Oh boy, oh boy...

...another Sunday morning, another full hour of "The Church Program" on TV.

In our house, the television is rarely on, let alone on and tuned in to a church service. But for years, Doll has reminded her mom of this program and made sure she was able to sit down and watch it, even if that meant a trip over to her house to set the correct station.

Lots of times, now that she lives here, Mamaw will ask us to come and watch the service with her. We're not really all that good at faking it, so we usually say something like, "Our church is out in the woods with the deer, or out in the pasture with the horses."

Mamaw's a truly good soul, and she usually hesitates just a second before saying that makes good sense.

Anyway, the television has to be on loud for Mamaw to hear it and those hymns just about drive me up a wall, so I come into my study and put on headphones to listen to some gritty rock-and-roll during the church program. More and more, Doll and I have to resort to eeking out the smallest measures of privacy and relief from the constant questions, fears, bathroom trips and questions, questions, questions that pervade our life now that we are Mamaw's sole caregivers. There is zero support from the rest of Mamaw's family.

It isn't that Mamaw has no other family. There's a son, daughter-in-law, and grown granddaughter. Sadly, before Mamaw came to live with us, the son plainly stated that Mamaw would not be welcome in their home. Ever. At all. Not even for the random afternoon of relief for Doll to go to the grocery or the bank. According to him, that edict comes from his wife (she and the daughter are, um, devout Christians).

The son has called just twice in the more than three weeks since Mamaw moved in. One time was just mainly to complain to Doll about how bad he has it, what with having to pitch in at work, where the woman who runs the office has been out a lot lately due to the piffling fact that her husband is in the final stretch of a long battle with cancer. She wants to be with him every moment they have left. That's inconveniencing the Christian.

Anyway, I had to walk past the television a few minutes ago to get myself a glass of milk. Those people on that church program sure do have sweet, God-lovin' looks on their pious faces.


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In an effort to preserve ...

... our sanity, we came up with a plan for Mamaw to go to adult daycare twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays. The place is absolutely beautiful - brand new building situated beside a pretty lake, all the people working there seem to love the company of old folks the way I love the company of animals, and they serve delicious meals catered by one of the nicer restaurants in Louisville.

What could be more ideal?

Well, it'd be a lot more ideal if, say, Mamaw didn't pitch a blue fit about having to go there, having to be there, and then having to get on the van to come back home. In their history, they've only had to 'discontinue' one person, a large man who could bully his way past the staff and kept forcing his way off the grounds. Mamaw is tiny, but they're considering the possibility that they might not be quite up to handling her decidedly powerful personality. Not good.

When I got home from work yesterday evening, Doll was at the end of her rope from dealing with the aftermath of Mamaw's agitation after returning from daycare, so I told Doll to have a break and let me take over.

Mamaw was in her favorite chair in the living room looking very stressed out. I got myself a glass of coke and sat on the hearth beside her chair.

She looked very alarmed and said, "Who are you?"

"It's Pam. How was your day?"

"Oh, I don't know! I'm just so worried, I can't think straight!"

So I asked her what there was to worry about and she said, "Just everything!"

In my most soothing tones, I said, "You know, my mom used to worry a whole lot. She would think up things to worry about, and it was such a waste. Sometimes, when my daddy would go to the grocery store she would sit at the window all stressed out, watching for his car to turn the corner, just sure something horrible was going to happen to him and we'd never see him again."

Mamaw asked, "And what happened?"

Good progress, I thought. I said, "Well, he always came home. So, see? Mom went through all that stress and anxiousness and worry for absolutely nothing."

Mamaw looked down at her hands and refolded the Kleenex that's perpetually there. She thought for a few seconds then looked back up at me with a wry smile on her face and said, "Or maybe it was her worrying that kept him safe."

Crap. I had nothin'.


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On her fifteenth day in her new home...

.....Mamaw sat in her new favorite spot yesterday afternoon eating the grilled cheese sandwich I made for her lunch. I had stopped cleaning up the house and tending to the critters long enough to keep her company while she ate.

About halfway through her meal, she said, "This is so rich, I doubt I can eat the whole thing. But it's so delicious, I hate to stop. Isn't that awful?"

I said it wasn't awful at all.

She took another bite and said, very thoughtfully, "It's not only the buttery taste, but the sound it makes when my teeth go through the crust is so wonderful."

And that perfectly reflects her attitude much of the time. She's adjusting very well. The main problems so far have been sleeping at night and feeling homesick. But for the last couple of days, both of those issues have improved quite a bit.

I started this blog as a way to document the details of bringing Mamaw into our home, hoping to leave a record for someone else who might be making the decision between home care and nursing home. But our first two weeks turned out to be too anomalous to be of a whole lot of help. Mamaw's transition has just about taken a backseat to other circumstances that have swallowed up enormous time and energy here - my own mother is gravely ill and has been in critical condition for the past eleven days, one of our horses has laminitis again and this time her bloodwork confirms that she has Cushing's disease, and our other horse tried to colic last Friday evening. Bad as all that sounds, we're hanging in there, getting stronger.

Anyway, I truly intend to carry through on this blog, if maybe a little intermittently for the time being.

We have pictures!

Here's Mamaw arriving at our place two Saturdays ago. In that carrier behind her seat is the other new member of our family, Mamaw's very elderly chihuahua, Sug (short for Sugar, so pronounced "shug"). Suggy really loves it here!



Here's Mamaw's new favorite sitting place. It only appears dark in this picture. It's actually a very bright spot. From here, she oversees our chores, the care of our 9 dogs, 11 cats and the two horses.



And we did get around to that first wheelbarrow ride last Saturday! I must have pushed that thing half a mile - to the woods to see the deer come in for breakfast, up and down the hill to the horse pasture, down to what's left of the garden, all around the house, and back and forth with the dogs. She was outside, really outside, for the first time in maybe five years and she thoroughly soaked up every minute. We were out there for hours. Here are Mamaw, Leroy and Doll taking a breather out back.