Snap My Life!

	SnapMyLife.com allows people to upload photos directly from their cell phones, both for storage as well as for sharing with family/friends. I have really had fun recently posting my own photos there as well as peeking at photos uploaded by others all over the globe. If you're interested, my profile can be found at http://snapmylife.com/users/695167

Snap My Life!

A while back, I joined a site on the Internet where I can upload photos from my cell phone for (1) storage and (2) for sharing with family/friends who might wish to visit the site. It is also interesting for me to look at photos uploaded by others.

For those interested, my profile is: http://snapmylife.com/users/695167

© 2009 Sapphire Words @ Blogspot.com

McWebbing

For those of you who have been patiently waiting for an update, here it is.  I am still at Mom & Dad's, taking care of them until we can decide, as a family, what the heck we're going to do. Even my parents reluctantly agree that they cannot continue living by themselves any longer, given the physical limitations of both of them coupled with the mental confusion/dementia (?) that my mother has been exhibiting to a marked degree since the surgery. Her doctor ordered a CT-scan last week to determine whether the surgery triggered a stroke — he said that was a very real possibility, and isn't unmusual in older persons who have surgery. We are waiting for the results of the scan and the follow-up appointment with her doctor in a few days.

Mom is doing much better on the physical level. She is finally eating and drinking again as she should be, and is able to move about the house on her own. The fecal incontinence has come to an end, thank goodness, but we still have small incidents of urinary incontinence. She isn't doing too well on the mental level, though. She is able to carry on conversations, but gets confused easily about where she is and what is happening around her. She can't usually follow even the briefest of new stories on the television without scrambling some of the details or becoming completely lost. Sometimes she thinks we're in another city or state, and seldom has any true concept of what time of day it is (even if she is looking at a clock). She also has no memory of anything that happened in the month or so after her surgery and remembers nothing about her behavior, refusal to eat/drink, and so forth. This is what led the doctor to suspect a stroke.

So, I am here, doing the cooking, dish-washing, laundry, grocery shopping, appointment keeping, and other daily tasks to keep the household running. While here, I have no Internet connection unless I schlep the laptop to McDonald's, the library, or some other location. McDonald's is the closest, even though I have to pay $3 for a 2-hour block of time. To get a FREE connection, I have to drive to the next town over which takes more time and gas, so it's a toss-up as to which is the best option. When I hit  McDonald's to  WiFi, as I am doing tonight, I call it McWebbing.  So, that is the reason for the spotty blog posts lately, the lack of my presence online, and my failure to keep up with the blogs of all you good peeps. I am anxious for this nightmare to be over and to return to my own home, my darling husband, my own bed, my job, and my life!





A sticker on my car. And, yes, we do. 




© 2008 Sapphire Words @ Blogspot.com

There is hope!

Y...I...P...P...E...E...!














© 2008 Sapphire Words @ Blogspot.com

Overload

It is simply impossible to continue blogging the highlights of every single day, especially when some days leave me so little free time or so exhausted.

That is all.

Meh.



Laptop keyboards suck, but it's better than
not having a keyboard at all!




© 2008 Sapphire Words @ Blogspot.com

The fairer faucet

Last night, I washed a few dishes in the sink and setup the coffee pot before going to bed. When I pulled the handle downwards on the kitchen faucet to turn the stream of water off, it would not stop. I played with it for a bit, but there was always a steady stream of water coming out of the nozzle regardless of how the handle was positioned. I finally discovered that if the handle were pushed downwards and held very firmly, the stream of water reduced to a rather steady drip. Being that I have a Bachelor of Science degree in Jury Rigging (courtesy of my father's genes), I took a piece of sewing elastic from my mother's stash, inserted a couple of safety pins to make a tight band, and wrapped it around the faucet's nozzle and handle, making as tight a seal as I could to keep it from running all night.

I have never repaired a faucet in my life. That task has always been performed by my father, a husband, a clever female roommate, or a plumber. Today, though, my gift of sight coupled with my father's expertise allowed us to change the seals in the faucet together and get the water working properly again!



