A few years ago my divorced, 89 year old mother-in-law, Dair, was asked what she looked for in a man and she replied, "he needs to be clean." After hanging around with octogenarians for a while, I understand. Personal hygiene pretty much falls by the wayside after 80.
Last fall a former co-worker of Dair's got in touch with her after not having seen her in a while. Mr. X (names concealed to protect the innocent) gave her a call and talked about having helped her move several times, the most recent was when she moved back to her hometown in NC. Well, Dair couldn't seem to recall this man and told him so. He finally told her he'd send a photo of himself as a reminder. The photo arrived and showed a tall man with a shock of white hair. The note accompanying the picture stated that the photo was about 15 years old. Dair was delighted and said, he's a "good looking man."
After that, Dair obsessed about getting together with this man, though he lived about an hour from us and she still wasn't sure she remembered him, saying "he claims he helped move me to the mountains." Finally, this week, we made it happen. Days before the meeting, she was asking me to help her pick out what she would wear, and the day before the luncheon, she had to "get up early" so she could take a bath, wash her hair and paint her nails in preparation.
Mr. X was able to convince his daughter to bring him to meet us for lunch at an Atlanta restaurant where Dair and several of her friends enjoy gathering periodically. One of the friends who ususally joins us just happens to be Mr. Y, a fellow American Legion member of Dair's with whom she was once romantically involved. So, here we are, Dair, me, Mr. X and his daughter, Mr. Y, and my husband Karl, enjoying lunch together.
Needless to say, Mr. X did not in any way resemble the photo he sent. He was missing more teeth and had less hair, but he was very nice and genuinely happy to see Dair. She sat next to him and was so excited she never did eat her lunch. She frequently touched his arm or shoulder, and twice I saw her reach up to his head and smooth down his remaining hair! (This is highly unusual because this is not a "touchy-feely" kind of woman - at least not with family members.)
Karl and I have speculated - was she really so enthralled with this "new man in my life" as she called him or was she just trying to get in a little jab at Mr. Y? Guess we'll never know.
On the drive home, Dair said, "he used to be a good looking man," several times. I finally asked her, "Are you disappointed?" "No, not really," she replied. Then a few minutes later she said, "I guess we wasted our time figuring out what to wear."
Friday, January 29, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
You Are What You Eat
If left on her own, my mother in law will consume a diet of bread, cheese, cereal, milk, ice cream, and cookies, with a banana thrown in there once in a while. And yes, there is one train of thought that tells me that at 89, you should be able to eat what you want all the time. However, good sense rules my brain and while I do keep her cookie jar filled and ice cream in the freezer, I try to make sure that at least most of the time she is getting healthy, well balanced meals.
For the most part, the woman will eat anything you put in front of her. She's not partial to anything green unless her grandson prepares it (that's another story for another day), but otherwise, she'll try most anything. Blissfully unaware, she's tried calamari and sushi, and liked them both pretty well.
I'm usually home at lunch time so I can prepare something healthy for her to eat, but some days I just can't be there to feed her. On one of those days recently, I reminded her where the sandwich stuff was and left her some fruit to go with it.
When I returned home, earlier than expected, she had made a sandwich, but had gotten interrupted after only one bite. The sandwich was sitting on her plate. I called my daughter in to get a good look at it. The sandwich consisted of a piece of bread, a piece of cheese on top of the bread, and a chocolate chip cookie on top of the cheese, and one neat little bite taken out of the whole thing!
For the most part, the woman will eat anything you put in front of her. She's not partial to anything green unless her grandson prepares it (that's another story for another day), but otherwise, she'll try most anything. Blissfully unaware, she's tried calamari and sushi, and liked them both pretty well.
I'm usually home at lunch time so I can prepare something healthy for her to eat, but some days I just can't be there to feed her. On one of those days recently, I reminded her where the sandwich stuff was and left her some fruit to go with it.
When I returned home, earlier than expected, she had made a sandwich, but had gotten interrupted after only one bite. The sandwich was sitting on her plate. I called my daughter in to get a good look at it. The sandwich consisted of a piece of bread, a piece of cheese on top of the bread, and a chocolate chip cookie on top of the cheese, and one neat little bite taken out of the whole thing!
