Fix It

The oldies believed I could fix almost anything. If I couldn't do it personally, I knew the person to call. (This is a nice counterbalance to the people in my life who think I cannot fix a thing.)

Last night, the rock & roll person that shares my last name had a band gig. I did not attend -- mainly because I couldn't stop sneezing. I planned a hot bath, some play time with the dog and watching a goofy movie in bed.

Never make plans.

Hangdog had a headache. I know this because he called me repeatedly and begged me to fix it. I don't doubt that he was hurting but I do doubt it was "The Worst Headache Ever!" I spoke with the nurse and reviewed the medication he had been given. I spoke with the nurse later, after she had spoken with two doctors. I called to check on him. Then, I looked up and it was almost midnight.

I didn't fix a thing. I gave him a little peace of mind and hopefully, some comfort.

His headache is the least of his health issues. Mainly, it's a broken heart and I can't fix it.

What's Going Through His Mind?

The husband just left to take Hangdog to the Home. I've tried to keep my emotions out of it but I've spent a fair amount of time hanging out in my office, trying to keep my crying private.

Suddenly, all the little things I used to stress about seem minuscule and somewhat cruel. So what if he wants dessert with every meal? I'm tempted to call the Home and tell them they do not have enough butter.

I haven't transformed completely. I totally lied to him, pretending I was calling his wife. (We are not ready for that discussion.) I left the TIC TAC prescription with the nurses.

We both knelt and said our prayers. I reminded him that this is just one more transition and he has done that repeatedly throughout his life. I suggested that he might make some new friends who haven't heard his stories -- and they're good stories. I promised that we will be there every possible day.

Than I curled up on the dog pillow, called my parents and cried.

The Placebo

My sister-in-law has offered to send me a nurse's cap. She's also the one who gave me the placebo idea.

I'm very nervous about narcotics. I'm diligent about the necessary medications, i.e. heart, thyroid, etc. I'm even ok with the nerve pills. But, I keep the narcotics locked in the safe in my office. Hangdog asks for a pain pill several times a day and I know this is partially due to pain, partially due to habit and partially due to the fact that he knows there are some in this house. I refuse to give him one just because he's bored, lonely or can't sleep. I've earned the nurse's cap -- I can assess the situation in about 10 seconds.

Instead of arguing or trying to reason with him, I've found a new approach: I give him a TIC TAC. Every time I've done this, he informs me the next morning that it was the best night's sleep he's had in weeks.

If all goes according to plan, he will be moving to the "facility" today. I must remember to tell them my TIC TAC plan.

Should I Go?

My annual girlfriend trip to Phoenix is coming up. Normally, I would be giddy with anticipation. This year is a little different. The mother-in-law is still in the rehab facility. Hangdog is here and we have very few days to make some tough choices, get answers from VA and Medicare, choose a facility and actually move him. (Including packing for him and coordinating meds, etc.) Then, she will need to be moved as well.

This is my relaxation trip. I read. I get up early and sit with Abby (the other early riser) and we light a fire and sip our coffee. Other than a couple of trips to our favorite Mexican Cantina and the cowboy bar and the coffee shop, we eat whatever great stuff Big Sal has on hand. We're all easy to please. Jeans, sweats or PJs are the favored attire. We watch schmaltzy Lifetime movies. Then we eventually figure out the DVD player and watch other movies. We cuddle with Big Sal's dogs and we sit on the humongous patio or on the rooftop perch and solve the problems of the world, or just our lives.

I get to laugh. A LOT! Last year, I stumbled on Pam in the bathroom in the middle of the night. She thought I was a bear. Not only did we both scream but then we heard Cynthia laughing in her bed. (We had the bunkhouse last time, which is fabulous and for the record, I don't believe a bear could manage those stairs.)

We're all very predictable. Abby will be the first to go to bed, although I might challenge her this year. Mickey will be the last to rise, although I might challenge her this year. We will watch for the javelinas. (Don't call them pigs!)
We will go to Last Chance although none of us needs a single thing.

But...my house is in crisis. The oldies are in crisis. The husband cannot attend to all of these things alone.

I'll believe I'm actually going once someone throws me on the plane and I hear, "Cross check and call forward." Until then, I'm a little skeptical. But, I have been threatened with bodily harm by the girlfriends if I don't make the trip. That might do it. My girlfriends are mighty strong women. I'm a tad afeared of them.

You Betcha!

I used to consider myself an honorable person. Those days are a faint memory.

I used to try to accommodate everyone. Those days are fading fast.

