Mom's Carrot-Candle-Tie Coloring Page with Bobbie and May Looking On

                                                            Saturday, June 25, 2011

Dear Kathy, Suzy, and Jonathan,

            I had a fascinating hour with Mom today!  She was in the mood that you described earlier in the day, Kathy—a bit taciturn but not belligerent. 

            When I arrived at 1:35, she was in the dining room starting on a page to color, but she was trying to make sure that one of the aides knew just what was in the two big plastic garbage bags so she could find what she was looking for, whatever that was. 

            She kissed me and said she was glad to see me but “I’m having a bad day.”  She asked me to help her identify just what it was she was coloring.  I told her the four “things” on the page looked like carrot candles, and she told me—looking just a little askance—that she and I thought alike because they looked like carrot candles to her too. 

            At that point, I don’t think she had any crayons, so she was coloring with a black pen, and since she wasn’t at the table, she needed something firm underneath her page to color, so I offered her the big envelop I’d gotten from my mailbox before leaving San Francisco.  When I saw the envelope wasn’t firm enough, I got her the photo album binder, and then I opened the envelope up and found “The Carrot Seed,” a children’s story that was written in 1945 that I’d ordered for someone in Germany whose free-lance job it is to draw seeds and what they grow into for every vegetable in Germany!  I showed Mom that I too had carrots, but she wasn’t as amazed as I was.

            Before she started using the album as a desk,  we added the pictures of her and you, Jonathan, at the piano and you, Kathy,  and her at the ice cream parlor.  She saw the picture of Betty Zulch and asked, “Has Betty Zulch passed on?”  I told her she had, about two or three years ago, and Mom asked about her husband.

            Then Mom asked me to find her an orange crayon, so I asked an aide whether they had one.  She looked through about six boxes in  the cupboards and found one pink, one orange.  Mother wanted more, so I went to Safeway and got a package of 24.  But on my way out, I forgot to press the star button after the 4,3,2,1, so the alarm went off when I pushed the door,  and Francis Dean, the newest resident, said, “I’ll be going out with you.”  An aide called him back in, saying, “Mr. Dean, you have a phone call.  Your daughter is on the phone.”  I had the terrible feeling that his daughter wasn’t really on the phone. 

            When I came back from Safeway, Mom was at the table writing captions for the photos in her album.

            When I gave her the box of crayons, she started to use them for the captions she was writing, so I asked her where the coloring page was, and we found it underneath the album and she resumed.  The carrot candles had diagonal lines down them, so Mom alternated the colors, and then she said, “I was trying to figure out what the heck I was coloring, but now I see that they look like ties!”  They did.  Carrot-candle ties.  (Pictures will be attached as soon as my new camera installation no longer interferes with the pictures I took today.) 

            Mother asked me whether I’d brought anything to eat, and then I remembered I’d made Magic Cookie Bars, so I gave her a couple, and Carol took a small one because, she said, she had to watch her stomach.  Bobbie declined but told May to eat one or someone else would eat it.  That was just after Doreen came by and opted for the whole container.

            While Mom was coloring with great intensity, May and Bobbie started talking about the two bedroom and bath home someone had found for them.  They’d also placed an ad to sell their cars.  Bobbie said that they’d better keep one of the cars, and May said that they wouldn’t let her use the cell phone, and they took the clothes out of the hamper—two sets. 

            “They stole them.”

            “We’ll just have to buy new clothes,” Bobbie said, and May wanted to know where they would put the new clothes, and Bobbie said they’d have a place to put the clothes when they bought a place to live, and May said “That’ll be the day, when we have a place.  We don’t have any place now.  But we’ll go out and buy things and charge them to her,” Bobbie said about whoever gets the credit. 

            May got up to make a telephone call  but came back and said, “I got a message saying this number is not in service.”

            Mom said, “I called my home phone and got the same thing.  9-3-5—5-2-5-9.   This number is not in service.“

            Bobbie said, “We’ll figure out a way, honey,” and May said, “The way we’ll figure out will be staying here the rest of our lives,” but Bobbie told May they would definitely not do that.  They talked back and forth in a very sweet, close-friends sort of way, and I asked them whether they were sisters.

             I said, “You’re so sweet to each other.  You seem really close.” 

            Bobbie said, “We are!  We’ve always been close.  We were close as children, and then we got married and had our own children, but we always helped each other.  If one person wasn’t working, then the one who wasn’t working gave money to the person who was.” 

            I had a feeling that wasn’t what she meant, but that would certainly be an incentive to work, wouldn’t it?    

