I’ve been kicking around the idea of writing a family history / family recipe booklet to give to Mom’s grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
I put “family history questionnaire” into the Blingo search engine and found this really nice one at the Texas Cooperative Extension of the Texas A&M University System. Who knew they had such cool stuff on an ag website?
http://fcs.tamu.edu/families/aging/reminiscence/family_history_questionnaire.php
There’s a link for downloading it as a Word or Wordperfect file, which I did, and have now printed out a copy. I think I’ll answer all the questions, too, in case any of my kids or grandkids are ever curious about this stuff.
Mother and I went to Cici’s for dinner. I took along a large spiral notebook and the printout of the questionnaire, and told her my plan. She thought it sounded like a good idea, and we brainstormed about recipes to include. I also asked her the questions on the first couple of pages, just to get us started.
When we got home, I sent an e-mail to all of her descendents (and spouses) for whom I have e-mail addresses. I told them what recipes we thought should be included, and asked them if there were any others they’d like to see, or if there were any recipes from their own families that had become traditions with them and that they’d like to share with the rest of the extended family.
I think this will be a pretty fun project for both of us and give us some interactions that don’t have to do with food, television or doctor’s appointments.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Bathtime Blues
I got Mom’s shower all set up. My boss came to the house and installed the new shower head. I got the shower curtain and liner up, the non-slip stickers in the bottom of the tub, the new shower chair and the bolt-on handle to assist with stepping into and out of the tub also installed. Tuesday evening I get home and ask Mom if she wants to go give it a try.
“No, I don’t. I don’t want my hair to be wet when I go to bed.”
“Mom, your hair will have plenty of time to dry in the three hours before bedtime.”
“Well, I just don’t want to.”
“When will you want to?”
“Soon.”
“Soon is not a time, Mom. If you’re going to shower before our company arrives this weekend, and you don’t want to do it tonight, it will have to be either Wednesday or Thursday.”
“Ok. Thursday, then.”
Wednesday morning before her doctor’s appointment, I try to show her how to use the handheld shower head, thinking she might try a shower before going to the doctor.
“I’m not going to use it without you here!”
“Do you want me to come home from work a little early so I’ll be here for you to shower before your appointment?”
“No. I’d really prefer a tub bath.”
“If you prefer a tub bath, why have you not taken one since we moved in here last July?”
“I don’t know.”
“If we don’t do this in the next few days, I’m going to be bringing someone in the help you in the bath.”
“Oh, Ok”, Mom laughingly replies.
“I’m serious, Mom.”
*sigh*
“No, I don’t. I don’t want my hair to be wet when I go to bed.”
“Mom, your hair will have plenty of time to dry in the three hours before bedtime.”
“Well, I just don’t want to.”
“When will you want to?”
“Soon.”
“Soon is not a time, Mom. If you’re going to shower before our company arrives this weekend, and you don’t want to do it tonight, it will have to be either Wednesday or Thursday.”
“Ok. Thursday, then.”
Wednesday morning before her doctor’s appointment, I try to show her how to use the handheld shower head, thinking she might try a shower before going to the doctor.
“I’m not going to use it without you here!”
“Do you want me to come home from work a little early so I’ll be here for you to shower before your appointment?”
“No. I’d really prefer a tub bath.”
“If you prefer a tub bath, why have you not taken one since we moved in here last July?”
“I don’t know.”
“If we don’t do this in the next few days, I’m going to be bringing someone in the help you in the bath.”
“Oh, Ok”, Mom laughingly replies.
“I’m serious, Mom.”
*sigh*
Friday, March 14, 2008
Making Progress
Mother is now a regular at the Dietert Center Take Five Club. She even went an extra day one week when they had their Valentine’s Day party, and picked out a special shirt to wear that had hearts woven into the pattern.
We’ve made some progress, and I’ve got other things in the works that she is as yet unaware of. This past week, she had an appointment with the podiatrist, who said that her feet were very healthy, just needing a little extra attention due to her age, and then he recommended a specific style of SAS shoes. And since SAS stands for San Antonio Shoes, and we are only one hour from San Antonio, we should be able to pick those up this weekend.
Next week, we return to the internist for what I have told her is a medication check, but actually we are going to be getting a referral for a neuropsych evaluation so we might have a definitive diagnosis and baseline information.
