Last Rites of Passage

I had lunch with my dad the other day and we visited a bit.  The subject turned to British murder mysteries.  He's watching one now that's caught his interest as am I.  I can't remember what his was, but I've been watching "Unforgotten on Masterpiece" by way of PBS Passport.  They are on season five now, but I had never seen any of them, so have been bingeing.  Because season five (that's currently airing) features a completely different detective, I realized that something had happened to DCI Stuart in season 4.  What it was, I didn't know.   She'd gone off on a medical leave at the end of the case in season 3.  In season 4, she had a boyfriend and was back on the job for 6 more months until she could hit her retirement.  Her father had dementia (early stages).  The case at hand didn't seem to be offering up any potential murderers to be coming after her, so what happened? We left the discussion there, as I had to go take care of M...

Mom went back to her Memory Care home today.  After being in rehab for a month and a half, she was nervous and wasn't sure she'd remember anybody. She fussed and fretted as  Matt and I packed up her room.  I finally asked Matt to take her to see the fish aquarium in the lobby so I could get it done.  He ushered her out and less than five minutes later, I was rolling the big bag down the hall.  Matt went and got the car and we headed towards the home.  It was a busy day at the  home - the podiatrist was visiting and people were milling around waiting for their turn, and the aides and nurses were hopping.  It took a while to even get in the door to go get her wheelchair.  As we transferred her to the chair, the aide who was one of her "favoritest people" walked up and Mom threw her arms open to hug her.  Once she realized she would recognize people, she was ready to go in. Matt and I unpacked her while she supervised, then she went out to ...

When my son was born, his daddy had been laid off, so he stayed home with the baby while I went off to work every day.  After about two and a half years, My husband got regular work again and was out the door before me, so we found daycare for our son. The first two weeks of daycare may have been the absolute worst in my whole parenting life.  We'd have breakfast, get dressed and drive the five miles to daycare.  As soon as we pulled into the parking lot, the sniffs started.  As I unbuckled the car seat the first silent tears of reproach would roll down his cheeks.  By the time I reached the door, he was crying in earnest.  Handing him over to the lady who worked there was like trying to peel spiderwebs off of flypaper.  I had no idea a child could be so strong!  He clung to me as if he'd die should he let go.  Finally pried loose, the screaming and reaching began and I had to turn around and walk out, leaving my baby to his torturers (as he ...

Interesting week. Her mood swings seem to be intensifying.  We had an appointment at Wound Care to remove the rest of the stitches and see if she can return to her Memory Care home.  The doctor said that she was healing perfectly and that with home healthcare, she can go back and get out of rehab.  Joyful news, but getting there?  OMG. She arrived crying.  Complaining that no one was cooperating with her, wouldn't allow her to change her clothes or go to the bathroom.  She was tremoring hard, which she does when she's not really in control of herself.  She was late, of course, because she wasn't cooperating, which meant that we fell behind a lot of people who got there on time. Mom complained of being cold, so we sat outside while we waited for our appointment.  She was still grumping, so I messaged my brother Jay who'd posted a picture of our grandmother on FaceBook earlier in the day.  I couldn't find it, so I asked him to send it directly...

 It seems that we go long stretches when nothing of note happens and any post I might make would be boring beyond belief.  Then suddenly, everything happens at once and I'm so busy dealing with it that I don't have time or am too tired to do it.  These last two weeks have been like that. The boring bits:  Mom's been going to Wound Care once a week since she had her toe amputated.  Last week she got most of her staples out.  This week, the rest will come out.  Her wound is healing very nicely, and the doctor says it's healed to the point of her being able to go back to the Home, with home health to tend her a few times a week.  Now she just has to get strong enough to be able to stand and transfer from wheelchair to bed or toilet unassisted.  She's very close, so I'm hoping that she'll be in rehab for only another week after this next appointment. More "boring bits (but so exciting to me ):  Mom's eating.  Not everything, but close....

I've never been fond of carnival rides.  Tilt-a-Whirls, Himalayans, rollercoasters, that thing that looks like a viking ship...  the abrupt changing of direction always made my stomach wish to eject the cotton candy and hot dog contents (never did though).  I've done a pretty good job of avoiding carnivals, only consenting to go to the fair to see the animals or the various exhibits of artwork or pies. But I find myself on a rollercoaster now...  and my stomach still feels the same effects. The rollercoaster in question is my mother's moods.  I never know what I'm going to get when I go visit her.  The Month-of-Clarity was really wonderful.  Mom was there and present and happy to see people.  These days, the sundowning is hard.  Her days are still okay, though getting less so, but the evenings are awful.   I try to see her around dinner time in rehab.  Rehab is different from the Memory Care Home.  While she gets a lot of ...