The Hits Keep Coming

A friend with pancreatic cancer died Monday morning. He was pivotal to the design process of many forklift lines. He was a true oddball, snark, arm flapper, weirdo, love, genius. He was an acquired taste but I came to love him hard, as so many did. He let me barge into his life a little further after his diagnosis.

So the whole factory is grieving. And part of what I see as my job is to help heal through memory. We're pulling together all of the facets and looking at them together and going "That's him."

Like I said, he was a peculiar person. He understood what was funny about things that push the limit. So I could text him images of weird mermaid paintings, or strange vintage songs and he got it. Other than mrguy, the only person I've had that bond with is miss wartz, who is now out of my life. Or my middle sister, also out of my life pretty much. Boo. Sucks.

Anyway, I have all of these tasks that are related to a dear dead friend (we want to celebrate him and love him) and it feels like it's too much. But people are so happy when you bring the pieces back together to celebrate him. And my own way of coping was to make a wiki that collected a bunch of the weird shit / opinions he's texted me over the last few years and put it all in one place. And going to free grief counseling and crying.

Innnn the meantime, I finally coached our caregiver through the drama of being called to jury duty. She wanted me to call my mom's doctor and get an excuse (that is totally not a thing, and my mom has needs right now -- I don't want to squander Dr. time by asking for a ridiculous favor). Then she wanted to tell me (at length) why she was afraid of jury duty. Then she asked me to write down a list of reasons she could use to convince the court that she couldn't serve. Here is what I wrote:

"Here are things that you can say that are all true:

• I would not be a good juror because don’t understand English well enough. I don’t understand the jury process.
• I care for a 94-year-old woman who has Alzheimer’s. She screams and cries when I am not with her.
• I had a bad experience with police in Tonga, where I was born. They took my husband’s legally-owned handgun and wouldn’t return it."

She called in today and her group was excused. "Thank you Father God!" she said.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to blow the scene and go to a convention in a week, but I'm having trouble writing my presentation. In addition to being interrupted by all the work stuff related to celebrating my dead friend and the stuff I need to do related to moving my mom who is very unhappy, there are all of the requests from other people who are *also* presenting at this convention. I really feel I need to go do this. I haven't been anywhere for three years and I'm at my limit. I want to leave town, man a booth at a convention where people are happy, and share my thoughts with the world on Sunday. 

Excellent news is that mrguy, neph and his wife got us out of the old apartment. Also I'm buying a bunch of stickers to put on my car so that mom doesn't think it's hers any longer. I'm going to un-momify it. And if that doesn't work, new car.

Oh about all that fun I'm having -- just fielded a call from my queen, telling me she wanted to get out of "the hotel or whatever this is" and that she needs a car and they won't let her out. I can't go see her because there is a caregiver group zoom meeting specific to people who have family members residing in this place in memory care. I need their feedback for myself and for her. I'm finding that in this transition I don't have my after work time available to me that would allow me to do things I can't get done in the day, because I am doing something for mom or I'm worn out.

Wow.

An Easy-ish Day

Mrsguy was not eager to recreate the literal madness of the day before, a day that began with my mom telling me "You *know* that there is nothing wrong with me. You *know* that," and ended with her wearing herself out only after hours of haranguing me. Poor mama. She so hates what I've done to her.

I arrived to find her attending the morning programming and dozing off. The complete opposite of the day before. Was she worn out or was it the Seroquel? TBD. I took a seat nearby and let her be peaceful. Eventually I joined her for part of a movie and lunch (uneventful) and some tennis. I didn't stay much past the witching hour. My middle sister called, and I heard mom say "We're just going to be here a little longer and then go home," and I knew that was my cue. I found our PAL, said "Hey, I'm going home and need cover," and booked it out of there. 

Never have I been more grateful to water the garden. Meanwhile mrguy, oldest neph and oldest neph wife tackled the last of mom's old apartment. The fridge and the patio took them several hours to clean. There is more to do over there.

I'm not going to see my mom tomorrow. I need a break.

