Week 30, Day 4 Oh Life, Your Bite Hurts!

I had great plans for the first of this year. Great plans to accomplish more creatively, homemaking wise, writing wise and personally. What have I done? Nada. Nothing. Zilch. And yet the truth is I've been very busy! I've read three or four books, dreamed a good many dreams, shopped towards some of the end result of the dreaming, come to a few realizations and lived the day to day life I normally lead as a wife and mother.



I've had this vision since last summer of my bathroom in a pale green, with cream cabinetry and black accents. So I bought towels and cream paint and wonderful rugs that look like woven straw to match the new ideal. I still have money enough to buy the green paint. As it happened a few days after I'd bought the paint I saw the very color plan used on a decorating program. I was so pleased with how it all looked that I am glad I didn't listen to any outside influences. The room on television was beautiful. So will be my bathroom.



Another errand on my list that day was to buy new shoes. I bought two pairs. One was a casual pair of Sketcher knock offs. The other pair of shoes were dressy, beautiful, feminine, dreamy... Note the last descriptive word: dreamy. Those shoes were everything I dream of wearing. Trouble is that my dream and my reality are worlds and worlds apart. I could barely walk after my half day of shopping, my feet were so painful. I didn't sleep at all that night. It was with great sorrow that the next day I realized my beautiful new shoes would have to be returned. I've come a long way over the past 18 years since I injured my ankles and knees but not far enough.



On Wednesday I went out with Mama to shop. I was shocked at two realizations that day. She came very near a minor accident all because she stubbornly refused to slow down, even though the lane she was driving in was CLOSED with those big orange barrels they use...Later in the day as I watched her negotiate a parking lot I realized that the problem is her vision, her depth perception appears to be seriously compromised. I am very reluctant at this point to ride with her unless I am driving. I foresee the necessity of her giving up driving on her own in the near future.

After Tuesday and Wednesday, I spent Thursday and Friday recovering from two days of excess activity. Reality bite number three: I cannot shop and clean house in the same day. That's fact.


Here again, I bump against my own concept of who I want to be and who I AM. Apparently I do a very good job of disguising my lacks because my mom doesn't see them at all. My husband on the other hand does see the toll it takes on me to continually physically push myself. He is constantly after me to rest, to slow down, to not overdo.

I had breakfast with Granny Thursday and Friday and all was well. In fact, Friday morning she was so much better, looking rested, even going so far as to say that she thought things were going to quiet down for awhile. The calm before the storm I guess.

When I arrived on Monday morning I found Granny only partially dressed. It took a great deal of encouragement to get her to even consider putting on clothes. She had on shoes, socks, two shirts. No panties or pants. Her hair was uncombed. I found clothing for her and encouraged her to dress while I turned up the heaters to warm the house, made sure coffee water was hot and ready for a warming cup and set the table for breakfast. Granny called out that she was having trouble. Indeed she was.

I had to help her dress. She told me later that she had fallen in her bedroom and had hurt her knee. Her knee was swollen and obviously stiff. She said she'd laid in the floor for a while until she got herself up. And she hadn't told Mama about it. I found the morning disturbing enough that I came home and tried to alternately work off my concerns in housework or to hide in a book. There was something very basic bothering me and I couldn't put my finger on just what though I reviewed the data over and over again.


The next morning when I arrived I found her in the same basic state of undress and obvious confusion. She didn't bother to even try and dress, nor to turn up the heaters but dived directly into eating breakfast. That's when I knew why I was so bothered.

All of my life, Granny has been adamant that we appear properly attired at all times. The breakfast table is the example that stands out most. In our home, we often ate breakfast in our pajamas. In Granny's home, breakfast was not eaten until one was dressed, hair combed, face and hands washed. For Granny to sit down at that breakfast table and eat while her hair was a riot and her bottom half unclothed drove home more forcibly than anything else might have done that she was no longer able to live on her own. As she ate, I gently encouraged her to leave the food long enough to dress.


As she dressed she told me that she'd gone out on the porch with one of her visitors the evening before (some of her delusional people) and the door locked as she went out. She'd stood on the porch for an hour or so hoping someone would come by that she might wave down and get help getting back in the house. As it happened my brother went up to shut her gate and found her on the porch and let her back in the house.

That morning I called Mama and talked to her about what had occurred the previous two days and told her that I thought it time we looked into an alternate living situation for Granny. Mama said she'd talked with the Alzheimer's Support Group the day before and had found a wealth of helpful info. They had strongly urged placement in an assisted living environment with an alternative option of having a day care provider come in for 3-4 hours per day. I pointed out to Mama that we were already giving Granny the 3-4 hours of time per day and it was obviously not enough to keep her safe in her own home. She agreed and said she'd look into assisted living centers that afternoon.

When I came home later that day, after dealing with a car repair and a Big Shop, Mama called to say that Granny had agreed to come live with her again. Truthfully this is not ideal. Mama does not have the emotional nor physical stamina to be a full time caregiver. As well, she has refused to call for further help from any agency.

Mama doesn't see these things as a problem. After all, she truly believes that I can and should step up and take on the majority of the care of the two of them together. For a long time now, I've guiltily felt I ought to do the same but couldn't for the life of me figure out how to balance my life with the demands already upon me with my own lack of physical strength and my limited abilities.

A further reality bite occurred when my car broke down. It was fixed and not costly for a 'get by' repair. However, it drove home a fact that we have chosen to largely ignore. My car has 175,000 miles on it. We'd been hoping that it would last us for at least another 75,000 and towards that end we were preparing to put a good sum of money into replacing some major parts, getting body/paintwork done and replacing a few of the accessories. The cost to repair the broken part was quoted at $1500, more than the value of the car. Even if we did the things we'd planned to do and left that particular repair off the integrity of the car will be less as it is a major accessory (the air conditioner). Ultimately we've decided to proceed with routine maintenance only and to save the funds we'd planned to put into the car to improve the appearance.

And again that day another reality: After my morning with Granny, time spent in the car dealership and then doing a Big Shop, I realized that for me, the Big Shop is a thing of the past. I was so exhausted and wiped out after the Big Shop that I could barely move. I feel fine inside,
better than I've felt in a long time. But outwardly, I quickly grow weary. A Big Shop is too much. I will have to start shopping weekly. I simply cannot manage the heavy lifting and long drawn out tasks of bulk shopping.

So the week just past was difficult on many levels. What's more it was rife with a lot of realizations that I'd been willingly turning a blind eye to: my physical health, my grandmother's mental health, my mom's determination to demand more of me, our hopes where my car is concerned. Ultimately I know that these realizations all lead to an important phase of my life: acknowledging limits and sticking with them.

This is not the happy cheerful post I'd like to have made. It isn't full of the creative things I've done or the inspiring places I'd been. In fact, here at the halfway mark of my 70 week challenge I am beginning to think of scrapping the whole plan. But then again maybe not.