            “You talk so nicely to each other,” I said, and Bobbie said, “That’s the way sisters are.  If they’re not that way, they’re not sisters.”

             Mom said, “I’ll bet you really support each other.  I don’t mean just financially.” 

            They agreed. 

            They asked me, “Is she your mother,” and when I said, “Yes, and she’s a wonderful mother,”  they said, “Well, it’s good of her to come here and volunteer!” 

            Mom said, “Well, I try to help people, and sometimes I do.” 

            They nodded. 

            Mother asked them what they thought she was coloring, and Bobbie said “A carrot” and May said, “A candle.”  Nobody said a tie.

             Then an aide called out to Franz to come let her change his pad because he was wet, and on his way to get changed, he stopped by the table and said to Bobbie, “My sweetheart.”  The aide called out about the wet pad again, and Bobbie kissed his hand and told him he could go get changed now.

             I can’t remember the order of things very well, but I know that I told Mom that you, Jonathan, had enjoyed your visit with her on Thursday, and she said, “He’s a love.”  Then she asked, “Do you know what he brought me?  A pound of candy!  It was an inexpensive brand, but it was still more than I anticipated.”  Did you do that, Jonathan?  Or is she just trying to get me to compete with you?

            I told her Dana was coming to visit and she said she’d heard, that “somehow she’d worked herself into our…” Then she said, “She’s probably renting a car.  I guess I should see her back at the house.”

             I told her Dana  was coming here (Aegis), and Mom said, “She’s going to see me here!?  That’s quite an order coming from Dana.”

             I’m not sure what she meant, but I know that the third time you visited her, Jonathan, she expressed surprise that you were seeing here there. 

            I took pictures of Mom’s finished carrot-candle tie, and she asked me what she’d written on the back.  It was something that seemed copied—about gay couples thriving in Tulares, Colorado, even though it hasn’t been known for its gay friendliness.  She’d written down the percentage of voters who supported Prop 8 in 2008.  Then she’d copied  something else, but I can’t remember what.  It was unrelated.  Oh, I know.  It was about nurses supporting Wall Street instead of…But she hadn’t copied what it was instead of. 

            At one point, I cleared my throat, and she said, “Well, that was a nice perfunctory cough.”    I asked her what she meant, and she said that it sounded like “the kind of cough someone would make just because they thought, ‘Well, it’s time for me to make a perfunctory cough.’  Maybe so they weren’t ignored.”

            I told her the truth, which was that I understood about the self-conscious clearing of the throat but that my cough was completely sincere and unpremeditated.

             Then, before leaving,  I told her Dana and I would see her on Monday, probably together.

            But now I’d better go before I come down with a perfunctory cough .

            Love,

            Tina

Jonathan's Visit with Mom One-to-One

            Jonathan’s report on Mom when he saw her one-to-one from 3 to 5 on Thursday, June 23, 2011

She was sitting in outside area of dining room.  She said, “I didn’t expect to see you HERE!”      She said that she thought she could figure things out if she had those tiles, so they improvised on Scrabble tiles by cutting up a box into squares.  They played Scrabble without a board. 

            Mom said she’d really like him to come back on Halloween for her 90^th birthday.  She thought she might be an old witch.

Triumph with the Jonani Duo and a Doctor's Appointment and Ice Cream

Mom on Sunday, June 19, 2011 and Monday, June 20, 2011  

(The Jonani Duo is written up separately.  That triumphant day was followed by a doctor's visit and ice cream at a place in Walnut Creek--with Mom feeling conflicted because she thought she should be back playing the piano at the "office."

Dear Suzy,

            Mom was amazing on Sunday, when Jonathan visited.  She was already out in the sitting room where the TV is, and a drowsy, peaceful Kay was in a wheelchair near Mom, who was seated on the sofa.  She was very happy to see Jonathan and didn’t seem at all reluctant to play the piano when the subject came up.  Then she asked him to get his clarinet, which he’d left in the car just in case.  They played well together, and Billie, the resident who once corrected Mom’s pronunciation (“PI-a-nist, not pi-A-nist”) sat close by and applauded.  The daughter of another resident, Bob, heard them and came in and complimented Mom and Jonathan, and we had a short conversation about how piano playing is the last thing to go.

            Today Mom had the kind of trouble playing the piano that you described a couple of weeks ago, maybe the day that you and Deb first visited together, but after our outing she seemed to need to play, and she played for quite a long time, and played several piece, some of them (particularly “Moon River”) over and over.  I couldn’t always recognize the tune. 

