AIN'T THAT THE WAY

During my dad’s year long ordeal with a partial foot amputation & many hospitalizations, there were lots of times when things had to be done quickly. He had numerous surgeries & procedures, both inpatient & outpatient at several different hospitals.

Since I am the “DIC” – my terminology for Daughter In Charge – most of the planning, implementing & overseeing fell to me. During this time I had to go to my dad’s safe deposit box at his bank to retrieve his Durable Power of Attorney for Health Care Wishes. About the third time of having to do this, I simply kept the papers at his house to make life a little easier for me. I noticed at the time that there was hardly anything left in the safe deposit box anymore & wondered if he should just get rid of it.

Time went on, the foot began slowly healing & suddenly my dad was totally on board with moving up here closer to us, Praise the Lord. The stress – physically, mentally & emotionally – was taking a toll on me but I knew there was an end in sight once the old house was sold, the new house purchased & he was moved.

A few weeks before the scheduled move I decided to go take everything out of the safe deposit box & close it out. I went into his bedroom where the keys are ALWAYS kept, hanging over the ear of a strange looking kangaroo figurine on his dresser. BUT they weren’t there. Both keys were on the same key ring with nothing else except the tag with the box number. I looked all over the top of the dresser, but no keys. Shit!

I knew I was the last one to use them when I took the Power of Attorney papers out sometime in the past six months. I pulled the dresser out, looked behind it – no keys. I was pretty sure that they were either in a purse I had used or the pocket of one of my jackets. I figured they had to turn up before long.

At home I pulled every old purse out of the closet & looked in each one with no luck finding the keys. Then I started checking jacket pockets – no keys. Shit, again! I knew it was totally my fault & told my dad that I would pay the cost of lost keys since I’m the one who didn’t put them back. In my defense, it was a crazy, hectic time….but still, my “bad” & no one else’s. My dad completey understood & said he would pay for it.

I went to the bank expecting maybe $25 per key, but was hit with an expensive surprise - $125 to drill out the lock (in mine & a bank employee’s presence)! I asked, “What if I don’t want anything left in the box?” All I could remember seeing was an expired passport & a couple of birth certificates which could easily be replaced if needed. Unfortunately, the only way to avoid the fee was to close all of his accounts, open new ones at another bank & just not pay the renewal fee. But that meant changing all kinds of automatic payments or deposits & getting new checks in the midst of the moving chaos. My dad said, “Just pay the damn money!”

The day before he moved I was at the bank to drill out the safe deposit box. It took all of about five minutes including some chit chat along the way. The pink slip for his car was about the only thing of value in the box & I’m betting that could have been replaced for a whole lot less than $125.

Anyway, it really irked me that they charged so much but my dad was okay & I had pretty much forgotten about it – until today. It was a chilly day so I grabbed a bright pink fleece jacket that I rarely wear but it matched the pink in my paisley top perfectly. As I put my hands in the pockets while walking into the store, guess what I found? Yep, the safe deposit box keys! Not sure how I missed checking that one, but I did. Shit!

LIKE GAGA, LIKE CHARLEY

My amazingly adorable three year old granddaughter, Charley, loves to line things up. It is almost like it is her job in life to make sure things are arranged in an orderly fashion. Anything & everything needs to be precisely placed in a line.

She will take every block out of the container & carefully set them in a long line on the carpet. This is always done one at a time. And she will walk all the way around the line of blocks to lay the next one in its proper place. It can take a fair amount of time to exactly place each item when the line is eight feet long.

I walked in their house the other day to find three rows of magazines, probably twenty in all, carefully lined up in perfect rows. If we do a puzzle, she will line up each piece as she removes it. Any toys with numerous parts will eventually be arranged in a straight line with careful precision.

She received a set of six small airplanes from the movie “Planes” for her birthday. The first thing she did was start lining them up on the couch. When I reached to straighten one a little, Charley said, “No, Gaga! Leave it!” She has her way of doing it & that is the way it is going to be. It is a cute little idiosyncrasy that we have all come to love & accept about her.

We just moved my dad up here closer to us a few weeks ago. Circumstances all came together which made Allison’s sister, Masha, available to care for my dad so she has moved in with him. Last week she purchased an exercise device. As she sat on the floor to assemble it, Masha took each part from the box setting it neatly on the floor, she looked at me & said, “I feel like Charley.”

