TBT Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

  In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Magic 8 Ball

I had the opportunity to teach a children's workshop during February vacation week. The Weebles had a doctor's appointment scheduled for that week, and I called them to make sure there were no other appointments scheduled for the day I was given for the workshop.

Dad couldn't find his appointment book. While he tore the house apart, Ma talked to me.

"I thought you would show up today. I need you."

"No, not today, I told you maybe Friday, and that depends on what time the guy who pumps the septic system shows up. What do you need?" I'm thinking 24 more cans of beets to keep the 24 cans she has company.

"I ran out of my prescription."

"Today?"

"No, Saturday." I sighed heavily and looked to the heavens. I could hear Dad in the background speaking in tongues, and I had the urge to utter a few phrases. "Why didn't you call over the weekend?"

"I thought you would show up."

Third base! I debate about telling her I haven't perfected the art of mind reading yet, but I'm close. "I can ask Himself to swing by the pharmacy and get the pills for you."

"No, I have to take the paper to the pharmacy to have it filled. Your father can't find his appointment book, and the paper was in his book." She proceeded to tell me how Dad wouldn't be able to find his....um....head without a mirror and a flashlight.

So, looks like an emergency shuttle run on Friday, if the septic guy shows up early. Hopefully, Dad will have found his appointment book by then. My Magic 8 ball says: Don't count on it.

TBT: Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

 

In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

On a Serious Note

As much as I laugh about OPD, it's also a cover up. It's so hard to watch your parents age and in the aging fail in health. Through illness they are no longer able to do and enjoy some of the activities they once enjoyed. Sometimes they focus more on what they have lost instead of what they still have. I suppose we are all guilty of that.

It's hard being the child and suddenly having to be parent to your parents. You worry did they leave the stove on, or forget medication, or will get into a car accident. They don't handle money as well as they once did. And it's hard to know the boundaries. How do you tell them to give up their independence by handing over the check book or the car keys? Most of all, you want to scream, "Not my monkey!" (translation: not my responsibility), but if not mine whose?

I'm not an evil person because I laugh about OPD. I'm scared. It might not be very long before someone drops a nursing home on me.

TBT: Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

 In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Monday, October 09, 2006

Sandwich

I've been a bit surprised in my travels with a bottle of whine, how many of us are sandwiched between commitments in our lives: family, parents, work, friends, church, etc. Sometimes it seems no matter how long or fast we dance, we just can't please everyone. So how does one deal with stress and frustration? You just keep on dancing the best you can.

A friend asked if whining...er...blogging was cathartic. Heck, yeah! And it's cheaper and more fun than therapy too. 😉

TBT: Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

  In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Saturday, October 07, 2006

OPD and Logic

I've been looking through the photo album I got from the Weebles. I'm excited about the photos because I want to use them to create an altered cookbook to trace the family history through the family recipes.

Came across this photo and didn't recognize any of the men. Showed it to Himself and said, "Doesn't this look like the Godfather's button men?" I started humming the theme to The Godfather.

Flipping through other pictures I found the man in the foreground not wearing a hat is my mother's father. (The only grandparent I knew growing up was my mother's mother, ) Called Dad to ask him if he remembered this picture. I don't recall hearing stories of my maternal grandfather having siblings. Dad didn't really remember the picture, but said he thought his father might be in the photograph. He described his father, tall, glasses and always well dressed. (He was a tailor.) The tall man in the back must be my father's father.

"You know, Dad, none of these photographs are labeled. There's nothing written on them to say who the people in these pictures are."

"Don't worry, about that, honey. We (Ma and Dad) know who the people are.

"That's great, Dad, but what happens when you're dead?

TBT: Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

 In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Friday, October 06, 2006

To Mahket, To Mahket

As I was heading down the Pike this morning, I was wishing I had my corduroy cap from 7th grade. The one that made Dougie Horton call me Kato. It was a cool cap, and I'd like to have a uniform for my new chauffeur duties, and a wicked car like the Green Hornet's Black Beauty.

Anywho, I thought the shopping expedition was going to turn out to be a nightmare, especially with the full moon rising tonight. It almost started that way, and I was so glad I had taken a dose of Excedrin before I left home. I was also feeling put upon, because Dad wasn't going to come shopping. He wanted to go to the Senior Center and sing with his glee club in the afternoon. (Mind, I'm driving in early morning rush hour traffic. Even if he came shopping, and Ma took her customary sweet time shopping, he would still make the glee club with time to spare.) I would have to take Ma shopping myself. Now, it's not that I hate my mother, no matter what Freud says. It's just she is difficult, and misery loves company. I also don't like these shopping expeditions because 1). I hate grocery shopping, and 2.) they are a minimum of three hours long. Ma likes to inspect all the meat in the case. We also can't go shopping at the nice supermarket two miles from the house. I can spit from the backyard and hit the parking lot. Nope, we have to travel two towns over, 15 or 20 minutes away to a market that is always busy and crowded.

Traffic was a bit heavy at the toll booth and then again by the old brewery as they were fixing the bridge over the lake so I was about 10 minutes late. Ma promptly pointed this out to me when I walked through the door. She thought my excuse of heavy traffic was flimsy.

She announces she is ready indignant that I have kept her waiting. Dad has on his hat and jacket. "Are you coming too?" I ask. He starts muttering in tongues and gets in the back seat of the car. Guess so, and inside I am happy dancing. Yes!

We head for the store, and you guessed it in the cheap seats, she is yelling at me I'm going the wrong way. I follow my Dad's example and start speaking in tongues.