Olivia Newton John

It wasn't unexpected that Olivia Newton John passed away recently, but super sad. She was beloved by so many. I had the opportunity to see her when I was a kid, at a casino in Reno. I was there with my parents, at an insurance convention. Pop was the president of the CIA, which I think was the California Insurance Agency. Or was it CAMIA (California Association of Mutual Insurance Agents?) Anyhoo, my parents were broke and we only went on "vacation" when there was an insurance convention and my dad had some reason to go.

Last week, during the move, I inherited his Insurance scrapbooks. Some of his speeches were included in the pages. Took me right back to me coaching him at Tahoe, when he was about to give one of his famous really really monotonous speeches. He literally had a monotone that he'd developed while speaking into a Dictaphone for the benefit of his secretary. I have so many opinions about this, but whatever. What worked for his secretary did not work while speaking to live humans in a ballroom, and he was boring as hell. Super confusing, given that he was a rollicking good laugh when telling stories after dinner, or writing to the local three dot journalist, hoping his quips would be posted, or even writing delicious hate mail to minor local officials. I did my best to remind him not to bore his audience if he wanted to get his ideas across.

Anyway, one of his insurance colleagues had an extra ticket to a show at Reno, and I got to see Olivia Newton John, with Norm Crosby (another of my dark haired celebrity crushes, along with Fred Gwynne, Desi Arnaz and Speed Racer). It was in her Let Me Be There and I Honestly Love You years, and I loved it.

Fast forward many years later to the early 1980s and I was in college and living in a college town and seeing older guys. I brought one of those boyfriends to a dance party / sleepover at a friend's house in my home town and we were up all night raging. The next morning (a Saturday) I had an appointment with a local doctor because I'd previously had an abnormal test. And for some reason I said yes that night to both a then-popular drug starting with a Q, and also a bit of LSD. Pretty sure that that was the last time for both.

The next morning I went to the doctor with said boyfriend and I was apparently still under the effects of this stuff. I remember that my wait at the doctor's was insanely long, and that the wallpaper in the exam room had an orange weeping willow design, and that I was suddenly afraid that my boyfriend would not wait around for me. I asked to change back into clothes and went to the garage where my car was to look for my boyfriend. He was laying on his back, on the hood of my car in the garage, leaning back on the windshield, perfectly happy. I went back up to the exam room, donned the special outfit again, and I distinctly remember hearing Olivia Newton John on the overhead music system singing Have You Never Been Mellow and thinking NO! I am super high and feel like I have never been mellow in my life!! 

The doctor finally came to see me, and it turns out that he was a friend of my family, and part of the same Scandinavian fraternal group that my dad sold insurance for. I managed to have a credible conversation with him about Norway and my concentration on the saga of the 11th Century king Sverri Sigurdsson, and I got out of there without any of us needing to discuss that I was flying high on illegal substances. While having a medical exam. 

Things were different in the 1980s. *I* was different in the 1980s. Take that, Mom!

And RIP Olivia Newton John. Interesting to learn that you also flew high (and more recently) on ayahuasca. Who knew?

A Break In The Storm

Yesterday was a beautiful day, according to our caregiver. She and mom went on a van trip, and mom actually ate in the dining room for three meals. I came in at the end of the day, and she was in great spirits. She was able to ask me questions and engage in conversation. She asked me if I was planning to stay over, and when I said no, but I was going to come back at 10am she said "That's what I thought".

One of the highlights of her day yesterday was watching part of Home Alone 2. She thought McCauley Culkin was really cute, and she told me her version of the plot about four times. It made her so happy that I asked several more times for her to tell me about the movie. Keep the seratonin pumping!

There were no tears when our caregiver left, and I'm sure that ended the week on the highest of notes. It did for me as well. We watched some Home & Garden, and then tennis, and when her nice PAL came to change her into her nightclothes, I said a cheery farewell.

