A Little Louder, Please

The walls here are beginning to vibrate. Mom, who was already partially deaf in one ear, has lost even more of her hearing just in the last week. I don't know if it is the result of her medicines or if it is because of the runny nose she has had for quite awhile, but we are praying that it is a temporary condition. I'm going to run it by the doctor when he or his nurse calls about Monday's blood test; she may need to see an ear, nose, throat specialist. If the condition can't be corrected, then we will go to her audiologist and have her hearing aide adjusted or replaced. At least that is my plan. Mom, however, tumbles between accepting and mourning the loss and panicking that it won't go away. I feel really sorry for her because deafness can be so isolating. She has great difficulty following conversations even when she is just inches away from the speaker and looking at them. We tend to cut our sentences down to very short bits of communication to help her figure out the meaning easier. Meanwhile, the t.v. is blaring and I am scouring the house for those darned ear plugs that I know are here somewhere!

By the way, Danielle made it back from the Big Apple at 5:00 this morning. She missed her flight out of NYC yesterday morning, not because she was too late to board - she got there 35 minutes early - but because the baggage check was closed 45 minutes before take off time. Oops. The next possible flight out was not until 4:00 p.m. so she spent a lovely day at the airport and then got into Portland at 11:00 p.m. As Don would say, the Kirby luck was at work again. Thankfully, her friend, Ashley, wanted to meet her at the airport and drive her home so they could visit. Ahhh, to be young enough to stay awake all night again! Thanks, Ashley and welcome home Danielle, even if only for a short time.

Spring Rain

Today was a lazy day. I think the steady rain had something to do with it. Good for the crops, hard on my attitude. I shouldn't complain because Eastern Oregon rain is relatively short-lived and very necessary to get us through the rest of the seasons. Our side of the state has four definite and very beautiful seasons, unlike the coast and the Portland area that seem to sport a constant, dismal drizzle year-round. Here, as soon as the rain is done, I can count on the clouds blowing away and the blue sky reigning supreme once again. So, enough of my complaining. Come on life-giving spring rain: clear the cobwebs, freshen our air, nourish our crops and gardens, green up our rolling hills...remind me why I love Eastern Oregon.

Hoot Mon

It's that time again; time to start gearing up for the Caledonian Games weekend in July. Sue called me with some t-shirt graphic ideas, so I put together a couple rough designs that will give the printers an idea of what we would like. The lines are wobbly because some of it was hand drawn and scanned in, but I didn't want to take forever trying to teach myself how to do it. I tend to get compulsive when I start projects like that and have to remind myself that a pro will be redoing it anyway. Anyway, here are the two designs. I think Sue decided to go with the crest. I want you to know that I created the plaid from scratch using Corel Photo. I don't know if they will go with this particular picture, but isn't the sunset image beautiful?!

Have a Seat!

Yesterday I went on a mission to find Mom a new chair for her room. I was looking for something sturdy that didn't rock, swivel, or glide. It had to have arms and not be too deep or too low so that she can get out of it easily. Add to that something with style, pleasing color, and comfort that isn't too wide nor too costly and you have yourself a challenge. After a lot of looking, I did find some possiblities, but the sensible, stationary, leather and metal office chair won out. I would have loved to have purchased a chair from Wilcox that was the sweetest, old-fashioned style, but it was far enough out of my price range that I had to walk away. Afraid that this one looked too utilitarian and would be a disappointment to Mom, I nevertheless brought it home because it was so comfortable and just the right size for her that it beat out all the other options, regardless. Thankfully, she was genuinely excited to see it and protested that it was much to nice and we "shouldn't have". It is really nice to be able to do something for her that not only helps her, but gives her enjoyment as well. It was a long day of hunting, but it was worth it.


Ahem. Of course, this meant moving the other, glider chair that Ellie shared with Mom out of their bedroom. This was not a popular decision with Ellie. In fact, if it wasn't for the new box, she might have considered the day a total loss.

