Hell on Earth

Tomorrow I will be heading north to visit with my husband's family and friends to celebrate my father-in-law's 80th birthday. It will be a melancholy event because he is rather frail and has been in a home for Alzheimer's patients for the past several months. I know he would hate the situation he is in right now if he were fully aware or could truly express his wishes. In October last year he had a sudden change in personality after some type of vascular event that his physician could not specifically identify. He was admitted to the hospital and then moved to the geriatric neuropsychiatry ward. There he was given an assortment of powerful psychotropic drugs to "control" his behavior. He was reduced to a zombie-like state with his head hanging like a lead weight upon his slumped shoulders and his normally steady walk became a slow unbalanced shuffle. He lost bladder control and, more importantly,his dignity. I was horrified to see him like this and I tried to question the nurses about the wisdom of giving someone who rarely even took aspirin such a cornucopia of drugs. It seemed rather counterintuitive for the situation. My mother-in-law was completely overwhelmed emotionally and physically and felt she had no real choice but to put her trust in the physician's plan of treatment. So for almost two months my father-in-law remained a virtual prisoner in that geriatric unit, subjected to a myriad of different medications that seemed to do little to improve his mental agility. He lost weight and his eyes took on that hollow glazed effect of a drug addict. He was lost inside himself without a way back to reality. I suppose the drugs had the effect the physician was expecting as he became "manageable" and child-like, hence, allowing him to be placed in the Alzheimer's home where he has resided for the past five months.

Walking into this home is like walking into bizarro world. Nothing is real. There are outdoor scenes painted on the walls all along the hallways. Wooden fish hang by velcro on a painted pond. The residents can sit on the bench overlooking this scene and imagine they are outdoors, or wonder why they landed back in kindergarten. A painted American flag and war planes ornament the slightly cloudy sky-blue walls in one area allowing for memories of a past war or time spent in service to our country, sweet memories of fighting off enemies in battles past. In another area there is a cradle and a doll next to a rocking chair where residents can pretend they are holding some family member that they may never see again or who has already grown. There are no clocks and no calendars to keep the residents in the present for those lucid moments between medication rounds. Residents wander aimlessly around these miserable halls, in and out of each other's rooms, constantly searching for something they will never find, perhaps a familiar face or the nearest exit. They all seem to be so overmedicated, shuffling along in a never- ending cycle of confusion. I am no expert on issues related to Alzheimer's but it seems to me that the staff in this home should be focusing on keeping the residents in the present as much as possible. Would it not make sense to have calendars and clocks, to talk about current events even if they don't remember five minutes later, to have a schedule of activities to stimulate the body, soul, and mind, and to have a normal-looking environment for them. Instead of pretending to look at a pond or a golf course wouldn't it be better if they had an outdoor area large enough to allow all of them to go outside into the fresh air every day that the weather is decent? We all know what it feels like to be cooped up indoors for a few days. We call it stir-crazy. Imagine weeks, months, or years for these people with no hope for rescue from the absolute boredom. It's no wonder they are confused. A scene from "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" comes to mind, when Jack Nicholson sneaks all the psych patients out of their prison and takes them to a baseball game, and I wish there was a way to give these residents a bit of reality for just one day. One tiny little resident name Chloe grabbed my arm when I walked past her as she was pushing her walker along from room to room. She looked up at me with her vacant eyes and whispered "Help me". I didn't know what she needed-help finding her room, help walking, or perhaps it was a plea to help her find a way out of the hell she was in. Every time I visit there I am thankful that I am able to walk back out.

My father-in-law's physician has finally agreed to slowly decrease the strength of one of his psychotropic medications. As a result, my father-in-law has become more alert and able to participate a bit more in conversations. He smiles more and is more appropriately animated. He recognizes everyone that visits and is acutely aware that the other residents in the home are not normal people. My husband and I picked him up on Easter Sunday to take him home for a family gathering and he recognized the streets and knew it was the way home. He also was aware that he had not been home for months. As he sat on the sofa with the dog in his lap he welled up with tears. He was happy to be back where he belonged, even if only for the day. At one of his doctor appointments recently he asked my sister-in-law for the date and day of the week because he remembered that the doctor would ask him those questions. He continues to have good days and bad days. He has lost a tremendous amount of weight and is very weak. My mother-in-law is hoping to bring him home for good if he improves enough that she is able to manage him with some assistance from family, friends, and home health. She hates that he is in that place and feels he would do better at home.

