mom's birthday ...

... was Saturday. But as the days of the week (or the year) don't mean as much to her these days, we will celebrate it when we return. I know I will get another big smile from her when I see her.


Happy 81st birthday, Mom!

hunger strike

My mom is being difficult at the nursing home, not eating and drinking like she should. According to the nurses, doctor and nurse's aides, she is only eating or drinking abut 25% — everything is measured in percentages in their world — at each meal. Maybe at lunch she brings it up to 50% Maybe.

She was difficult when she was in the hospital after her fall, too, and I had suspected at that time that that might be the new norm, basically the beginning of the end. And then she seemed to rally, even really like her new surroundings. Maybe she still does. But there is no denying that over the past week she has taken stubborn to new levels, refusing a lot of the food and even some of the liquids offered to her. you know that if she's not eating chocolate ice cream she's serious. It's the only aspect of her life that she is still in control of, I guess.

She may not want to eat her soup, but she loves her doggie

So what to do? The doc has given her an appetite stimulant. That usually takes about a week to kick in. We all know that starvation is not a rapid affair. I hope that is not the road we are traveling. but I have to be prepared for whatever she wants and doesn't want to do. We have been bringing our dachshund to see her every week and that has made her happy, as they both have missed each other. I guess we can just keep taking things day by day and try to focus on the happy moments.

every time you go away you take a piece of me with you

There's no good way to lose a loved one. But I've been thinking lately about the differences between someone going suddenly, and someone going bit by bit. I watched my cousin slip away gradually a few years ago — it was excruciating for her, for me, and for everyone who loved her. At the same time my mother started to go away as well. She has dementia, and it was becoming clear as we were that I would have to step in and start helping mom out. So we moved to Florida.

I've spent the past three years trying to be a good daughter, take care of my mom, and also take care of my daughter. It hasn't been easy. I've been in this fight or flight mode so long, that now that she's in a nursing home I don't know what to do with myself. I've had to deal with my own health issues, which I'm sure have been more than a little impacted by my mother's situation and the worrying that goes along with it. No blame, just the facts ma'am.

So this week has started to feel a little strange, as I have just begun to realize that I no longer have to take mom into consideration for the day's schedule, meals — a variety of things. This Thanksgiving and Christmas we could actually go somewhere, as mom would be safe in the nursing home. The past few years I never could have thought this way. I would have had to structure either a very short trip, or more likely, as she had been having more and more issues, keep us at home and not travel anywhere.


But since her fall in June all that has changed. I'm still in a bit of fight or flight mode, as I keep my tight schedule of acupuncture and chiropractic appointments, but I'm hoping that as my brain realizes that some of the pressure is off, my body eventually will too.

It occurred to me the other day that I could actually do something outside of the house. Could I even think of a job? Maybe something part-time, or I could volunteer at the local library or museum. But I'm not gonna rush into things. This seems like a school-year or new year's project.

I never hesitated for a moment when it became clear that my mom needed me. She took good care of me when I was a kid, it was the very least that I could do for her. My ego is taking a bit of a blow lately as I realize that maybe I was holding on to her at home a bit longer than necessary. They are definitely taking better care of her at the nursing home than I could here at home. I'm sorry that she's no longer as mobile she used to be, but her health situation required this transfer.

Mom, as usual, was looking out for me. Her taking a fall necessitated not only a week in the hospital, but the transfer to an acute care facility (the new term for nursing home). I didn't have to commit her to such a place. Something I was holding off on doing as long as possible. Something that she had led me to believe that she dreaded. But lo and behold, she seems happy there. She would like our visits to be longer, but for the most part it's a good situation. Mom has let me off the hook. Now I can devote more time to my daughter and to myself. That's what a mom is supposed to do. Help you be the best you can be. As always, mom is doing just that.