The next day as I was organizing my dad’s kitchen cabinets, I suddenly realized something. I was carefully lining up his glasses in the cupboard. The small ones on the right, medium in the middle & large to the left – all in neat rows. Our cupboards at home are arranged exactly that way with everything in its place.

As I thought about it I discovered quite a few interesting facts about myself.

I had carefully placed the liquid hand soap, sanitizer & lotion in a line on the sink with the pumps all facing the same direction.

When I was eating a handful of pretzel sticks at my dad’s, I purposely placed them all in a line on the napkin.

Although I don’t mind a little clutter & many things (my desk, for instance) may appear disorganized & haphazard looking, I do know exactly where things are. But as I continued to observe my various little peculiarities regarding placement of things I found more examples.

I have a rack on the kitchen wall that holds nine coffee mugs. Each mug has its own hook according to size or color & I ALWAYS put them back the same way. When Lou empties the dishwasher & puts my mugs in the “wrong” place, I compulsively change them back.

When I was working at Stiles in Travel, there was always a jar of M & Ms available. If I took a handful, I invariable lined them up according to color then would proceed to eat them one at a time keeping the rows even.

What suddenly dawned on me a few days ago was – Oh…My…God…Charley must get this little quirk of precisely lining things up from me! And I don't mind one little bit. J

Like Gaga, Like Charley.

IT'S ALL PART OF THE ADVENTURE

You know how some times things just all come together for a great day? Things aren’t necessarily all easy or perfect but at the end of the day, you have a warm fuzzy feeling. Yesterday was one of those for me.

It began with me in at my dad’s. We had plans to bring him up to Sacramento for a family pool party at our house. He hadn’t seen Darrin, Allison or Charley in several months due to all his medical issues with the partial foot amputation. This was his first big social outing & his new caregiver, Nancy, rode along with us since it is not easy to maneuver him around.

This was also the first time most of the family would meet Darrin & Allison’s exchange student, Eva, here from Spain. And of course, the star of the show, our adorable little Charley Ellen, would be there. Charley has some new “floaties” that allow her to go all over the pool by herself. She has turned into a real little swimmer!

Lou had kept the cover on which made the pool a wonderfully warm 87 degrees & the weather was in the low 90s – perfect for swimming! My dad sat in the shade with a beer & watched while visiting with a couple of the non-swimmers. We had a hard time getting Charley out of the pool for lunch but she finally complied.

Awhile ago I had made brownies for dessert when Charley & family were over here. She loves her sweets, especially chocolate which made them a big hit. The next time they were over she finished her meal & looked at me exclaiming, “Brownie!” I had to explain that I didn’t make brownies this time & placated her with some ice cream. This time when she asked I had brownies for dessert!

Our sliding glass door to the backyard hasn’t worked properly for years but Lou & I know to only slide it to about ½” from fully closed since his family had been locked outside once a long time ago while we were on vacation. It is hard to move & when you slide it shut hard, the latch can move forward. Well, my sister didn’t know that & came back outside muscling the door closed. I’m sure you all know what is coming next – I went to go in the house & couldn’t budge the door. Uh, oh, locked out – & we were all outside.

Lou, Steve & Darrin tried to lift the heavy door out of the track to no avail. They all tried various ideas but nothing worked. Finally Darrin made an announcement, “The real problem here is that the beer is inside & we are all outside.” Leave it to my son to properly analyze the situation!

My father says, “We’re not really locked out, are we?” My sister replied, “Yes. We are.”

Fortunately, Lou had the lock off the gate so we could get to the front door BUT we had diligently locked it after everyone arrived. We had our backup plan to call his dad who has an opener for our garage. I did have my phone outside with his number in it since neither Lou nor I have it memorized. Finally, Lou was able to get the side window out of its track & climb in through that. Nova, our cat, was sleeping below the window & looked up at him like, “What the hell?” We now had access to the beer, bathrooms & a cool house for those tired of the heat.  It’s all part of the adventure! J

Meanwhile Charley was back in the pool with her mom but everyone was heading inside. I said, “Let’s go inside, Sweetie,” she replied, “Not right now.” Finally, I tried a new tactic, saying, “Charley, will you come in & play with me? I really want to play with the toys.” She immediately said, “Okay,” & started for the pool steps.