I personally believe he has been misdiagnosed. When I see him close his eyes during a prayer, smile or laugh at funny stories, cry when listening to stories of times past, and light up when he sees his grandchildren walk in, I just can't believe this is the behavior of an Alzheimer's patient. Maybe I am in denial but maybe there was a different reason for his change in mental status last fall. Perhaps another stroke that he has been slowly healing from. I don't agree with physician's doping up fragile patients who are already confused. They become empty shells of the people they once were. My father-in-law spent his whole life giving to others - to his family, friends, church, and strangers. He was the most optimistic, friendly person you could ever meet. He looked for the good in everyone. He has offered up his home to host foreign exchange students, he has picked up hitchhikers and taken them home for family dinners and offered them advice on how to improve their lives. He has served on many boards and has washed dishes at church functions. His helping hand has touched the lives of many, many people. He was not materialistic and spent money wisely. If you asked him how he was, his response was that he was grateful...grateful for the blessings in his life. He must wonder how he got to be in the place he is now, why he can't be home where he can be with his family, where he took a wrong turn to end up in living hell. I pray he comes home soon.

Environmentalisn't

Yesterday I was leafing through an issue of Martha Stewart Living that I had brought home from the office before it went to the recycle bin. I happened upon an article about a family who had built an environmentally friendly home and I was interested to see what materials were used. As I started reading the article I realized that this home in the Catskill mountains was just their winter vacation home. After renting a home on winter weekends for several years they had decided to build their own because they wanted to teach their children about nature and the environment.

Think about that statement. If this couple really wanted to teach their children to be respectful of nature and the environment maybe they should have continued to rent that existing home or perhaps bought an existing home instead of destroying another plot of land to build their own. I wonder how many trees were lost in clearing the land and getting all the equipment to the building site? How many animals were displaced or killed? I wonder how much energy is wasted every week while that house sits empty awaiting their occasional visit to ski? I wonder how much gas is used for the family to make the journey to their vacation site on winter weekends?

I think it is great that people consider the materials they use when building or remodeling but I don't think a secondary home is worthy of being the feature in an article about conservation. It should be a feature about blatant consumerism. I am tired of hearing people, especially the rich and famous, espouse how they are contributing in the environmental effort as they jet off around the world and return home to their huge estates. Who are they to speak out publicly? Perhaps we should pursue an environmental study of the tremendous amount of energy they consume and put that in the news. Then let them answer to the general public. Anyone who has more than one home should consider themselves lucky, not environmentalist.

Perhaps Martha Stewart Living and other similar publications should stick to decorating, not environmentalism. What I would like to see featured in these magazines are primary homes smartly designed with less than 2000 square feet of living space that utilize the best environmentally friendly products that are fairly affordable for the average citizen. That would be a magazine worth reading.

Let Love Shine

Today I am posting a tribute I wrote for my mother's funeral:

The day after my mother died I headed to my hometown to help make arrangements for her. I was okay as I pulled up in front of her house and walked up to her door. But as I stepped inside I was overwhelmed with a feeling of loss and loneliness because I knew I would never again see her smiling face or hear her loving voice welcoming me in. It seemed very odd being there knowing she was forever gone and I couldn't hold back the tears.

Over the next couple of days as we all gathered in her home we made the necessary arrangements as best we could according to her wishes-yes, she had discussed some things she wanted with us. One of her wishes was to have her wedding ring placed back on her finger but we couldn't seem to locate it. As we sorted through places we thought it might be we ran across cards and letters she had received from us over the years, especially from her grandchildren. There were crayon drawings and little mementos tucked away here, there, and everywhere, little reminders of her most beloved treasures-her family.

As I wandered through her house I stopped to look at all the little knick-knacks filling every nook and cranny. None were very expensive items. Many were gifts from family and friends, others she bought because they reminded her of someone special, and still others were symbols of her Avon success. You couldn't help but notice that she especially loved cats, angels, and Christmas. Each item meant something to her and I found myself hoping that every one of her family would take an item to keep for themselves because they would then be holding onto a little piece of her heart.