Related articles

• mildred pierce and the slap heard 'round the nursing home
• all the noise, noise, noise, noise
• a new cast of characters

all the noise, noise, noise, noise

"And then ... all the noise! All the noise, noise, noise, noise!
If there's one thing I hate ... all the noise, noise, noise, noise!"
— How The Grinch Stole Christmas, by Dr. Seuss

I couldn't help it. The nursing home on Sunday afternoon reminded me of this quote from The Grinch. We were visiting in the common room with mom, sitting by the big window and trying to enjoy the view. But we couldn't help but get distracted because of all the noise:

Someone coughing up a lung - why don't they put her to bed in her room?

"Gabby," one of the residents who seems to only be able to make guttural grunts and exclamations, was in fine form.

The nurses were chattering non-stop.

The TV was tuned to a soft rock radio station with musi ranging from James Taylor to Huey Lewis to Elvis.

My mom's roommate was loudly complaining that no one would "Take her up to see her mother."

So many of the residents are very quiet and have to endure the noisier ones. Mom was content during all of this, watching the view outside. She was thrilled when we arrived, talked a bit, then soon relapsed into silence, watching the birds and the goings-on outside the window, down in the small park below. We were able to distract and interest her a little by showing her some iPhone photos of our pets, and images of other things that she likes, like Bugs Bunny and Pikachu.

I have come to realize that I can only stand about an hour or so of this. I feel guilty, but I can't help it. At least mom seems happy to be there and happy to see us. We are pulling back a bit, from seeing her every day when we were in crisis mode — when she was in the hospital and transitioning to the nursing home. This week we have gone every other day, and soon, I'm sure, especially once school starts up again, I think we will go a few times a week.

As noisy as it was, I think we'll make Sunday a regular day, fitting in another visit during the week when we can. And the noise ... we'll deal.

mom checks out the view

The nursing home has a location that's hard to beat

There are great bird-watching opportunities

(And people-watching, too)

a new cast of characters

My mom has settled in to her new life at the nursing home — but have I? I have to admit that I still find her living in this group situation a little unnerving. I know that I don't have the patience, knowledge, or facilities that she now requires to care for her at home. She's in the right place.

Image from the nursing home's facebook page

As we go to visit her and I see her react and interact with some of the other residents I am of two minds. Sometimes it is fun to see her "chat" with another person, a shade of her old "ladies who lunch" days. It doesn't seem to matter that what they may say to one another is fairly unintelligible. But there are other residents in the common room who don't always interact in the most positive manner. It's not exactly "cuckoo's nest" territory, but the movie and Jack Nicholson flit through my mind in regard to a few of the more difficult folks. And being me, I can't help but start to assign nicknames to everyone:

Dangerous (or Dastardly, or Dubious, insert appropriate D-word here) David - He is fond of using swear words and other guttural noises, and seems to have been (thankfully) banned from the dining room. He is a negative presence and we try to steer as clear of him as possible.

Miss Sugar - She reminds me of Aunt Esther from Sanford & Son and insists on adding four Sweet and Low packets to her soup (and just about everything else she eats).

Miss Itchy Scratchy - She has blue-painted nails and is constantly fluttering them and adjusting her pants legs, in constant motion, like a hummingbird.

The Stroller - She usually has a sour puss, but she and mom seem to have become friends. They sit together and look out the window at the gorgeous view (the nursing home is right across the street from the Intracoastal) and Ms. Stroller pokes mom playfully (mostly) and then points to something she wants her to see outside. It's sort of aggressive attention, yet friendly. Weird. But it reminds me of playground behavior, which I guess we never really can escape.

There are many more folks who are part of the regular cast of characters on the third floor. But what makes this whole transition a little easier on me is that my mom seems to be happy to be there. Dangerous David bugs her (and everyone else), but she loves all the nurses and attendants and seems to enjoy the many people-watching opportunities. For me, it's hard not to watch everyone and wonder who they used to be. Maybe I'll get glimpses, I just have to pay attention.

Related articles

• mildred pierce and the slap heard 'round the nursing home

mildred pierce and the slap heard 'round the nursing home

Yesterday at the nursing home we joined mom for an afternoon popcorn movie. The film had already started when we arrived. It was Hollywood classic Mildred Pierce.

