiet.
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She has a softball game Tuesday night, swimming on Wednesday, and Friday we leave to go celebrate my Dad's 80th birthday at an open house on Saturday. I just found out that the invitations for the open house have not yet been mailed out. I guess that means I won't have to prepare as much salad and pulled pork.... Dad is back in congestive heart failure, and is becoming more confused and cantankerous. Hopefully he won't wake up next Saturday and declare he's too sick to go to his party, but anything is possible.
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For now, though, I'm going to enjoy the quiet. It is a wonderful gift.