Ode to Applesauce

My last post sang the praises of the Magic Bullet, but I must be honest and say that after a few months of spending 40 minutes every five days to prepare another batch of "Med Smoothies," filling half my freezer with the concoctions (fruit in the morning, chocolate at night), running out to Costco every couple of weeks for more frozen fruit, soy milk, and chocolate powder, and listening to Betty's constant complaints about having to drink the things, I needed another system. In MIL's defense, you can't put enough fruit and sweetener in a 16 oz cup to hide the hideous taste of 8 or 9 ground-up pills.

There was also the unintended consequences of having her dawdle for up to 90 minutes over these drinks, twice a day, taking a sip, eating a Cheeto or Veggie Straws, taking another sip, complaining, and so on. I had to stick around, because the last bits of pill would sink to the bottom of the glass, and I had to get her to take that last drink before discarding the cup in the kitchen sink. There was also the twice daily ritual of having to anwer the question, "Will I need my book?" This was her way of asking, "Will I need something to do while I take tiny sips of this wretched stuff and listen to you bitch at me about how long it's taking?"

So it was becoming a Lose/Lose.

Enter my good friend, Colette, an RN, who swiped a pill crusher from work and said to put the crushed pills in a couple of tablespoons of apple sauce and be done with it! So simple. Betty already hates applesauce, so I'm not ruining something she would like to like, if you know what I mean. And it takes only minutes to consume a couple of spoonfuls of applesauce, even if you're Betty. No book, no searching for her glasses, less complaining, way less of my time.

So thank you, Colette, and thank you Johnnie Appleseed and the Motts Corporation. We still use the Magic Bullet for non-medicinal smoothies, and we love it.

The Magic Bullet is... a Magic Bullet!

Forgive the long pause between posts. I've been conscious of the fact that while ranting keeps me from murdering, it can also be an invasion of other people's privacy. But I finally have something NICE to say, so I shall say it:

I am using a Magic Bullet blender system to grind up Betty's pills and turn them into smoothies, and she hasn't thrown up since! All credit goes to Kim, my friend and Betty's companion and driver, for the idea. It's absolutely brilliant--in the morning, I grind pills, add vanilla soy milk, strawberry syrup, a few teaspoons of unflavored fiber powder, and a cup of frozen fruit, then grind again. In the evenings I grind pills, add vanilla soy milk, chocolate syrup or powdered drink mix, and mix again. The difference in color is key--her morning and evening meds are different.

I went on ebay and bought extra blending cups and lids, and I can make 5 days of shakes at a time. Betty's doctor and pharmacist assured me that grinding and freezing won't make her medicine less effective. What a miracle, to pull a shake out of the freezer, thaw it in the microwave, and serve it. She's not wild about the taste, but it's drinkable, and when (not IF) she complains, I remind her that we can go back to swallowing a dozen pills... that ends the complaining.

THANK YOU MAGIC BULLET, FOR INVENTING A SMALL, EASY-TO-USE AND CLEAN, VERY POWERFUL BLENDER!

The Good News and the Bad News

THE GOOD NEWS:
It appears that a major part of Betty's nausea is lying down in bed right after she eats, so when we have her sit up for 30 minutes or so, she keeps her food down.

THE BAD NEWS:
The only way to keep her from lying down is to keep her in the kitchen or family room. If she disappears into her bedroom, I have to check every minute or so and listen to, "I wasn't really lying down, I was just leaning!" So I'm making her sit out here, but then she wants to watch MSNBC, which makes ME want to vomit. It's a no-win situation.