I drove my dad back to his house arriving about 5 PM. He was tired but had a wonderful day. I’m guessing that he thanked me at least five times for taking him up to Sacramento. I had driven him 100 miles up here, 100 miles back & decided to rest for 20 minutes then hop in my car & drive home – 100 miles, again! Fortunately, the Sunday traffic was all going the opposite way back to the Bay Area. After a stop at Mickey D’s, I was back home, yet again, by 7:30 PM.

These types of days are ones that just soothe my soul. Everyone had a great visit. I slept better than I’ve slept in ages. We have a fun story to tell about being locked out of the house. Plus I get to see my Charley two more times this week! It doesn’t get much better.

EVOLUTION OF THE CLICKER

The other night as we were watching the Giants game, Lou had the TV/satellite remote in his hand. He wasn’t changing the channel or looking through the guide, just watching the ball game. There seems to be some sort of innate power that is gained from having control of the clicker! Often times in our household, the remote is placed on the center couch cushion between us. That way it is available to either of us if we want to see what’s on later or flick to another show during a commercial.

It started me thinking about the almighty remote control. I grew up in an era when you had to physically get up out of your chair, walk over to the black & white TV & turn the dial to change the station. There were only a few channels available for our viewing pleasure which made it pretty simple.

Now, there are literally hundreds of stations at our disposal. Bruce Springsteen wrote a song years ago with the title, “57 Channels & Nothin’ On”. Now, that line is obsolete since even the basic cable package contains more than 57 choices, but the sentiment still rings true. How many times have you flicked through double or triple that number of stations & been unable to find anything to watch? 

I enjoy the remote control device as much as the next person but why is it that most men get a hold of that thing & simply click through every single one of the channels pausing for maybe two seconds on each station before moving on? My father is the worst at that & it drives me crazy! I think the only reason cable or satellite companies give us 200 stations is so that the channel surfers won’t get bored.

I recall visiting my then in-laws back in the early 1970s. They were proud as punch of their new remote control device for their TV. It had three rectangular buttons on it, that’s all – just three. One turned it on & off. The second controlled the volume & the third changed the channels. You had to scroll through the channels & if you missed what you wanted to watch, you had to go through them again. Of course, we only had about 6 or 8 channels at most so it didn’t take long. Same with the volume – it just got louder & louder until it started over really softly.

I can remember thinking, “How ridiculous! They can’t even get up off their butts to change the channel on the TV?” It didn’t make a bit of sense to me how people could be so lazy that they couldn’t walk a few steps to turn the channel. I can only imagine the confused stares you would get from kids today if you related stories of TVs without remotes.

Our first VCR (about 25 – 30 years ago) had a remote with a long cord that attached it to the device. You could sit on the couch & control the machine but had to be careful not to trip anyone walking across the room. The thing was the size of a suitcase & weighed about 20 pounds. Today’s DVD players are tiny by comparison. And we even have DVRs now that don’t use a tape or a disc. I’m just now learning about “downloading” & “streaming” things to our TV or even my smart phone! I’m pretty sure it is all done with smoke & mirrors.

When I play my yoga DVDs on the TV it requires THREE different remotes to control the BluRay player, change the input & adjust the TV settings. Our remote caddy has six of the little devices lined up in it – SIX! Each remote has an average of 55 buttons (I just counted them J). Gone are the days when remotes had three push buttons. Who knew you would need an electronics degree to operate your home entertainment system in the 21^st century!

I can sort of keep up with the new technology but I feel sorry for my 85 year old father. I have spent countless hours trying to teach him to use the remote. His cable system requires him to punch in three numbers to get his HD channels, such as 7-0-3. The poor man has a terrible time doing it fast enough while keeping it pointed at the TV. He inevitably screws it up, THEN he just starts pushing buttons to fix it. I try to tell him to no avail, there isn’t just ONE button that will magically fix it. BUT can you imagine the millions you would make if you could invent a “fix it” button?