I used to enjoy cooking. Now if anyone asks me what's for dinner, I turn into a boxer. (So far I haven't actually punched anyone.)

I vaguely recall quiet time. I used to enjoy it.

Hangdog is so lonely and lost without his Honey. I understand this and it breaks my heart. It does not turn me into her or a servant. There is a new and different need every ten minutes.

I've tried to be extremely responsible with medications. I've even moved the one narcotic into my office. But, here's what I know... it knocks him out.

So, tonight when he asked for one I did not give him a placebo. I said, "You betcha!"

What are you doing?

I like it when people explain tbings to me like I'm a toddler. It's simplified and I don't feel guilty asking questions.

The oldies are well-educated people but life has thrown a few curves. The mother-in-law is in the hospital (she's fine, just recovering.) The husband has that pesky job of RUNNING A COMPANY. Meanwhile, he's dealing with doctors, VA people, visiting his mother, questioning legal things, investigating options and of course, ordering me around.

I am of the house. That means that I try very hard to meet the needs of the household. I fail every day but I keep plugging away,

There is always food around here but I have never cooked three meals a day. Before the oldies came to live with us, I was doing good if I cooked three meals a week. I was spawned from farm women (not my mother) but I have no interest in this. No thank you very much.

This morning I tried to have a serious conversation with Hangdog. Not about his wife or anything medical ... I simply said, "I need a few hours alone to get some things done." He nodded and I built a fire for him to sit by and enjoy. He had been fed and watered. I called the hospital so he could talk to his wife. All daily medications have been dispersed. Wooooo --hoooo! A moment for me!

Thirty minutes later he came in my office and asked, "What are you doing?"

The Feeding and Watering of Hangdog

Well, the trip just about did them in. They returned to us exhausted. The mother-in-law was obviously ill. The husband took her to the doctor and she was immediately admitted to the hospital. She has a mild case of pneumonia which is responding to medication. Other tests are happening as I write this.

The husband told our physician to wear his coat of armor when he does rounds. She is not a happy camper.

In the meantime, Hangdog must be fed and watered. This is not a tough job because even if he hates what is put in front of him, he will tell you, "It is EXCELLENT!" (He is well trained.) But, it does involve a few interruptions in the day. Her medication disbursement system is unintelligible to anyone but her -- that's on purpose -- so we are spending inordinate amounts of time deciphering what he needs to take and when. This involves several calls to the doctor's office.

The banged-up car is still in my driveway. Hangdog is very concerned about getting it fixed. I've obsessed with getting it out of here. She's not driving on my watch.

Packing

My aunt, the most talented writer I know personally, is leaving on a three week journey with 10 stops. Weather will range from 80 degrees to below freezing. She is taking one small carry-on bag.

The oldies are packing for nine days in one location. (If they go.) One large suitcase is dedicated entirely to medications, mostly unnecessary. We have hauled three additional big suitcases up from the basement and she's fretting that they won't be able to fit everything in. Plus, canes and at least one walker. Guess who gets to coordinate all of this with the airlines.

I can pack for almost any destination in about 10 minutes. I cannot do it all in one carry-on bag. Neither could the husband -- his golf clubs don't fit in the overhead compartment. But, if I ever get to the point where an entire suitcase is needed to tote medicine, I'm staying home.

An Oldies Thing

There are certain things that I am convinced simply happen due to aging. I call them, "Oldies Things." Oldies things are not possessions; they are quirks and bizarre behaviors. I am comfortably settled in middle age but I watch and notice. I am developing some of these tics. Are you?

Here are a few I've noticed lately. And no, I will not tell you which ones I am also experiencing.

Wrapping everything in tissues, rubber bands, Ziploc bags or all of the above.
Repeating the same stories.
The daily diatribe about aches and pains.
Spending days on end without leaving home.
An insane focus on medications.
Constant discussions of bodily functions (and applause when the plumbing is working.)
A complete lack of interest in technological changes.
Routine. Routine. Routine.
The inability to remember your children, grandchildren, in-laws or siblings' names.
The inability to remember that a cell phone works differently than a land line.
Everyone and everything is involved in a conspiracy.
Food is the sole focus of the day.
Kids, dogs, drop-in guests make you crazy.
The weather channel and the Game Show Network are your favorites.
A never-ending compulsion with, "What's the date today AND what time is it?"
It's always cold.
Entitlements from everyone are expected: The government, children and more.

Just as I clamp my tongue between my teeth like Wild Bill, I catch myself wondering, "Is this my future?"