My plan for today had been to bring her to our house and give her some jobs. We'll do a manicure and then organize her jewelry. Eat, see cats. I brought her to our house via the pretty drive, which she really liked, but she quickly turned weepy and sad. The whole Home Alone thing reminded me of how much she likes babies, so I found her some baby videos on Youtube. After a few minutes of giggling plump darling babies, she asked "Where ARE their PARENTS?!!" When I found her videos of babies and parents, she said "Aren't there any mothers?" Trying to explain that most of these baby videos were probably shot by female parents would have been lost on her, but I told her anyway. Any use of seconds that get me to the end of a sad day with my mom is worth it. So I showed her videos of mothers and babies, but by the disapproving look on her face I could tell she thought that those mothers were show-offs. Then she started crying again. Good times.

After lunch I gave her a manicure and we organized her jewelry boxes, and I did some of her laundry. "Have I turned into my mother?" she asked while we were going through her three jewelry boxes. Nothing would be worse, in her estimation. Her mother had fancy jewelry and left her alone a lot to play bridge with her fancy friends and didn't take her to have her eyes checked because she didn't want to be the mother of an eyeglass-wearing daughter. How much different is that from fat-shaming me when I was a young adult and chasing me around with tanning solution when I was a child, I ask? Appearances are everything.

In my adult life have always tried to prove to my mom that I am unconventional but also lovable -- that I can be myself and be worthy of love. Other people her age like me. Oh whatever.

3:15 was the witching hour, apparently. She worked herself into a state of madness. She wants to move away and I'm the impediment. I have her car and if she had it she could drive it "across the river" and get away. Did I mention that I had her over but she decided that it was only the two of us at lunch because everyone had rejected her? She was out of her flaming mind that mrguy had an overdub session downstairs and wasn't available to tend to her. I decided it was time to go, and she threw a tantrum. I had to summon mrguy to help extract her from the home. Here she is, lamenting her lot in life. I missed the real shot where she was dramatically leaning her head on the railing of the half wall. Poor lady.

Got her in the car, and the fun really started. It's insane how much can happen in a day with my mom. First she started praising mrguy. Then she started talking about how he had nothing until he got together with me. And about my great job with an important company. And how that company would be sad to know what a terrible person I was.

OK. She turned to me at dinner with her nice memory care folks and asked "Should I tell them the truth?" And I said "Go ahead. I do not care." Then she turned to them and told them "She's a liar." and then I removed her from the dining room to eat in her apartment. That was followed by about 4 more hours of her ragging on me about what a terrible person I am, and I used to be nice, and now I'm fat. Honestly -- I would be a normal-sized person if I had been raised by someone else, and I plan to slim down just to spite her when she dies. OMG. And threatening me -- she wants to tell my employer what a shitty person I am, and also my husband.

Goodness. I am the first person to tell almost anyone what a deficient human being I am. The first thing I did when I fell in love with mrguy was to tell him every bad thing I'd ever done so that if he was going to leave me he would. "Doesn't he see your bad qualities?" she asked. "Yes, he does and he doesn't care" I nearly forgot the episode where she --I AM NOT KIDDING YOU--  chased me around the apartment with her walker because I stopped the conversation where she was threatening me. You can't really argue with a person with Alzheimer's. It's not fair. But she seems to think that as long as she doesn't tell the other people the things that she's threatening me that she *will* tell them, it's ok.

I was living in my own personal Edward Albee play.

I snuck out after she got her jammies on (somewhere after she said her life was full of pain and misery), and was not eager to return. Got a call a few hours later. She fell. They were alerted by the fall technology. The RN found her on the floor smiling. All good.

Those Depends Won't Rip Themselves

A rich and loamy day in the fun factory. Last night was pretty sweet -- mom read the July 2000 Sunset magazine and commented on many of the articles. "Have you ever thought about hiking?" she asked. It was unusual. She doesn't usually ask me questions -- only monologue. Also I had brought her a succulent arrangement and there was an article in the magazine on succulent arrangements. Then she told her helper last night that she'd just "found" the arrangement I'd made for her. Whatever.

It took a long time for her to fall asleep and I watched her, worrying about my plan to leave her on her own the next night. How could I manage to slip away? She and I slept pretty well, and she made some of the most amazing snoring sounds. I recorded them for mrguy's collection of odd sounds. I thought they reminded me of the three stooges, but mrguy said it was more like classic Donald Duck, and he's right.

