Saturday, April 28, 2012

Your Grace?

Today, I am simply an humble hand-maiden to her royalty, the Little Princess. She has bossed me since waking me by SCREAMING my name this morning (with Kerry telling her to go back to bed and leave me alone). She bossed me through breakfast. "Hon, put this in the garbage" (she means right then, no later) "Can I have something else to drink?" "Hey, get me a spoon". (All the while I am thinking, CAN I EAT IN PEACE? No, apparently not)
News Flash: While writing this post (and procrastinating some major school work), I heard her in the kitchen. I walked in just in time to see her loading her pockets with rubber gloves. When I took them and asked her to stay out of my things, she said, " Y'all think I'm a thief". THAT IS BECAUSE YOU ARE! I know that in her state of mind, there are no laws of reason, but this little princess is slowly killing me. Lord, have mercy!

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Patio Talk

Last night we took Moma out on the patio to sit with us awhile. She asked a million questions about everything, but this little conversation was just precious to  me:

Moma: Whose bike is that parked in the co-ner?
Kerry: It's YOURS!
Moma: Mine? How do you know it is?
Kerry: Because I do. It is yours.
Moma: It ain't mine. Mine is a girl's bike.

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Sunday, April 22

The events of last week made me a better person. I was slower to anger, kinder in actions and nicer to her all around. Today, she is testing me. Today, I am back to being her indentured servant. Here is how breakfast went.

7:00 am She wandered into the kitchen, Kerry and I were still asleep. She left in disgust.
8:30 am Kerry had left the house. She stormed into the kitchen slamming her walker into the table. She then banged on my bedroom door and screamed, "WHEN YOU GONE GET UP AND FIX MY BREAKFAST?" I got up. I went to the bathroom. When I came out, she screamed again, "HEY!!! DID YOU HEAR ME? I WANT SOMETHING TO EAT!"
As I was walking around in the fog that you call morning, she began her questioning routine. "What day is this?" "You fixin' me something to eat?" "Where is Kerry?" "Has it been a-rainin'?" I was doing the very best I could to function and ignore her as well. Thankfully, my sweet husband had already made the princess' coffee.  I poured her a cup thinking this would slow her yelling at me. When I sat it in front of her, she said, "I want something to eat too!" (really? really?) I silently turned back to her oatmeal prep. After I got it fixed, I sat it and her morning pills in front of her. She began her eating routine which includes growling like a puppy eating kibble. I got myself a granola bar and a Diet Dr. Pepper and sat in my usual seat at the table (which unfortunately is next to her). "Where'd you get that?" I pointed to the pantry. "What is it?" I showed her the now empty box. "I WANT ONE! GIMME ONE!" I turned the box upside down to show her it was empty. "Shit!" she said. I picked up the Big Lots sale paper. Within minutes, she removed it from my hands and examined it. "Where is Lots?" she asked, "Alabama City" my reply. Never returned the sale paper, she went about eating her oatmeal. When I heard the spoon hit the bottom of the bowl, I thought my service was over. She shoved the bowl at me and growled, "That wasn't enough". I said, "Lunch will be soon". She screamed, "I WANT SOME MORE OATMEAL!!!!"  I fixed it. "Hey, I need some more coffee" I poured it. "Well this ain't hot! I want it hot!" (Yeah, I had the same thought you just did, but I didn't) I nuked the coffee in the microwave (that little oven as she calls it). She drank a sip or two, then barked, "HEY! You didn't fix me no water!" (Because this is the 60's and we serve water with every meal?) I fixed her water and shoved her pill cup at her. "Take these", I said. "I done took them onest today". I shook my head no at her. She said, "Okay, I'll take 'em again". After a few more demands on me, she finally went back to bed. I hope she wakes up in another personality. I liked nicer me. I thought that was going really well.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Last night...

