Why is it that some people....

who reach the age of 65 or more and seem to be in reasonable health, lose what little brain matter they have left.

Diane (my Mother) is a perfect example. Lately we have been letting our cats (with the exception of O'Malley) outside. Figaro Jr, however takes 3 days to come back in and because of that we had made the decision to leave him in with O'Malley, both for his safety and our piece of mind.

Well, this morning, while I was taking a shower, Diane decides to let the cats who were outside, back in without watching for Fig. Naturally he seized the opportunity and got out. GRRRRRRRRR!!!!

Her excuse to me was she mistook him for Tiger. I find that hard to believe because Tiger is striped and Fig looks exactly like his brother Vic but Fig is ginger in color, while Vic is black and white.

Now, after just getting rid of my latest insomnia battle, I get to start a new one, because guaranteed Fig will not come in for three days.

Thankfully Diane leaves for the summer in two weeks. Mind you, I don't think I'm going to be able to last that long.

This is absolutely idiotic

The Canadian Health care system is stretched to the max and yet Doctors say, oh let's just put our elderly into care facilities.

Yes, I happened to have to see mine today (for me--updated him on Gram) and we got to talking about Gram slipping into the dementia phase of the Parkinson's and he said at some point she may have to go into long term care. For me that is the worst possible news I could have heard.

I don't like care facilities for seniors. I never have and I never will. They remind me too much of the barracks used by the Nazi's in their concentration camps during the war.

What bugs me most about the situation is, why would you take a senior out of their comfort zone/familiar environment and transplant them into a situation, where nothing is familiar. It's stupid.

Especially in Gram's case. This is a woman who because of the Parkinson's is physically unable to get to sharp objects, with which she could harm herself or others. I dispense her meds (so she can't get to them and possibly overdose). She physically unable to move around so there is no danger of her leaving the house unless I know about it. So why wouldn't it be best for her to stay in her own home.

Have we as a society gotten so jaded, that when it comes time to place a loved one in a facility, we go along happily. To me, if an elderly person, with assistance can remain in their own home/familiar surroundings then why not explore that option first.

What happened to respect for your elders? Am I the only one who still practices that? *shakes head in disgust*

Just remember people, karma can be a pain to handle, and believe me what goes around comes around.

Decision Time

This is an entry I never thought I would be typing. But I'm beginning to find more and more as time goes on, that I have a tough decision to face.

As many of you know, I have been looking after my Grandmother for the past 7+ years, with little or no family support. While I do have respite care (twice a week for four hours), I'm really finding it difficult to continue.

Before some of you get your knickers in a knot, let me say I continue to love what I do for Gram. Truthfully though, the strain is beginning to get to me, especially when the rest of the family only thinks of me as a maid. And Gram doesn't say anything to discourage them or give me support when I try to voice my displeasure.

And lately, even she is beginning to fight me when I administer (give) her meds. It takes a good 20 minutes to get the meds down, and in some cases, I practically have to shove them down her throat, or she'll spit them out at me.

So my decision is this, do I ask for one more 1/2 day of respite care or do I make the choice I always swore I'd never do, ask Gram's physician to make arrangements for her to go to a care facility.

Sometimes I absolutely hate my life.

Will wonders never cease or

has Hell frozen over and nobody bothered to tell me.

Earlier today, Diane actually apologized for her actions of the other night when Gram was sick at the stomach.

To say I am in shock is a mild understatement.

I HAVE HAD IT

with the useless human being known as my Mother (hereafter referred to as Diane---she doesn't deserve to be called Mother or any of its derivatives).

Last night was the straw that broke the camel's back. A little back story needs to be inserted here. There is a nasty bug making the rounds (it gives you the runs so bad, it's like water). I had it on Tuesday and unfortunately, Gram caught it on Wednesday. And because of the damn Parkinson's when Gram caught it and I got her to the bathroom talk about shit hitting the fan the hard way. We had it all over everywhere. Could Diane help at all. Not on your Nellie. She had to hide in the garage until it was all over and I had the worst of it cleaned up.
In all honesty, Diane reminds me of the southern belles of yesteryear, who were so dainty, anyone brought anything up (subjects or actual wounds), the delicate ones would automatically faint.

