Saturday, June 6, 2009
If you've no desire to learn what a child caring for a parent has to face, or do not wish to read intimate details of care (not too deeply intimate), then click the x in the corner. If you want to read on, but need a little background, scroll back to some recent posts.
My in-laws have lived with us for six years. It hasn't been easy, but it has had its rewards. However, the days are growing long and the rewards are farther between. Decompressing is a word that has now become important to me. It's hard to sneak a night out and not talk about appointments and medications.
We've been on a roller coaster ride this week with concern over caring for my MiL. She is now bedridden, although probably temporarily, and I can't even get her on the pot alone. Today, with FiL's help I managed, but barely got her back on the bed. To make the process as easy on her and us as possible, I have had to put her in adult diapers and leave her PJ bottoms off. It's just too hard to move her and pull everything back up. She is large and can't even roll herself. I've strained myself a few times recently trying to care for her.
She is a very proud woman and this has been extremely hard for her to take. To make matters worse, her mind is not rational. Too much illness and medications has taken a great toll on her reasoning and memory. This results in a million explanations and arguments over her PJs. FiL cannot stand to argue. He pleads with her to understand. She nags and insists that he do as she says. He begs. She nags. He tells her he can't. She tells him to do it anyway.
Three times tonight I had to go into their room and save him. They love each other too deeply to be angry. She has a temper - always has. She would never intentionally hurt him, but she doesn't understand. He has a back back, a hernia, is on three blood-thinners, and is in his eighties. And she doesn't want anyone else to do it.
F-i-L has stated that if we don't let them stay here, he will move somewhere else with her. He refuses to put her in a nursing home. In a recent post, I revealed our family's fear of a murder-suicide outcome if they were to live alone. I know that as long as they remain here, he will not do that... if only for the reason that his son could no longer live his dream on a farm.
That has not put my mind at peace. Three times tonight I listened to him tell her, during these PJ arguments, "Mommy, (Hubby - don't ever call me that!) if you don't stop I'm gonna take a walk out into the woods and be done with it!" He made a reference to something on the floor by his bed.
This is a man who has carried a gun his whole life. As a boy, he hunted around the coal-mining camps of Eastern Kentucky. He protects his loved ones with a steel sentinel waiting dutifully in the corner. Hubby can count on Dad to keep the varmints at bay. He spends hours upon hours on the lookout over the tree-lines, daring that groundhog to threaten the tractor wheels. His guns are a part of him as much as the razor-sharp pocket knife and jam-packed key ring.
So while you folks ponder whether it's possibly time to tell Dad he shouldn't drive, we're pondering over the arsenal.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Yesterday, the family talked it over and it was pretty much settled that my in-laws would move back to their old home that is being rented, after some modifications are made. It is just minutes away from other family members. I didn't see how this would help, since none of them live there, just nearby.
Today my F-i-L told us that he didn't want to leave the farm. He loves it here and we promised them a home. So that settles it. If the others show up with one more brochure from a senior's apartment... I'm gonna grab Papaw's varmint gun!
Things are hopping around here with the arrival of my special summer guest. So, if you don't hear from me as often, don't worry. If something rough is going on, you'll be the first people I run to!
Saturday, May 30, 2009
I've already contacted Hubby's ex about our joint shower. She replied with smileys. Of course, I posted the news here and a link on Facebook. Oh no! I forgot MySpace. Be back in a minute...
OK, I'm back. Sorry, had a couple of comments to read. Anyway, back to Grampa...
Since we are a middle-age hook-up, I never got to experience Hubby's new daddy days. I'm beginning to think it was probably a lot more emo than the new daddy days I had. He is funny! You know, that cutesy funny that you don't expect from 'that kind of guy'. Oh, I know he's got that soft side. It shows with our four granddaughters. He loves them more than life itself, but those are 'my' daughter's children. He loves my daughter too, but it's just not the same. I was a gramma when we met. He had his children at an older age (not much) so his son Tim was just graduating high school about the time Grand #1 started school. By the time Tim married, Grand #2 danced with him at the wedding reception (and had a serious crush on the groom.)
Now it's 'blood'. That little boy that followed him around with the plastic mower, is becoming a father. And I love his reaction! Last night he was in the living room watching his MAN shows when I came out and mentioned her 'positive test' blog. wanna-hear-secret So there we were, both of us wiping our eyes again...
A little bit ago, he came in, sat down and said, "Good thing I got five of those coin cards," with a mile-wide grin. He has been saving coins for the Grands and, believing this would happen soon, started one for Baby Isabella/Brady too. Last night when the lottery numbers came on the local news, he declared that we needed to win it to help start a college fund. (Better be a big jackpot. That makes five college funds and counting!)
Yes, it's going to be a wonderful seven months!