There were her treasured photos of her family scattered throughout the house but mostly in her family room. She loved those pictures and got so much joy out of looking at them every day. Every time I have visited her I have also enjoyed looking at them.

On her refrigerator hung pictures of my father and my grandmother and many little poems and bits of written wisdom and love. These were reminders to her and to all who took the time to read them that life is not about what you have but what you have in your heart.

As I stood looking around I realized I was truly standing in the house that love built. While growing up in this house had been turbulent at times my mother always managed to make us all feel loved and special. Family was more important than career. Loving, laughing and living were more important than cleaning and cooking. We were loved and we knew it.

My mother was the most loving, caring person I know. She was slow to judge, quick to forgive, and always, always loved us unconditionally. She will be missed by all who knew her.

Today I honor my mother's birthday. She died three years ago and has been greatly missed by her family. Though we are sad that she is gone we all know she would not want us to be. She would want us to be happy for that was her biggest concern for us when she was alive. So think of her today and smile. Be glad to know we were wrapped in her love for all those years. Ours was a special relationship that many people long for with their own mothers. Let her love shine down on us today and celebrate her spirit in our hearts.

Easter Fun

I am off to Indianapolis today to celebrate Easter with my in-laws. It will be a busy weekend so I just wanted to wish everyone a happy Easter. Did you know that the Easter date is based on a complicated formula of the solar and lunar year but generally falls on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the spring equinox? The earliest day that Easter can be on is March 22 and the latest date is April 25. It would take 5,700,000 years for Easter to fall on each of the dates during this period. The most common date for Easter is April 19. In 2038 Easter will fall on my birthday, April 25, so plan now to attend my party!

The Easter egg tradition is thought to have been a result of eggs being forbidden during Lent, therefore an over-abundant supply had to be used up quickly. Eggs were boiled to preserve them during Lent. Prior to the start of Lent eggs had to be used up so Pancake Day became a tradition in Europe. A red egg is symbolic of the blood of Christ. The Easter bunny tradition is thought to have originated in Germany.

I have to hop to it now. Happy Easter!

Lucky Ducks

I am writing today in honor of my grandmother. She was born on March 17, 1903 and died on March 16, 1994. She was an incredibly selfless person and probably the closest I will ever come to knowing a saint. As I have mentioned before she lived just a block away from my childhood home and was almost as much a part of my daily life growing up as my own mother. My brothers, sisters and I ran in and out her door as freely as our own, never needing to knock. She always welcomed us in.

Grandma lived simply and frugally. Her small four room home remained pretty much the same through all the years I can remember. Other than repapering and repainting when necessary she did not spend a lot of money for decorating. She had the same simple bedroom furniture, the same kitchen table and chairs, and a lot of the same wall decorations and knick-knacks for years. Pictures of all her grandchildren and great-grandchildren adorned the wall above my grandfather's stereo console. Assorted religious statues and pictures were displayed throughout the house and a cross hung over her bed. When walking into her home it was plain to see that family and God were most important to her. She worked full-time for as long as I can remember until she finally retired at the age of seventy-six. The same little red Corvair carried her around town for more than thirty years. She spent money wisely and recycled or reused everything that she could. Nothing was wasted. My grandfather died in 1966 and my grandmother devoted the rest of her life to her family of two children, nine grandchildren, twenty-one great-grandchildren, and, prior to her death, one great-great grandchild.