Things Could Be Worse

We went to a party on July 3, and met a really cute old couple who lived in the Assisted Living center where my mother resides. One of the reasons for the party was to celebrate the woman's birthday. I'll call her Mary. Her husband, whom I'll call Ed, has Alzheimer's Disease, and lives in another part of the building. They can't live together, and they went home early from the party because he "sunsets" and becomes very difficult in the evenings. But she quietly came back to the party, once he was settled in and under the supervision of the nursing staff.
Ed was a top executive at a huge corporation, and they met each other in a bereavement group after their respective spouses died. They've been married about 8 years, and traveled the world until he was diagnosed a couple of years ago. He handled millions of dollars in his business life, but now can't add single-digit numbers together.
A few days ago, Kim, who introduced us and hosted the party, told me that Mary called her, very upset. Ed hadn't slept in days, was accusing her of having an affair and yelling at her, and she was terrified to drive him to the doctor's office alone. Kim stepped in and drove, and I've instructed her to give my number to Mary, so she can call me if Kim isn't available.
I heard a news story today about a new Alzheimer's drug that looks promising. I don't suppose it will come out in time to help Ed or Betty.

Mother's Day Dinner... Not for the Faint Hearted

Well, the day started out okay. We had brunch at my mother's assisted living center, which was quite nice, although they promised complementary mimosas, and I didn't see any. I ate the chocolate mousse to assuage my hurt feelings.

Then I took Mikey for a haircut, inadvertently letting the girl cut it WAY too short, and he refused to speak to me about about two hours. He did mouth a few profanities, until I mouthed a threat of a time-out.

Mikey's 4th/5th grade lacrosse team played at 3pm, and they've never looked better. He got 3 assists and scored a goal himself. It was wonderful to watch, especially after the stunning defeats they've suffered week after week.

About how, you're asking youself, "Why did she call this 'Mother's Day Dinner?'" I'm getting there.

We took MIL Betty, my mom, the kids, and Ra Youn, our Korean host daughter, to Bravo!, a wonderful Italian restaurant. Betty (diabetic with Alzheimer's, in case you've forgotten) ordered a martini, then a second one, and tried to order a third. David told her NO, and she was ticked off to say the least. The poor young waiter wasn't sure what to do, but I explained that if he brought her another drink she'd be going home with HIM. He came back a few minutes later, and she asked again for the drink. He showed a resourceful imagination I never expected from one so young: "I'm not allowed to overserve, ma'am. I could lose my license." By the time Betty processed this, he was gone again. She was getting downright crabby about not being allowed to have a third martini, when suddenly her head dropped down. I was afraid she'd died, but she'd just fallen asleep at the table...

We did let her order a big chocolate dessert, as her teeth had begun to fall out and she couldn't finish her dinner. If you've ever seen Monsters Inc., cue up the Harryhausen's Restaurant scene, and watch for the shot of the monster opening his mouth to eat something--another mouth comes out of his mouth and snatches up the food. This is very much like Betty looked, with her teeth detaching from her guns, as though they had a life of their own... but not as funny.

Yet we survived all this, and we were just getting up to leave, when I heard a crash. David had been walking with Betty, holding her left arm. Without warning, she keeled over to the right and slipped out of his grip, her head landing inches from a big cement pillar. Two very nice doctors came rushing over, and asked if they could help. I asked the woman if she could have Betty put down... she smiled, but damn it, didn't answer.

Okay, just blowing off steam just then.

Thankfully, Betty didn't knock over the dessert table, and wasn't hurt, except for bruising her shoulder.

This was still better than the infamous Dinner at Carrabas, which I'll describe some other time. I'll give you a hint--don't read it while YOU'RE having dinner...

My Mother is Changing

She has called three times to see how our vacation went, not remembering that we've been back for weeks, I've visited her several times, and we've talked numerous times on the phone. I printed out my novel, so she could read it now, while she might be able to enjoy it, but she sees a Kinko's box on her table and doesn't remember what it is, nor that she's supposed to read what's in it.

I'm glad she's living where she is--she likes the people, the food, the activities--but her anchor to the world has been raised, and she's drifting slowly out to sea. Soon I won't be able to reach her at all.

You Want Me to WHAT??

