Relaxatives and Softeners

Dear Diary,

There are times when I have to act as a sensor. A kind of sorter-outer of all news depressing or aggravating to my MIL Ruth (dementia) so the ACTUAL drama of a particular event doesn’t cause granny to get her GRANNY PANTS in a bunch. Life is dramatic enough over at Happy Daze Assisted Living— floor ROAM..why should I add to it by having to be the bearer of all things lackluster? I came to the realization long ago..that there is really no point in telling Ruth the hard cold facts..when I can make it easier on BOTH of us by dousing them in honey.

Straight truth? No good has ever come from it. Blech. I tried it once. Ruth went over it and over it in that head of hers..reliving it ad nauseam..The anguish and HEARTACHE. Asking me every 45-60 seconds.. “Tell me again, why AlienDude28 can’t play my Wii tennis?” (In front of punished child) “Seems to ME mommy, that THAT’S a very steep punishment for this poor child (child is making “kitty eyes” on cue). Maybe he couldn’t sleep and THAT’s why he snuck out of bed and played Club Penguin till 3:00am. Isn’t that right sweetie?” Then that’s all I’ll hear about for the rest of the day and if I’m really lucky..straight into the next. I don’t tell Ruth fibs..per say. I just make the truth much more palatable for all involved while staying loosely on topic.

Most of Ruth’s chums up on the Alzheimer’s floor have “memory issues” (others fake it.. lured by the promise of the ALL NIGHT parties) and I find myself often in the position of explaining these “brain disabilities” to Ruth because some of the behaviors are..shall we say..different.  It’s a known fact that Irma is a “low talker”. Well.. it actually get worse than that. Irma speaks in MARTIAN tongues a-n-d she’s a low talker. Imagine being my Ruth and having to sit with Irma over breakfast and while you’re still confused from waking up.. trying to figure out how you got to France in the first place..some lady leans over and whispers urgently (in FRENCH?) “Shwer ne rthsjy ehj quiejf!!!!!!”

RUTH: I’m so sorry..but I don’t understand anything you just said. I don’t live here.. I’m just visiting.

IRMA (More dramatically with arms flailing): abnsju herkt, dhjiitfm lkoe feerey tekyre woque!!!!!

RUTH: Ummmm.. “Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir? Giuchie, Giuchie, ya ya dada?”

Impressive Ruth. Just a few plays of Lady Marmalade during Happy Hands class and JUST look what you learned from Christina Aguilera.

The trick is to not give too MUCH information (which will create more problems than it’s worth) during your explanation of “troubling situation” but enough to satisfy the inquiring mind.. for about five minutes. There exists a sweet spot in all this semi fabrication.. you just need to practice to find the right balance. I sometimes don’t take my own advice and end up getting slyly pulllllled into a conversation only to see a little too late where we’re heading..slam on the brakes and honk the horn as diversionary tactic.

Yesterday, Ruth and I were in the middle of a lovely little chat about elementary school (her grandchild..SmartAlec4 just finished third grade). Out of some stray neuron firing in her brain synapses she remembers HER third grade teacher Mrs. Dinkoman. Ahhh yes! Such a gal— ole Mrs. Dinkoman. She had amazing hair. Kind and patient. Wonderful woman. Lives next door. Wants to go visit..

UUUURRRRRKKKKK.

HONK. HONK. HONK.

I didn’t get THIS good overnight.

A

Facts of Life

Dear Diary,

Sometimes my MIL Ruth (dementia) and I get into great philosophical discussion on some really heavy topic and shed all kinds of brilliant insight on it..an amazing meeting of the minds. I don’t even know how these little chats happen. Maybe I say something like, “So, Ruth..I haven’t seen Waldo from down the hall.. Room 213, in a looooooong time..(Pause to see if she jumps in)
Is he still..a-r-o-u-n-d?” (See how I avoided the word DEAD?)
Then Ruth will ponder that question for a minute or two..or three and say, “Well, last time I saw him he was alive. Let’s see..hmmm…it’s so darn hard to keep track of these things. Why? What do you know?”