Honestly, things were pretty ok last night, and this morning my mom cheerily allowed a PAL to give her a shower. But as soon as I turned her over to her caregiver, who is one of the nicest Christian women you will ever meet, she turned into a devil.

Yes, she is angry that we have ripped her out of her previous environment. Yes, this place is different and people are less together. Yes, there is the occasional scrum at breakfast, which is the sort of thing she's not used to. But my mom has real problems. Hers are different, but they also require supportive care. She belongs here. And she thinks she's above everyone else.

She's taking her frustrations out on her caregiver. She spoke to my sisters multiple times while I was "working" today, and hung up on them when they didn't say what she wanted. I arrived to a worn out mom and a wrung out caregiver. It blows.

Not really sure what to say or do. My sisters were flipping out all afternoon. One says that mom isn't a good fit for memory care. One wants structure -- who should do what if things blow up? Me? I am boots on the ground, doing the work. I am dealing with the day to day. I have slept with my mom in her bed in her memory care floor for almost a week, and I just don't have the bandwidth to think about much more than my next few days.

When I arrived this evening my mom was really wound up. She and the caregiver had had discussions that my mom, sundowning by this point, expected the caregiver to explain to me. The caregiver was worn out and said that mom should tell me how she felt. By 6:30, when I arrived, the thoughts had left mom and feelings were all that remained. Her response? To call our caregiver who loves her a liar. That really pissed me off. In typical fashion, she'd found the most awful thing you could say to a person like our caregiver, who reads the Bible in her spare time. And when she went to go home at the end of her shift, mom told her that she wasn't allowed to go. I yelled at her not to speak to her caregiver that way. And a bunch of other stuff happened over the next few hours until I walked the fuck out of her room and said good night, leaving her with her PAL. 

I think my mom was shocked that I left her alone this evening. But other people are being paid a wheelbarrow full of cash every month to deal with her. Let them. This is a first, but I hope it's the first of many. My mom is a black hole of endless need. I love her, but I'm feeling more like it's her or me.

A New Member of the Imaginary Family

At this point I don't know how exactly I will extricate myself from this whole mess with my mom. She's kinda obsessed with me, with moving, with everything. There isn't room in her life for my life at all. If I make a move to establish any distance, even if it is a GAZE, she starts complaining, accusing or melting. That's just the emotional stuff. If I leave her alone, she'll probably fall and it will be harder for all of us.

Last night we woke at 3am to look for an imaginary dog. We had to look everywhere, multiple times. Then in the morning we made progress by accepting a shower from a staff member. But soon we were back to the ream of insults, punctuated by a persistent desire to come to work with me. She wants a job. But I can't explain any of the reasoning for why it's not Bring-Your-Almost-95-Year-Old-Mom-To-Work-Day today. So more slings and arrows. "Well someone helped you be where you are today, can't you help me?" "I don't want to just visit, I want a job."

A week ago today we packed her apartment. From that time I began running a marathon. Now that the marathon has concluded I have to sprint uphill until my mom is dead. When it all seems unsurmountable I remind me of the large number of big tasks we've completed successfully in the past month. That's what's keeping me going. 

Snork

My queen is snoring on the other side of the room. Thank goodness.

I was supposed to go back to work today, and I was unable to because of the queen's business.

Yesterday I had the day off. My sister came down to relieve me. Unfortunately mom ragged on her all day and tried to pack, give away her stuff, cried, ranted, etc. You know, normal mom stuff. She didn't go to sleep until 4am. Sounds so incredibly horrible.

I dreaded today. It was Comcast day. Mrguy got the tv working, in one of his masterful moves of last week. However we couldn't activate the modem and therefore get the phone working. This was stressing everyone out. And the cable has been EFFED ever since someone changed the account password and didn't write it down. It's been a mess ever since. But the nice Comcast Store guy helped again and we did some deep workarounds that let me be a user on the account. Mrguy then got the modem working and the phone working and that's one huge problem taken care of.

