Drugged Out

Just one of the many fun things about returning to live in my childhood home is running across relics from the past. The book above is just one of the many I have discovered. I remember reading it in the early 70s and I remember my oldies discussing it with me. In fact they continued to have the good drug v. bad drug discussion with me through my college days.

My father is still on the sick pillow. The doctor said he may continue to feel lousy while his body recovers. So, even though the antibiotic pills (usually a good drug) are done for now, he still has trouble sleeping which he needs for his recovery.

For sleep aid, the doctor prescribed something heavy duty. The kind that the pharmacist scans your eyes and your face trying to judge if you plan to sell these on the street. The kind that would not just make you forget to feed your baby -- you would forget that you had a baby.

This may be a good drug for some people but it was a bad drug for my father. He was hallucinating and having horrible nightmares. He had trouble breathing from the panic. One pill did not a good night make.

Obviously he requested a different medication and it seems to be working. Good drug! He slept well last night and has been dozing all day. He already looks better thanks to some well-needed rest. The only side effect from the new drug (other than he might not stop sleeping for the next week) is he's grasping for the proper word. He asked my mother what one of the dog's name is. When he's awake, he's grinning a lot. I attended a gathering for a friend's mother's recent death. When I came home, my father asked me, "How was the furniture?"

Then he gave me a hug and said, "See you at dinner." My mother's theory is as long as his appetite remains constant, she's not worried.

Salmon, Mushrooms and Sushi

For someone who is pretty cautious about portions, there are very few foods I won't eat. In fact, I can't think of one.

Like most of you, I was raised with home cookin'. I loved it and I still love it. But I grew up and was lucky enough to travel a bit. I married a man who is adventuresome with food. I found out that I absolutely love foods that were never part of my childhood:

Salmon -- I could eat it every day. Blackened, poached, grilled -- doesn't matter.
Mushrooms -- Skip the steak, give me the mushrooms.
Seafood -- I love oysters, mussels, clams and almost all sushi. Ahi tuna is one of my favorite meals.

Many years ago, the husband and I were in NYC with my parents. My father (who would get the certificate for "Best Eater") took risks and ate whatever the husband recommended. My mother did a great imitation of Samantha on "Bewitched" and wrinkled her nose. I perplex her. I've been doing it for 45 years.

The baby went through a phase when he was young where he would announce foods he didn't eat. Today this grown-up kid eats whatever is put in front of him. Plus, he could eat his weight in sushi.

Stopping at McDonald's

Many times after a charity event or a band gig, the husband and I are headed home and realize we're hungry. Whether he's been playing in the band or we've both been working the room, we didn't eat very much. Suddenly, White Castles or McDonald's seems like a grand idea.

We had a Father's Day dinner here last night. I knew my mother would hate the menu -- I warned her in advance and tried to compensate. I also knew the Ahi tuna, shrimp and mussels would be a big hit with my father, Big Daddy and the baby. Veges and pasta rounded it out. I tried to please all. Plus, we had strawberries, ice cream and brownies for dessert. Yum.

My father said, "Oh shoot, we just had this last night."

My mother does not have a poker face. Her expression at the mussels and the rare tuna ... well, "Yum" was not the word floating through her mind. I may not be a big eater but I am open to (almost) anything. She always marvels at my love of crisp veges, any kind of seafood and especially mushrooms. We did not eat these things in my childhood.

We had a small storm so I called to make sure they were home safely. She swears they didn't stop but I would've bet something like a hamburger was in order.

Grateful

I almost cannot remember a time when the oldies didn't live here. That sounds crazy but it's been an all-consuming whirlwind. Between various oldies chores, writing directions, dealing with doctors and just inhabiting the same house, my habits and expectations have changed.

Here's a good example: At noon, I asked my brother-in-law and his wife what we should have for dinner. This is the Belle speaking through me. Three years ago, my first thought about dinner wouldn't have hit until at least 5:00 PM. And that would only be true if I was worried about going to the grocery store. If I had groceries or leftovers or the possibility of going out, that thought could wait until about 7:00 PM. The oldies have reprogrammed me.

I almost cannot remember when the dungeon and the basement weren't overrun with oldie gizmos (which, of course, Hangdog was entitled to have.)

The wheelchair, canes, walkers and other aids will go. I hope they help someone else. We still have handicap bars in several bathrooms. That's not going to change.

When it comes to in-laws, there seems to be two camps. You know them well and they are a part of your every day life. Or, they are semi-strangers that you visit with on obligatory holidays and special occasions. I've lived it both ways with the oldies.

When the husband and I first lived in sin, his mother warned him about me. (For the record, she had never met me but she was skeptical.) After we married, she was kind and gracious. She also took no time at all to let me know who was in charge of her boy. We did holidays and anniversaries. It was a dance of two determined women fighting for various roles. We both lost battles; we both won some too.

We pretended to know each other and love each other for many years. We swapped family stories and photos. We teased each other and grew a little closer. But she had other daughters-in-law. I saw myself as someone she grew to like and eventually love but her plate was full. Until ...

The husband was dealing with Hangdog post-surgery and I was taking her to chemo. We traveled many miles. (My personal favorite memory is when she would fall asleep in the car after chemo and I had absolutely no clue how to find my way back from the doctor's office in Memphis to their house in Mississippi.) But we did it and now it seems like a bonding moment.

Eventually, they moved here and lived with us. Their lives and our lives were exposed. Everyone says that you can't know what goes on inside a marriage unless you're part of it. That's only partially true. Two married couples living in the same household ... well, let's just say, there are few secrets. She knew immediately if the husband was getting on my nerves and I could tell by her tone if Hangdog was making her crazy.

If things had panned out differently, I could've been one of those daughter-in-laws who performed the obligations. I could've been the one doing the parade wave out the car window, "See you next year!"

Instead I'm the daughter-in-law who received the gift of the oldies. For all my bitching, I learned so much. (And a lot of it sent me over the edge.) I didn't know you could be married 60+ years and still find something to fight about. I didn't know you could change your tone of voice and calling someone "Honey" or "Love" could come out as an insult. Yep, that's the way it works.

I make lots of mistakes. Living with the oldies wasn't one of them. I'm grateful for the gifts.