Chosen as much for its recognizable star, Joan Crawford, as for its over-the-top mother-daughter relationship, for most of the film there was a pretty low level of engagement from the audience. Some napped, some were lost in their own little worlds, some, like my mom, just quietly watched. Until this scene:


Many of the residents gasped, woke up, or laughed when devil spawn Veda slapped her long-suffering mother Mildred.

Afternoon movies are just part of the program that they use to try to keep the residents engaged. Old Hollywood as therapy. I love it.

death in the vines

M. L. Longworth’s mystery series, set in Provence, continues to delight readers in its third book, Death in the Vines: A Verlaque and Bonnet Provencal Mystery. As much as the mystery intrigues—in this case some intertwined crimes involving a local winery, a missing elderly woman, and a rich man’s suspicious construction project—what really makes Longworth’s books enjoyable are the atmosphere and details that she includes of the South of France.

Author M. L. Longworth

Although the book can stand on its own, it would be more fully enjoyed if the reader is already familiar with author M. L. Longworth’s cultured sleuth, the Chief Magistrate of Aix-en-Provence, Judge Antoine Verlaque and his lovely law professor girlfriend Marine Bonnet, who previously appeared in Death at the Chateau Bremont and Murder in the Rue Dumas. Verlaque and Bonnet have had an up and down relationship over the course of Longworth’s three novels. Their relationship seems to be in its best shape ever in Death in the Vines, as they grow closer that ever before and Verlaque finally starts to deal with past familial and romantic relationships that have held him back before.

Verlaque is tasked with trying to solve a series of rape/murders in the area, which may or may not be linked to the disappearance of a disagreeable, but well-known in Aix, older woman named Madame D’Arras, who may be suffering from Alzheimer’s. Also gone missing are some rare (and random) wine bottles from the local winery Domaine Beauclaire. Verlaque is ably assisted on these cases by his Commissioner of Police, Bruno Paulik, whose wife Helene works at the winery, as Martine is distracted by personal health concerns.

Verlaque and his crew are able to solve and sort out the various crimes, but what makes Death in the Vines truly enjoyable is the joy that the characters take in between hunting for clues—appreciation of fine wines, a long, leisurely meal at a local restaurant, even the day-to-day decisions involved in Aix-en-Provence grocery shopping.

Longworth has a real feel for her characters and her setting, as she states in her blog:

After moving to Aix-en-Provence in 1997, I began writing articles about the region. I couldn’t get enough of Provence. … I began having conversations in my head and realized that if I wrote fiction then my characters could live in, and experience, Provence as I do. Aix is a law town—it has been since the Middle Ages—which seemed to me a good place to situate a mystery, and I imagined my protagonists involved in the law profession. … But above all, I really want the reader to experience Aix-en-Provence the way I do, as if they were beside me.

Longworth most certainly makes Aix-en-Provence and its environs come alive in a most engaging way. The only downside to Death in the Vines is that when Verlaque finally does catch his culprit the reader will be disappointed—no more shared meals and good times with Verlaque and Bonnet until Longworth’s next entry.

Related articles

• Book Review: 'Death in the Vines: A Verlaque and Bonnet Provencal Mystery' by M. L. Longworth

day 5

Mom is still resisting eating at the hospital — mostly because the soft food they are offering her tastes horrible — she's fine with chocolate Ensure, or just about chocolate anything. She doesn't seem to have broken anything, so if we are lucky and she holds steady tonight, we may be able to get her out of there tomorrow. Of course, "out of there" means that she will then be moved on to a rehab facility, where they can get her moving and eating. For how long there remains to be seen. It's still day-by-day mode around here for the present.

Chocolate can apparently solve some ills

bed 17

My mom took a fall yesterday. The kid heard it happen, 911 was called, and she was whisked to a hospital in record time. And then the big wait. First one ER, then another, at what was deemed a more appropriate hospital. As the seconds, minutes, and hours ticked away into a seemingly never-ending blob of incoming trauma patients that we could only hear through a curtained partition, I realized, that with all of her ongoing issues (dementia), we have really been lucky with mom. This was the first time we have had to go to a hospital with her in a very long time.


