Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Crashing Through

I've spent a lot of time at my mother's house over the last two-plus weeks, since she and Stepfather were involved in a car accident. I'm kind of their own personal adjuster since my old job, when I had a real job, was handling bodily injury claims for a really big insurance company for eighteen years.

There are things you discover when you putter around an old person's house with them each day. In the case of my mother I discover that, although she apparently has a inbred aversion to taking any prescription medication at all, instead taking horse-size vitamins impossible for me to sort into a pill container, she still somehow has saved every medication she's ever come across.

I open her medicine cabinet the night of her accident looking for Tylenol since one of the things I found out right away is that when you're eighty-five and eighty-years-old and involved in an accident, it might just be impossible to have someone really listen to you who's not related to you. Not the police officers and not the emergency room staff. No one. They'll take a look at your Medicare card, they'll make sure you're not dying, and then you'll be set on your way, even if you can't remember any one of your seven daughters' phone numbers. So neither of them had gotten a prescription at the emergency room.

In her medicine cabinet, however, were pill bottles dating back at least twenty-five years. There was one with my old name on it, from my ex-marriage, and I got divorced in 1989. It was like a pharmacy museum in there: old time pill bottles, typed up labels before computers were used, various treacherous caps that my mom would never be able to open now.

Then I spent some time with Stepfather. I found him outside a few days after the accident hanging up my mother's laundry on the clothes line with the radio blasting. Because we have a bantering relationship I said, "You guys must be very popular with the neighbors, what with the blasting radio and the makeshift clothesline," just a series of strings he had strung all over the patio from chair to chair. He laughed and explained the problem he was having with my mother overfilling her laundry basket and cracking the handles. He'd devised a fix, however, and took me to the garage to show me it. He'd glued the handles back together on both ends with some epoxy and was holding them in place with vise grips. Like twenty vise grips. I said, "Or you could buy a new laundry basket at the dollar store for a dollar, right?" Again, he laughed.

There have been a lot of frustrations over the last two weeks, a lot of doing something and then doing it again and again because of various problems in the process. But there are also several images that will always stay with me. There's the image of my stepfather sitting down silently next to my mother, in pain on the couch, and holding her hand. The image of them getting out of the car together when I took them to physical therapy, again walking hand in hand. And one I'd like to forget: that of my mother, whose Alzheimer's has worsened because of this, sitting beside me on the couch, but being nowhere near.

What strange things have you discovered in your parents' homes? Any strange collectibles, like prescription bottles? Witnessed any touching moments? Any heartbreaking ones?

31 comments:

  1. I sometimes worry about my mom. She is 58,but she said not too long ago that she forgot how to turn on her sewing machine???
    That's not stress. That's strange.
    She sewed for years. I am sorry about your ma. It's wonderful that your parents have such a good relationship.
    As for my mom, she has these phases. She collects things. A while back she was into 'native americans'. So she had a lot of ceramic stuff and dream catchers and whatnot.
    Now she is into bears. Boyds bears,and large stuffed ones. There is a big wooden bear that, in the dark, looks like an intruder and scares the crap out of me in the middle of the night when I visit, and am trying to go to the bathroom. a mirror with a bear and a tree on it made out of metal. Very country rustic type stuff.
    She is a knick knacker. As a result, I am an anti knick knacker...and i just know that when It comes time for her to leave this mortal coil, I will receive her extensive boyd's bear collection and will feel compelled to keep it, Because she loved it so much.

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  2. Your love for them shines through. The pills story is so funny. Vintage pills, if only it was wine, right?

    I often compare my parents to what they once were and as I see my mother's osteoporosis-ridden body, I feel so sad. They still have a great relationship though. As long as they're both alive I know they'll be fine. I shudder what will happen afterwards...

    I wonder about us, too. My knees are already feeling weather changes and there are laughter lines. Scary.

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  3. Oh, that last image of your mother broke my heart a little. It's obvious that you cherish her.

    My mother has the same Museum of Pharmacology in her house. She's got Percocet from 1980, I swear.

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  4. I have to say I have not experienced anything like that and hope it will be many years until I do, if at all. My mom is a busy, gym-going, social-flitting younger-than-her-years woman:) Now... my MIL is a different story altogether and husband finds things there all the time.