Another problem, mom's eyedrops, was also taken care of. Spoke with the nurse practitioner at mom's doctor's office, and told him of her deep emotional distress as well. He will coordinate with the folks at memory care, and perhaps that will also be a problem solved. If we have to sedate her to get her and all of us through this, so be it.

At the same time we had some help from oldest neph's wife and oldest daughter. They took a huge baker's rack off our hands at the old apartment and carted it and some other things off. Their help made me so grateful. And they brought me a lychee strawberry soda and dropped off some other stuff at the house. Now there are fewer items over there and we got some sweet family attention, as well.

Back at the fun factory, it was apparently less awful today. This whole thing is hard for everybody, but so much of it rests on my shoulders and today I felt tender. It was my 22nd anniversary at the forklift factory, and my teammates wrote such lovely words to me. I read them in the car on the way to Comcast and it made me cry, and humorously all I had to dab my drippy nose with was a white cotton glove.

Good night, people. My mom is still snoring Earlier in the evening she seemed to be having trouble drawing a breath and I nudged her a little until she snorked awake. 

I'm still a nice person.

Mom Move 2022, Day 4

On Monday of this week I first learned about my mom's imaginary boyfriend and by Thursday he had become central to our existence. On move-in day she had talked about her friends she left behind and how much she regretted leaving them and was angry about it. If she had advance notice and people had said their goodbyes to her, mom would have chained herself to the building, so to speak. Because of her Alzheimer's we couldn't do anything other than spring the move on her. 

So she started talking about her imaginary boyfriend a lot on move-in day. "...the man that I love very much and who loves me. I met his family recently..." In constructing her boyfriend she's adopted some of the biography of a guy at her old place who liked to eat her leftovers. She added that history to the image of a handsome young gardener who is nice to her. Add water -- Boyfriend. It's a bit much. And the timing! Oy!

I managed to get her to breakfast in the cafe on her floor yesterday, and she was madder than a wet hen on a windy day. "Where are my people? The people I came in with?" "Something terrible has happened to these women." (that's the other residents, who are all less together than she is). I actually recorded the conversation with her because she was getting verbally abusive and I wanted to have some validation that it had actually happened. 

I turned to one of the breakfast helpers and said out of the corner of my mouth "I hope you are all enjoying our two-person play". She laughed.

Our caregiver arrived at 9:30 and I booked it out of there and had a nap with boy kitten at home. Back at the fun factory, our caregiver had what she described as "The worst day since I work with your mom". Worst day in 7.5 years, that would be. So sad. After my nap with the cat, I spent a half hour talking to my sister who had been talking with mom on the phone while I slept. Mom hung up on her 4 times. By the time I got back to memory care a few hours later, she was ALL SMILES. Go figure.

She has decided that she is moving, and that is making her very happy. She spent hours asking me the same questions over and over about what objects in the apartment I want. I told her I only want photographs. Any time my gaze strayed from her she accused me of not being helpful, and she'd start to get teary-eyed. Even when I was sewing the tongue back into one of her shoes, which was a task I was doing with her, it was as if it was a betrayal. As mrguy says, my mom is a black hole of endless need.

Finally she let us watch tennis on tv, which had been on the whole time. She subscribes to the Tennis Channel and likes to complain about everybody's stroke, what with her being an expert and all. I dislike tennis. I never had the stamina for it and my mom made me take tennis lessons. Not only that, she found my white legs embarrassing. I was given the choice to either a) wear panty hose to my lessons or b) let her put tanning cream on me. I let her chase me around the house until she wore me out and rubbed QT on me. I squirmed a lot during tanner application and as a result went to my tennis lessons with legs that looked like they were painted by Van Gogh. 

Back to present day humiliation!

Back at the ranch, we watched the end of Grand Hotel. And Flamingo Road. Thank goodness for AMC! Never has snoring been so welcome. It means my day with mom is over.

Of course there are people popping into her apartment all day and night to see how we're doing. Eventually I will stop sleeping over on the regular and leave it to these nice people. This is my goal, anyway. I've gone from dealing with my mom every day but in a more task-oriented way (like planning and executing the move) to dealing with her emotions in the most granular level in the moment and with her in my face. I'd say it's a lot, but I haven't even processed it.

