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.