We are now in the wait-and-see mode, while the appropriate teams check her from stem to stern and make sure there was no damage to her head, spine, or hip (we got conflicting reports on the latter, but hopefully just an initial false alarm.) It sucks that she has to spend some time in the hospital, but she is in the best place for her at the moment. It puts us in "the zone," that emotional and physical place that seems like your regular day-to-day life, but just isn't. Not fun at all. But we're hanging in there.

i draw the line at led zeppelin (and billy joel and ... and ...)

We listen to the radio a lot in the car when we're out and about. I get sick of all the Kelly Clarkson/Taylor Swift/Katy Perry stuff on the pop station that my daughter likes, so we frequently switch to the oldies station — my mom, who has dementia, actually perks up and recognizes all of her favorite artists from times past, like the Bee Gees, Bruce Springsteen, Beach Boys, and the Eagles.

My mom had a mega-crush on Barry Gibb — probably still does

My mom was always a big fan of rock music, so our spins on the dial can land on either a pop or rock station. I don't mind hearing the Eagles and even the Bee Gees (although they rarely play the great, early songs), but I have to admit that lately I have been drawing the line at Led Zeppelin and changing the station when they come up. I'm not sure why their music sounds to me not just nostalgic, like the others, but out of date. Maybe it's Robert Plant's voice? I know for rock 'n roll aficionados, to criticize Zeppelin is probably as unpopular or unbelievable a statement to make as, "I hate chocolate," but there it is. I just don't have the patience while driving to sit through "Stairway to Heaven" for the umpteenth time. Ditto "The Wall" by Pink Floyd.

Yes, they are one of rock's great bands. No, I don't want to listen to them.

My mom never seems to mind if I skip Zeppelin or Pink Floyd. She's always been more of a Beatles/Rolling Stones fan anyway. I have found that I actually enjoy hearing the Stones more these days than when my mom played their music when I was a kid. Other no-gos: I don't want to hear Eric Clapton either. Or Elton John or Billy Joel if I can help it. So sue me.  I'm not always so successful with the latter two artists, as my mom really likes Elton John. "Crocodile Rock." Ouch.

We saw Elton at Madison Square Garden together many years ago. He was great. I just wish our local station would play some different songs by him. They seem caught in a "Crocodile Rock" and "Levon" programming loop.

Of course these days I'm as likely to hear music from my youth on an oldies station as from my mom's era. Time flies. Sigh. Music of the '80s and '90s are in as heavy rotation as "Moving Out" and “How Deep Is Your Love.” To be fair, there are artists from my oldies era that I will also skip if I can. Cyndi Lauper. Her songs are well-written, and I'd like to see Kinky Boots. It's just her voice that grates me. The Eurythmics. I know. Annie Lennox is great, but I don't want to hear "Here Comes the Rain Again." Ever.

Are there any songs or artists from bygone days that I am surprised that I am happy to hear? Michael Jackson comes to mind. Maybe it's because our station plays songs like "Man in the Mirror" and "Off the Wall" versus "Bad." But his music is always upbeat. K.C. and the Sunshine Band is also guilty pleasure fun. I have to admit that sometimes it feels a bit like I'm driving around in a time capsule. Will I ever get to hear contemporary music again — that isn't the kid's bubblegum pop? Suggestions welcome.

midnight rambler

My mom, who has dementia, has a new, occasional, night-time routine. After she gets up to use the bathroom, she really gets up. She gets dressed, she makes her bed, and she comes out to sit in her chair in the living room, in front of the big screen tv — in the dark. Because it's still the middle of the night. She has only done this a few times over the past few months — she did it again the other night. It's annoying for several reasons.

She wakes me up (and temporarily wakes up my daughter).
She could get hurt wandering around in the dark house (luckily, she hasn't so far).
She (and the rest of us) needs her rest.
Sitting up for hours in her chair would do her and her back no good at all.