Mom Move 2022, Day 3

The Big Reveal. The huge undercurrent in getting my mom to memory care is my sister's fear of it. Not wanting to see it, be in it, deal with it, I imagine. Nobody wants their person to go to memory care when they can still tell you how they feel about it. But that's how this is going down. Mom's outstripped our (us kids', our beloved caregivers') ability to deal with her when she rages about wanting to see us or live elsewhere or whatever is bothering her. She needs to be in a more supportive environment with trained staff. It's time for the big guns.

So there was a lot of krieg und schreck about who would go in with mom to memory care on the day she becomes a resident. The discussions via email were long and drawn out. My biggest fear was having to deal with both mom and my sister, whose sensitivity to the situation was breaking out like hives. I wanted to just concentrate on the mama. I told our sister that if she wanted to take mom away for two days and just drop her off, that'd be fine. And that's what happened.

Let me pause on another topic, which is that we debated for a month about how to *tell* my mom. I had tried to break it to her and tell her about a new place. She got really mad about that, and told me that change was hard. I totally get that. Several plans later, my middle sister decided that she would tell her, but only the day before she dropped her off. This plan was agreed to by her and the caregiver. Hey, I didn't want to do it. I wanted to tell her the truth, which would be harsh. Anyhoo, the hammer did the deed and I am grateful.

On the day my mom moved in, our caregiver, my oldest sister, mrguy and I greeted my mom and my middle sister. We were met by staff, as well, and treated to lunch in the dining room downstairs. Considering the big deal that was transpiring, it went pretty well and mom was pretty even. "I see that most of the people here are younger than me," she said. "I've got news for you, mom, most people are younger than you," I replied. I liked my own joke so I'm writing it down. We went upstairs to memory care, and luckily nobody was taking off their pants in the hallway. Mom checked out her apartment, and started asking about men. 

And getting agitated and asking why she had to move and then it was ON!! The anger and stuff boiled over and she was getting pissed.

Mrguy, ever-helpful, said that we might find some men in the lobby. Which we did. We tried to point out men and meet people and be cheerful but nothing was working. Eventually our caregiver took mom to dinner, which was mildly unsuccessful, but my older sister had brought some food (genius!) that we could improvise. Everyone went home and mom checked out her closet ("too many clothes!!"). 

We watched the Tennis Channel and got in bed.

Mom Move 2022, Day 2

I woke with a start at what I thought was 7:45. The movers were due to arrive at 8am, 15 minutes away.

I ran to the bedroom and started jumping into the clothes I had laid out the night before. Mrguy woke up and I told him that I'd messed up and was late. He showed me that it was actually 6:45, the time I'd intended to wake up. Nothing like a little adrenaline to start your day.

Move Day!!!!!

Sure enough, the moving permit I'd ordered didn't arrive but it worked out ok. Everything, in the end, turned out ok. It was a full day. I showed the movers the color code, how to pack the fragile stuff, and they really didn't realize how much stuff had to be hand packed. I still don't know how much it cost, but I imagine a lot.

When they were ready to leave, I gave oldest neph the high sign. Neph was my partner in rapid unpacking and door-manning. Turns out that in memory care there is a keypad with a code for entering and one for exiting the area. Everybody who works there was busy because it was lunchtime. The movers were super cranky about the slow elevators.

AND SOME OF THEM DIDN'T HAVE THE COVID VACCINATIONS THAT WE WERE PROMISED THEY WOULD HAVE. That slowed us down, also. It could have effed the entire day if the community didn't also allow people to take rapid tests and then enter. Now back to our programming. 

We jammed on the unpacking, and the movers said they wouldn't remove the large amount of cardboard we now had (this service was also promised earlier). We kept moving, so to speak, because the stagers were expected at 3pm. Eventually I had to summon mrguy to be our third person at memory care.

