Chez Rozarie

So my NOLA girl wants her own set of pictures for Christmas...old, new, in between.  I've offered over the years, but this year she actually said that is what she wants.  So I've been looking through some that I have readily available, and later tonight, I'll start going through the boxes that I've put away for the kids over the years.  Remember when "doubles" began?  Well, I was actually organized enough to put envelopes of pictures in the boxes to save.  Now I just have to find which boxes I put them in! As most of you know, the problem/pleasure of going through pictures is the slowness of it all.  When we put together pictures for Mom's post funeral lunch, my sister and I, along with my husband took our time and picked out what we thought would be best.  We talked, and laughed, and cried as we did this project.  Then I cried more when I put them on a big board. So yesterday, I took the board apart, putting the pictures that are my sister's ...

It hasn't been an easy 3 weeks...there have been so many tears (but not enough), so many laughs (but not enough).  Thank you for your expressions of sympathy and sorrow.  Mom was so much more (as we all are) than her physical body.  What follows is the eulogy that I read at Our Lady of Peace 2 weeks ago.   "Irene is small, but so is a stick of dynamite – this was written in her yearbook from Stratford High, in 1955. It pretty much sums up who she was. Mom wore a size 2 shoe, was four foot nine, needed blocks on cars she drove to reach the gas and brake until cars began to be made with more adjustable seats. Size, however, had little to do with her voice, her attitude, or her personality. Some of the words used to describe her include spunky, vivacious, funny, sweet, kind, charming, sparkling. She made people feel at home, no matter where she was or who she was with. Her golf clubs looked bigger than she was. If you ever golfed with her, you knew she could ...

As I sit here with my daughter in New Orleans, I keep looking at the video clips and pictures sent to me of my Mom.  She has been moved into Hospice care at the Masonicare complex in Wallingford.  2 weeks ago, we stopped the blood pressure medications, the blood thinner, the cholesterol management drugs.  Then last week, the Aricept was stopped.  The only things left are the antipsychotic medications, which were only recently begun in January.  Because she is not eating, there is no need for insulin or diabetes drugs.  And the January medications are not the same as the current medications.   I remain convinced that was the beginning of this very fast slide into a worse hell than she was in before.  Trazadone and Risperadol, at low dosages (or so we think) didn’t do much at first.  Dad was in charge of those medications, while I kept track of all the others.  Dad never wrote down the numbers of half pills he gave her…we are...

It's been a family filled weekend, with two visits to Mom, family dinner, checking on the niece and nephew and their mom.  This situation with Mom in Wallingford, Dad rehabbing and not able to drive isn't easy on any of us.  I felt the need to check in with my sister, you know? I took Dad on Friday to see Mom for her birthday.  Dad hadn't seen her since August 11th - the day before he had his hip replaced.  I felt really terrible for him - I think he thought somehow she was going to recognize him.  But I'm jumping the gun here. Mom loves strawberry flavored food - selzer, jam, jelly, candy, cookies, ice cream...so we went up the road in Wallingford to get her a Sonic strawberry shake - they are really old school - made with real ice cream and topped with whipped cream and a cherry.  Knowing she wasn't going to know it was her day, I figured this was a good treat.  Cupcakes and cake are tough foods for her as she gobbles them - the shake requires he...

As some of you know, Dad had a hip replaced on August 12th.  Mom is at Masonicare, in an acute care unit.  Dad went to a local rehab/nursing home for 2 + weeks after the operation, and hasn't seen Mom since August 11th.  We've been keeping track of Mom, going up a few times a week.  It is about a 40 minute ride, and we actually trust the folks where she is to take good care of her (and they are taking SUCH good care of her!). So, Dad is home now.  He left rehab on Tuesday.  Of course, I picked him up.  Did you really think otherwise?  That was a negotiation: Me: When do you get released? Dad: Be here at 9 a.m. Me: Usually it's between 10 and noon. Dad: Well, you have to get my stuff ready. Me: I'll be there at 11. Dad: I think 10 is good. Me: Pack up your own things by taking them out of the drawers and putting them on the table. Start at 10. Dad: You should do that for me. Me: They're clothes.  You can lift them. Dad: Be here...

In Irene’s mind, removing the possibility of having another baby, and seeing her 4 month old perfectly healthy worked.  She also began to do some things that weren’t kid related after this, including joining the annual Variety Show Cast of the Lordship Father’s Club.  Little and cute, with a good voice, she was welcomed to the cast, and began her annual January through April Friday night out.  Rehearsals, followed by beer and pizza at Skippers meant someone had to be with us…since Dad was usually working.  Judi was taught to babysit, after a year of different Rooney kids (big family in the area). Irene also resumed attendance at school events and supported her kids.  Kenny was typically working (it was the 60’s and that’s what good men did), so she did it all.  We saw Dad lots because he worked at Pop’s down at the Wall.  The guys called us the curtain climbers and bought us soda, peanuts, pistachios (the red ones!).  One guy even taught me t...

