Holiday Illumination

Holidays can be stressful enough, but add caregiver woes to the mix and the result is heavier than any fruitcake I've ever used as a doorstop!

Last Christmas was mom's first in her new down-sized abode. She wanted to deck the halls, but between the smallness of her home and giving up a lot of decorations in the move, we had to negotiate the trimmings. For years, she and dad had put a 4-foot tree on a small table in their living room. The arrangement gave them the height of a larger tree, without taking up the floor space. With space now at an even higher premium, I suggested a small 2-foot tabletop tree with filament lighting. Mom seemed quite happy with the new tree. Once it was joined by a couple of poinsettias, a wreath, and a few other holiday touches, her home was comfortably festive.


She had just a few things in a storage building, including the 4-foot tree, which she wasn't ready to give up. I offered to store them in my own building, freeing her of that monthly fee, and all seemed well - until last week.


Mom called me, saying she wanted to visit a local home and garden store to buy a new tree for the front porch. Some of the other neighbors put large trees on their porches last year, where they could enjoy the lights from indoors, without taking up indoor space. The following conversation ensued:



Me: Well, Mom, before you go buy a tree, remember I have your old tree stored here.


Mom: That's right! But that one goes inside.


Me: But you don't have room inside.


Mom: Yes I do.


Me: We worked this out last year - remember? That's why we got the little tree.


Mom: Well, the one from the house isn't very big. We used to put it on a tabletop.


Me: Yes, but your ceilings are lower in the cottage, and the tree I have stored takes up more area.


Mom: It doesn't take up that much room. Why did I give it to you to store if I'm not going to use it?

Me: (wishing I knew the answer to that question because I wondered the same thing) Okay, then ... where would you put it?

Mom: Where Mickey's (the bird) cage is.


Me: And where will Mickey go?


Mom: In my bedroom, where the computer is.


Me: And where will the computer go?
Mom: I can put it on the floor.


Me: MOM - you barely have room to get around as it is now! You don't need to be tripping over things in the floor. There's no reason to go thru all this when you have an adorable little tree you got last year. Why do you want to go to all that trouble of moving things around?


Mom: I'm not asking you to do any of this.


Me: Well, you can't do it! You don't need to move Mickey's cage around, or the computer! Who else is going to do it? I don't MIND doing it, but I'm saying, you have enough issues with finding room for things without adding to the chaos.

At this point, she stopped arguing, only because she had already made her decision. A few days later, my son took mom to the home and garden store. Mom proudly announced to me that she bought a new tree for the front porch. She has been tinkering with putting it up herself, and I haven't fussed. It keeps her busy - like a two-year-old playing in the Tupperware cabinet. She's happy, it's not hurting anything, so I let her be.


Mom is a dear, sweet, intelligent woman, and I try to realize that she has limited control in her life. Her ailments control her, preventing the freedoms she used to enjoy. She took excellent care of my grandfather and father during their years of ailing health. She mourned my grandfather's passing, wondering if she could have done more (even Hospice was amazed by the high quality care my mother gave him!). Instead of being able to reclaim some time for herself, she was immediately hit with a series of illnesses. Too often, caregivers neglect their own health, wear themselves down, and fall ill.


As she and I continue our journey together, I will just have to remind myself that the battles aren't over Christmas trees, but instead, are her efforts at independence and survival.

An Introduction

I have begun this blog because I’ve been thrust into the role of caretaker for my aging mother, a part that I never dreamed I’d have to play. Mom was always so independent; she took care of everyone else -- except herself.

She smoked too much and even tried to hide her addiction when dad had to quit due to his own heart and lung problems. When she finally did quit, it was too late. Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) was settling into her body and now has her panting for air when she exerts herself the least bit. She’s on oxygen, with which she maintains a love-hate relationship. A stroke near her brain stem has affected her balance. The doctor says she is fortunate because 30 percent of people die from similar strokes; the remainder are left incapacitated. At least she is still mobile. Another odd disease causes her bone marrow to produce too many red blood cells.

Unrelated to the COPD, her body believes she is not getting enough oxygen, so it creates an excess of red blood cells, leaving her circulation sluggish, which in turn, perpetuates the lack of O2. Compound the issue with the COPD and the problem worsens. In addition, the thickened blood puts her at a higher risk of a different kind of stroke.

This frail, sick woman has just enough spunk remaining, that she has quickly turned into her father – a man she swore not to emulate due to the troubles he caused when under her care. Recalling the incident of my 92-year-old grandfather cutting a tree with a chainsaw makes me thankful that I have my mother’s chainsaw locked away in my storage building. I have no doubt she would try to do the same, given the opportunity.

A few weeks before my father died, my parents moved into an independent living community. They downsized from a four-bedroom, two-story house to the cottage which has one bedroom, a living room, tiny kitchen, laundry room, and bathroom. The move was completed in October 2008, but mom still complains about things she didn’t bring, things that she believes were done without her knowledge, and things that she thinks she should have.

While many of my experiences are common place, I hope this blog will help some people know they are not alone. Perhaps others will find a bit of humor to brighten their day. Along the way, I’ll impart resources and information I gathered as a former senior center director. I planned programs for active senior citizens in a local community and part of my job was to maintain a database and offer programs to help caregivers and those they care about. At that time, I provided mom information to help in dealing with her father, not realizing I would soon be in the exact same position. Rule #1: Never say “never.”