I really do not want to report on last night. It was ugly. I acted awful. And if you have a queasy stomach....please click the X now.
My grandmother, for some reason, is very susceptible to having impacted bowels. I am not sure if that is the correct term but you get my gist. She has lost so much muscle control that she cannot hold off her urine, and apparently cannot push out the other. They seem opposite of each other but whatever......
Anyway, she complained most of the day yesterday of her "tail a-hurtin'" , but I didn't catch the other symptoms of the impaction. About 5:30, she got up from her nap screaming (I mean SCREAMING) for someone to help her and carrying on like someone was dead. Kerry and I ignored it as much as possible but finally (in the middle of my supper) I had to go check on her. She was standing in the middle of my living room holding herself screaming "I'm a shittin' on myself!" I got her back into her room and stripped her, put her on the toilet, and began handing her baby wipes to clean up. She would not stop screaming. I was getting angrier by the minute. I don't have much patience any way but especially with those prima donnas who cannot take one ounce of pain. I tend to be a "suffer in silence" type, unlike the majority of females in my family. I digress....
She was 2 knuckles deep in her rectum digging out the "offender". She had poop on her hand up to her wrist, and she was digging like a maniac. She would hurt herself and scream. She was smearing it off her hands onto the sides of her bedside commode. (I was in a chair across the room gagging). I tried to stop her and do it with a rubber glove and Vaseline but she was in no shape to be reckoned with. Finally, I got her cleaned her up, put her a clean diaper and gown on. I went to empty her trash and came back to her back on the toilet, her gown dragging through the mess, and her hands full of "you know". I went nuts! I was screaming at her, trying to rip the gown over her head, and frankly, acting just plain AWFUL! There was poop in the floor, on her gown and the potty. I got on the floor to clean up the mess and she started vomiting (not in the garbage can that was at her foot, no.....all in the floor). Now, let me stop and say this......this is the lowest of lows. This is worse (to me) than the prodigal son eating the pig slop. I grabbed the garbage can and shoved it in her lap and screamed "Do not throw up in the floor again!" Then, I went back to the floor to clean up vomit. I looked up at her. She looked back with those bluest of blue eyes, as lost as a goose, and said so humbly, "I can't help it". At that moment God broke me. I began to weep. How dare I. She is my grandmother! I am treating her worse than I would someone that don't even know. I cleaned up the mess, cleaned her up, and redressed her. I got her back into bed, and went to take the dirty clothes to the laundry room. As I started down the stairs, Satan (the "buddy" who goes every where with me) said this...."She served God all her life. Now look at her.! She honored her mother and even her drunkard father, what did that get her? She isn't being rewarded, she is being cursed!" Anger spread over my being like fire. I was furious! I was furious with God! Why would anyone want to serve Him to end up like Moma? Why honor your parents? Old age is a curse, not a blessing! I ranted and raved about 15 minutes, and God broke me again. I sobbed bitter tears....I walked around the outside of the house several times. It seemed as if I couldn't breathe good. I was spent. I wanted to hear a compassionate voice. I called my friend Cheryl, who talked me through it all. After I assured her that it was not about me, at all. I was brokenhearted for the grandmother that was the best friend to a silly little chubby girl, the grandmother who listened to all my heartsick stories, and always ALWAYS made me laugh. Cheryl reminded me that God will give me just enough for today, each day. But...I have to trust Him to do that. He wants me depending on Him. She assured me that I am being obedient. She comforted me. Later, I emailed my pastor requesting he pray for me. He sent me the sweetest email back telling me that God was big enough for me to get mad at Him. He reminded me that He is my Father. I am so thankful for Godly people in my life.
With every fiber of my being, I can say it is NOT about me. She may make me want to kill her tomorrow (and I am sure of it!), but this journey is not about me. It is all about HER and it is for HIS glory.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Hate is an ugly word.....