After that, I’ll be setting up appointments with the dentist, the optometrist, and a bone density scan. With each appointment, I anticipate the same conversation.
“Mom, I need to set up your appointment for (insert current concern here).”
“I don’t need an appointment for (current concern)!”
“Yes, you do.”
“My (current concern) is just fine!”
“I’m making the appointment for next week.”
I’m not sure how I’m going to explain what the neuropsych eval is all about. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but we have seen some decline just in the time she has been here.
We’ve made some progress, and I’ve got other things in the works that she is as yet unaware of. This past week, she had an appointment with the podiatrist, who said that her feet were very healthy, just needing a little extra attention due to her age, and then he recommended a specific style of SAS shoes. And since SAS stands for San Antonio Shoes, and we are only one hour from San Antonio, we should be able to pick those up this weekend.
Next week, we return to the internist for what I have told her is a medication check, but actually we are going to be getting a referral for a neuropsych evaluation so we might have a definitive diagnosis and baseline information.
After that, I’ll be setting up appointments with the dentist, the optometrist, and a bone density scan. With each appointment, I anticipate the same conversation.
“Mom, I need to set up your appointment for (insert current concern here).”
“I don’t need an appointment for (current concern)!”
“Yes, you do.”
“My (current concern) is just fine!”
“I’m making the appointment for next week.”
I’m not sure how I’m going to explain what the neuropsych eval is all about. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but we have seen some decline just in the time she has been here.
“What’s Good Friday?”
I was quiet for a moment, because I was somewhat shocked by the question, and then debating how to answer and it what detail. “It’s the Friday before Easter.”
“Oh. The Dietert Center is going to be closed on Good Friday.”
“Well, that’s not a problem for us, because you go there on Mondays.”
“That’s right.”
I borrowed a copy of The 36-Hour Day from the Take Five lending library. It’s about being the caregiver for someone with dementia. It’s taken me awhile to start reading it, but even just the few chapters I’ve read have helped my mindset. What I read last night talked about how difficult it can be to perform multi-step tasks because there’s so much to remember, and things like cooking, cleaning, or even taking a bath can be confusing when one can no longer remember which steps, in which order, are necessary to the task.
So, I have a better understanding of Mother’s lack of initiative in helping with the cooking or cleaning. In a strange kitchen, she doesn’t know where anything is or where anything goes, compounded by the fact that she doesn’t really remember how to cook anymore. I guess that’s better than me having to worry about her burning the house down.
The book also talks about all the behaviors that are part of the dementia process, and how if family members are unaware, they might believe their loved one is just being lazy or stubborn or mean. I saw Mom in several of the examples, giving me additional insight into this process. She has always been fearful of unfamiliar situations, especially if they challenged her skillsets, and her increasing forgetfulness exacerbates these fears. I’m glad now that she voluntarily gave up driving.
I am still attending the Kerrville Writer’s Association meetings, although I haven’t actually written anything in several weeks. I have also bought studio time at the Hill Country Arts Foundation, which is a wonderful artists’ cooperative, and I have been there a couple of times to play with clay. I’ve found that Mother is less anxious with my being gone in the evening if I am able to make it home for dinner before going out.
So, I’m slowly exchanging resentment for understanding. I know I have been doing the things I need to do. Now I am working on doing them with the right spirit.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
The Take Five Club
Yesterday marked Mother’s third Monday morning at the Dietert Center’s Take Five Club. The Thursday before her first visit, the program director came by the house to introduce herself so that Mother would be able to see at least one familiar face upon arrival. When I told Mother about the visit that evening, she asked why.
“To talk to you about the Take Five Club.”
“I’m really not interested in going.”
“Mom, you need to give it a try. It’s hard on me being your only social contact! I need you to at least give it a shot!”
“Well, is the bathroom nearby? I’m worried about sometimes making it to the bathroom in time.”
“I’m sure they have a bathroom right there.”
“Will you stay with me?”
“I can’t stay with you every time, but yes, I could stay the first time or two.”
Mary arrived shortly and was so warm and friendly that Mother was soon agreeing that Take Five sounded like fun. When Mom mentioned that I would be staying, Mary said, “Oh, no, she’ll just go on to work and pick you up at the end.”