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  5. My mother passed away 5 years ago and I "visit" my father. He is 91 and still living on his own. His mind is intact but his body is failing. He's very stubborn and only allows a little bit of help from "outsiders" but is happy to have my brother and I shop and pay bills and take the dog for a walk. His house is a nightmare, but he knows where everything is and is happy and comfortable. I know if we every tried to move him, he would die.

    Enjoy every minute with your folks...you never truly know how long you will have them around.
    Jo

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  6. Both my parents are gone - Dad when I was 11, Mom when 23. I did go home and take care of my mom when she was dying from cancer - 1977. It was a rough year. I was a young nurse who left her fabulous life for a time - think Anna Quindlen's One True Thing with no one else at home but mom.

    What I found when I went to stay was that she suddenly had better taste than I previously noted. Some of that furniture was darn nice, and in my home today. I was amazed at the excellent and beautiful condition of her garden, and a collection of hanging baskets bursting with various flora that I never knew she had in her to create. She was too young to have stockpiled meds from the ages or other quirky belongings. But when I lived there before leaving for college, it was all quirky and depressing. How 'bout how she turned that all around in 5 short years?!

    BTW Linda - thanks as always for your words regarding food recovery. I eat them up - seriously.

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  7. I live away from my parents so when I see them, it's a shock to realize how old they're getting. It hasn't been gradual, it's been too abrupt.

    Still, it's interesting to me to see what they still hang on to after all these years. Interesting things, unexplainable things. Things that matter to them, I guess.

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  8. I love the pharmacy museum! My mother absolutely refuses to buy a pill organizer and then "forgets" to take her meds, probably because they are stored behind the plastic wall of still sealed, expired giant Costco vitamin bottles. But this will never happen to us, right?

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  9. Such a loving and humorous anecdote, Linda. Thanks for sharing it.

    Except for wood paneling and other 70's decor, my parents' house doesn't yet sport too many surprises. But your story reminded me of my mom's best friend's experience when she went to help her uncle clean his house. In his bathroom medicine cabinet, she found dozens of cotton balls he had saved from decades of aspirin bottles. You know, in case he ever needed them. :)

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  10. My mom has her own set of issues, but lately, her Parkinson's and osteoporosis is eating her alive. From all the medicine she takes to slow down or counteract the Parkinson's, her health has decidedly taken a sharp decline. Just last night, my sister and I were just discussing what next steps to take. So hard to deal with, so hard to accept. Hope your mom and stepdad are on the mend, friend. ((you))

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  11. Your humor somehow always remains intact, Linda. I don't know how you manage it.

    I find this a little heartbreaking, and also bittersweet. I remember watching my one of my grandmothers disappear into Alzheimers. She was in her 80s, and the one she knew through all of it was my grandfather, her husband of more than 60 years.

    My own parents are gone. But when cleaning out my mother's home, there were all kinds of oddities - costume jewelry from the 60s buried in the back of drawers, paraphernalia from WWII that was handed down from her parents, even baby teeth - labeled! And I imagine that some of what we keep around our own children will consider a little crazy...

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  12. This hasn't happened with my parents yet. But with my grandparents... and my great-grandmother. Oh Lord. The things we found in both of those homes. Of course, all of them lived through The Great Depression, so we found all sorts of bizarre stuff. My great-grandomother saved cotton out of every medicine bottle she ever got. She had a drawer full of the stuff. She also had a ball of string. Any time she found a piece of string it got wrapped around the ball. Cotton and string were sacred items during the Depression apparently. She lived in constant fear that it would return and she didn't want to be without. That is just the tip of the iceberg on the list of the weird. Same goes for my grandparents. But, when you live through that, it changes you. I get it.

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  13. This is a perfect blend of humor, nostalgia and sadness. The last image of your mother brought a tear to my eye. When I was in middle school, my mom worked for a pediatrician where she was always bringing home the samples when one of us was sick. That started her medicine hoarding. Now, when I am visiting if I say I have a headache, she starts pulling out major painkillers and I'm shaking my head and saying, "It's not a migraine or anything.. I really just want Tylenol."

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  14. Chris, it certainly makes you look at the stuff in their house differently, when you imagine carting it all over to yours one day! Boyd's Bears indeed! And, you're right, it may not be stuff we want but we may be sentimental about it because of who it came from.

