To MFASRF: I have been feeling the need, this morning, to consider my experiences with my mother.
    You gave me the perfect framework. I hope you don't mind if I indulge in your presence.
    I had never thought of whether considering my mother my best friend was emotionally deadly. I actually consider my sisters, all of them, my best friends and my most complicated relationships. I've never considered my relationship with my mother complicated, which may be why she still has the capacity to surprise me. You know, it's funny, I don't even consider what I'm doing with her now "payback" for what she did for me when I was a child. This type of caretaking is quite different: The further it goes, the more intense it becomes. And, what is called the "selfishness" of old age is quite a bit different than run of the mill selfishness. It's pretty much survival based selfishness, emotionally, intellectually and physically; but, interestingly, not socially. I have attempted to speculate about why this is true, but it eludes me.
    All that in-law information you wrote is very interesting to me. I think it is true that my mother and I are friends but it goes beyond that, or, perhaps, simply, in a different direction. We remain survival friends, as we were at my birth, but the scale is readjusting. I remember the time I was in therapy for anxiety attacks. It was goal oriented and short term, so it was pretty intense. I don't think I was ever asked who my "best friend" was. I have a sort of sliding "best friend" scale, anyway, and tend to define "friend" differently, depending on the context of the relationship.
    And, interesting about pedestals and parents. It is now much easier for me to drag her down off any pedestals upon which I used to hoist her. Emotionally easier for me. And, for her, too. There isn't any "you owe me this" on either side. That's nice. But, that is her generational-placement (in large part geographical), as well. My family tends to share a more smell-based, animal connection to family than anything else. Truly a blood thing. I think it surprises my mother that she and I are doing this companionship thing, whatever we're doing. I think it surprises everyone in the family. It sort of surprises me, too, although, I remember, when I was very young, I had a horror of leaving home, even leaving one of my parent's sides, and used to vow that I would never leave my parents. Funny that I'm the one who ended up loving living alone...and am now living with an elderly parent.
    I've been easing up on her the last few days She seems livlier. I've had a cold so I'm actually the one who's been sleeping, a lot. I need to get around, here. Have some coffee, drain off the last of the egg nog. We saw the hematologist last week. He's either Hindi or Sikh, I'm not sure which. I think, though, Hindi, because he doesn't have a beard. He's very intense. He understood immediately that my mother could not speak for herself, but that she was also determined to do so, and so directed his questions at her, then would check with me for corrections. It's funny, when he asked her how old she was she said, "Oh, I don't know. I don't keep track of those things, anymore. 80, I think." When I was solicited for "85", she looked at me with genuine surprise and said, "That old, huh?" The three of us laughed. She did still remember her birthday. Once her mental capabilities had been acknowledged among the three of us I jokingly asked her who was president when she was born. She answered correctly, which I confirmed later; Woodrow Wilson. Oh, damn, I forgot, we've got lab work to get before we see the hematologist again; more blood to be taken. I'm curious, now, to see what this report will tell us. Mom's not.
    So, this year I'm not in Prescott for my birthday. I'm sorry about that. I've been making "business" trips up there. On Thursday it was still shorts weather, although our state normals just dropped 10 degrees within the last few days. The beginning of fall. So, today, it'll be in the low 60's up there and gusty. It's in the low 80's, here, and gusty. I don't know, maybe I'll drive up there on my birthday and spend the day, if Mom is up to some time alone. It'll be another Thursday.
- posted by gail rae @ 12:47  0 comments   email...this post

 
To MFASRF: Another Update
    We are now occasionally battling, which is new for us...which means maybe a small one every other day, a large one every four days or so. It is over the oxygen and smoking {and, sometimes, bathing and even staying up}. If I thought she was in danger of suddenly entroproving {hmmm, I hope you know what I mean} from quiting smoking I would not bug her. But her PCP is now pleading with her, telling her that she would be more alert, that she should not further compromise her lungs {which are not yet ridden with emphysema, and probably not cancer, either, but could stand a rest, especially at 85} and admonishes her to take advantage of the oxygen to raise her blood oxygen so that she feels strong enough to move.
    Although some mistakes have been made by the medical-industrial complex regarding her recent care, I know and understand they were honest mistakes, rooted in the neonatally researched area of reliable information on the geriatric condition, let alone how to medically treat the elderly. And, I do not believe that guiding her strenously toward quitting smoking (she already smokes much less than a few months ago) would endanger anything. Besides. The woman is still alive and has a will. Perhaps she's capable of learning a new trick or two. If not, we'll both figure that out and adjust.
    My mother, of course, is resistant. She has some mighty slick ways of resisting. As she falls back on them I am surprised to notice that these behaviors are familiar to me, coming from her, but just more pronounced because I see her using them to protect herself, not someone else.
    My change in behavior, from allowing her habits to exerting control over her habits for her good [in this case I am convinced, at this point, that it is not only for her own good, she will come to realize this] is easy for neither of us to take. Earlier in the day I admitted to MPS that on some days I just give up. Much to Mom's pleasure and my relief.
    And, it is still a case of 3 steps back, one, maybe two, on a good day, steps forward.
    I was thinking about you, today, while digesting some information MPS gave me about a program on PBS about caretaking for the elderly. All types of situations, including family caretaking. She said she was "surprised" to hear many fulltime caretakers expressing a feeling of losing their sanity, feeling the depressing weight of stress and the loss of one's life in another's. I noticed the show repeated this afternoon and set it up for automatic record, and stepped in the house just as it was ending; I intend to watch the program tonight. I was reminded of the mention, in The Noonday Demon, that Primo Levi committed suicide in the wake of a prolonged, intense period of taking care of his elderly mother. I wonder if he left any caretaker's notes.
    As for me, last year it was about ear piercings, this year it is about hair. I found an over-the-counter brand that produces the very color I was after, cranberry red, and for about a 6th of what I paid a salon to do it. As well, it is exactly what I envisioned. Although the salon came close, I discovered, while using the stuff I bought, that they were not daring enough and what I wanted could have been achieved by them. I am going to re-do the black, myself, tomorrow, with a shade that should come out as cool black with purple (not literally, but a black with purple in the mix) undertones. What would normally be called a "blue black", just a bit warmer. Don't ask me why I am now redoing my hair, and so flagrantly. I have no idea, but, so far, I love everything I'm doing (much like my reaction to the piercings, last year, with which I am still pleased). All these things fit me so well. Although they're a bit shocking, they are easy for other people to get used to and to consider natural. It's very bizarre. At least this one doesn't involve pain.
    My interest in death is much diminished. Instead of spending an afternoon viewing passing trains, I often pray (if one could call it that, and, I think one could), at odd moments, for a hastening of my death. I'm ready. I'm not motivated to do it myself, but it wouldn't bother me if it happened within the next few years. I am not always praying that, though. There are times when I am glad I'm alive...honored, in fact. So, that's good.
    So, the reason I thought of you is because as I was driving, today, and contemplating mymotherandme, I remembered that you said you read my previous emails with the news about my mother, and, I guess, some of my reaction, as well, with "some intent" (wonderfully put, MFASRF) because of your father's broken hip...and I thought you might appreciate an update.
- posted by gail rae @ 18:00  0 comments   email...this post