Mother then gave me “the look” which was my cue to speak up and say that I had already promised to stay that first time. I amended that I wouldn’t be staying in the same room, because that might disrupt the program, but that I would bring a book and be nearby. That seemed to satisfy her, and Mary eventually left, telling Mother that she would see her the following Monday morning.
As we stood in the kitchen, watching Mary’s car pull out of the driveway, I asked, “So, does it really sound like fun, or were you just being polite?”
“No, it does sound like it might be fun.”
“Oh, good. I’m glad.”
By Sunday night, however:
“Well, I wish I didn’t have to go to that old place tomorrow.”
“Well, Mom, I wish you were looking forward to it more.”
We arrived at the Center the next morning, promptly at 10 a.m., and found ourselves the first to arrive. Mary offered to take Mother’s coat and purse to hang on the wall hooks, but Mother declined. We were then ushered into the sitting area, consisting of comfy looking couches, recliners, and end tables with happy-looking house plants. Mother sat with her purse beside her leg and her jacket pulled close around her, legs crossed and arms folded, giving Mary short, polite answers to conversational inquiries.
Others began arriving, and I stayed until the activities started, then excused myself to an adjoining room. I perused the lending bookshelves, made a couple of phone calls, and read a magazine until about an hour had passed. Then I peeked around the corner to find Mother’s body language completely changed. He arms were relaxed into her lap, she had a smile on her face, and she seemed quite engaged by what the director was saying.
I took that as my opportunity, and stepped in the room to tell her that I had some errands to run. She confirmed that I would be returning right afterward, and I agreed. She smiled and said, “ok”, and turned back to what was happening with the group. I went back to work, and when I returned to pick her up at 2 p.m., she was surprised that it was already time to go.
When we got to the car, I asked her about her morning, and she told me about singing songs, having lunch, and getting to pet Bennie the Bunny, a therapeutic pet visiting for the day. I was afraid to ask her if she was going back the next week and hear her knee-jerk “no” that usually comes to new ideas. I figured I would have plenty of time to broach the subject before Monday rolled around again.
And so I did: my niece came to visit and I asked Mom to tell us about her first experience with the Take Five Club. She seemed happy to do so, and I picked up the Dietert Center lunch menu to show to Vickie. I then pointed to the following Monday and said, “Mom, look. You’ll be having spaghetti for lunch when you go back next Monday.”
“Am I going back?”
“Well, of course! You had a good time, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. You’re sure it’s not too much trouble for you to leave work to take me and pick me up?”
“Mom, it’s more troublesome to me worrying about you being at the house all day, every day, with nothing to do and no one to talk to.”
“Well, ok, then.”
*Whew*
The following Monday, when we pulled up to the Center, Mother said, “Oh, this is it? We’re here already? Ok, see you at 2 o’clock!”
And she hopped out of the car and went right in without a backward glance.
“To talk to you about the Take Five Club.”
“I’m really not interested in going.”
“Mom, you need to give it a try. It’s hard on me being your only social contact! I need you to at least give it a shot!”
“Well, is the bathroom nearby? I’m worried about sometimes making it to the bathroom in time.”
“I’m sure they have a bathroom right there.”
“Will you stay with me?”
“I can’t stay with you every time, but yes, I could stay the first time or two.”
Mary arrived shortly and was so warm and friendly that Mother was soon agreeing that Take Five sounded like fun. When Mom mentioned that I would be staying, Mary said, “Oh, no, she’ll just go on to work and pick you up at the end.”
Mother then gave me “the look” which was my cue to speak up and say that I had already promised to stay that first time. I amended that I wouldn’t be staying in the same room, because that might disrupt the program, but that I would bring a book and be nearby. That seemed to satisfy her, and Mary eventually left, telling Mother that she would see her the following Monday morning.
As we stood in the kitchen, watching Mary’s car pull out of the driveway, I asked, “So, does it really sound like fun, or were you just being polite?”
“No, it does sound like it might be fun.”
“Oh, good. I’m glad.”
By Sunday night, however:
“Well, I wish I didn’t have to go to that old place tomorrow.”
“Well, Mom, I wish you were looking forward to it more.”