The stagers arrived on time and had just two tasks: hang the art and set up the cable. The art included my mom's / grandmother's Chinese lacquer screens, which are super heavy (imagine rosewood and semiprecious stones (i.e. rocks). Yes, they're heavy and I don't know how to use toggle bolts. I knew pretty much where I wanted stuff, and how high up I wanted it on the wall, so there wasn't much to do on that end. But the guy who was supposed to set up the cable didn't really know how, given the scenario and equipment we gave him. 

WTF. In addition, in our move in packet from the community there was a section on cable that said that basic cable was included in our rent, but if we needed more than that there was a number we could call. No name. Just a phone number. I left a message explaining that we needed to change our service and we needed the tennis channel and could they help. The man left a message back, saying that he wasn't that guy any more but that another guy would call me back. "Michael" talked me through the process and it seemed fine, but he said I would have to go to Comcast and swap out our equipment.

K. So the stager with the experience couldn't figure it out. Mrguy to the rescue. He figured out the cable box setup, but it was a team effort. I had what I thought was my mom's account number (set up and paid for by my sister). And it was asking for my mom's birthdate, which we knew, but it also wanted a phone number. It wouldn't take the number that she had most recently had for 7 years. It was auto-populating with the area code and prefix of the phone number my mom had had for 60 years. But it wouldn't take the last four digits. So mrguy says "Do you have any other phone number with that prefix?" And I gave him the digits for my dad's old business line, which I'm pretty sure we gave up twenty years ago. It worked. I have no idea what kind of weird nonsense that was all about, but the box booted up and even gave us the Tennis Channel, which I gather is essential to my mom's happiness.

The report from Storage Land is that it had gone well, and that mrguy had anointed them with cash gratuity (despite their being unvaccinated and breaking something). Mrguy was also able to bring me some wood glue and a vise grip that I used to repair a broken part overnight. 

Neph kicked butt on the bathroom details, organizing all of the random things that it takes to be a lady of almost 95 years, and put things away and took direction and let me boss him around, which was amazing since I don't know who trusted me to do all of this stuff with any competence. By about 7pm we were done with 99% of what we had to do. We went home, and that is the last time I slept in my own bed except for a nap yesterday afternoon.

Mom Move 2022, Day 1

Woooooo!!!

My sister came from Minnesota and drove Mom around the block for two days in order to give us the time to pack and move. Only she forgot to push "send" on the text telling us that they'd left. Mrguy, oldest neph and I were poised and in the neighborhood but nobody made the tropical bird sound, as it were, tipping us off that the coast was clear. Finally I called the front desk to find out if they'd left, and they had so we rushed in, an hour behind. It was 11am and we had to pack a two bedroom apartment.

The plan? Stage the truck in two loads. Boxes and furniture with green stickers go to my mom's new apartment. Boxes and furniture with pink stickers go to storage. The truck gets packed with storage in back and apartment in front, and will make two stops. Neph and I stay at the apartment and unpack as fast as we can and mrguy goes to storage with the movers.

Is it a rule somewhere that it has to be beastly hot on moving day? Or is that just my own personal rule? So hot. I dripped over everything, and the men just drew a veil of charity over that whole thing and pretended it wasn't happening.

We walk in, I start stickering furniture and labeling things in yellow that are either a) going home with me or b) require my own attention in order to sort out.

The household items were stored by committee, and it was a complete hodge podge. On top of that, my middle sister had projects stored in every cranny. And items that I was afraid to throw out even though they looked like they might have just gotten "tidied" into their current hidey hole.

Then there was the biohazardness of it all. In the evening I was working in the bathroom, and found this bag:

Extra specimen cups! Woooo!

Then the neph found an item we will call "bloody slipper". Clearly the game was afoot, and he declared that he had won. I didn't have to work too hard snatch victory from the evil jaws of youth and eventually win the title of "Finder of Grossest Item". I'd already thrown away misfiled used Depends (yeah, whatever), and the occasional corn pad (mildly gross). But I definitely pulled out in front with my "Several Dozen Used WooWoo Cream Dispensers". Yup. Good times!