            About our outing:  She had an annual check-up with her neurologist Dr. Odel for the myasthenia gravis problem, and we didn’t want her to build up anxiety about it, but we also wanted her to be ready to go out and to know that we were coming.  They got her ready but didn’t tell her she was going out. 

            When we got there, a little bit early,  she said she had something to do, and she headed toward the piano.  When we started to go with her, she said, “Don’t stand over me like parents.  This is a try-out.”      But on her way to the piano, Sue stopped her and said she’d keep the music for her until she got back.  She suggested another shirt.  The conflict between what she had planned to do and where we were directing her caused some conflict.  She felt that she wasn’t meeting her obligation and worried the something would happen to the music and people would be let down by her not being there to play for them. 

            But she was feisty and funny as we headed for Kaiser.  Jonathan was driving, and Mom directed him, complaining occasionally about his waiting for red lights and asking why he was turning instead of going straight, etc. 

            I’m pretty sure she said at one point, “I’m going to talk to you like a mother and say ‘Go through those lights.’”  At one point she praised him because he didn’t look at the man who in 92 degree weather was jogging with a wool hat and jacket.  She liked Jonathan’s keeping his eyes on the road and just where we were going so we could get to the appointment and get back for her to meet her obligations. 

            At one point she asked us to “switch on your memory pads,” but I don’t know just what the context was.

             When she asked just what the doctor was going to do, Kathy reassured her that it was just a routine appointment—one he had to do or he’d get fired.  Mom said, “Oh, great, let’s keep him for getting fired while I miss performing my obligations and…get fired.”  (Something like that.  I never remember the exact words.) 

            We got to the appointment early, and Kathy checked in while I sat with Mom and Jonathan parked his rental car. 

            Kathy got them to see Mom right away, so we actually finished the appointment before the appointment time! 

            Mother did very well during the appointment.  She assumed her pre-Aegis persona or combined Poshard with Aegis.  She spoke about what good care Kathy took of her, always giving her her three pills.  (I guess she’d forgotten that Kathy used to put her Mestanon in that every-two-hours case that went off at the designated time.)  She was a little bit confused about just how to blow into a tube.  When Dr. Odel asked her to walk, she said, “Well, I have to tell you that I’ve been sitting in my office all day.” 

            After the appointment, she was willing to go have ice cream with us in Walnut Creek.  Once again, she wanted to direct Jonathan.  “Why are you turning?  Why don’t you just go straight?  I’m sure there are ice cream places all over.” 

            Jonathan said, “But we want to go to the best ice cream place.”

             Kathy remembered where one was, and sure enough it was the best.  Mom made positive comments about all of us and also about a little girl, whose father brought her over.  (Picture follows.)  Mom got chocolate ice cream with chocolate syrup and the only problem was when she took bites that were too big. 

            Over all she coped very well with being in such a busy place.  The people were really nice and friendly. 

            Mom made stops in the bathrooms here and there.

            Going back, she seemed uncertain where she was going and where she’d been.  She said, “How did you find me?  How did you know where I was?” 

            When we told her that we saw her every day, she said, “I don’t think I’m ever going to be let out.”  Then her thoughts returned to her obligations, and she said, “I have to…do all that stuff…on the thing…you know what I mean.” 

            You can imagine how draining all this must have been for her, and when we got back, Carol and Dee both greeted her very warmly.  Like the week after Easter when she and I went out and soon came back, she went over to the reception desk, and when Carol said warmly, “Can I help you?”  Mom said something like, “Yes, I would like your help.  I’d like to know just what I’m supposed to do now.” 

            When Dee spoke to her, Mom said, “I know you because when I got my teeth, I liked them because they were like yours.” 

            Then  she went to the bathroom right before the entrance to the Perry side and once inside the main door went directly to the piano and started playing.  She really needed to do that, but she had trouble with the notes.  She didn’t seem to be aware that she was having trouble, so it wasn’t like when she became frustrated and told you that she needed to practice.  I don’t know how long she played, but she must have been exhausted and just had to do it.  

            Jonathan needed to get back for dinner with Patty and Joe, so we finally excused ourselves.   We praised her, kissed and hugged her, and left her still at the piano.

            Sue told us on our way out that they felt so lucky to have her playing for them. 

            “We almost feel that we should be paying you!” 

            When Kathy said, “Well, that would be fine,” Sue looked just a little startled.

            I’ll send the pictures as attachments.  At one point today Mom had no memory of seeing Jonathan on Sunday.  I’d shown her the picture of their concert a couple of times, but she didn’t remember and said, “He didn’t see me yesterday.”  When we reminded her about the concert, she said, “I don’t remember.  Something just collapsed.”

