Home Again

After four days in Durham, it was so good to be home again.  I understand that in my absence, Lacy took to sleeping in the living room. 

My daughter is fine now. I guess all she needed was some company and some home cooking -those have their comfort, don't they?  She has decided I will move to the city to live with or near her - but I don't think so.  A place like Durham is not for me.  Too much gang activity - so much that the gangs have spilled into other counties to commit their crimes.  And every time I read an unnerving article about Durham, I check the streets named to see how close to Beth the incident occurred.  The logical thing is for her to do is move back here.  The pace is slower, salaries are lower - but so is the cost of living and the crime rate.

Dad's doctor wrote an order for morphine a week or two ago.  Dad took the doses for a few days and then stopped.  He says it burned his mouth too much, but I think I know what the problem really was...he slept too much.

He is so thin, now. He looks like a good breeze would blow him over.  His hands are skeletal, look like they're webbed together with bruised skin.  But there is something courageous in his bearing and his refusal, if only for now, to sleep through the pain.  The other day, I caught him on the lawn mower.  "WHAT are you doing?" I asked him.  And he replied in a garbled voice and with a bit of a laugh - "What the __ does it look like I'm doing?"  Occasionally, he drives out to the store to visit the business he built, and to see some of the old customers who have been regulars for years.  Many of them come by the house to see him, and he is the least surprised to find he has a multi-racial, large "family".  Or should that read ..family.

He keeps going, determined not to miss a thing for as long as he doesn't have to, and to me, that is inspiring.

Mysterious Ways...

Well, I'm outta here for the rest of the week, heading to Durham to be with my daughter who needs her Mom.  It's timely.

One of those mornings

Ever had a morning where you just could not get going unless you gave yourself a pep-talk/lecture?  That's me, today.  I'm trying to save vacation time for when it's really needed.  Beth's baby is due in the next few weeks, not sure when Mom and Dad will need me...It's all good.  I have the time when they need it, and am trying hard to just keep going until then.

Good news:  Mom is on to Wanda, and Mike and I are having a chat with her.  It's Tuesday - a short week now! and it promises to be a beautiful day in Carolina.  Feels like it might be an early fall.

Have a great week, everybody. 

Burned with a mile high flame

It's more than a shame when a sick, elderly couple attracts buzzards in the guise of friendly neighbors, but that is exactly what has happened with my mother and father.

Since they have moved into the new house, a few of the neighbors have started hanging around.  At first, I thought it was great, because neither my brother Mike nor I can be there all the time, and it was a comfort knowing there would be someone around in case they needed help and we weren't there immediately.

One neighbor - we'll call her Wanda, because that's her name - suddenly started popping over every day to dust-mop the hardwood floors.  Mom was thrilled (not that we didn't mop the floors and do the dishes or whatever else she needed), and when I mentioned taking Mom for groceries, she said - Oh no, that's ok.  Wanda will take me.  I know I can count on her for anything I need!

ooooo-kay.  Truth told, I felt a little shoved-aside, but realized she has a need for female friends.  We all do.

She extolled the virtues of her new friend who took her shopping, took her to the drug store to get her prescriptions filled, and who would eventually, Mom said, come stay in the guest bedroom when she needed someone to help her with Daddy.

Today, she told me - "You know what..?  Wanda asked me for some of my pain pills because her back was hurting, so I gave her one.  She came back today and asked for some more."  She also asked what happened to the pain medication Daddy had been switched from when he started on Morphine.  When Mom refused her request for more pain meds and told her Hospice had collected the old medicine, Wanda suddenly had to leave.  In a huff.  And I learned, too, that Mom had suggested Wanda see her doctor about having something prescribed, but was told - Oh, I'd have to go in before they'll give me anything.  And THEN I learned my nephew had seen Wanda going through Mom's medicine bag.

I don't think I'm being harsh when I say what bears repeating - it's a damned SHAME when the vultures start circling.  Mom and Dad have their narcotic meds filled monthly.  In Dad's case, monthly sometimes isn't enough because the pain has gotten so bad that even the morphine doesn't stop the breakthrough pain.

I see the need to be with them more than I am, but Mom doesn't want that.  She's afraid Dad will "hurt my feelings" because he's so irritable from hurting.  I don't CARE about that.  The man has been hurting my feelings for 49 years, for God's sake, and that hasn't kept me away, yet.  They're vulnerable to people like Wanda, now, even if they don't want to see it.  I don't know what to do.

A New Forum

I was going to do a proper introduction to a new forum, but frankly, my head is still spinning from filling in for the transfer coordinator while doing my own job today.  That, in itself, is an example of the many hats women wear in just a day's time.

The new forum I wanted to introduce you to is called WomenSpeak.  It will be a place where women can write on women's issues, from careers, home and family,  nutrition...a place to ask advice and share our collective wisdom.

If you would be interested in being a writer or manager on WomenSpeak, email Chaispice1023@aol.com. 

WomenSpeak

It occurs to me that AOL might yank this entry, but there's no reason to.  This is a fact of life - something that in my Mom's day was not spoken, and perhaps should not be spoken here, but - what the heck.  We're all progressive women, and if television can sell spots for tampons and pads, we can blog about it.

Two weeks ago, I was surfing the web for insight into a new problem.  I had spent the day hoping I wouldn't embarrass myself in public, and wanted a solution.  What I found was a forum for women that discussed menopause - not a lot of help, because all they basically did was list their symptoms.  A few of the posts went something like:  I don't know what's happening to me!"  Well, yes you do...but like me and thousands of other women, you don't understand how to cope with it.  I read horror stories by the dozens, then decided to add my own, stating I was afraid to sit down, stand up, lay down, cross my legs or cough, lest the need to change clothes should arise, added something about beach towels and used Times New Roman to voice my dissatisfaction with Eve for eating that damned apple.

And THEN, a week later, I was watching Oprah.  That is something I seldom do, but her guest was Dr. Christiane Northrup, and she had written a book called "The Wisdom of Menopause."

"It's MINE!" I shouted at the television screen.  I hopped on the computer, found it for 99 cents on ebay and got the winning bid.  It finally arrived yesterday, and it is a treasure for any woman approaching this crossroads in her life.  I could identify with what Dr. Northrup in her book - the irritability, depression, flooding, and memories popping up out of nowhere.  I learned that they are unresolved issues.  According to Dr. Northrup, issues we put aside in our child-bearing years come to the foreground during perimenopause.  Interesting.

I haven't finished reading it yet.  I skipped a few chapters to read the chapter on supplements, diet and exercise.  It was informative.  And I believe I will take her advice and make a doctor's appointment. 

So...I'm no longer worried about the stereotype of the insane menopausal woman, but I will admit that at first, I felt like I was becoming a has-been, unattractive.  It doesn't have to be that way, thank heavens. This is a time in a woman's life when she can focus on and nurture herself.  That's not such a bad thing.  I'm looking forward to the day I can walk into a room and own it - without having to rush home and change clothes.