Framing Session

A month or so ago I was looking for artwork to spiff up the new new bathroom. I bought a really great poster from Palisades Amusement Park, but it turned out to be a reproduction. I wanted something fancier for the bathroom. Still, Palisades makes a great zoom backdrop, bookended by two velvet paintings we've had for 30 years.

Then I read or listened to a profile about a female acrobat (whose name I can no longer recall) and my research led me to an active auction of circus posters. I fell in love with a few of them, especially the ones that did not feature animals.

My eldest sister offered me a day off on Saturday, and I finally was able to take the posters and a few other items that I've wanted to frame during the pandemic to the art store. Yes, I usually do conservation framing, but honestly what for? It was still a ton of dough.

So here we are! And yesterday, when my mom was napping, I was able to determine the location and date of the Elkton circus performance. Elkton, Maryland, 1941.

In two weeks I should have the posters back.

Two Days In Paradise -- Sunday

And Sunday!

A banner day because one of the PALs got her to take a shower. And then, like when you get your cat back from the veterinarian's office, my mom smelled like someone else's perfume all day. Something with vetiver. Quite delicious.

I had decided to take mom on a long, exhausting drive. And right before I left the house I saw a fb post that a friend was doing a poke pop-up at his commercial kitchen, only a few miles from where the windy road we drive on poops us back into civilization. 

It was kinda nice. I drove us through city streets rather than going back near her old neighborhood. Then up the hill, onto the freeway, onto the windy road that we really like. Mom was super digging it, and often complimented me on my driving or asked if I like to drive. Then we pooped into the suburbs and it turns out that the street we poop on is the street where my friend's business is. Who knew?

Unfortunately the parking lot was too hilly for me to bring her to my friend, and he started having a lunch rush, so he couldn't go to the car to meet her. One of these days. He's such a nice guy, a Catholic school teacher whose brother is even a priest, whose slack key guitar albums have won Hoku Awards, whose other passions and achievements are so vast that I often refer to him as the hardest working man in Hawaiian show business. The kind of guy who makes you look good to your parents because he's so charming and personable. Anyway, I bought us a plate lunch and some poke and the bubble burst because it turns out that miss picky doesn't like poke. How could she not like poke?

So I asked Siri for the location of the nearest McDonalds. Oh well. The magic hours were starting to fade away, and soon she was stuffing her cheesy saucy fish filet bun into my cup holder (gross!) and her back was hurting and she wanted me to drive us back but she didn't want me to do it while she was eating. 

Sunday I had gotten smart and decided to take the wheelchair, which made our re-entry more smooth than the day before. S, the program director, was talking to the residents about happiness and fulfillment and contentment, which I thought was pretty remarkable. We rolled on past, because we were tired after driving for a few hours, but S is one of the best things about this place, and they are only 20 years old. 

Mom and I took a long nap, then we looked at family photos on my laptop, then we navigated a phone call with my sister, in which mom was amazingly lucid. The only real hiccup was when mom wanted me to put makeup on her before dinner. It was locked in her cabinet in the bathroom, and  it was kindof  an emergency almost-meltdown that was forestalled when I made her up. Then we had dinner, where people were smiling at us. The ladies at memory care pretty much like me. I mean, who wouldn't? I try to learn their names and give a nice smile and break through their gaze and give them a moment of attention. My model is James P. Sullivan from Monsters, Inc. "Hey, Marge! Did you lose weight? Or a limb?" 

At dinner we sat with one lady who is kind and sweet and acts as a quiet echo, lightly repeating and agreeing with whatever you last said, as if you were singing in a round. She actually turned to us and wished us a nice afternoon, which made me feel happy and hopeful. I went home early and mom didn't complain. She didn't ask about her caregiver too often.

Again, a banner day.

Two Days In Paradise -- Saturday

At least compared to last weekend. 

We navigated death and jury duty, and this was my weekend to be with mom. In the meantime my sister wants to investigate whether mom would qualify for a lower level of care. If it doesn't include nightly monitoring I am definitely not down. It's the only thing that keeps me from having to spend time there, and I am already spending a few hours every day plus the weekends.

In order to navigate memory care, you need to be curious and open. What are the good parts of it? Where are the stories? Every person there came from somewhere, is loved by others. The residents have problems. Our person has problems. You -- judgy person -- have problems.

Saturday started with a cluster. My sister wanted to talk to mom but she didn't have her hearing aids in. Mom needs q-tips before hearing aids. Q-tips are in a cabinet in the bathroom that is locked so she doesn't drink her lotion during the night. Find a PAL to open it, put on the clothes that the PAL did not put on my mom earlier (bra, r-shirt). Oh! Mom unplugged everything during the night, so the phone isn't working. Call mrguy for technical advice on the phone. Get phone working again. Help mom and sister have phone call. Discuss why I feel it's too soon to talk about moving mom to a different level of care. My sister just wants to know that this is our only option.

Also, all of the Tongan ladies are talking about my mom and how they feel sorry for her because she cries when our caregiver is not with her. This is not helping, because our caregiver is such a lioness when it comes to my mom (which is what you want) but she is not patient. Nobody is, apparently.

I brought mom to our house and mrguy ate lunch with us, which is what she wanted. She wants the company of men (but has stopped harping about her imaginary boyfriend). Then I put her to work. This turned out to be a good idea. I let her prune plants in the aku room, and that enabled her to do what she does well, plus look out the window at the view that she loves.

I had no plan b, so I asked her if she wanted to help me clean up the plants on the porch. She said "Yes, let's do some work." So I pulled a chair up to the pots and she got going. I knew that this might be a bit of a bloodbath for the plants, but if it makes my queen happy, the world is good. In the end she did a great, if choppy job. But we almost had it out when she wanted to prune three little branches in one of the pots. I do not want them pruned, because they have buds and are about to flower. "If we take those branches off it will look more balanced," she said lucidly as she often does when she talks about flower arranging and pruning. Go figure. I got my wish, but my saying no was at risk of a meltdown.

We got back to her place in time for dinner and sat with some folks we've met before. There's E, whose husband lives in a different part of the building. She doesn't really talk. Then we were joined by J, who talks too much. And one of the many Ds, who lives across from my mom. He's handsome, and dressed for dinner, with a suit jacket and sweater, his hair neatly combed. If you could ignore the thick coat of dandruff over everything, he's pretty handsome. I want my mom to fall in love with him. 

I like to sit with my mom at dinner and figure out what's happening in memory care world. I am still trying to formulate a plan for mom engaging with others. Across the table, I saw something remarkable. E and J locked eyes. I felt like they were doing an imaginary battle, like the bathroom scene in China Ghost II. Pretty soon they'd be floating in the air and doing a tongue battle or something. Then somebody broke the gaze. Wild...

Back in the room we were watching Serena Williams, when there was pounding at the door. It was D. "Can you wake me up at 5 or 5:30? I need to catch the bus to (name of place) tomorrow." "I can do that, I said," and closed the door. Then he kept pounding and asking, and finally I said "D! Your room is there. Please go home!" In the hallway, MK was making her rounds (which are actually lines).

I finished the day unscathed, with no insults or psychic bruises, just fatigue. 

And that, my friends, is really a good day.