OK, as some of you know, Mom's health (mentally and physically) has become quite precarious.  In light of this, I thought I'd go back in time a bit, and give you all some of her interesting history... First part: Her birthday is 9/5/1937.  She was born 2 nd in a family of 3 girls, at Jamaica Queens Hospital.  Her dad was a salesman with Atlantic Richfield.  She lived in Salem, Massachusetts until 1948, moving to Stratford, Connecticut  at 10 years old.  Irene graduated from Eli Whitney School, and went to Stratford High School, graduating in 1955. During her last year of high school, she lived with 2 different families as her parents retired and moved to Florida.  The Tristines and the Kilty/Goodsell folks were great to her, and she remains friends with those in both families.  She was engaged to Ken Palazzo before her graduation. If she had played sports in high school, she probably would have been on the softball team, a soccer play...

Today was hard.  Mom and Dad's 57th wedding anniversary was today.  We brought pizza up to the nursing home, and I made brownies.  We got the conference room so we could sort of have a private celebration.  Mom was a bit off by the change in procedures, but she did OK at first.  A bit too many people, however she acclimated to us all.  Dad has been saying she was smacking him a bit during lunches, so my sister and I put our heads together and suggested to him that he go see her after lunch to minimize his "upset" and frustration with his feelings about Mom. "I'm not upset.  I'm not frustrated." "Really?  Cause you said you were..." "I don't mind.  I just don't like seeing her like this," while he argued with Mom about her eating a piece of pizza (shoving it in her mouth then pulling it away as she fully opened her mouth). Well, to be honest, I don't think any of us LIKE this, but as I've said before, we live for th...

Well, the past 4 weeks have been challenging to say the least.  4 weeks ago, Mom sat in the Emergency Room (well, she laid down on a bed in the ER) for over 12 hours...they poked her, scanned her, tested her...put back in her IV after she yanked it out, and then found her a bed. By 8:45 pm that night, she was ensconced in a room in Geriatric Psychiatric Services at Bridgeport Hospital.  No, you probably never heard that there was even such a place.  We never knew about it...it is a separate part of the 8th floor, locked doors...common dining area and "day" room (which we called the living room).  It is where people go after a certain age when medications are a problem, or behavioral issues have started to interfere with bodily functions...people with dementia, psychotic breakdowns, for example. Mom has been challenging to care for lately.  Her eating issues have created sugar issues which have exacerbated other behavioral challenges.  She had also recen...

So things are going "south" quickly around here.  For the past 3 months, Mom has become increasingly agitated, frustrated, afraid.  This happens particularly after 3:30 pm daily.  Typically called sundowning, it has many facets, including the idea that the person knows at that point that he or she no longer knows what he or she knows. At first when this began, we went through the ritual of explaining what has happened over the past 15 years, based on questions Mom asked.  We didn't volunteer any information that she didn't ask about.  Gradually, the questions stopped, and we are at the point now where Mom just wants to "go home".  She gets anxious when told she is home, she gets frustrated when she goes anywhere, home or not. Mom doesn't know where home is these days...her home in Lordship doesn't release any information to her when she is driven by...when she is at our home, she still wants to go home.  When Mom is at her current home, she can...

It's a rough world out here for folks...especially those who aren't dealing with a full deck!  That includes both the 'rents lately.  Wintertime is hard on the circadian rhythm, which I am certain negatively impacts those with dementia.  Mom's sleep cycle is way off, which means Dad is even further off.  Never having the most patience, when Dad doesn't get his 10-12 hours, his levels of patience go down significantly.  Mom, of course, has no idea what she is doing at night to keep him awake. She pokes him...with her finger, people!  "We're late for church...We have to go down...it's time to get up...when is it time to get up..."  From about 1 a.m. till 6 a.m., if Dad is to be believed.  Dad's memory these days is a bit off, too, although he is keeping a journal these days.  It gives him an outlet - something concrete to do.  To give Dad the opportunity to sleep a bit, I have started to take Mom with me more often - on a regular basis, ...

So doctor appointment this week that turned into a therapy session for Dad - that was a bit stressful, let me tell you!  Even though Mom's diagnosis of dementia (initially all about the big A, now the doc is actually saying it is more likely vascular dementia) was made back in 2004, we know she had cognitive issues as far back as 1997.  Still, Dad is still complaining that this wasn't what he expected in life.  Yes, I said complaining.  Here's where my mind is: Mom and Dad retired in 1984.  Yes, they did...became snowbirds, going to their lovely home on a golf course in sunny southern Florida from January through May, and October through Christmas every year until 2012.  I see that as lucky and fortunate and fun.  They golfed, took cruises around the world, and lived what many would see as a good, if not great life.  It wasn't until last year that this ended.  Given health concerns for both, and the inability of Dad to care for Mom with ...

Perhaps it was the move, perhaps it was just the progression of the disease, perhaps the urinary tract infections that keep on coming...whatever it was, Mom is on the move into other stages of the disease.  While Dad is doing all right in the new apartment, Mom is really struggling.  Because Mom is struggling, the joy of living without the Warden (me) has paled for Dad. Mom doesn't believe that the apartment is their new home...around 4 pm (some of you know that as the sundown time), she wants to go home..."Where are we and when are we going home?"  She gets anxious, and is hard to calm down. While there are familiar items all around her, the rug is new, as is the couch...her furniture from Florida just doesn't ring any bells in her brain.  Only their bedroom furniture is within her memory, and that has to be pointed out, gently. Dad was never really good with "gently".  He coached adults and kids for years, umpired as well, but gently?  No, not at all....