When Life Comes at You from Every Direction...

Yesterday my mother-in-law who recently had a stroke was transferred from the hospital to a nursing home.  Unfortunately, information about her condition and care didn't make it across the driveway with her to the new location.

She hasn't fed herself since the stroke.  She will eat a piece of toast or a cookie if you put it in her hand, but has not picked up a utensil and tried to get food to her mouth.  Last evening, my husband went to visit her.  He found her tray sitting on the bedside table, stone-cold.  Her covers were neatly folded at the foot of the bed, as though someone had expected her to sit up on the side by herself and eat.  She was cold from being uncovered.  He covered her and had her food reheated.  Then he fed her himself.  He later found the supervisor and told her that DNR doesn't mean starve to death.  My husband is one of the most even tempered people on the planet.  He was clearly not happy.

When he mentioned to me that her catheter had been removed, I immediately thought, "Oh, boy....I wonder what the plan is to get her to the bathroom....she can't walk that far!"  When I arrived this morning, she was wet. Two aides were about to try to walk her to the bathroom.  She was protesting that she couldn't walk that far without her walker.  The truth is that currently she can't walk that far WITH her walker.

So, I met with the nurse manager.  We discussed that she needed to be fed, that a plan had to be in place for regular toileting, that she is lactose intolerant and there was regular milk on her tray this morning, that she is too confused to reliably use the call button, that during the course of the hospitalization she has been over-medicated for pain to the point of being totally incoherent, etc. etc.  Fortunately, for both of us, the nurse manager was pleasant, receptive and knowledgeable.  Now we will see if that is translated into appropriate action by the staff.

After the meeting, I went to my in-laws home and got some of her clothes, sneakers to use at therapy, her walker, a seat cushion, an album of family pictures and miscellaneous other items.  I took them to the nursing home.  She was in therapy, and I found her there.  She told the therapist it was October of 1920-something, but she knew me and called me by name.  Some of what she told the therapist was reliable and some was not.  She knew she had had personal care aides at home, but thought she had to go and pick them up herself.  She hasn't driven in several years.

These activities shot the entire morning.  I don't begrudge her the time, but it's tough when multiple generations need you.  This afternoon, I took one of my grandsons shopping for baseball pants and batting gloves.  If I didn't have all of this going on with my mother-in-law, I would have brought him back to my house for supper.  Instead, he and I enjoyed ice-cream at Friendly's, and I delivered him to his other grandma's house.

Life is coming at me from all directions at the moment.

I am relying on my favorite passage of scripture.....Isaiah 58:9-11

Then you will call, and the Lord will answer; you will cry for help, and he will say:  Here am I.  If you do away with the yoke of oppression, with the pointing finger and malicious talk, and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in darkness and your night will become like noonday.  The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame.  You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.

The Agony of Old Age

"If I am going to be like this the rest of my life, I would rather be dead!"....a pronouncement this afternoon from my 92 year-old mother-in-law, who had a sufficiently lucid moment in the midst of confusion to realize that she was confused.


Before and after this statement, she babbled about her son "Bobby."  When we tried to tell her that he is now a grown man, she rather forcefully declared that she has two Bobbys....a boy Bobby and a man Bobby.  She wanted to know where the boy Bobby was.  When my father-in-law arrived after church, she asked him if Bobby had gone to church with him.  When he said that he had gone alone, she was angry.  Where had he left Bobby?


But then, there was that flash of clarity, when for a fleeting moment she realized that what she had been saying made no sense.  It passed as quickly as it came.


Last evening she was distressed because no one would give her her own nightie to wear.  She was sure it was right there in the dresser drawer.  Trying to explain that she was in the hospital and needed to wear the hospital gown did no good.  I had purchased some night shirts that buttoned all the way down the front for her to wear, thinking since they opened completely, they might work.  Nope....not long enough to suit her.


This afternoon I made a slit straight down the front in two of her ankle length night gowns which had only a few buttons at the neckline.  I bound the rough edges and put snaps below the buttons.  I wonder how she will react to this.  Will she be happy to have her own gowns, or will she notice my alterations and be upset?  I don't know. I don't ever plan to tell her that a week ago, when she first became so ill, I literally had to cut her out of one of her gowns, and it went into the trash.


Old age is agony.  It is painful and confusing for the person going through this end of days experience.  It is heart-breaking for those standing helplessly by.  


I tried today to encourage her by saying that we don't always understand, but we need to trust God's plan for us.  I know she believes this.  I believe this....I hope I remember that I believe it, if I live to be 92.

What to do?

All the discretionary time in life quickly disappears when a family member is hospitalized, as my mother-in-law has been since last Sunday.  We are running from one thing to the next trying to spend as much time as possible with her.
She is 92 and confused.  Whether this is just another step in a progressive dementia or whether she has had a stroke which triggered the abrupt escalation of her confusion is still unclear.  Because her situation has not stabilized yet, we aren't sure what the next step will be.
It seems apparent that my 93 year-old father-in-law cannot care for her at home and that the amount of time we previously had caregivers in the house will now be woefully inadequate.  Where to from here?
What a difficult time for a family!  Nursing home care is not really what we desire, but the logistics of round-the-clock home care are enormous.  
Thirteen years ago, my mother had a massive stroke.  I took care of her at home 24/7 for 5 months.  But....I am 13 years older now.  I wish I could do for my mother-in-law what I did for my mother, but I am just not physically capable of it now.
Life is full of extraordinarily difficult decisions!

The Idol

A Meditation on Isaiah 21:9

“Babylon has fallen...All the images of its gods lie shattered on the ground!”

That most precious thing,

Tenderly cradled,

Fiercely protected,

Held to my heart,

Does not fall until I do.