We arrived at the Center the next morning, promptly at 10 a.m., and found ourselves the first to arrive. Mary offered to take Mother’s coat and purse to hang on the wall hooks, but Mother declined. We were then ushered into the sitting area, consisting of comfy looking couches, recliners, and end tables with happy-looking house plants. Mother sat with her purse beside her leg and her jacket pulled close around her, legs crossed and arms folded, giving Mary short, polite answers to conversational inquiries.
Others began arriving, and I stayed until the activities started, then excused myself to an adjoining room. I perused the lending bookshelves, made a couple of phone calls, and read a magazine until about an hour had passed. Then I peeked around the corner to find Mother’s body language completely changed. He arms were relaxed into her lap, she had a smile on her face, and she seemed quite engaged by what the director was saying.
I took that as my opportunity, and stepped in the room to tell her that I had some errands to run. She confirmed that I would be returning right afterward, and I agreed. She smiled and said, “ok”, and turned back to what was happening with the group. I went back to work, and when I returned to pick her up at 2 p.m., she was surprised that it was already time to go.
When we got to the car, I asked her about her morning, and she told me about singing songs, having lunch, and getting to pet Bennie the Bunny, a therapeutic pet visiting for the day. I was afraid to ask her if she was going back the next week and hear her knee-jerk “no” that usually comes to new ideas. I figured I would have plenty of time to broach the subject before Monday rolled around again.
And so I did: my niece came to visit and I asked Mom to tell us about her first experience with the Take Five Club. She seemed happy to do so, and I picked up the Dietert Center lunch menu to show to Vickie. I then pointed to the following Monday and said, “Mom, look. You’ll be having spaghetti for lunch when you go back next Monday.”
“Am I going back?”
“Well, of course! You had a good time, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. You’re sure it’s not too much trouble for you to leave work to take me and pick me up?”
“Mom, it’s more troublesome to me worrying about you being at the house all day, every day, with nothing to do and no one to talk to.”
“Well, ok, then.”
*Whew*
The following Monday, when we pulled up to the Center, Mother said, “Oh, this is it? We’re here already? Ok, see you at 2 o’clock!”
And she hopped out of the car and went right in without a backward glance.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Now my brain hurts.
I walked with Leslie Sansone again this morning. Mother shuffled a few steps, did a couple of sidesteps, and then sat down. I told her that was better than she did a couple of days ago, and that she’d build up to doing more if she kept at it. She seemed doubtful.
At dinner, I brought the Dietert Center schedule to the dining table for us to choose what day we wanted to go to lunch. She couldn’t decide which one sounded most appealing, so I chose Tuesday’s “Crabby Cakes” for our lunch out.
I talked to her a little bit about the Take Five Club, which is actually a caregivers’ respite program. It runs from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. and includes lunch brought into the activity room because some of the people are less ambulatory than others. It also costs $35 per day attended, which Mother would NEVER agree to, but they could send the monthly statement to my work. I am thinking this might be the best way to introduce her to the center, as she seems absolutely uninterested in attending any of the activities.
“Mom, when I picked up the menu last week, I talked to one of the ladies about the Playing with Paint class. She said it’s watercolor and pretty fun.”
“OK.”
“Is that something you’d be interested in trying?”
“I’m not interested in any of that stuff.”
“But Mom, I’m concerned about you just sitting at home all day and not doing anything but watching TV.”
“Well, when you’re 80 years old, you’re not interested in doing that much.”
“You’re not 80, you’re only 78, and Papaw walked until he was 92. And you had friends in Wills Point, and now you don’t talk to anybody except me all day, and when I can’t come home for lunch, then you’re here the whole day alone.”
“That’s OK.”
“No, Mom, it’s not OK.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not.”
“And I can call people on the phone.”
“Who do you call?”
(Thinks a minute.) “Whoever.”
“Whoever is not a person. Give me a name.”
“I don’t know.”
“I know you’ve called Charlie. Anyone else?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’d really like you to try this Take Five Club. It’s more of a social group than an activity group. They talk and have coffee and have lunch. I can go with you the first couple of times.”
No answer.
“Anyway, Mom, we’ll go to the center for lunch on Tuesday.”
“Ok.”