I had a colonoscopy today, just for the sheer raw fun of it, but it confirmed my decision not to put Betty through it. The test is nothing--it's the day before, when you can't eat real food all day, and the evening before, when you have to drink two liters of weird (though clear, thank God) liquid and take pills that make you run to the bathroom every 20 minutes all night.

Betty had an upper GI, and they also want to do a colonoscopy, but I'm saying HELL NO. She doesn't have enough symptoms to put any of us through that. I could barely handle it, and I'm fairly lucid and 40+ years younger.

To Test or Not to Test, That is the Question

MIL's doctor wants her to have an upper GI test and a colonoscopy to find out why she continues to have nausea, in spite of losing her gall bladder (and gall stones.) The upper test is scheduled for next week, and the wonderful Kim will take her, which is great, but the colonoscopy people don't want to do the test unless it's absolutely necessary, because there's risk for a person her age (85).

So I think I'll have them look at the results of the first test before deciding whether we need to do the second one. Maybe I'll increase her Prilosec, too. That was suggested by the VA.

Her stomach is upset today, but I think it's because she had a milkshake and a huge rootbeer float last night (see www.thecrankycaregiver.blogspot.com) We went out for dinner for my husband's birthday, and Betty wanted to pay, so I let her eat what she wanted... after warning her what would happen if she took her dentures out at the table. She did that last time we went to this restaurant, and I'm sure there are strangers from adjacent tables who are still having nightmares.

Life Goes On

A couple of weeks ago, Betty got the stomach flu that's been going around, and about every 48 hours, another member of the family caught it, starting with me. Kim, her wonderful driver, took her to the doctor for me, as I was feeling awful, and they prescribed an anti-nausea drug. What a miracle pill! We still have some left, and when Betty complained about nausea again last week, and was curled up on her bed feeling awful, I gave her one of them. Within 45 minutes, she was eating and taking her medicine.

So if you're dealing with an elderly person who's going to vomit all over herself and create lots of extra work for YOU, not to mention misery for herself, see if you can get a doctor to prescribe one of these wonderful drugs. Better Living Through Chemistry--it's not just a slogan to me!

Horses and Zebras

I haven't been giving Betty her Aricept (Alzheimer's treatment) for almost a week. Her VA doctor wondered if doubling the dose might have caused her upset stomach at the rehab center. The doctor said that after they doubled it, the problem would have taken time to develop, and maybe that's what was happening. So when she came home from rehab and almost instantly complained of the same thing, we talked and I suggested we experiment with it.

Then Betty's OTHER doctor diagnosed flu, and gave her anti-nausea drugs for it. So maybe that was the problem. It wouldn't explain her nausea at the rehab center though. So I'm continuing with the Aricept experiment until Betty is free from nausea for several days, then I'm going to put her back on the original low dose, and if the nausea comes back, we're going to discontinue it.

You know the old saying, "When you hear hooves, think horses, not zebras." ? Well, around here it's usually both.

Back to Reality

Betty came home last week, but I must admit, she's trying very hard not to cause problems. I have the wonderful Kim K. coming to drive her adult day care and take her to the bookstore and other such places, and she has turned out to be a Godsend. She used to work at my mother's Assisted Living center, and I had no idea she'd left their because of the stress. We ran into each other just before Christmas, and I mentioned that I needed a new driver for Betty. She expressed interest, but then the company I'd called about this contacted me to say they'd found someone to fill the position.

I wasn't sure what to do, but decided to hire Kim, in spite of the fact that she doesn't have a corporate structure around her. She's more flexible, and happy to help me in other ways, like shopping, etc.

So when Betty started with vomiting and diarrhea just days after coming home, threw up at the adult day center, and had to come home early, Kim helped me handle it. It has turned out to be flu, and so far, Mikey is the only one who hasn't caught it. Betty made a mess on her floor and bed yesterday, and I felt sorry for her--she kept saying, "I'll go back to the rehab center. I know I have to go back. You can send me back."