                        Love,  

                        Tina

Am I My Mother's Mother?

            Mother seemed very tired but lucid and …dutiful—even as she played the piano.  She seemed to be doing it dutifully.  She tried to help Kay work through her delusions.  It was a very interesting visit, filling me with even more admiration—and sympathy—for Mom.  I was there a little over two hours.

            Talking about the “neuroscience of happiness” Mom said not to try to be perfect and that she was grateful for an absence of illness and “that I don’t have an illness to pamper”? 

           

            This was my visit before Jonathan’s arrival from NYC to see Mom.  Kay had a lot to say, and it made Ada mad, defending Mom.  But Mom remained the peace maker—and even went out in the garden.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Today I took a white binder with pages for photos.  I arrived a bit later than usual—around 1:00.  Mom was just getting into bed, and Kay was in the bathroom.  Mom told me she thought the shirt I was wearing was pretty, and I thanked her and told her I liked it too.  I’d gotten it at a second hand store, and it made me think of a garden. 

Mom paused for just the right word and said, “It’s garish.” 

I laughed, and she asked, “Isn’t that how it’s pronounced?” 

I said yes, but she asked me to look the word up in the dictionary because that was the only way to be sure.

            Ada came in but didn’t look like her usual upbeat self.  She didn’t remember what had happened, but she remembered that it confused her and made her mad because people were giving her mixed messages (and now all had been deleted from her memory).

             Mom said she really needed to sleep, but their toilet was stopped up, and Kay came out of the bathroom and said, “She did it again.” 

            Today Kay went around bare-legged with just a top and a panty-pad.  I found her another panty-pad to put on, but she imagined that it was dirty and refused it.  I also tried to help her find a pair of pants, and she also wanted two white sweaters even though it was very hot, and Mom was worried that Kay would suffer from the heat.  Kay was suffering from much worse than that.            Kay started in by saying to me, referrnig to Mother, “I just wish you would take your daughter to a nice place like this but one that’s somewhere else and get her straightened out.”  She complained about Mother’s things being in her bureau drawers, which they weren’t.  She remembered that when Mom first came she was supposed to share a bureau but she never told her half of it was hers. 

            The never telling her accusation then went into more serious areas:  Mom would leave the three children in her, Kay’s, bed, and go off without even telling her they were there.  And what was she supposed to do?  And then a lady came on the radio and said such awful things about her, Kay.  And Mom beat her.  People don’t know, but Kay puts up with it because she feels sorry for her. 

            I tried Suzy’s nightmare explanation and interjected something like, “Oh, Kay.  We really do care about you.  My mother really cares about you, and you’re really safe with her.  She wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.  But I know you don’t feel safe because it’s like you’re having a nightmare, a really bad dream.”

            “She’s you’re mother?  I thought you were her mother,” she said to me.

            Mom tried really hard to reason with Kay. 

            “Honey, could you put your energy to thinking positively instead of being on a vendetta to get someone mad at you?” 

            Mom also said something like, “I understand that you want your own way and your own direction, but that’s no reason why I should go along with it.”  She said this very civilly, as if she were in couple therapy, asked to give the other person’s point of view and her own. 

            Then Kay said, “I don’t have my way.”  And indicating Mom she said, “She’s guilty, not me.”

            Ada asked angrily, “Guilty of what?” 

            I decided I’d have to get Ada out of the room but not until Mom saw the support Ada was giving her.  Ada definitely agitates Kay and is usually the one Kay accuses of beating her up.  Everytime Ada said something, Kay answered, “What?  I can’t hear you?”

            Kay said (about Mom), “She beat me.”

            Mom said, “I wasn’t even thinking about beating you up.” 

            Ada said to Kay, “You aren’t even listening.”

            Kay said, “I don’t have to listen to this.”  And then to Ada she said, “This isn’t your territory.”

            Mom said, “How would it be if I withdraw some money from the bank and pay for another place for you to live?”

            Then Kay said to Mom, “They’ve already got your number.  You’re caught and there’s nothing you can do about it.” 

            “What would you do if you were me?” Mom asked Kay.

            “First I’d take me to the doctor’s and see if there was anything they could do.”

            Ada said, “There’s nothing wrong with her.  You’re saying things that never happened.”

            Kay said, “You should be on my side.  Someday she’s going to take you.  You’re going to be the one to take the blame.” 