Life's a whirl. Come ride the merry-go-round!




© 2008 Sapphire Words @ Blogspot.com

Goose

There once was a boy from Quebec
Who was buried in snow to the neck
When they asked, "Are you friz?"
He replied, "Yes, I is,
But we don't call this cold in Quebec!"

Speaking of the cold, today a cold front is moving through the area and the temperature has been dropping sharply the past few hours. And speaking of Quebec, I heard the first Canadian Goose this morning, honking on its migratory path towards warmer weather. Would that I could go south to warmer weather with him. 



A closeup of a flower that appears as a design on one of my nightgowns.
I thought it was pretty.
So there.




© 2008 Sapphire Words @ Blogspot.com

Duck

Two blog entries in a row with the title "Duck" — do you know why...?  




One of the many mountain panoramas visible within the county where my parents live. This particular one is about eight miles from their house. From the spot where the photo was taken, the mountains appear much larger and closer. The combination of crappy capture with a camera-phone coupled with the exaggerated width-to-height ratio of the panorama rendition makes them appear smaller and less impressive than they do in person. If you click on the small image here, an enlarged view will open on a new page.




© 2008 Sapphire Words @ Blogspot.com

Duck

Went to Wal-Mart in the evening to get BOOST® for Mom, EQUAL® for Dad and me, and duct tape for Dad. Duct tape used to be available only in silver, but nowadays they have blue, red, yellow, green even hot pink! A couple of extra dollars would even give you a roll with a floral print on it! The mind staggers...



If you don't get it, you need to get out more. Srsly.




© 2008 Sapphire Words @ Blogspot.com

Mom got up!

For the first time in several days, Mom got up today for more than just a visit to the bedside potty. She allowed Dad and me to escort her to the table where she ate a small bowl of homemade soup with Dad and me. She spent the whole afternoon in the den, first in her recliner and then on the sofa. She ate a little more soup with Dad and me for supper before going off to bed. Wow.



The view of Glassy Mountain shown at the top of this blog entry is about as close as one can get to the granite face of the mountain from public land. To get closer would require hiking through people's private property, or ascending the mountain via the public road on the other side and hiking down to the granite face. Hiking down from the summit is easy, and one time I enjoyed a picnic with a friend while we were perched atop the granite face admiring the view of the piedmont below.

If you examine the enlarged snippet (shown at right) of the main photo, you might catch a glimpse of some white paint on the granite face. As far back as I can remember, high schoolers like to paint the last two digits of their graduation year on the mountain as a teenage prank. Most of the numbers are painted largely enough to be visible from miles away. Examination of the mountain in aerial photos or Google Earth will also easily show the numbers.

It seems a shame to have a lovely little mountain defaced in such a way, but at least it gives the kids something to do to keep them from getting into worse trouble. Although I was not one of the party who did it, I have to admit to a grin and a bit of pride when I finally saw the giant appear on Glassy's face thirty-five years ago. 




© 2008 Sapphire Words @ Blogspot.com

Is it soup yet?

All day long, Dad thought it was Tuesday and was getting ready for a visit from the Home Health people. Even after I told him it was Monday, not Tuesday, a few hours later he would say, "Since today is Tuesday..." and I would have to remind him again that it was only Monday.

The neighbor across the street, Mrs. Brown, is so sweet. She called on the phone and asked Dad to come over because she had something for us. He returned a short while later with a bag containing one quart of homemade soup starter (stewed tomatoes, corn, and okra), a pint of stewed tomatoes, three potatoes, and a mess of freshly-picked okra. I washed, peeled, and chunked the potatoes and got them cooking in a soup pot while Dad washed and slicked the okra. Once the potatoes were cooked, I opened the home-canned goods and dumped them into the pot along with some water and a smidge of pepper. In very little time, we had a wonderful pot of soup!