FRIDAY THE 13TH & A FULL MOON

According to the San Francisco Giants announcer, Jon Miller, the combination of a full moon on Friday the 13th won’t happen again for 35 years!  That is just fine with me. I’m not particularly superstitious BUT I do know that people (drivers in particular) do a lot of weird stuff during a full moon. This double whammy last Friday had me going “Whoa!”, as Charley & I say when we lift up the ears on her stuffed Snoopy.

I awoke as any day on Friday, June 13^th. I called my father as usual but felt the urge to sneeze just as we were ending the call. I quickly said good-bye, turned slightly & let out a healthy sneeze. At that point my back almost exploded! I knew it was bad within seconds & uttered a few emphatic expletives which prompted Lou to come in saying what’s wrong. When you’ve lived 64 years with various back issues you know when it is NOT good.

It took me about a minute to get up off the chair. I literally could not move for a short while. As I slowly made my way to the freezer for the ice pack followed by the bathroom for several ibuprophen, I was royally pissed off! Those of you who have suffered with lower back problems understand the anger & frustration that immediately takes hold when you realize that you will be miserable for days. Not to mention that comfort, sleeping & your daily routine are shot to hell.

About that time, my sister, Karen, who is the expert on back problems (far worse than mine), called to say she was sitting beside the road with a truck that crapped out & wouldn’t move. Her husband had come over from work but couldn’t get it going. She was waiting for the tow truck. So far the Friday the 13th/full moon combination was two for two & it wasn’t even 9 AM.

Later that evening as I lay on the floor with ice on my back & Karen's conked out truck sat in the garage, we watched our Giants blow a lead in the 9th inning that could only be explained by the Friday the 13th/full moon combo. That’s where we heard Jon Miller as he looked up the next similar event – 35 years away. Thank goodness!

We had plans to meet for lunch on Sunday at the facility where our dad is currently rehabbing from a partial foot amputation. It was Father’s Day so his two daughters were going to bring him a Taco Bell lunch, visit & do our best to make it an okay Father’s Day given the circumstances.

BUT she had no wheels to make the 100 mile drive from her house to Danville. I had wheels but was nursing a back that was spasming like crazy as I decided whether to make the 100 mile drive from my house.

In the end I decided to suck it up & drive in. If this ended up being his last Father’s Day on this earth, I figured I couldn’t live with myself if I let him spend it alone in a rehab facility. Armed with my ice pack & a back brace off I went. My plan was to stop every half hour to walk around & stretch a bit. That last leg both ways was a bit tough but I survived.

I’m not really sure whether my dad cared that much that I was there. But he enjoyed his enchirito, taco & beans. And I know that whatever happens, I made the effort to spend Father’s Day with him leaving me with a clear conscious.

This is now Day Six of my latest back escapade & it is finally feeling well enough to sit at my computer for the time it takes to write this. Thank God it only seems to happen this bad every few years. And I’m sure it wasn’t helped by my visit with Charley yesterday – physically, that is – mentally it was the best medicine!

"THIS IS LOU, MY...????"

In this day & age many couples are sharing a life together without the benefit of matrimony. It brings up an interesting question which I've often pondered. What do you call the man (or woman) who lives with you?

Boyfriend – I am in my 60s & am in a long term, live in, committed relationship. Calling Lou my “boyfriend” just sounds like someone I started dating a few months ago.

Partner – I know that “partner” is the term of choice for many unwed couples but it sounds more like a business relationship to me. You could easily refer to someone you just opened a restaurant with & have no intention of sleeping with as a “partner”, too.

Life Partner – So, by adding the word “life” to “partner”, it is supposed to somehow negate the business end of it. But “life partner” sort of sounds a little like a new age, this is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius, kind of thing.

Mate – Just sounds too much like an Australian buddy for my tastes.

Significant Other – The Urban Dictionary defines “significant other” as follows: “Your mate, spouse, husband, wife, boyfriend, girlfriend, steady and/or lover. Used when you don't want to be too specific, or when the details are nobody's business.” That pretty much covers it!

POSSLQ – A term supposedly coined by the U.S. Census Bureau that just went a bit too far is “posslq” (pronounced “possil cue”) which stand for “Person of Opposite Sex Sharing Living Quarters”. That is just plain silly. Come on, really?

Spousal Equivalent – I first heard this one mentioned by Joy Behar, formerly of The View. Apparently she lived with her “spousal equivalent” for 29 years before finally marrying him. I loved her quote when asked why, she replied, “After a honeymoon for 29 years, we decided to ruin it & get married.”