Every night before I say good night to her I have been reminding her of the above four points, and she has agreed and nodded. I've even told her that if she feels like getting up and getting dressed fine — just go back to bed, as it won't be time to really get up until morning. The reminder usually works, except the other night, when it didn't.


She was annoyed when I told her she had to go back to bed, but I stood firm and she did. And she did need her sleep — she was sound asleep when I looked in on her in the morning. It's been suggested that I offer her one of the over-the-counter sleep aids. I'm not too sure about that, but I'll run it past her doc at her appointment next month. In the meantime I'm hoping that my being a little more firm, a little more clear as I say my goodnights, and she will go back to the preferred routine.

It's got to be so hard to really have no sense of time anymore. So much has got to be hard for her these days, but that one really strikes me as unfathomable. Probably because with the kid's school and my needing to keep various appointments (acupuncture, chiropractor) I can't even imagine not knowing or keeping a schedule. Here's hoping that we will all be getting a good, uninterrupted night's sleep tonight.

lost in the supermarket (actually, the library)

I couldn't help but have the Clash's Lost in the Supermarket running through my head yesterday when my mother disappeared. She and my daughter and I were at our local library, returning some DVDs and looking for more (and books, too, of course).

I'm all lost in the supermarket
I can no longer shop happily
I came in here for that special offer
A guaranteed personality

We took the elevator from the third floor, which has all of the kids' books, music, and movies, to the second floor, which has all of the current DVDs and Blu-rays. The kid and I headed to the DVD racks, while my mom went to the rest room. I told her we'd meet her "over there," gesturing towards the movies. About 8-10 minutes later, with our arms full of a few treasures, the kid checked the restroom — but she wasn't there.

I wasn't born so much as I fell out
Nobody seemed to notice me
We had a hedge back home in the suburbs
Over which I never could see

My mom has dementia. We go to the library together a lot, but we don't usually go together to the second floor — I usually just go on my own while she and the kid hang out up on the kids' floor. If mom has to use the restroom she usually uses the one on the first (main) floor and then we leave from there. I knew she couldn't have gone far, or left the library, but I can't say I wasn't worried. We looked all over the second floor, just to be sure she wasn't browsing and we missed her, and then headed to the first floor. No sign of mom. I stationed the kid on the first floor where she could see the elevator, and then headed back to the elevator to check all the floors. I asked the nice librarian on the kids' floor if she'd seen her, thinking she might have headed back there to find us, and she said no, but she'd keep an eye out. Floors four and two (and their bathrooms) didn't turn her up. Neither did looking out the window, down at my car parked n the street. I headed back down to the main floor. I was greeted by my daughter, smiling and nodding. Mom had come downstairs and was actually out in the lobby, waiting for us.

I heard the people who lived on the ceiling
Scream and fight most scarily
Hearing that noise was my first ever feeling
That's how it's been all around me

Is there a lesson here? A few, I think. Number one, for my own sanity, is not to drift away when she wants to do something, or to be more specific about where to meet in a future similar situation. Number two, maybe mom has more of an idea of how to operate the elevator and navigate the library (and the world) than I give her credit. I had pictured her, panicked on the elevator, not knowing what button to push. I'm always so "in charge" of where we go that she doesn't have to be. Maybe I need to let her try to do more. But I think that lesson number one will still help us all in the future, as this dementia roller coaster ride has its ups and downs, its hills and valleys.

some more mom landscapes

Some really nice pastel/watercolors that she did, featuring nearby spots.

some more mom treasures

Over the holiday break I have been doing some "spring" cleaning and have found some more of my mom's old sketchbooks. These two drawings are from 1983, the year she left (my dad and) New Jersey for a new life in Florida.

I find this first drawing particularly fun. My mom was always sketching, but I had no idea that she sketched my favorite '80s band, The Clash. She captured Mick Jones and Joe Strummer on television singing "Should I stay or Should I go" and "Straight to Hell." They must have been promoting Combat Rock. I even remember that sleeveless shirt of Joe's. Joe!