Mom hasn't been in a frame of mind for us to discuss her surgeon's recommendation that she undergo a bit of chemotherapy to be certain that the cancer is gone. Since her scheduled appointment is tomorrow, Dad and I thought it best to try to talk to her. I explained to her that the surgeon removed all the cancer he could see, but that sometimes a few cancerous cells can remain undetected. She had trouble understanding this concept, so I used a gardening analogy, something with which she has had plenty of experience in her life. If one is pulling weeds, it is easy to miss a small piece of root or a seed that has dropped, and another weed plant might grow from it. A little weed-killer can go a long way to be sure nothing is missed. It seemed that she understood that analogy perfectly. She said that she would have to — and I quote — "think on this with my fingernails."  When I checked-in with her later in the day, she thought she needed more time to reach a decision. I, too, agree that decisions are not her forte with her present frame of mind, so I called the oncologist's office and asked that we defer the appointment until a later date when her mental and physical condition are more stable. Whether we ever reach that day remains to be seen.



A small, two-lane country road winds around the north face of Glassy Mountain. This is the view presented when one is approaching the mountain from the west.







© 2008 Sapphire Words @ Blogspot.com

Spock

Dad woke me up just past 7:00 am by coming through the living room to go outside to catch his ride to church. When I saw him in his suit and tie, I told him it was Saturday, not Sunday, catching him by surprise. I guess the stresses of the past few weeks have gotten to him, too, causing him to get the days-of-the-week mixed-up.

He was horrified that he had made such a mistake — he's always been that way, very logical and more like a machine sometimes than a man, it's just his nature.I assured him that everyone gets a little confused like that sometimes, especially when life is heaping stresses upon us. If it weren't for his temper, Dad would be Spock.

Caring for Mom is getting to be quite a chore because she changes her mind so often. For instance, she seemed excited about eating two particular foods for supper but by the time I went into the kitchen and cooked them, she decided that wasn't what she wanted after all. So, she ate only one bite of one item and three bites of the other and would not eat any more. And, of course, nothing else in the way of food sounded good to her, either.



Today, we move closer to Glassy Mountain (see yesterday's blog entry) and see it as it appears from atop Crescent Hill. When the new Junior High School was built not far from my parents' house, I walked to school most days over this hill and saw this very view of Glassy Mountain.

It was also from atop this hill that the previous photo of "The Three Sisters" was made (see blog entry: DEJA MOO, 10-07-08).




© 2008 Sapphire Words @ Blogspot.com

Monadnock!

Today was a relatively quiet day. Mom was much more docile and cooperative with Dad and me, thankfully. After the day we had yesterday, we definitely needed a more laid-back kind of day through which to recuperate amd recharge.

I had to go to the store, buy some birthday cards, and get them in the mail. My father still keeps in touch with a guy (Curtis) who was in the Army with him back in the 1950s, and his birthday is on the 14th. My dear friend and "sister" Toni is having another birthday on October 16th, along with my father's younger sister who stayed with them for a couple of weeks at the end of August. So, I picked out cards for everyone, addressed them, and got them in the mail before the last scheduled pickup time of the day. Then I came back home and watched a DVD movie on the laptop, and talked to my husband and brother on the phone.



The Blue Ridge Mountains, a subset of the Appalachian Mountains that stetch from northern Alabama to Maine, pass through the northern portion of the county in which my parents live. As one travels downwards in elevation from the larger mountains into the piedmont region of South Carolina, many smaller, isolated mountains called "monadnocks" dot the landscape. One of the most prominent is Glassy Mountain (elevation 1,647 feet), seen here from atop another, smaller monadnock called — I kid you not — "Tater Hill." The bump on the horizon to the right of Glassy Mountain is Paris Mountain, in Greenville (SC), another monadnock about 20-ish miles away.

I always thought Glassy Mountain was a cool-looking little mountain, with the long, casual slope, the bulging crest at the summit, and the exposed granite "face" on the north side. I always fancied that it somewhat resembled a happy slug, watching out over the folks who lived nearby. Yes, I was also warped and twisted as a child, I know, I know... 