Now come forward to yesterday. Gram and I made a trip to the Doctor's (routine prescription renewal and flu shots). Of course, I asked if there was a bug going around and was relieved that yes there was. Of course, I mentioned that both Gram and I had suffered from it, and Dr. Kalsi checked Gram out to be sure it was nothing more serious.

Well, as many of you know, I have 2 half-days off per week for respite care. Yesterday afternoon was one of those two half-days. And as always the lady who comes likes to feed Gram a snack. Because we had to be up early for going to the Doctor's, Gram had an earlier than usual breakfast, which meant that she would be hungry. And in fact, she was hungrier than usual, so it took quite a while to get her filled up. I also realized that she would be pretty empty after what had happened the night before.

So, fast forward to later in the evening. I had just received and was in the middle of a long-distance phone call with a friend, who had phoned to get my Christmas wish list. Unfortunately, before we could get to the gist of the phone call, we were interrupted by my Mother, who informed me Gram was sick at the stomach (vomiting) and instead of dealing with it herself, insisted I deal with it, which meant of course I had to cut short my long-distance phone call.

Needless to say, I was not at all thrilled by this. Nor was I surprised by it. Diane has to be the most useless piece of goods this planet has ever produced.

I have been known to say that if anything happens to me, because I am Gram's primary caregiver, Gram and I are screwed. Diane's response has been when she has heard me "Oh no, we'll (meaning her and the rest of the family) take good care of Gram." Yeah right, and if you believe that I've got some swampland in the middle of Antarctica to sell you. She can talk the talk but can't walk the walk when it comes right down to it.

And as my cousin asked me, "what would Diane have done had I not been here?" The answer to that is very simple, based on past experience. She would have called the ambulance/paramedics.

The bug that Gram and I had is one I normally would not wish on anyone. But in this case I am prepared to make an exception. I hope to hell Diane gets it, and gets it bad. Would I care for her the way I do Gram. Not on your Nellie. If she had the difficulty Gram had last night, I just intend to phone the ambulance/paramedics.

As to the phone call from the friend in question. She understood, and I'll be e-mailing her today to let her know my Christmas wish list and that Gram is okay and recovering nicely, no thanks to Diane

You know it's time for your Mother to be put out to pasture

because when she placed an ad to find homes for our newest brood, she took the local paper's special which she assumed meant it would be in three different papers and didn't bother to ask for clarification, when the special actually was three times in one local paper.

So for the past week, I have been answering calls and having to tell people that the cats are already gone.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

And people wonder why I can't get anything done around here.

Well, it's the morning after

my cats went to the vet for their snip and clip job (or in plain English, spay and neuter procedure).

And after 28 hours with no food or water (no food or water prior to the procedure and on the vet's orders nothing after until 4 am today), boy were they hungry and thirsty. Thankfully, so far at least they don't seem to be showing any ill effects from the procedure.

And of far more importance, they are not mad at me, although it will be interesting to see what sort of reaction my biological Mother receives from them.

It's quite the job to round them up and get them into cages. I was quite bruised and battered after they left (my biological Mother and Uncle took them in), but at the same time relieved they were on their way, because this means if we want we can let them outside (we had them tattooed in their ears, so we don't need to worry if they lose their collars), after 10 days of enforced enclosure, to allow things to heal and not have to worry about possible paternity suits. After what happened with Belle (see previous entries), I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice (or in my case 5 times)

And when they returned last night from the vets, boy were they glad not only to be home, but to see Gram and I as well. When I got up to feed them, everybody was curled up on the bed, between Gram and I, snoozing happily (you could hear some of them softly purring).

See my trick is, I'll help catch them, but I don't want my guys to associate me with going to the vets. Instead I want them to associate me with love, gentle scratches (pets), fresh food and water, clean bathrooms (litter boxes). In other words, all the good things humans have to offer.

Will keep you posted