Lover – That might have been okay back when we were star-crossed “lovers” but after almost 13 years together, no one is really interested in our sex lives. I see no reason to broadcast that fact to everyone whom I introduce to Lou.

Other Half – I do tend to use this one once in awhile since it gives a somewhat endearing term without specifically stating whether marriage or co-habitating is involved.

Husband – We often call each other “husband” & “wife”. After all we are in this for life & we have made the same commitment to each other that every married couple does, just not in the eyes of the law. We wear rings on the third fingers of our left hands & I like to say that we are married in our hearts.

It's just that neither one of us wants to get married. We are together because we choose to be together each day, not because a piece of paper says we are legally bound to each other. Being a product of the 1960s I still have enough of that “rebel” mindset in me to defy the normal traditions. So far, we both continue to enjoy our unwedded bliss.

But this all puts me back to square one – what do I call Lou? More often than not, when I introduce him to someone, I simply say, “Lou, this is so & so. So & so, this is Lou.” Since we tend to hold hands a lot & it’s probably obvious that we are a couple, I’ll let them draw their own conclusions.

Anyone have any other suggestions?

FUNCTIONAL ADULT

A friend of mine recently posted a quote on Facebook that really spoke to me: “Pretending to be a functional adult is exhausting!” Just read the following account & you’ll see why. J

Since the inception of my blogging, I have resisted bringing the fact that I am a family caregiver for my father into my writing. I’ve wanted my blogging to be uplifting, amusing, sarcastic & just plain fun.  Caring for an elderly parent isn’t something that you would think usually falls into any of those categories.

BUT when you really think about it, the truth is that every single one of those things enter into the process of caregiving. Even though I’ve been involved in caring for my father for many years now, I don’t want to be labeled as a “caregiver”.  I am literally fighting to NOT be categorized primarily as a caregiver. Yes, that is part of who I am but I won’t let it define me.

For the past eight years my father has not been able to live alone. This man has dealt with more health issues than anyone should have to endure. Yet for the most part, he keeps a relatively positive attitude although he does seem to work at driving me crazy on many occasions. J I won’t go into all the details or I would be sitting here typing for days. He has had a stroke, two back surgeries, a shunt placed in his head & is unable to walk without a walker (& that doesn’t include the past six months). Fortunately, he is still mentally pretty sharp at 85 years old.

We have had someone live with him to assist him in the mornings & evenings – & just be there in case he needs help. Again, I could write two books (maybe more) with all that I have learned & figured out to care for him over the years. Offering a free room & a small salary to someone who needs to get back on their feet or a college student has been a godsend to us in getting my dad the minimal care that he needs. I come in every other weekend & a few weeks a year to give the live-in caregiver time off.

Unfortunately, we have moved to another stage of caregiving these past six months. Maybe I’ll go into more detail as time goes on – or maybe I won’t, I don’t know. The Reader’s Digest version is that he has been in one hospital or another eight times in the past six months. It started with cellulitis, then gangrene in a toe, hyperbaric oxygen treatments, clogged arteries in his leg, a toe amputation, more trying to clear the arteries, more hyperbaric & finally a transmetatarsal amputation (the front third of the foot). Following that, since he couldn’t keep weight totally off the foot using a walker, the wound completely opened up.

As of this writing he is getting six weeks of IV antibiotics at a rehab facility. He has been to UCSF Medical Center in San Francisco for evaluation & had yet another procedure done. BUT this past two weeks, small miracle that it seems to be, the wound is suddenly beginning to heal on its own. His doctor is guardedly optimistic that we may avoid a below the knee amputation.

So, you can see how that pretending to be a functional adult quote above resonates with me. Even though I am 64 years old, I’m still not sure when I became the “functioning adult” in charge & it sure as hell is exhausting! When I was around 12, I remember thinking that I couldn’t wait until I was grown up like my mother who always seemed to be in total control. Now, that I am grown up (debatably), I think it was all a smoke & mirrors thing with her – I doubt she felt any more in control than I do! Poor woman!

Thank God for Charley. Who would have ever thought that a 2-1/2 year old would be the reason for keeping my sanity relatively in tact?