Unholy Visions

My mother in law has pretty much lost all modesty. I'll remind her that the shirt she is wearing needs to be washed and she'll reach up and pull it off right then. Her bedroom and bathroom are on the main floor of the house, just off the living room, and that can be really scary. The other night I walked upstairs and past her bathroom just in time to see her heading to the toilet in only a shirt and a depends undergarment.

I guess since she's not being modest, she figures the rest of us don't need to bother with it either. She is constantly walking into our bedroom, even when the door is shut, without knocking or any other warning. Even if she knocks, she doesn't wait for an answer. I've started locking the door everytime I go in there.

Karl has started escaping to our bedroom, even if it's only 8 p.m., just to get away from his mother. She thinks he's gone to bed and will limit her interruptions. However, she usually can't stay away and will continue to poke her head in our room, saying, "Just one more question," then asking something we've already answered at least five times.

One night while I was gone to a meeting, Karl really did go to bed early. When I arrived home, Dair came rushing out of her bathroom, clad only in Depends, arm draped across her chest, crying, "He's asleep, don't wake him," as she pointed to our bedroom door. "I won't," I assured her, then wondered how in the heck I was supposed to go to sleep with that vision burned into my eyeballs.

Sweet Thing

There is a restaurant our family visits nearly every Tuesday night. We love the food, the house chianti can't be beat,and the staff there are great. One waiter in particular has become a friend, and we enjoy his skewed sense of humor. Dair, my 89 year old mother in law, loves this twenty-something fellow and looks forward to visiting him each week. In turn, he enjoys her and pours a glass of her favorite wine as soon as she walks in. Since she can't remember names, Dair would refer to this fellow as "the funny man," but recently he earned a new name.

One Sunday afternoon Dair's daughter and friend picked her up and took her out to lunch at our restaurant. Instead of being seated in "the funny man's" section, they were seated elsewhere. Dair was none too happy about it, but after some complaining, stayed put. However, our waiter friend brought her a glass of wine, on the house, and she stopped complaining and has now started calling him her "sweet thing."

We were eating there the other night and Dair had her glass of wine clutched in her right hand. When her soup arrived, she started eating it with her left hand (she's not left handed). As you can imagine, half of every spooful landed on her shirt. My husband asked her why she was eating left-handed, and she had no real answer, but continued doing it. "Maybe she's had a stroke," he said. Just then, she lifted the glass of wine to her lips. "Nope," I said, "she just isn't going to let go of that wine."

Silence is Golden

Elderly folks are a lot like newborns. When they're awake, they can make an awful lot of noise, but when they're asleep, they're generally pretty quiet. I don't know if it's the dementia or the advanced age, but I have noticed the filter which once signaled my mother in law to refrain from making bodily noises in the presence of others is totally gone.

This woman can make the loudest, most disgusting hacking, coughing and spitting noises you have ever heard. I feel like we are living with Bill the Cat from the Bloom County cartoon.

Even worse are the extreme belches. These are no ladylike little burps emitted from a covered mouth, but loud, belly rumbling belches any 10 year old boy would be proud to claim. It doesn't matter where we are or who's around, she just lets them fly. And seldom are they followed by an excuse me. I guess I should be grateful though that they're burps and not the alternative.