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Circle of Hell
We are really lucky that my mother in law is a Navy veteran and receives VA benefits. She volunteered thousands of hours at the Decatur VA hospital, so she often tells people, "I used to work there," making it sound like more than it really is. The good thing about her having spent so much time there as a volunteer is that she does still have a good bit of familiarity with the place, which is helpful when she goes there for medical treatment.
The thing about this VA hospital is that the parking situation there is woefully inadequate. So many patients are trying to get there each day that they finally instituted a free valet parking system. The problem is that you must drive into one of the two entrances at the facility, then circle the building, eventually merging into one line that files into the valet stand. This whole process can easily take an hour. So, we leave home in time to get to the VA with an extra hour to park, but when you've got an impatient 89 year old who also needs to "make her bladder gladder" pretty frequently, and has dementia on top of that, it's a gamble.
Inevitably I have to let Dair out of the car well before I can park, so I've come up with the solution of giving her a piece of paper with her appointment time and location as well as my name and cell number on it and sending her into the building to find the bathroom. I just pray she makes it to her appointment by the time I finish parking. I've decided that if Dante had known about VA parking, he would have included it as one of his circles of hell.
The thing about this VA hospital is that the parking situation there is woefully inadequate. So many patients are trying to get there each day that they finally instituted a free valet parking system. The problem is that you must drive into one of the two entrances at the facility, then circle the building, eventually merging into one line that files into the valet stand. This whole process can easily take an hour. So, we leave home in time to get to the VA with an extra hour to park, but when you've got an impatient 89 year old who also needs to "make her bladder gladder" pretty frequently, and has dementia on top of that, it's a gamble.
Inevitably I have to let Dair out of the car well before I can park, so I've come up with the solution of giving her a piece of paper with her appointment time and location as well as my name and cell number on it and sending her into the building to find the bathroom. I just pray she makes it to her appointment by the time I finish parking. I've decided that if Dante had known about VA parking, he would have included it as one of his circles of hell.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Bowling
My mother in law is an awesome bowler, regardless of the fact that she's 89. The last time our family took her out to bowl, she finished with a 171. I can't even break 100. She's been in a bowling league for years and regularly comes home with cash winnings. She's very proud of the fact that she won several gold medals in the Senior Olympics.
Now that she's living with us, I decided it was time to find Dair a bowling league near our house. A new season started January 4th and I signed her up for the senior league. At the first meeting, I introduced her to the group and right away she and an 80 something gentleman hit it off. They were whispering to each other and nudging each other all during the meeting. I sent my husband a text that his mom "already had a boyfriend."
During the meeting the woman in charge asked me if I was going to bowl with them. I said "no, I'm terrible," having only bowled a handful of times in my life. "It doesn't matter," she replied. "We have all skill levels here." "Well, I figured you had rules about age, since this is a senior league," I answered (since I am still in my 40s). "Do you have kids," she asked. "Yes," I replied. "Do you have gray hair," she asked. "Yes," I replied. "You're in," she responded. So, now I am playing on my mother-in-law's senior league team, the Oldies But Goodies. This is not what my mid-life self image needs!
There was one woman there, also in her 80s, who was clearly a talented bowler. She was petite and dressed in multiple layers on this frigid day. She was bowling in the lane next to us and doing quite well. Dair rolled a strike and walked back toward us, patting herself on the back, and the fellow next to us patted her on the back as well. The petite woman came over to Dair and instead of patting her on the back, swatted her on the butt, like the pro football players do it.
Later, after we returned home and were recounting the events to my husband, I mentioned the butt swatting incident and Dair said, "She did what to me?" She seemed really worked up about it and began to criticize the "ugly" woman, in all her "ugly clothes." It dawned on me then that she realized that this woman was her rival, the one to beat at the bowling alley, and she was psyching herself up. That night Dair was talking to a friend on the phone and we heard her refer to this woman as "one of those other kind," meaning lesbian! All that from a pat on the butt.
Now that she's living with us, I decided it was time to find Dair a bowling league near our house. A new season started January 4th and I signed her up for the senior league. At the first meeting, I introduced her to the group and right away she and an 80 something gentleman hit it off. They were whispering to each other and nudging each other all during the meeting. I sent my husband a text that his mom "already had a boyfriend."