Balancing Act

Tomorrow Mom will have been on the new dosages of two of her meds for a week. The Phenytoin (generic for Dilantin) did not make her dizzy, for which we are very thankful. She thinks it has made her doze more during the day, but I'm not sure there is much difference. The increase in her water pill sends her to the bathroom more often, which is understandably irritating, but I am more concerned about how her kidneys are handling it. Monday we'll go in for a blood test and find out. She is still coughing a little more than is normal and the last few days she has complained about her hearing being worse. Terrible daughter that I am, I thought she was just not paying much attention to me when I talked, even if I was answering her own question to me. We'll run it by the doctor when he calls about the blood test, but in the meantime, I am concerned by it. She thinks she has had a cold for two months, but I don't think it seems like a virus and I am afraid it has more to do with her heart.

For me, this is an example of the hardest part of caregiving: the constant inner battle between worry and exasperation, concern and irritation, enjoyment and guilt, priviledge and failure. At dinner tonight, when she asked me (NOT for the first time) to please make her glass of water in the morning warm when I bring it in, I wanted to scream because I am so careful to test it every single time I get her a glass, yet she insinuates that I don't give it a thought and need to be told again. Er-r-r-rgh. Does it cool off between the kitchen and her room? Is her idea of warm different from mine? Is she assuming I do it wrong because she has forgotten? Does it get cold? But, in the next moment I see her sitting next to us at the table, trying to follow our conversation, and I can tell that she's not hearing us well enough even though she is just inches away. How could I ever get irritated over water? I love her and would do anything for her. What is the matter with me?

10 Pink Pigs

Our living room floor hasn't looked like this for a long time. We had a little visitor for a short while this afternoon. The first order of business is always politely asking for something out of the candy jar. After all, this is known as the Candy House to her and her cousin. Then, the farmyard-in-a-bag that she had brought came to life. Little K. counted out "10 pink" little pigs for me (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 10 - not bad for soon-to-be 3 years old) then stirred them up with her hand and informed me that she was "scrambling" them. When she spotted the LocBlocks that I had set out, however, the animals were left to entertain themselves for awhile.

I noticed an interesting phenomenon within myself with this visit. The mom in me was interested in watching how K. played and in verbally engaging her cute little personality to see what ideas she would come up with, while the new teacher in me started making note of her speech, vocabulary choices, and counting and color identification skills. Yikes. Anyway, she is a corker and very sweet so it was a nice hour. When it was time to go she sang a "This is How We Clean Up" song while she and Don put the farm back in the bag. You can tell she is the daughter of a teacher!

I love this look of concentration on K's face and remember the expression well on the faces of my own when they were this age.

My Priorities Are Fine, Thank You Very Much

Three weeks ago, we lost t.v. reception and the microwave just days apart. The t.v. cable company, located in Texas, evidently would not pay the asking price for the stations they wanted to broadcast so, after many warnings, everyone's reception was cut off. Everyone being the whole town. Then the company that had previously served us removed all the cables to each house, which they still owned. Huh. *blink* I didn't know that would ever happen. So now we have the choice of getting a satellite dish or putting up an antenna. Unwilling at this point in the recession to lock into a two-year contract, we are going with the latter. So far, we only have a small antenna hooked up to the t.v. in the living room. Sometimes the reception is decent, but mostly it is barely acceptable. Don has been looking for a large antenna to put up outside, but I guess we will have to order one online.

The microwave was ten years old; a Christmas gift from our kids. When I put a potato in it and turned it on it cooked normally for a minute, then suddenly groaned loudly and lit up the inside like a lightning display. No, I didn't leave any metal inside it and, yes, it did it a second time. Once was enough for me, but brother-in-law Bob wasn't convinced until he tried it again. For me, the microwave was a much more devastating loss than the television. Thankfully, Danielle's was nearby and served as a temporary until we got another one. (I won't mention what might have blown up in Danielle's before she packed it away that needed cleaning up first.)