*sigh*
I dunno. Maybe I’m rushing things. Maybe I’m not pushing her enough. I have no idea how to treat an adult who is functioning on various levels, all of them below where she was even one year ago. Especially when that adult also happens to be my mother.
At dinner, I brought the Dietert Center schedule to the dining table for us to choose what day we wanted to go to lunch. She couldn’t decide which one sounded most appealing, so I chose Tuesday’s “Crabby Cakes” for our lunch out.
I talked to her a little bit about the Take Five Club, which is actually a caregivers’ respite program. It runs from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. and includes lunch brought into the activity room because some of the people are less ambulatory than others. It also costs $35 per day attended, which Mother would NEVER agree to, but they could send the monthly statement to my work. I am thinking this might be the best way to introduce her to the center, as she seems absolutely uninterested in attending any of the activities.
“Mom, when I picked up the menu last week, I talked to one of the ladies about the Playing with Paint class. She said it’s watercolor and pretty fun.”
“OK.”
“Is that something you’d be interested in trying?”
“I’m not interested in any of that stuff.”
“But Mom, I’m concerned about you just sitting at home all day and not doing anything but watching TV.”
“Well, when you’re 80 years old, you’re not interested in doing that much.”
“You’re not 80, you’re only 78, and Papaw walked until he was 92. And you had friends in Wills Point, and now you don’t talk to anybody except me all day, and when I can’t come home for lunch, then you’re here the whole day alone.”
“That’s OK.”
“No, Mom, it’s not OK.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not.”
“And I can call people on the phone.”
“Who do you call?”
(Thinks a minute.) “Whoever.”
“Whoever is not a person. Give me a name.”
“I don’t know.”
“I know you’ve called Charlie. Anyone else?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’d really like you to try this Take Five Club. It’s more of a social group than an activity group. They talk and have coffee and have lunch. I can go with you the first couple of times.”
No answer.
“Anyway, Mom, we’ll go to the center for lunch on Tuesday.”
“Ok.”
*sigh*
I dunno. Maybe I’m rushing things. Maybe I’m not pushing her enough. I have no idea how to treat an adult who is functioning on various levels, all of them below where she was even one year ago. Especially when that adult also happens to be my mother.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Mixed Success
I just walked a mile in my living room in 18 minutes!
Mother walked about 2 minutes, then said she was tired and sat back down.
*sigh*
Mother walked about 2 minutes, then said she was tired and sat back down.
*sigh*
Renewed Hope for the Dietert Center
Every morning, as we sit having coffee and reading the morning paper, Mother will say, “You have your regular schedule today? You’ll be home at regular time? And you’ll come home at lunchtime?”
I used to say, “Yes.” Now, because my duties at work are evolving, I say, “I hope so.”
Yesterday, shortly after this exchange, I said, “I think you ought to try going to the senior center and meet some people. I bet you could find a nice friend there.” And, instead of the automatic “No, no, I don’t want to” that I expected, she said “Do you think so?”
“Yes! I do!” I was suddenly filled with some hopes of her actually trying to do something besides sit on the couch and watch TV all day, with me her only source of social contact. I was able to come home for lunch, have a ‘delicious sandwich’, as we do every day, and then, on the back to work, I took the long way around to stop by the Dietert Center and pick up their monthly menu and activity schedule.
I stopped in to talk with my friend, Dawn, who told me that in addition to the regular activities, staff was working on having a “coffee social” time in the morning, but they weren’t sure when that would happen.
I don’t know if Mother’s total disinterest in any of the activities has been due to some level of depression from my sister’s passing and the move from east Texas, or if she is concerned about trying something new that will shed unwanted attention on growing cognitive deficits. I am now hoping that it was more the former. While I doubt that she will ever sign up for Table Tennis or Western Philosophy, perhaps Playing with Paint or Quilter’s Co-op will strike her fancy. I really believe that if she will just go there enough times to meet a couple of people, I’ll be taking her on a regular basis.
And, this morning, since I woke up at 5:30 and have what I hope to be PLENTY of time, I’m going to see if I can get her to agree to “Walking with Leslie Sansone” (which my niece, Vickie, highly recommended and I bought several months ago, but haven’t been motivated enough to try) before the television is tuned to the morning news. (I know you were wondering when I would get to why in the world that picture was there, especially on MY blog - hahahaha!)
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