While growing up, my little sister and I spent many overnights at my grandmother's house along with my cousins, whom she babysat for nearly every weekend while their parents worked. We would play in her basement, sometimes roller skating on the concrete floor or pushing each other around as fast as we could go on chairs set onto movers' casters. Grandma kept her ear tuned in to what we were doing, calling down every now and then to check on us. We would sit cross-legged and play card games on the living room floor. She would bring out rolls of paper for us to draw and color on, keeping us busy for long stretches of time. In her backyard we would play tag and on sultry hot summer afternoons she would fill a big metal washtub with water and let us play in the sprinkler. My grandfather stretched a rope tautly between two trees and attached a looped rope on a pulley so we could go sailing through the air across the yard, careful to stop ourselves with our feet before hitting the tree. When we wore ourselves out and came in for a break Grandma would treat us to cookies and kool-aid. She was very strict about taking naps and we would stretch out on pallets of quilts and blankets spread on the living room floor, trying to make each other laugh without getting caught while she sat in her chair. If she caught one of us giggling we would be sent to the bedroom to nap alone. In the evenings after supper we would play on the front porch, taking turns sitting on the porch swing with her, singing songs while she read the evening newspaper. In the mornings we would wake to the sound of the kitchen radio tuned in to the local news and the smell of buttered toast and hot cocoa wafting through the house.

Grandma was very involved with church and civic activities and we learned from her the importance of giving of our time. Every week we gathered around her kitchen table to help make tray favors to take up to the hospital, adding a bit of cheer to those confined by illness. We were called upon to help set up tables and chairs for the various club meetings she attended and presided over, spreading out the table covers and adding the decorations and favors, filling tiny paper cups with nuts or mints, mixing up punch and setting out the cups and napkins. Sometimes we stayed for the meetings, donning sheer white aprons, serving little sandwiches to the attendees. Afterward, we helped to clean up and haul all the supplies back to my grandmother's house until we did it all again for the next meeting. A perpetual fundraising effort was supported by our strong arms and backs as we were recruited to pick up bags of newspapers from people all over town to store in my grandmother's shed until a truckload had accumulated. Then we would load them all into the truck where they were hauled ten miles down the road to the paper plant for recycling. The money that was received for those papers was donated to the church. We were usually rewarded with a quarter for our efforts. Whenever there was a need for a child actor for various skits to entertain the guests at her meetings we would don costumes for the part. I have played many roles, including an elf, an angel, an Easter bunny and Mrs. Claus. With her prodding we helped clean the church, collected money at bake sales, sold popcorn and sodas in the school gymnaium, and served meals to bereaved families after funerals. We manned the carnival game booths at the annual spring fling held at the Catholic school we attended, collecting the tickets and instructing the players on the rules of the games my grandfather and uncle had built. We were forbidden to play the lucky duck game because we knew which ducks were marked for the best prizes. She rewarded us by giving us dimes to walk to the ice cream shop two blocks away from her house to buy the best malted chocolate ice cream cones in the county and on Sunday mornings after church we were sometimes treated to breakfast at a local cafeteria-style restaurant. Occasionally on Saturday afternoons she would take us for burgers and fries at the diner downtown. Since eating out was not as common like it is these days, these were special treats and we were always excited to go.

Grandma always believed that too much idle time led to trouble and she kept us busy. I remember helping with spring cleaning, washing her windows with ammonia water, drying them with newspapers until they were streakfree and squeaky clean. The sheer curtains were handwashed and attached to stretchers to dry in the sun, then carefully rehung. Baseboards and trim were wiped down and spots scrubbed off the walls. She would coat the screen doors with a fresh layer of varnish to prevent water damage. Metal porch furniture was cleaned and repainted if necessary. Everything was freshened and aired out after a long winter. Then she would walk up the block to our own home and help us do the same there. My grandmother never owned an electric washer, dryer, or a dishwasher. Clothes, towels, and bedding were all washed by hand, passed through the wringer and hung on the line to dry. Dishes were washed and dried by hand. Consumption of electricity was kept to a minimum to keep the electric bill low.

The attic in my grandmother's house was off limits to all of us unless she gave special permission. There she stored all kinds of craft items, fabrics, a trunk full of old baby clothes, formal dresses hidden away in garment bags, wrapping paper, glitter, glue, candles, vases, punch bowls, bingo cards, those lucky ducks, table covers, virtually anything she would need for a party, a meeting or other special occasion. To a child it was an enchanting room full of treasures and to be allowed to ascend that flight of steep stairs hidden inside her bedroom closet was exciting. Sometimes we would sneak up there while she was gone so we could peruse this forbidden treasure trove, always mindful not to get caught so as to avoid the ensuing lecture we would hear for disobeying.