© 2008 Sapphire Words @ Blogspot.com

The morning from hell

I hadn't been up long and only had one cup of coffee in me when Dad announced that we needed to check on Mom, assist her to the potty, get her breakfast ready, and perpare for the visit with the Home Health nurses. So we go back to the bedroom and discover that Mom has already gone to the potty. 2, not just 1. In the bed. In her nightclothes. Leaking out all over the toweling underneath her as well as the sheets and blankets. In fact, she somehow managed to get it all over both of her hands, smeared everywhere.

Cleaning up this sort of job would normally be a nightmare. However, Mom's horrendous attitude made it much, much worse. She was not in her right mind, refused to believe that she had pooped in the bed, was mortified that we were trying to expose her body by taking her clothes off, and fighting us every step of the way. For instance, when I tried to lift her foot off the bed a couple of inches so I could slide her pajama bottoms off, she was firmly pushing her foot downward, grinding it into the bed to try to prevent my succcess. My parents jointly taught my brother and me not to curse — even mild expletives such as "Darn!" were prohibited in the household — but this morning, multiple, "Damn!"s were issuing from my mother's mouth, much to my surprise. Somehow, though all of her fighting and cursing, we managed to wrestle her pajama bottoms off her, remove the heavily-soiled disposable underware, and clean up her front-side the best we could.

When my father tried to get her to roll over so he could clean her backside, she snarled, "Damn you!" at him with intent that dripped of poison. At one point, she even threatened to kick him so hard it would cripple him again if he touched her. We finally reached an impasse and could get no further with her. I quietly pulled Dad out of the room and told him that we were not going to be able to handle this situation ourselves, and reminded him that the Home Health professionals would know better how to handle it. It was still about an hour before they were scheduled to arrive, and I hated leaving my own mother to wallow in her mess, but we had no choice under the circumstances. I knew that my mother wasn't in her right mind that morning, but her behavior and words hurt just the same.

I met the Home Health nurses on the front porch and apprised them of the situation inside, with much apology. They assured me it was okay and that they would deal with it. At first, Mom was as nasty with them as she had been with Dad and me, but she began to calm down when they started working with her. They finished cleaning up the front of her body and managed to get her rolled over onto her side. She started to get nasty again when they began wiping the poop off her bottom and asked what they thought they were doing. The head nurse calmly told her they were wiping the poop. Mom flatly stated that the poop wasn't hers. The nurse asked her whose poop she thought it was. Mom said it must be "that other woman's poop," making a reference to the other nurse that was in the room. The nurse assured Mom that it needed to be cleaned off, wherever it came from. So, Mom finally began to cooperate. I had clean sheets handy, as well as clean pillowcases, pajamas, a fresh pair of disposable underwear, clean toweling to put underneath Mom, and a clean blanket. The nurses got Mom off the bed so I could change the linens, then got her situated again.

The head nurse instructed her junior to check Mom's vitals (blood pressure, pulse rate, temperature, and oxygen level) and nodded to me to leave the room. She followed and we sat down in the den with Dad, who was sitting quietly in his recliner, arms folded across his chest, obviously deep in thought.

The nurse stated the obvious, that this sort of situation could not continue, and that we needed to seek more intensive care for Mom. Her recommendation was short-term, in-home Hospice care, providing that the doctor approved. She said that the Hospice care would provide for someone to visit five days a week on a regular basis, rather than the two or three days that Home Health professionals would be able to visit. Dad said that we would think about it and let her know. Late in the afternoon, the nurse called and said that the doctor approved her recommendation of Hospice assistance and Dad's decision was the only thing remaining. Had the decision been left to me, I would have agreed immediately.  *sigh*



You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave."
That is how I am beginning to feel here, dealing with layer-upon-layer of issues...  