            Then she looked at me and said, “How come you’re alive?
            I took that as a chance to say that I was proof that my Mom wasn’t violent.  She’d never physically punished us when we were growing up.  “She’d never hurt you.”

            Mom agreed and said, “I never hurt my other…my children.  But I think you were looking for a cause to be…You have an irritability that comes from not feeling well…We don’t want to feel that we’re hurting you.” 

            Then Kay accused Mom of taking her bras.  “I had seven bras when I came here.  And I couldn’t find them.  And then I undressed her (pointing to Mom) and there they were on her back.”  (I couldn’t help thinking that she should have worn them somewhere else.)

            Mom said, “I’ve got my own bras.”

            Kay said, “I have—and you’re not aware of it—a lot of friends.  And they can help me.”

            Mom said something like, “We can wait and see what happens.”

            Kay said, “You did something that was very much against the law.  You told a man he could have my bed.  You sold my side of the room.”

            Mother denied it and promised that she would never sell Kay’s bed. 

            “Let’s agree on this,” Mom said.  “No one can take over your part of the estate.”

            “But you can hear the children.  When you go out, please tell me that the children are here.”

            “Who’s where?” Mom asked.

            Kay indicated the mattress.

            Mom said, “Let’s try to rebuild trust and friendship.”

            “Well, I think you should call the father of these children—get him over here.  A radio program …and she talks to us…all about me.  She has run me down.”

            Mom asked, “Where do you get this information?”

            “She’s talking on the radio,” Kay said.  Then Kay said that she, as an employee, had had a very high position.  High up.  She asked Mom, “Have you ever taught school?”

            And Mom said, “Yes, I have.”

            Kay said, “Well, you never learned a thing.”

            Ada asked me, “Did you hear what she said?  She said ‘You never learned a thing.’  That’s rude.”

            Mom asked Kay, “Could you let your angers and your disappointments fade away for an afternoon?” 

            Then Mom explained about being good at Christmas time.  “When people ask their children at Christmas time, ‘Are you going to be good?’ they mean pleasant, good people.  Not to run each other down.  Not to try—“

            Kay said, “I caught you where you left those kids. The whole class…everything I did was wrong. But you left me with the kids in this bed, and you never told me.”

            “Well, I came home soon…so that should have ended.”

            “I’m just using that as an excuse.  As an example,” Kay said. 

            Mom looked exhausted, so I suggested to Ada that we leave the room.  I went up to Mom, who was perched up in bed, and with my back to Kay told Mom that Kay was delusional, and Mom  said, “She’s nuts.” 

            Mom told me to please come back!  I told an aid that there was some friction, and she came into the room and helped Kay get dressed.  Mom was still concerned that Kay had chosen clothes that were too warm for the weather.

            “These are all my clothes,” Kay said.

            “They’re hot,” Mom said. 

            The aide said to Kay, “Let’s go to the bathroom,” and Kay said, “No.  I want you to go by yourself.”

            The aid asked Mom if she would go play the piano now, and Mom was concerned that the sheet music was gone, but it was there on the piano, with just pages missing here and there so that, for examples, “Greensleeves” abruptly went into “Tennessee Waltz.” It didn’t seem to faze Mom, who just played on—more dutifully than joyfully, I must say.  Carolyn was really interested in singing.  She came over and said, “You didn’t tell me!”  And she sang along with a couple of songs before an aide brought in more people, and I did hear voices besides the voices of Carolyn and me.  (Mom didn’t seem to be singing.)  Then Mom stopped and said, “I’m going to take this home and practice.”  But I really thought she was doing very well, and I think the others were disappointed that it wasn’t a longer session. 

            Then Kay seemed calmer, but Mom wasn’t taking any chances.  I walked her out the door, and as I put in those 4,3,2,1 numbers to keep the alarm from going off, Mom said, “I never do that.  I never go this way.”

            But once we were out in the garden, she seemed to like it.  I’d brought along another compilation of songs, and this time Mom sang:  “God Bless America,” “My Country 'Tis of Thee,” “My Bonnie Lies over the Ocean,” “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad.”  Mother gently jabbed me in the ribs when I was off key and even pointed to lines ending in  star and our  and said, “  “That’s supposed to rhyme.”.

            Around three, I took Mom back in.  She said her left leg hurt, and if I weren’t propping her up, she’d have to have a cane. 

            When we got back to the room, a very calm Kay was sitting in her (Kay’s) chair.  Mom went to her bed and asked Kay, “So, Honey, how are you feeling?”

I kissed Mom, said goodbye to them both,  waved goodbye and my garish shirt and I left.