My grandmother rarely asked for anything for herself. She was not frivolous or extravagant in the way she dressed. Simple dresses were her garments of choice. Her best dresses were carefully hung and brought out only for special occasions and meetings. Her makeup was simple with just a bit of pink on her cheeks and red on her lips. She loved to have one of her grandchildren brush her silver hair while she relaxed in her chair watching television or reading. I learned to pincurl her hair for her in between the perms and haircolorings that my aunt gave her occasionally. I am glad that I had this opportunity to do something nice for her routinely. Her one indulgence for herself was an occasional bus tour with other ladies from her various civic clubs.

As we grew older and started having families of our own, Grandma was still very much involved in our lives. She was a part of every family celebration - birthdays, holidays, graduations, weddings, showers, baptisms, first communions, school plays, ballgames. She babysat for her great-grandchildren as she had for her grandchildren, providing them with the same loving care and memories of childhood. I can still visualize her rocking the babies in her lap, patting and singing them to sleep with her lullabyes. The older children would play under her watchful eyes and were taught the same moral values that we had been taught. She loved us all and spent her years helping us in so many ways. When I look back on those years I am truly grateful for having had such an opportunity to spend so much time with her. With families today spread all over the globe not many children have the good fortune to have their grandparents so heavily involved in their daily lives. We were truly the lucky ducks and the grand prize was her love and influence.

Future Play

Yesterday we spent the day with six of our good friends. We started in the mid-afternoon for a day of eating, drinking and general merriment. We met up at one couple's house about an hour north of us. With their new 60 inch tv screen and surround sound we were able to enjoy a few concert DVDs while we played games, talked, argued politics, and plotted our futures. Since we are all approaching or already in our fifties with our children scattered all over the country and abroad we have been considering a plan to build our own semi-retirement community where we would each have a small home centered around a swimming pool and clubhouse. We would make the homes energy efficient and wheelchair accessible for the future with wide sidewalks leading from one home to the other, allowing us to be available to help each other out as our physical capabilities change over the years. With the pool and clubhouse available for use anytime we would always have a place to gather with our families and other friends. By having our own community of friends we would stave off the loneliness that many couples experience after their children are grown and gone. We all enjoy each other's company so much and have known each other since we were kids and I can't think of a better way to relax after work than to head to the community room to see what's going on there-to get a game of euchre started, to cook out on the grill, swim laps, or simply sit with a drink and chat. The clubhouse could be set up to accomodate all sorts of hobbies to keep us busy, an exercise area, a video area for watching movies together and perhaps a library area where we could all share our books. We would limit the amount of upkeep on the exterior by choosing building materials wisely and each of us would be assigned specific responsibilities for groundskeeping. Of course we would have an annual fee to cover certain maintenance expenses that would be hired out. And a legal contract to avoid misunderstandings and problems down the road.
I know it may seem a bit early to be considering this plan but we all know it will take years to see it to fruition. And without our children living nearby we all see an eventual need to help each other in the future as we have struggled to meet the needs of our own aging parents over the past several years. Our community plan may never happen, but it definitely will not happen if we don't start the planning process now. And that planning is half the fun! All suggestions are welcome.

Ocean of Trust

My 23-month old granddaughter has been sick for the past several days. It breaks my heart to hear her tiny voice whimpering instead of her usual robust chatter on the phone. I want so much to be able to fly off to London to help out and to hold her and my daughter in my arms, to offer comfort, love and assistance. At these times, the distance between us seems immense. I am so very grateful that my son-in-law's parents are so wonderful and willing to help out when needed. It eases my mind enormously to know they are just a phone call and a short drive away for the most part. I can't imagine raising children without family nearby. I realize how incredibly lucky I was when my own children were small to have my grandmother, parents, two siblings, and an array of in-laws just minutes away in our small town and an army of additional family members and friends just a phone call away if needed. A child can't have too many relatives and friends who love them. I firmly believe in the village concept of raising children (as long as they're not the village idiots). When a child has many people looking after their well-being they have a reasonable chance of growing up to be happy, productive adults. As the saying goes, "More the Merrier". So I send our love across the vast ocean and put my trust in my daughter's in-laws and friends to be there for her in our absence. Thank you, thank you, thank you.