The store parking lot is crowded and all the handicap spots are filled. I pull up to the firelane to offload the Weebles. Dad is trying to herd soda cans into a plastic bag. The cans have rolled all over the cargo bay of my wagon. I marvel at the tongues Dad can speak.

I help Ma out of the car and onto the sidewalk. A handicap spot opens up across the parking lot. She pats my hand and says, "I'll be fine. You better go grab the spot before it's taken. Your father knows the routine here." That's my ticket to sit in the car and wait. I happy dance the car across the parking lot.

Waiting was fun. I don't mind waiting. I had brought a pad of paper with me so I could finish my BV fanfic story "Never Fade Away". I also had the latest Outlander book with me. I fished my pad of paper and pencil out of my bag and soon was lost in the ending of the story. About an hour and a half went by, and the story was completed. I reached for the book, and happened to look up towards the door to the market, and there's Ma on one of the handicap scooters with a store clerk and shopping cart in tow. Dad came out a short time later pushing another cart.

Butter my buns and call me a biscuit, I couldn't believe they were done in record time! The store clerk helped put the groceries in the cargo bay. I loaded Ma into the front seat of the car, Dad got in the back, and we headed home "the right way."

Dad made a nice lunch of crabmeat salad. I asked Ma if I could take some family pictures of Grandma and Auntie so I could make copies to use for another altered book. She said I could have the pictures. After lunch, I gave Dad a lift to the Senior Center, and I headed home.

Dealing with OPD is always a surprise, and sometimes it's a good one.

TBT: Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

 In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Thursday, October 05, 2006

The Wheels on the Bus

I wasn't always an Elder Bus Shuttle Pilot. I filled the position quite by accident in mid-July of this year. Literally. The Weebles had a fender bender. Fortunately, they were only shaken and not stirred, but their little green car didn't fare as well and was pronounced totaled.

Now, they can get around town using the Elder Van. You give the Elder Van 24 hours notice of where you want to go, and for $2 round trip, they will come and pick you up from your home, take you where you need to go, and take you home. When I asked Dad why he doesn't call the bus, he said, "That get's expensive!" As if the Gas Fairy comes every night to my house to top off the gas tank in my car, and the Toll Pike Fairy makes sure she leaves exact change for the tolls under the seat cushions. That's OPD.[ed: Old People's Disease] Then so that no burden is placed on me, he says "Don't worry about me. I'll walk!" That's OPD too. It's an issue of control and guilt. (-;

The first time, I drove the Elder Bus was a lesson in the control issue. Ma had a PT appointment. I had arrived early enough to make the appointment, but she decided she had to wash the kitchen floor. "I have to do this all by myself! Nobody helps me." Another part of OPD is the martyr syndrome. Ma will tell all willing and unwilling listeners how she has to do heavy work because no one else will. I sometimes think I should get her a couple of pieces of velcro. She can stick one piece on her forehead, and its partner on her wrist. Then she can raise her hand to her forehead palm out for maximum sympathy. Of course, I would be happy to help, but she has to ask, and it has to be on my schedule. I can't turn on a dime, but then it's really a control issue. (-; NASA has a 3 day window of opportunity when they schedule one of their shuttle launches. I have a 3 hour window (actually 4 with an hour available in case of doctors running late, accidents and tie ups on the Pike, etc. but keep this quiet as the Weebles don't know about this safety margin.) After she finished washing the floor, a search ensued for  her glasses, the checkbook, and the handicap parking card. My 3 hour window was closing fast. Getting Weebles out of the house is a lot like herding cats or toddlers. Just when you get one going in the right direction, the other suddenly breaks and disappears. Where are my glasses? Get my coat! Did you unplug the coffee? Finally, I got them settled in the car and buckled in. I'm on the way to the therapist's office when Ma screams, "You're going the WRONG way!" I nearly slammed on the brake and activated the air bag. "You should be going down Wilson St! WRONG WAY, WRONG WAY." Suddenly, I'm with the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland. Clean cup! Clean cup! Move on down!

When heading towards the center of town, I happen to like going by way of the lights at Bacon St. I can easily make a left turn instead of trying to make the left turn against two lanes of traffic where no one yields. Yielding is not taught in the state's driver training classes. I continue along the way still being yelled at. My patience wears thin quickly. I finally pull the car over to the side of the road. "GET OUT!" I roar. There is some muttering from the front seat, a chuckle from the back. All goes quiet. I'm able to pull out into traffic, and we continue on our merry way.

At the therapist's, Ma has a captive audience. She tells everyone in the office how no one does anything for her. I introduce myself to the therapist to inform her, Ma didn't sprout wings and fly here by herself. The therapist giggles and in a conspiratorial whisper says, "I know just how it is. She sounds like my dad."

So the wheels on the bus go round and round. Tomorrow, we go grocery shopping.

TBT: Reprints From CJ's Whine and Cheeze

 In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Life Is Like A.....

A friend described her life as a casserole, layers of delicious things with surprises through them. My life is more like a brownie studded with nuts. Sometimes you enjoy the crunch, other times you break a tooth.

Dealing with the elder generation is a bit like that. Most times, it can be very sweet and pleasant. Other times, you wind up suffering the complications of OPD. Old People's Disease. My cousin coined the phrase. For example, being called to run out and buy a pair of pinking shears because "they are a good price."

How does one cope? Sit yourself down, listen to me whine, add a few cheezes, and then we'll have a good laugh.