During the meeting the woman in charge asked me if I was going to bowl with them. I said "no, I'm terrible," having only bowled a handful of times in my life. "It doesn't matter," she replied. "We have all skill levels here." "Well, I figured you had rules about age, since this is a senior league," I answered (since I am still in my 40s). "Do you have kids," she asked. "Yes," I replied. "Do you have gray hair," she asked. "Yes," I replied. "You're in," she responded. So, now I am playing on my mother-in-law's senior league team, the Oldies But Goodies. This is not what my mid-life self image needs!
There was one woman there, also in her 80s, who was clearly a talented bowler. She was petite and dressed in multiple layers on this frigid day. She was bowling in the lane next to us and doing quite well. Dair rolled a strike and walked back toward us, patting herself on the back, and the fellow next to us patted her on the back as well. The petite woman came over to Dair and instead of patting her on the back, swatted her on the butt, like the pro football players do it.
Later, after we returned home and were recounting the events to my husband, I mentioned the butt swatting incident and Dair said, "She did what to me?" She seemed really worked up about it and began to criticize the "ugly" woman, in all her "ugly clothes." It dawned on me then that she realized that this woman was her rival, the one to beat at the bowling alley, and she was psyching herself up. That night Dair was talking to a friend on the phone and we heard her refer to this woman as "one of those other kind," meaning lesbian! All that from a pat on the butt.
Things Said
So, you may be wondering about the title of the blog. Well, it's one of Dair, my mother in law's favorite sayings. Even though she has new, state of the art, digital hearing aids, provided free of charge by the VA, invariably they are not in correctly, turned down, or the batteries are dead. When that happens, it is as if she has two oversized ear plugs in. Such fun! So, when you say something and she doesn't hear it, she says, "What did you say you said to me?" It cracks me up every time. The tone sounds accusatory, as if we've misled her somehow.
The other day Dair was asking about the name of my stepson's girlfriend and though she has met the girl numerous times, the name escapes her. My husband replied, "Tiffany." "Phiffany," she asked. "No, Tiffany," my husband replied. "Siffany," Dair asked again. "Tiffany," my now exasperated husband yelled. "Well you don't have to yell," replied my mother in law.
The other day Dair was asking about the name of my stepson's girlfriend and though she has met the girl numerous times, the name escapes her. My husband replied, "Tiffany." "Phiffany," she asked. "No, Tiffany," my husband replied. "Siffany," Dair asked again. "Tiffany," my now exasperated husband yelled. "Well you don't have to yell," replied my mother in law.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Life as We Know it Has Ended
Life as my family knew it ended in December 2008 when my then 88 year old mother in law moved in with us. Until then we were a pretty typical suburban family - husband, wife, two kids, two cats, one dog, three goldfish who refused to die (even though one spent more time upside down than rightside up), and half a horse. My mother in law is an amazing woman, and quite a hoot, but when you're dealing with a person who has early dementia, you learn anything can happen.
Born in 1920 in a small town in western North Carolina, Jessie Dair S. was the youngest of five children, and by her own admission, spoiled by her mother. She graduated as valedictorian of the local high school, and once when she told me that, I replied, "well I graduated 11th in my class," to which she promptly retorted, "How many were in your class, 12?" Ouch! (and no, there were 151, thank you very much).
Jessie was the only one of her siblings to attend college, and after earning her associate's degree, she went to work. After the US entered World War Two, Jessie and some girlfriends dared each other to join the military. According to her, "they all chickened out" except for her. She joined the Navy and served most of her time in DC. She must have had fun; there sure are a lot of photos showing her with her buddies at various DC restaurants, enjoying the nightlife.
Following the war, she returned to NC and the routine of work. When the Korean Conflict broke out, she got a letter from the Navy asking her to report for duty in Columbia, SC. She loves to tell the story about her arrival there. She said she walked in the door and the officer behind the desk was quite upset to see her. Jessie asked him what was wrong, and he replied, "we were expecting a boy." To which she replied, "so was my mother." Needless to say, they just assumed someone named Jessie had to be male. The Navy facility in Columbia was not set up to take female sailors, so they shipped her to Charleston, SC, where she ended up meeting her husband, a fellow sailor from Detroit (and 10 years her junior).
Two children and six years of Detroit winters convinced Jessie is was time to move back south, so she told her husband that she was going to Atlanta and he could follow if he wanted. He tried it for a few years, but called it quits and returned to Detroit. From then on, Jessie often worked two jobs to make ends meet and raise her kids. She did the best she could, but I know it was tough for everybody involved.