She must have done this drawing soon after arriving here at her mother's — my grandmother's — apartment in Florida. Our view from the same balcony hasn't changed very much all these years later.

some more mom art

Here are a few more of my mom's paintings. This one is a large-scale watercolor of a street in Illinois. I'm not sure if it's Glencoe, where she lived, or Chicago.

Here is one she did fairly soon after she arrived in Florida from New Jersey, in the early 1980s, after she divorced my father.

mom the painter

In my continuing effort to keep my mom's mind and memories engaged we have been displaying a lot of her artwork around the apartment. Here are three that I particularly like. The first two were also entered into local art shows.

This painting of trees makes me think of one of her favorite painters, Edvard Munch. I love the palm trees and ocean inserted into the background, and the squirrel in the foreground.

This painting was a surprise to me when we pulled it out of her closet. It is a highly stylized view out the front window of my former Park Slope, Brooklyn apartment. I love the collage elements and how she transformed a fairly brown and gray landscape into this colorful, playful street scene. I lived in Brooklyn for over ten years — while I went to Parsons School of Design and after. Mom visited me quite often, but I never knew she took photographs of this view or did this painting.

This is a quite large-scale painting of a very familiar local view — what one sees when crossing the Royal Palm Bridge from Palm Beach into West Palm Beach. Of course not everyone is lucky enough to see a gigantic flying silver fish.

spaghetti and meatballs

The other night we ate out at a little Italian cafe that we have been wanting to try for a while. My mom loves pasta and she asked me to order for her. I ordered one of her all-time favorites, angel hair pasta with basil and tomato sauce, figuring that would be a safe bet. She didn't seem to like it, and didn't eat very much, so I had to give her something else when we got home. It was no big deal. I didn't think too much about it.

Last night we went out to another local restaurant I have been wanting to try. Their specialty is "hip" home cooking. Mom was immediately drawn to the spaghetti and meatballs on the menu, so I ordered it for her. The plate arrived, heaped with spaghetti and two gigantic meatballs. After a few minutes I noticed she was struggling, not sure whether to use her spoon or knife. I replaced the spoon with the fork in her hand and she started to twirl the spaghetti, but was still having trouble. I cut up the spaghetti into more manageable bite-sized pieces and she was able to eat some of it, but it was clear she was frustrated. She did manage to polish off the meatballs.

That night as she was going to bed I asked her if she liked the restaurant and she apologized for having had trouble with her food. I dismissed that and told her not to worry — from now on I know better to be sure that the pasta I order for her is penne or something more manageable. When I make pasta at home it's usually penne or shells — that's what my daughter likes. I just haven't thought about it. Until now. Having a parent with dementia, everything is new and a little confusing — not just to them, but to me, too. I need to rethink some things as my mom needs to adjust to what she can do, too. Luckily pasta, which she loves, comes in a lot of easy-to-eat shapes and sizes.

operation anti-dementia

I got a brainstorm this week. My mother, who has dementia, is an artist and we have a closet full of her work that we never get to see. Our house is full of many beautiful old paintings that have been acquired over the years by various ancestors. It gives the place a rather formal look. This weekend I suggested to her that we take down and store some of the old landscapes and replace them on the walls with some of her work. I thought it might be nice for her to have some very visual reminders of her talents — and it would be nice for my daughter and me to have those reminders, too.

My mom liked the idea and had a blast going through the paintings with me. I think we were both pleasantly surprised at how many she remembered doing. We even managed to put some unfinished ones aside, so we were able to do some spring cleaning, too. I'll be posting some of her colorful work over the rest of the month, but here is one that I really liked that is now hanging in her bedroom. It's very Florida, quirky, even silly. Like a lot of her work she mixes painting and collage. I really like it.






The experience had an impact on her, because the next day she was eager to look through a portfolio we have of some of her drawings. I think this may be a good thing to do every once in a while. Everyone has accomplishments that they want to revisit and share.