I know I say  it so  much it doesn't even mean anything any more, but I hate her! (It's kind of become an endearing term......ha!)
For some reason, I thought taking her to the BBQ festival at the falls would be a great idea. She had so much fun last year, and didn't want to leave. I was happy that Rebekah went with us. Without her, I might have dumped Momaw out in that wheelchair. I am not the best driver.
After we dressed her up, we headed out. She asked no less than 6 times from the driveway to the parking lot, "Where are we a-going?" We rolled up to the gate, and there was a black female security guard. Bek and I trembled for fear of what she might say.  She seemed to be more interested in the fact that she was a female "po-lice" than a black female. (That was God's grace) We walked around a bit to see what all was there (or what was NOT there.....dang Wills Creek Ice Cream NOT), then we went to the VIP pavilion for our "free" food. Moma complained about every morsel. All the employees made over her and carried on, so she put on a show. She got loud a couple of times. Somehow we made it out of there with no major incident. We had reservations to eat at the South Pork tent (owned by 2 of my vendors), so we strolled around and then headed there. We pushed her wheelchair up to the table and Bek and I got in line to fix plates. Moma turned to the lady at the end of the table and said, "Where in the hell do you get something to eat?" I got her food to her and went and got her a Coke (because she wouldn't have it any other way) She couldn't eat half the food and could not drink the Coke.  She attempted to give her food to everyone at the table. I ignored her as much as possible as there were many people there that I haven't seen in forever. When we finished eating, Rebekah and I decided to leave because it was getting cool and we knew she would be freezing. I wrapped a throw around her legs and one around her shoulders. She started screaming (seriously) "Well, I'm about to freeze!" "Hey! I'm cold" and on and on.....She never shut her mouth from there to the car. My purse being the black hole that it is had swallowed my keys. I dug and dug, looking frantically for them before she had a come-apart. She began complaining, then she turned to me and screeched "Well HURRY UP, I'm a freezing!!!" Without missing a beat, Rebekah popped her arm like a child and said, "Shut-up!" I nearly peed my pants. Moma said, "If you ever hit me again, I'll get up and slap the shit outta you". And of course Rebekah yelled back, "DO IT!!!" Sigh....I was so tired. My arms were aching from pushing the old woman and my mind and ears were so sick of processing the complete and total nonsense that she had regurgitated all day. I was ready to get home!
The next morning, Penny came at 7:30 so I could participate in the "Smoke Your Buns" 5K. I quit after 2 miles. My sister-in-law, niece and I were dead last and I saw no reason for the employees to stand their ground for the 3 of us. They would see us coming and start taking up their barricades and cones. Quite embarrassing! and I am soooooo out of shape (shame on me) and to be completely honest, I am so competitive that if I cannot at least place, I am not playing. (Yes, I fight this competitive spirit DAILY) So, now I am known as "the quitter". This too shall pass....I laugh and say I only came for the tee shirt. (not) So, when I got home, Penny was painting her toenails while Moma critiqued her. (Penny was going to be in our church fashion show yesterday.) She had been to an estate sale and brought Moma some house shoes, gowns and summer robes. Moma was thrilled with them. She put on an award winning performance. But the real joy of my day was later.
I decided since I am such a loser (the race, my weight, my life) that I needed to get some stuff done. I was going to tackle the deck and patio and get it ready for my Wal-Mart (trailer park) pool! Please note that I hide this pool on my patio so that only the VERY close by can see it (close by meaning standing on my patio). I began as soon as she departed the kitchen for her room. It was terribly nasty from animal hair, pollen, dirt, insects, etc so my job was laid our for me. I was going great guns when I heard that walker.....ugh. So I went in and took care of what she needed, sent her on her way, and went back to work. It was no time when I heard her again. Again, I met her need and she went back to her room. When I heard her up the 3rd time, I just went inside and brought her out on the deck with me (because she has this built in radar and she was not going to stop). She piled up in the swing (or swang as she calls it) and bossed a bit. "Hey, you missed a spot....look behind you!" "Hey, why don't you......" I tried to ignore her before I killed her. The thing that bothers me the most though is when she starts moving things around while I am working. For example, I placed some random things on a bench while I prepared the place they were to go. She started putting them up under the bench, in the windows, on my plant stand, etc. You can never just finish a job without her butting in. I HATE THAT MORE THAN ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ( Leave me alone and stay out of my business!) She is such a busy body! I pictured tossing her over the end of the deck several times. It gave me enough peace to finish what I was doing without even addressing her sins. But the funniest (I laugh now) thing she did was to pile up in my swing, propped up on pillows (head and feet) and call me from the patio. I got up there and she said in that growly voice "You got anything good to drink?" So I went in and fixed the princess a glass of tea (which she spilled, because you cannot lie in a swing and drink tea). I fixed that princess "something good to drink" at least 6 times before I just flat out ignored her. If you could have seen her......hair awry, pink fluffy robe, God awful red house shoes with white socks, and smelling like the sewer, weighing in at 85 pounds, talking to me like she was Miss Daisy......I hate her.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Trip to DQ

Sometimes, only a trip to DQ will cure what ails you.

