April Fools' Day
Chapter 1 - Waiting For God Knows
April 1, 2014 - Becket, Massachusetts
Nothing funny about today so far but am waiting. I miss my husband and I miss my son and I miss my dog. I'm on my laptop in a corner of the kitchen with Peg and Odd way over at the other end of the room sitting across from one another at the butcher block on the high, ugly, brown naugahyde stools they always slip off of, they’re glued to Simon Schama's History of the Jews PART 4 on PBS at top volume. I've seen it already, home in England. It's wonderful but I cannot sit in here with the parents any longer. I have trouble being near the table manners going on. Or lack of. I have no patience today. His are fine, for all his strokes, but I don't know when hers got so terrible. Seems one day she was teaching me about which fork to use, where your napkin goes, next thing is she's mixing her meal round the plate like it's a science experiment, food spilling all over the show, and pitching stuff she doesn't like (potato skins, gristle, vegetables) over into the garbage can without looking, meaning it's mostly on the floor or down the side of the can. She doesn't use her napkin, I don't know why I keep giving her one. Whatever I cook (provolone and ham omelettes tonight with home fries) she either says she can't taste anything or that it sticks to her dental plates. I know she's 97 and she's probably right but I still let it hurt my feelings. I wish I could put it down to her being senile but she isn't, she's just Peg and occasionally difficult. Make that more than occasionally.
I can't begin to tell you how loud this TV is.
Yesterday evening, Odd thumps into the office-formerly-known-as-the-dining room with his walker where I'm at the big desk computer trying to figure out the mystifying (to me) online billing system that's been set up by someone who used to work here until Peg fired her for throwing out some leftovers from the fridge--and he says to me:
"Where are de Joos?"
My father has a touch of a Norwegian accent, still, at 96.
I look up. "The what?"
"Joos!" he says again.
"Juice? Daddy? You want orange juice?"
"JOOS!" he says. "Peg says you have History of de Joos on your TV. She wants to see it."
Just when I'm ready to write his brain off, suddenly he's lucid and focused and a PBS-TV expert. So I played Episode 2 for them on my laptop, he paid attention and commented and she kipped throughout.
Today is not a good day. I am worried again about money. Finding more money for them, making money for them somehow so they can stay here. At their home. With people to help them. I don't want them in a nursing home. They can't afford one anyway. Nor would they want to go. What's sad is years ago Odd saw this day coming and made provision. Long term care insurance with Genworth. He just didn't reckon on them both living into their 90s. Or that care homes now cost upwards of $500 per day, not $100. Thank God for Hospice Care in the Berkshires. And because I am signed on as "principal carer" I need to show my face over here now and then. In principle. Not that I wouldn’t anyway but I've been commuting back and forth to England for the past year. Being a carer. Principally. And a daughter who cares. When I'm not moaning about not being home. Which I haven’t seen in six weeks.
Never be an only child.
TODAY'S STAFF ON CALL:
- Outside Bob. Inside today, stripping 40-year-old wallpaper off the office-formerly-known-as-the-dining room wall when Odd's not looking, Odd who hates change. We love Bob.
- Bonnie. Who lives near Great Barrington and it takes her 45 minutes to get here over October Mountain. Bonnie who stays sane and does everything including driving and laundry and cleaning and medical appointments and wipes everything 500 times with disinfectant and is marvellous. Bonnie who lightens my load and is here when I'm not. Also she does what Peg says more than I do. We love Bonnie.
TODAY'S HIGHLIGHTS:
Peg: to Tina the hairdresser's, after which Bonnie took her to Allendale Price Chopper where Bonnie had already been while Peg was being washed and set but seems Peg had wanted to go, so back they went because Peg wanted to buy me a lobster for some reason but Allendale branch didn't have any so they had to drive all the way over to the Lee branch which did, and where Peg made them cook it, so they had to wait for that. Then it was home over the mountain, nap, omelette, throw scallions from omelette on floor, History of Jews.
Odd: The usual. Cheerios, orange juice, instant decaf, Spiriva (breathing thing), pills ground up and stirred into supermarket butterscotch pudding, nebulizer treatment #1, shower and brush teeth courtesy of Brooke the Hospice Home Health aide, nap, nebulizer treatment #2, lunch, nap, nebulizer #3. Omelette, half a glass of Sauvingnon Blanc and History of Jews.
Me: Continued to work on Peg's Timeline for her website which she doesn't quite understand but likes the idea of typing something and seeing peglynch.com and her pictures and stories appear on the screen. Also got windshield replaced in borrowed Saab. Also edited sleeve notes for Radio Spirits CD #1 of Peg's The Couple Next Door old radio series they're going to be marketing. Pitched six long-dead dog collars from basket in front hall which have been stinking for years. Walked Peg's new paranoid dog that doesn't like people, what a good buy, more on this four-legged item when I have the will to live. Re-hung portraits in stairwell after Outside Bob paint job. Started reading VOL 4 of Peg's letters to her mother beginning in 1936. Emptied Odd's urinal. Waited for roofer who never showed to collect his check and so I could complain about his crap kitchen ceiling paint job.
Tomorrow I have TJMaxx with Tory. I will go to sleep looking forward to the outing.
That's where my life is.
I miss my husband and I miss my son and I miss my dog. Or did I say that.
Oh boy, I know this topic very well. And yes, I'm an only child. Mom is 97 and insists she's fully capable to take care of herself (NOT). I am fortunate(?) that we live about six miles apart, so I can go over there daily. But we also have a wonderful housekeeper named Bonnie, who willingly and cheerfully takes many, many tasks off my plate. God bless our "Bonnies"!