We were unbelievably hot and tired, but dinner had to come from somewhere and we had to eat. So we ordered some wok-fried salmon teriyaki for pickup and took a documentation break. I manned the spreadsheet, handed out number stickers (3 per box) and color code stickers, and called for content descriptions. Inventory!! We took dinner to our house, ate it and fed the cats, then returned to the apartment around 7pm. That's when the hard work of hall closets, kitchen and back bedroom had to be tackled. It felt impossible.

At 11pm mrguy said it was time for the final blitzkrieg, so I put on the Ramones and we rocked out for 2 minutes, then got back to work. I was amazed by mrguy, who was able to just push through like a total monster at the end. He later described it as being like a horse who could see the barn (i.e. finishing the project) and got a crazy burst of energy.

We all went to our homes and drank beers and couldn't sleep.

My Mother The Stalker

Today was the mama's last day in her apartment. She doesn't know.

I have taken the week off in order to move her to memory care. Today my sister came out from Minnesota, and she and our caregiver took a tour of the new place. Our caregiver says it is beeeeyooootiful! Sister is pretty positive but is worried that the mama will see herself as different and more able than the other residents and not like it.

Some things that play in favor of the new joint are:

• More people in the hallways -- currently my mom lives at the end of a hallway and that hallway is often empty. It freaks her out.
• More activities -- a person who has worked at her current place offered the opinion that now that the Executive Director is closer in age to the residents, there isn't as much cool stuff going on as there used to be (and I concur)
• I can pop down there at lunch and say hi. It's 15 minutes from my house.

So today, when I was holding down the fort with Mom, she told me "I have a man problem". I'd heard from my other sibs that she'd recently been talking about interest in men. FASCINATING!! I asked for more information and she told me that she liked a man who lives in the community, but she's worried she blew it because other ladies also like him. Really? My observation has been that most of the ladies who live there are not obvious man-liking types.

Anyhoo, we put on her shoes and she had us going everywhere in the building looking for him. I didn't realize that was what we were doing at first. And then we went to the dining room multiple times. And then we went back to the apartment and she started scheming about how we could figure out where he might be.

Back at her new community, my sister revealed that she'd seen a guy take down his pants in the hallway. You never know -- the mama might like this change of pace. I just hope she doesn't get monkeypox. 

Repent

I looked at a house listing today and saw a photo of a laundry room with two hand-lettered signs. One said "Fold" and the other "Repent". Repent? What a weird sign to have in your laundry room. You do want to sell this house, right? I even downloaded the photo to look at it more closely. It was low res, but still appeared to say "Repent". Hours later I realized it was "Repeat". A little more cheery, but still it smacks of "This is the room of endless drudgery."

Speaking of tasks, today I made lots of lists and wrote many emails related to Mom's move. Then I left the home to pick up some things for Mom. My phone was on fire with texts, and in the makeup aisle a man was assisting a blind woman (and her service dog) with their mascara needs. Apparently the right mascara helped the man find a husband 14 years ago. I was supposed to buy makeup for my mom but ended up leaving that aisle and finding the two of us a lot of nail polish.

After all of that stimulus I totally had to wind down with making applesauce for mrguy, binge eating and watching Dr. Alex Tubio chiropractic videos on youtube. As you do.

The little boy kept me company.

One other little photo:

The other day the caregiver and I took mom to the dentist to fix her snaggletooth. He also gave mom a cleaning. She looks pretty good! While we were in the waiting room I noticed that she was wearing this ring. I won it at my elementary school fair and gave it to her. Off and on for the last 50 or so years she's continued to wear it. It's very sweet. And she's been very sweet for several weeks now.

Let's hope the trend continues.

Moving!

It's happening, People. Next week is move week. I started to write a post about it but all of the parts changed. Oy.

Today I:

Changed her phone and cable to her new place. Turns out that she was getting HBO and Showtime all this time, which can't have been cheap. I would like to shake the hand of the nice young man who helped me today.

Ordered a parking permit for the moving truck

Asked the new place about a) a tour for my sister and the caregiver b) changing her prescription meds to the new place. I signed some forms but don't know what happens after and c) getting a reservation for lunch on the 18th (D-Day).

I feel done for today.