Saturday, April 7, 2012

Not me this time

Tonight we had a rack of ribs, chicken fingers, baked beans and chips for supper. Moma was not supposed to get ribs according to Mr. Payne. But, of course, when she saw them on my plate, she just had to have some. I tore her off a small part (while Mr. Payne is screaming "NO") and put it on her plate, but that would not do for the little princess. She wanted the whole rib. I began to tear if off for her because I'd rather just let her have her way about some things than argue with her. Mr. Payne went into some kind of RAGE and lost his mind over the whole thing. He screamed at me....over her greediness! (Has he met her?) He then snatched up his plate and went to the den with his food. She said, "Boy, he shore got his bowels in an uproar, didn't he?" She then began to complain about how tough the meat was and that she could not eat it. Ugh......There is no charge for the entertainment in this zoo. Come on by.
(See, I'm not the only one she makes crazy)

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

I know you will think I am lying on this little old woman, but I SWEAR it is the truth.

Tonight, while cooking supper, I gave Moma a can of Ensure to hold her over while I cooked. She still says she is hungry, even though she does not really eat. I heard her telling the dogs, "You can't have this" and "I don't have anything to give you". Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her! I heard it! I walked around the table and knew it was true. She sucked up a mouthful in her straw and spit it in the floor for the dogs to lick up. YES SHE DID!!!!! She lied and swore she spilled it. NO, I saw it, I heard it, and it was splattered everywhere, not spilled. Grrrrr.......I hate her.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Refusing to Eat

Moma is in one of those stages where she won't eat. She doesn't physically refuse the food but she moves it around on her plate, takes bites and many times spits it out in her hand and throws it back on the plate. I am sure that there is no great taste for her anymore. She doesn't even really care anything about her chocolate milk. She will still eat oatmeal and drink coffee. I have instructed the sitter that she is not to be encouraged to eat, drink, take medicines, or do anything else she doesn't want to. She can no longer control her bowels or urination. She is losing some of her vision. I think her body is trying to lead her in a certain direction. I am almost positive that she has another UTI, but the nurses keep saying that she is just dehydrated. She drinks tea, water, milk and coffee every day. If you pray, please pray a) for God's will and b) that he will have mercy on her. It is not mine to ask why, but I cannot understand her still being here in this tiny little shell, with no clue half the time where she is. The truly sad, and somewhat funny, thing is that if she were an animal we would have already euthanized her. She was my best friend for most of my life. I hate seeing her like this.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Old Lady Radar

I would like to know at what age do you get your old lady radar? I know it exists because Mildred Hall has it. She can be DEAD asleep, but let me open a bag of cookies.......
For instance, today I seriously need to make a LONG HAUL at Wal-Mart. I know that nobody is going to allow this to happen, so I'll have to wait for my knight in shining armor to come home from the golf course this afternoon. So, what to do until then? OH I KNOW! I'll lay out in the sun....yeah.....that's what I want to do! I gather my "laying out supplies; phones, book, sunglasses, hat, etc, then I put on my bathing suit (grunt). I move the Moma monitor to the deck so that I can hear her grunt and carry on in her sleep (and know when she gets up). I make sure the front door is locked, feed the dogs, and get to my chair. AHHHHHHHH!!!! What's that? I hear her. She's opening a drawer. She is grunting....good sign. That means she is still in her room. Time is ticking away. I listen....................she is moving around in her drawers. Maybe she is only changing her diaper. I listen intently........nothing. SHE IS UP! Of course she is.....time in the sun? 10 minutes.
Now that she's fed and gone back to bed? My daughter and her friend are sunning on the deck in MY chairs. Sigh................When I get old, I am driving somebody to drink. That is a promise.