The image of a god,

Cherished possession,

Object of affection,

Captivator of my mind,

Falls only as I myself die.

I can choose to cling,

Through the seasons of life,

Ignoring better judgment,

Against divine wisdom,

Until death opens my hand.

Or I can choose to let go,

Cast down the image,

Yield to undeniable truth,

Let the god crash to the ground,

As I fall to my knees...

And cry, “Holy, Lord God Almighty!”

Oedipus...Most Miserable of Men

Alas, poor Oedipus.   No matter how hard he tried to do right, it ended up all wrong.


Now, there have been times in my life when I felt as though the harder I tried to do right, the worse my predicament became.  But, I just finished reading Oedipus, the King, by Sophocles, and I have never, NEVER been as miserable as poor Oedipus.


When Oedipus was born, a prophet predicted that he would someday kill his father and marry his mother.  Therefore, shortly after his birth his parents, who were king and queen of Thebes, sent him with a servant to be abandoned on a mountain, supposing that he would die there.  However, by a series of circumstances, which might have at the time seemed fortuitous for the helpless infant, he ended up in another land as the adopted child of the king and queen.


Eventually he heard a rumor that he was adopted, but when he questioned his parents, they denied it.  As he became an adult, a prophet again predicted that he would kill his father and marry his mother.  Not wanting to be guilty of anything so vile, he decided that he must leave those he supposed to be his parents.


Unhappy man that he was, he headed for Thebes.  On the way he ran into the king of Thebes and had an altercation in which he killed him, thus fulfilling the first part of the prophecy.  Eventually the second was fulfilled also, as he married the queen of Thebes who was, in fact, his biological mother.  They were married long enough to have four children before the disaster became apparent.


Everything in Thebes was going badly...crops were failing, disease was rampant.  When counsel was sought of prophets, they declared that someone who had committed a vile deed was among them  Being a conscientious king, Oedipus decided this evil must be brought to light no matter who the guilty party was.


When his guilt was revealed, he was filled with self-loathing.  His mother/wife committed suicide, and he blinded himself by stabbing his eyes with her brooch pins.


My high school Latin teacher apparently didn't have this quite right.  He declared to us that Oedipus had gouged out his own eyeballs.  He thought a reenactment of this should involve Oedipus throwing two grapes into the audience.  (But then, he was strange in multiple ways.)


You have got to feel sorry for the guy....that is, Oedipus, not my Latin teacher.  Each step he took in what appeared to be the right direction was, in fact, the next step toward horrific grief.


The last paragraph of the play, which is spoken by the chorus is:
...while our eyes wait to see the destined final day, we must call no one happy who is of mortal race, until he hath crossed life's border, free from pain.


The truth is that none of us crosses life's border free from pain.


Another sorry spectacle, Job, in the Old Testament, said:
Yet man is born to trouble as surely as sparks fly upward.


We live in a troubled, fallen world full of pain.  Current events make that abundantly clear.  How do we keep from blinding ourselves?  How do we awaken each day and see the agony that surrounds us.


Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. (Hebrews 12:2-3)

Our own special March Madness

My husband is not a huge fan of sports on television. At least, he keeps his TV sports watching within limits I consider to be tolerable.  He does, however, enjoy watching basketball.


I discovered yesterday that he is all set for the games that are part of March Madness.  He is working on a project on his computer and apparently doesn't want to miss the games, so he has come up with the arrangement in the picture.


Yes, that is my ironing board.  Evidently it is the perfect size for a laptop and keyboard, and since the height is adjustable....well, you get the picture.


I'm not complaining too much, as it gives me a good excuse to ignore the ironing.

Monkey Business

Last evening, two of our granddaughters (affectionately known as Big B and Little B) came over to the house.  The older one wanted help from my husband in putting new inner tubes in her bike tires.  She needed both his help and his tools.  The younger one, who is six years old, tagged along,  As we sat in the kitchen together listening to the sounds coming from the garage, we had this conversation:


Little B:  "Grandma, do monkeys make and use tools?"
Me:  "No."
Little B.  "That's what I said, but it was wrong!"
Me:  "How did your teacher explain this to you."
Little B:  "She didn't."
Me:  "Well, monkeys do use things like sticks to reach for food that is too far to reach with their hands, so I suppose that is considered a tool.  But, they don't make tools.  It's not like they sharpen a point on the stick, so they can stab the food with it. Was this question on a test?"
Little B:  "No, it was on the computer."
Me: "Did your teacher say anything about it?"
Little B:  "Yes, she said, 'Move on!'"


When I related this conversation to my husband, he said, "Why on earth would you even ask a child that age such a question?"


Why indeed?  


It is a perfectly logical question, if you have an agenda.


If you believe in evolution undirected by any intelligent being, then it is important that there isn't too big a gap between monkeys and men.  If you don't want to accept that man was created in God's image, then he can't be allowed to be too much of an improvement over his primate relatives.  So, you want to be sure to instill the idea early that monkeys are nearly human.  The notion that they make and use tools is one way to do that.


A young child does not have a sophisticated understanding of the word "tool."  I expect most of them think of a hammer or screwdriver or saw....none of which any monkey has ever made as far as I know.  Monkeys use items they find in nature such as sticks and rocks.  They do not significantly alter them or put them together with screws.  They may use a rock to break open something containing food, but they don't wire the rock on to a stick to increase leverage, and thus create a primitive hammer.


So, I think I helped my granddaughter to a correct perspective on the actual ability of monkeys.  I don't suppose, however, that the other 20-some children in the class had a conversation that clarified the concept.  


Knowledge is built little by little, piece on top of piece.  When misinformation is part of the foundation, the result is a perversion of truth.