Three weeks later, I am still dealing with t.v. static and sometimes holding the antenna at a certain height and angle by hand so that I can occasionally watch Ellen. However, life is okay anyway because I can fix my little pizza in the brand new microwave at lunch and sit down and watch a favorite DVD that produces a very clear picture without any antenna at all. And since I worked two hours in the flowerbeds this morning and then walked for half an hour, I have earned just such a respite. Happiness is all in the perspective.

Of Course It Will Fit!

I think this is the worst part of gardening. Not the long hours of pulling weeds, trimming, and edging, but hauling the refuse to the weed pile. I'm not sure why it irritates me so, but, as you can see, I stall as long as possible before tackling it. I wait too long and I pile my load too high in hopes that I won't have to make as many trips. Of course, when I lose part of the load along the way it only serves to make me hate the task even more.

If I was being philosophical, I would look at it as an opportunity to take a break, admire my progress, or at least offer the irritation up in prayer. However, I'm choosing to look at it another way. Someday, when we win the lottery, I will hire someone else to do it. I'll do the gardening, but they can dump my wheelbarrow...and maybe do the edging.

Who's In Control?

See this weed. It is one of two main menaces in my flowerbeds. It is a vine never quits growing.

The stems and leaves are covered with tiny hairs that cling to everything; my clothes, my flowers, my cats, everything. All summer long I find them wound around my flowers, choking the life out of them, which infuriates me. Diligently I try to track them down to their roots and pull them at their source, but they have so many underground runners that I have little hope of ever getting rid of them. Yesterday, I tried to rid an area of them as I weeded. It should have been be easy since they are only 6-8 inches tall at this point. However, with all of the bulbs that are sprouting now, I ended up pulling them up as well and spent more time in damage control than in eradicating the menace. Grrrr.

Thank You

The doctor called today even though it is Saturday. I can't tell you how much that impresses me and how much I appreciate it. After Mom's appointment yesterday he sent her to get a blood test and chest x-ray to help him determine dosage changes in her medications. I was so pleased that he was following up on our concerns that it wasn't until evening that I realized we probably faced a whole weekend of coping with possible problems before he would get back to us.

In a nutshell, Mom needs more diuretic to keep her lungs clear and a higher dose of Dilantin to better prevent the seizures. The new dosages started today and in a week another blood test will help fine tune the changes to keep her kidneys happy and Dilantin level carefully regulated.

The nurse really enjoyed visiting with Mom while taking her vitals. She has a way, just being herself, that seems to charm most people. The nurse, who was really upbeat, kept saying under her breath, "so cute!" And Mom is. But not because she is trying to be; it just comes out that way even if she is stewing about how she is not enough help around the house any more. I sat there thinking about how so many nurses and technicians react to Mom so similarly. They make such a difference to our lives when they treat us with respect, cheerfulness, and humor; maybe Mom's positive attitude and natural charm gives something back to them as well.

Not Today

Mom gave us a scare yesterday morning. I had roused up to turn over around 4 a.m. and a few seconds later heard from the monitor a vocal noise that I knew wasn't right. It was kind of like the bumpy, droning noise that a kid in a wagon being pulled along a gravel road makes. Our feet hit the ground in tandem and, sure enough, Mom was lying in bed on her side having a seizure. It was the first in a year and a half; the first since she had started taking Dilantin. It was over soon and I sat with her afterward, watching her sleep. At 5:30 a.m. she had another. Damn.

So, today we head to the doctor. She had an appointment anyway, (Thanks, God. You know they're hard to get.), but now we have something else to talk about. I'm hoping that it's just a matter of readjusting her blood pressure medicine or something since, over a year ago, the attending physician said they were triggered by low blood pressure.

In spite of the fact that she doesn't even realize she's had a seizure unless we tell her, she did not sleep much last night for fear of having one. I was afraid to sleep, too, but did and then felt guilty. I'd turned up the monitor until I could hear her breathing...and the clock ticking and the static created from the bedside light by which Don reads throughout the night.

Let's not talk about letting go. Not today.