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  15. Purple Cow, vintage pills indeed. I'm going to go through my own pill arsenal and make sure I haven't done anything like that. It looked very weird. And poisonous!

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  16. TKW, I love especially the idea of stockpiling pain meds, like once they talk a doctor into prescribing them, they need to hang onto the pills, even if it's for thirty years!

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  17. Karen, I was sitting with my mom at her first PT session and I could tell the therapist thought she was just a wreck so I told her, "Before the accident she was a three-times a week seniorcizer, a mall walker." And I meant it. This sudden downturn in my mother has been only since the accident and, if I have anything to say about it, she'll return to her old fit self - somewhat similar to your mother - soon.

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  18. Jo, thanks for painting such a vivid portrait of your dad. It sounds like he's living the way he wants to live, on his own. I also think it's important to understand what you said, that his house may not look the way you'd like your house to look, but it works for him.

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  19. Leslie, isn't that funny when someone's taste changes like that? My dad, who also died young (48), became what we liked to call a "Polish Cowboy" when we moved to Arizona, from being a Polish Jewish immigrant to Chicago beforehand!

    And :) on the food stuff. It's very special for me to witness this journey.

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  20. Lisa, interesting how your parents' age hits you all at once because of not living closeby. Since I do live close I really didn't notice my mother aging until a few months ago and then it totally shocked me. In my head she was forever frozen at 60 and there she was suddenly 80.

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  21. Lisa, What is with those gigantic bottles of vitamins from Costco? I sorted my mother's pills for her and she was taking like 10 gagillion IUs of Vitamin D everyday - in one pill the size of a piano. Her vitamin list looked like the fads and trends list from the last ten years of popular health magazines.

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  22. Kristen, very weird indeed. Especially because those are very big cotton balls they stuff in those bottles! But, depending on the era, I guess it wasn't a good idea to throw something "perfectly good" away, right?

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  23. Thank you, Maria. I know you are in this same situation. My mother is getting some relief from the physical therapy, thank goodness. I'm glad you and your sister can work together towards what's the best thing for your mother.

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  24. BLW, thanks for saying there was humor in this. I honestly didn't see it but I thought that I've got to stop hesitating before publishing - you should see how many unpublished drafts I have! And all because I think I should write it better, or funnier, or whatever. And then what happens? A blogger gone awol.

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  25. Robin, if I find a ball of string in my mom's house (probably the size of a boulder) I'm not going to be happy! I don't know what one does with small pieces of scrap string but I guess I'd know if I ever needed it, right?

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  26. Jennifer, the funny thing about all this pill hoarding is that my mom can't actually take anything due to various sensitivities! I just have to go in there and clean it all out - at least pre-2000, right?

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  27. I enjoyed reading your poignant post. Speaking of your Stepfather's epoxy fix-up reminds me how the previous generations fixed things instead of buying new ones. What a lost art, really.

    I've been understanding that my parents are, like me, getting older. They're grandparents now, and the next major birthday milestone for both of them is 70. That really freaks me out a little. But other than that, they are, thank G-d, doing really well.

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  28. Wow, Linda, what a story. They are very lucky to have you. It's sad to think how little regard the medical community (and society as a whole) have for the elderly. My parents are still relatively young and I wouldn't dream of going through their medicine cabinets. I learned my lesson when I was living under their roof not to look through their things: sex toys and books, weed, my mom's journal, and much more. No thank you. If they need me in their later years, I'm bringing my own drugs (for me and them).

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  29. My father takes more pills daily than any 8 people combined. I often worry about what will happen if he gets confused and screws up the dosage.

    And I know for certain that my folks already have quite the collection of odds and ends. Life has its moments and these are part of them.

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  30. Rivki, you're so right about my parents' generation fixing things. It's a much greener solution too, but it did strike me as funny because of all those vise grips!

    And I don't blame you for that bit of a panic at the milestone birthday coming up for your parents because, while 70 can really be okay, suddenly there's the perspective of seeing how quickly ten years went and how quickly that 70 will become 80. And 80, I've found, can be very different than 70.

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  31. Michelle, that is so funny! The startling surprises under your parents' roof. Well, at least you know they have a good relationship, right? I have a different scenario going on here: more like Lithuanian immigrant (my mother) meets American Gothic farmer (my stepfather). It could be a sitcom.

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