Devonna, the home health aid who now comes three times a week, was here yesterday morning and discovered the mess. She helped me clean it up, then Kim took Betty to the doctor for me, shopped for her medicine, Gatorade, etc. I was still feeling lousy from my bout with the flu, so I just laid on the couch, did Betty's laundry, and felt sorry for myself. Not the worst morning I've had...

Betty has started putting her pills in the pockets of her clothing, intending to "take them later," so we have to watch for this behavior, but aside from that, oh, and coming out of her room in only a tee shirt this morning (thank God Mikey was still at a birthday party sleepover), life goes on as usual.

Happy Hanukkah to Me

Well, I'm going to hell for sure, but what a nice month+ it's been. Betty's respiratory stuff just wasn't going away, and in early November, she got so weak that we took her to the emergency room. I won't make you sit through the play-by-play, but she ended up with a diagnosis of pneumonia and had her gall bladder taken out. Turns out that her stomach aches were the result of gallstones. After the surgery, they put her in a rehab center to get stronger, and all these weeks later, she's still not home. I have to admit it's been a nice break, but I suspect it's nearly over.

So since November 9, I've had to deal with multiple doctors, bring her books, make semi-regular visits, etc., but I haven't had to deal with her dentures, meds, complaints (well some of them), semi-dressed state of nakedness, etc. So I'll burn in hell for enjoying her hospital stay, but I'M ENJOYING IT.

There, I said it. BRING ON THE DIVINE RETRIBUTION. BRING IT.

It's Good to be Immune

Betty has been telling anybody who will listen, as well as the rest of us, that she's immune to cold and flu viruses. So when she gets a hacking cough, runny nose, and a sore throat, like she has now had for four days, a cranky person like myself has to ask herself one important question:

DO I BURST HER "I'M A MEDICAL MIRACLE" BUBBLE, OR BE MATURE AND LET IT GO.

I'll let you know what I decide.

Birthday Surprises

Betty turns 85 today. I was gone most of the day yesterday (took sick Korean host daughter to doctor, after taking my mom to the podiatrist), and when I came home between bringing Mikey home from his soccer practice and driving back to pick up Sami from her soccer practice, I went in to check on Betty.

"I need a sheet," she said.

I looked at her bed, which seemed well-sheeted to me.

"I need a sheet."

"Clean sheets?"

"I need a sheet."

I'll skip the next few minutes and get right to the part where I figure out she means a sheet CAKE. Today is her 85th birthday, and yesterday she wanted to make sure I had purchased a cake to take to the Senior Center. I had already bought one, but she insisted it was too small. She'd been told she could bring a "sheet cake" to share with the staff and clients, and was sure they meant a full sheet cake.

"Just order me another one," she said.

I get full credit for not exploding on the spot, as I had exactly 30 minutes to deal with this. I ran to Kroger, had them decorate another cake to add to the one I had already bought, raced over to the soccer fields, and picked up Sami. So Betty is taking two cakes today...

Happy Birthday.

Dean Martin and Death

This is one of those mornings when Betty vacilates between longing for the tranquility of The Big Sleep and hoping her Dean Martin DVD's arrive soon.

Acknowledging My Limitations

I've been hearing radio ads for "Senior Helpers," so last week David finally called them. I think he could see that I was losing it. Just the stress of wondering how each morning is going to be--especially Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, when MIL is supposed to go to the adult day care that the VA pays for (God love them), has been making me perpetually angry. Some mornings she gets up and goes without much fuss, and other mornings it's hours of nagging (from me) and procrastinating (from her). Now that my mother is in Assisted Living and doesn't have a drivers license, I have to take her places as well, and the stress of trying to combine these duties and keep to a schedule wears me out. I start stressing the night before, wondering if it's going to work, and wake up already crabby at MIL.

So Senior Helpers is coming on Mondays and Wednesdays, they'll get her up and dressed, DRIVE HER TO THE SENIOR CENTER, and PICK HER UP IN THE AFTERNOON AND BRING HER HOME! We're using some of Betty's money to pay for it, which seems reasonable to me, as this may prevent my psychotic break and keep her alive.