© 2008 Sapphire Words @ Blogspot.com

Twisted

We woke up this morning to a drastic change in the weather conditions. This past week, the nights have been in the 50s and a bit chilly outside, but tolerable for stepping outside to smoke, talk on the phone, and peek at the stars. This morning, however, the temperature was still in the 50s but with drizzling rain, a slight breeze, and higher humidity that drove the chill deeper.  I stood outside to taste a few puffs of smoke with arms hugging my torso underneath my breasts, legs smushed together to hold in body heat, and ready to dash back inside to my waiting coffee.

This morning, I was able to shower, dry my hair, and even eat a bowl of cereal before my father announced it was time to wake Mom, see if she was wet and needed a change of clothes and/or change of sheets, and try to get her to take her morning meds and eat something. It is very unusual for me to have anywhere near that amount of time or even be able to eat anything before he launches us into the "taking care of Mom" tasks. Perhaps he has come to dread those tasks as much as I have. If she would just cooperate with us, tending to her would not be so hard.

Mom woke up much more gently and sweetly than usual, so I should have known something was not right. She usually seems more like herself in the mornings and drifts off into increased mental confusion as the day wears onward. Today she awoke in her own little world rather than our world, and seemed to stay there most of the day, snapping back briefly and sharply like a rubber band popping against the skin. As much as it pains me to see Mom slipping away to her alternate reality so often, she is more docile, pleasant, and cooperative when she is that way — her other persona lately is argumentative, resentful, and uncooperative. Or is it the other way around...?  Sometimes I can't tell which is which.



Twisted, like this whole affair.  




© 2008 Sapphire Words @ Blogspot.com

Deja Moo

Thankfully, today was not so hard a day dealing with Mom as some days have been — at least on a physical level. Her disposable undies were not wet when we woke her this morning, and we managed to get her to the disposable potty to pee and back to the bedside with a relative minimum of effort (it only took about 30 minutes this time! yay!). She drank about seven ounces of apple juice and ate a small dish of banana pudding for breakfast, not the most healthy of breakfast foods, perhaps, but at least she ate something and there was a lot of banana in it. She ate nothing at lunch but was hungry again for an early supper, eating a few bites of pound cake, four bites of baked fish, five bites of stewed apples, and drank another seven ounces of apple juice.

The disturbing thing was that she was in a flaked-out state of mental confusion virtually all day, rather than becoming increasingly that way near the end of the day as usually happens. She was chattering about all sorts of strange things that seemingly had no relation to one another. Sometimes mental confusion of this sort can be caused when anesthesia is administered to senior citizens, and sometimes the effects are long-term or permanent. It could also be the result of some early-stage dementia or Alzheimer's Disease (AD) that develops in some people as they age. At this point, we don't know what it is, but it is definitely frightening and difficult to handle.

Based on all inputs, my brother is leaning towards the conclusion that Mom has simply "given up," even though she came through the surgery successfully. With each passing day, I am more convinced that he is correct. 



Three small mountains, called "The Three Sisters," as seen from a spot near my parents' house.
_____

And now for a bit of much-needed levity, gleaned from T-shirts for sale in a catalogue that my mother received in the mail:

 I TXT THERE 4 I M

 Sometimes I wonder, "Why is that frisbee getting bigger?" and then it hits me.

 Can I blame my hot flashes on Global Warming?

 I'm going compostal for the environment

 Careful, or you'll end up in my novel

 To err is human. To Arrrr is pirate.  

 What I really need are minions

 Even my imaginary friend doesn't like you

 I'm so far over the hill I've started up the next one

 Just be happy I'm not a twin

 Come to the dark side. We have cookies!

 I'm sick of political ads (and I approved this message)

 I have a perfect body; it's your vision that's shot

 I'm not Obsessive-Compulsive; I'm Super-Meticulous

 Deja Moo: the feeling you've heard this bull before

and, finally a shirt my husband would appreciate, because he reminds me frequenly:

 it is what it is







© 2008 Sapphire Words @ Blogspot.com