Jessie retired from a Federal job in 1981 and began to spend more and more time back in NC in her hometown. She had always golfed and bowled and she continued to pursue those activities, as well as volunteering thousands of hours at the VA hospital. She was also a member of the American Legion and even served as a Post Commander, something she documented in a large scrapbook that we look at often!
Seven or eight years ago she decided to move from Atlanta back to NC and over the years we began noticing subtle changes in Jessie's mental state. An older sister of hers had died several years earlier, not recognizing anyone, so we kind of knew what we were getting into. Fortunately for us, Jessie lived only two hours from us, so we could check on her frequently and moniter her situation. But in the spring of 2008, after she fell and injured an arm, it was suddenly obvious that her mental state was going downhill. There was no way she'd consider moving in with us permanently, so we spent the summer wondering what we were going to do. This woman is fiercely independent, so it was not an easy task convincing her to move in with us. After all, she was still bowling weekly (and bowling well I might add - a 180 game is not unheard of in her career), and playing 9 holes of golf regularly - at 88 years old!! And she was delivering meals on wheels.
Finally, after another tumble in the fall of 2008, she agreed to move in with us "for the winter" when the bowling league took a break. So, as I mentioned earlier, she and her lab, Sandy, moved in with us last winter. And that's when life as we knew it came to a halt.
Born in 1920 in a small town in western North Carolina, Jessie Dair S. was the youngest of five children, and by her own admission, spoiled by her mother. She graduated as valedictorian of the local high school, and once when she told me that, I replied, "well I graduated 11th in my class," to which she promptly retorted, "How many were in your class, 12?" Ouch! (and no, there were 151, thank you very much).
Jessie was the only one of her siblings to attend college, and after earning her associate's degree, she went to work. After the US entered World War Two, Jessie and some girlfriends dared each other to join the military. According to her, "they all chickened out" except for her. She joined the Navy and served most of her time in DC. She must have had fun; there sure are a lot of photos showing her with her buddies at various DC restaurants, enjoying the nightlife.
Following the war, she returned to NC and the routine of work. When the Korean Conflict broke out, she got a letter from the Navy asking her to report for duty in Columbia, SC. She loves to tell the story about her arrival there. She said she walked in the door and the officer behind the desk was quite upset to see her. Jessie asked him what was wrong, and he replied, "we were expecting a boy." To which she replied, "so was my mother." Needless to say, they just assumed someone named Jessie had to be male. The Navy facility in Columbia was not set up to take female sailors, so they shipped her to Charleston, SC, where she ended up meeting her husband, a fellow sailor from Detroit (and 10 years her junior).
Two children and six years of Detroit winters convinced Jessie is was time to move back south, so she told her husband that she was going to Atlanta and he could follow if he wanted. He tried it for a few years, but called it quits and returned to Detroit. From then on, Jessie often worked two jobs to make ends meet and raise her kids. She did the best she could, but I know it was tough for everybody involved.
Jessie retired from a Federal job in 1981 and began to spend more and more time back in NC in her hometown. She had always golfed and bowled and she continued to pursue those activities, as well as volunteering thousands of hours at the VA hospital. She was also a member of the American Legion and even served as a Post Commander, something she documented in a large scrapbook that we look at often!
Seven or eight years ago she decided to move from Atlanta back to NC and over the years we began noticing subtle changes in Jessie's mental state. An older sister of hers had died several years earlier, not recognizing anyone, so we kind of knew what we were getting into. Fortunately for us, Jessie lived only two hours from us, so we could check on her frequently and moniter her situation. But in the spring of 2008, after she fell and injured an arm, it was suddenly obvious that her mental state was going downhill. There was no way she'd consider moving in with us permanently, so we spent the summer wondering what we were going to do. This woman is fiercely independent, so it was not an easy task convincing her to move in with us. After all, she was still bowling weekly (and bowling well I might add - a 180 game is not unheard of in her career), and playing 9 holes of golf regularly - at 88 years old!! And she was delivering meals on wheels.
Finally, after another tumble in the fall of 2008, she agreed to move in with us "for the winter" when the bowling league took a break. So, as I mentioned earlier, she and her lab, Sandy, moved in with us last winter. And that's when life as we knew it came to a halt.
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