No, It Was a Temporary Glitch in my Bad Mood

Could be hormones, but MIL is driving me nuts today. I had an impossible schedule to meet, with three people needing to be taken to three different places at virtually the same time. I juggled things, called in favors, etc., to handle it all, and had pretty much decided not to take MIL to the Senior Center, although it was Friday. Her home health aid, Devonna was coming to get her showered and ready to go, but it still wasn't going to work well.

So I should have just smiled and said, "OK" when she started saying she didn't want to leave the house today, and that all she does at the Sr. Center is watch television, but instead, I lost my temper. Stupid, but I've heard it a hundred times and I'm sick of it. So I yelled at her, ran a few frustrating errands, came home for a few minutes to eat lunch, and she started in again, asking if I wanted to know WHY she didn't want to go to the Senior Center...

Knew, didn't care...

But she wouldn't stop talking about it, and I lost my temper again. She's going to live forever, and I'm going to give myself a heart attack.

Am I Developing a Better Attitude?

When little things that Betty does tick me off, like taking her teeth out at the dinner table, I write the blog entry in my sarcastic little head, and yet I haven't been writing them in my sarcastic little BLOG. I think I'm accepting the situation for what it is--something she can't help--and feeling a little less snarky about it.

Then there's the fact that I spent a week with extended family, and Betty's lookin' better and better to me... Yeah, there are those teeth I have to hear about every day, and see in the bathroom (and sometimes on the kitchen table), but on the other hand, she doesn't criticize anybody, doesn't pick on my kids, is generally grateful for things we do for her, and pays her own way around here. She worries that she's not contributing to the running of the household, when in truth, we couldn't live here without her.

There's a lot to be said for that.

So maybe I'll start being more INFORMATIONAL in my postings, instead of VENTING MY SPLEEN. At least until the next time she takes out those damn teeth while I'm eating.

We're Trying Aricept

The VA doctors finally agreed to prescribe this, and I gave Betty the first pill last night. It's supposed to be taken at bedtime because of potential side effects. While the TV ads say "well tolerated by most people," when you read the medical disclaimers in the box, it apparently causes everything short of SUDDEN DEATH... and maybe I just didn't read far down enough to find the part about SUDDEN DEATH.

Betty is worried this morning becauses she's having very vivid dreams, and she's afraid it's a sign that she's losing her mind. She doesn't remember getting the diagnosis of Alzheimers (despite having been told it 50 times), but she remembers seeing the diagnosis on a paper in a doctor's office (actually it was sitting on our kitchen table). She's sad and worried about it, and can't stop talking about how real the dream was. I'm reassuring her that the fact that she DID figure out it was a dream is a sign that she's not completely crazy yet.

I on the other hand...

Life at the VA Hospital

Well, it FELT like a life sentence, anyway. I took MIL for her 6-month checkup, and just as we were ready to leave, she got sick and ended up with full-body tremors that came every 3-4 seconds. Damn spooky, and we ended up spending the rest of the day in the Veterans Administration Hospital emergency room.

I'd brought my iphone for entertainment, but the battery died, and I couldn't leave Betty sitting there while I went to my car to recharge it so I could keep playing Scrabble. Well, I could have, but it would have looked bad...

So we ate lunch out of the vending machines (her blood sugar was low, a possible contributing factor), and I made horrible faces when nobody was looking and suffered through MIL saying, "I feel so guilty ruining your day" almost as often as she had the tremors.

They finally checked her in for overnight observation at 5pm, and I went home. If my kids weren't so weirded out by adults drinking alcohol, I would have self-medicated. As it was, I met my family at TKD class and we went out for dinner. I don't remember any of that.

From now on I'm not going near the VA hospital without my charger. YES, IT'S ALL ABOUT ME.

Oh, I suppose I should mention that MIL is fine--they think it was low blood sugar and needed another dose of restless leg medicine that messed her up that day. David picked her up in the morning and she's been fine since.