apartment which was dirty, claustrophobic, dark. Also, it’s far easier to take things out of boxes and put them in a proper place than it is to put things in boxes. El had wisely decided to pare things down – but when moving someone, there is only so much you can discard. El had decided to take some of the discarded stuff to the Goodwill, and to put the rest in her garage. This (of course) meant that there were a few more trips to be made on her part
Mom remained in the nursing home while all this was going on. She was not happy about this, and let this be known to us. She wants out, and who can blame her? She says the food is terrible. She also has a non-ambulatory roommate, Ruth, who I suspect is in the twilight of her years. Ruth, mom says, has stashed away considerable food in her dresser drawers – as would a squirrel. She also has cards and notes plastered all over one wall. And there’s just one TV between the two of them.
The staff seems nice, though overworked. An elderly gentleman, Mr. Bouy, has taken to my mother – problem is, he has no voice. And an elderly woman, of Asian descent, walks around saying “thank you” repeatedly.
Supposedly, Mother has had some short term memory loss. If this is so, I haven’t seen it yet. What I have seen is that she hasn’t lost much physically. She’s using a walker, one El and I are calling Wally. Otherwise, no change here.
El has been taking care of all the administrative stuff involved in mom’s stay, this in addition to preparing for and arranging for the upcoming move. In other words, there’s a lot of red, green, and blue tape. Tonight, for example, she noticed that after lunch she had 5 cell phone messages, one of which was that the nursing home staff needed the paperwork that she had in her car. That was one message. She also had to deal with a change in phone and internet service.
And additionally, she had a message about the damaged car. Earlier in the day, El had nailed the corner of a parked vehicle. And El, being El, left a note with her phone number, and offered financial restitution. The owner of the vehicle was taking her up on this.
This isn’t a day in the life. Rather it’s a life in the life. Eleanor has been watching out for my mother now for twenty years. Her loving our mother is her motivator. My loving Eleanor (right now) is my motivator.
And where do I fit in to all this? I’m not sure. The best I can do right now (because I live so far away) is to do what’s asked and be of good cheer. It’s not enough, but it’s going to have to suffice. I will figure out what to do with loose change, errant bobby pins, mismatched cookware, and unwashed socks.
The one saving grace (right now) is that mom’s new place – I call it the Basillica – is quite nice. The tenants, who are primarily elderly – seem friendly, as does Mo, the house mother. I hope that they include Mom in their social circles. She didn’t have this at the other place.
Next: 120: 4/30/13: 4/30/13: Hurry up and Wait