It’s a well-known unwritten law that around Happy Daze Assisted Living, you don’t ever talk about death or dying..probably because you don’t want to put ideas in anyone’s head. Really. Because let’s say Selma catches wind of the fact that Roger kicked it..maybe she might think about the fact that perhaps SHE may not live forever and that would freak her out so badly that she would suffer a heart attack and WHAM another Happy Daze casualty. That can’t look good on the ole STATE record, eh. Ruth and I have a very open line of communication. We can talk about (almost) anything..and do until one of us has to find the bathroom, discovers her chin hairs need to be plucked again or feels it’s time to go see what kind of stew they’re serving for lunch in the dining hall. POOF! Discussion O-V-E-R.

Today the topic was lifecycles of the human being..including birth, death and everything else in between. Ruth tells me after my “Where’s Waldo?”question.. that she saw something on MTV (I told the staff to turn it OFF after My Sweet Sixteen) that got her “thinking” about life and the “D” word. Let me just take a moment to tell you how I feel about Ruth “thinking”. Any pondering on a given thought.. is not always a good thing with dementia. When Ruth starts to think.. it becomes darn hard to shut it off. I could be hearing about the topic in question for hours..if not days (depending how “stuck” it is in her short term memory bank). But, it’s a good time killer and keeps her out of mischief— so I indulge her.

Just so we can all be clear on where I stand on the subject of death..NOT a huge fan. Why couldn’t the system work a little differently? So—if I were in charge..first off.. death wouldn’t be all.. final. I’m not big on the..That’s it. You’re O-V-E-R. It would be more like a coffee break, “Hey guys! Just stepping out back for a few years. I’ll see you in TEN. Be chill.” Ruth, has another perspective.

“When you get to be my age..ummm..92 (she ages herself by ten years to lessen the shock) you start to consider the fact that you might not be here forever..”

ME: What are you saying to me? We’ve already paid for you here through 2015. You can’t go anywhere.”

Slight fib. But just the thought that she might consider she has an option makes me nervous.

RUTH: Well, I feel I’ve had a very full life. I have gotten to do many wonderful adventures. I’ve had sooo many delightful men in my life..

NOT. GOING. THERE. RUTH.

RUTH (long pause while she thinks about all the men): PAUSE

Pause

Pause

RUTH: (cont.) When it’s time— it’s time.

We had some great clarity come out of this twenty minutes of analysis and I thought it would be very helpful to all our readers to summarize these high points..if only to shed some different kind of meaning to the purpose of life and the ending stages that we all must endure.

Ruth likes to hear the story of Grandpa Max. This amazing man lived a full life until the young age of 108 yrs. when he decided he needed a day off from work and took a permanent LOA. Grandpa loved his Schnapps (booze) and cigars and when he reached 100 he’d lament, “If I knew I was going to live this long..I would have taken better care of myself.”

Ruth likes to rub it in how great she HAS taken care of herself. Her hair always looks great, she has a girl (me) who does her nails and her figure has always been slim. Ruth says she has a great life. I do have a hunch that it’s in that thought “I have a great life” that there is great peace and contentment inside— making surrender to life’s process possible. Ruth lives in the minute and lives life with GUSTO. So.. she’s more then O.K. with the rules of the game of life. Good on HER.

“But Granny” I say, “just think..if we were to use my death system, we would all be given some kind of written contract going into the game that stated clearly..how much time we have. That way..if there are any procrastinators among us who are still hanging out, watching life meander by, wondering why on earth they are HERE..it would be stated in BOLD, legible print the amount of time they have to get their “shwanky” together.

“Party A may remain on planet earth for a period of _______ years under guidelines listed in section D paragraph 322 F which states..Not one second is to be wasted and not one day pass without some feeling of accomplishment, joy, gratitude and fullness.”

Ruth loves my system. Unfortunately. It’s out of my hands.

Being in MY SANDWICH GENERATION means that we have a foot in both worlds. We have Act I. of life— with our children. The great thrill of so many wonders of existence, revealing themselves..unfolding daily. Then we have our seniors in Act III. Slowing down and becoming more reflective of their time spent.. how they can spend it with the people they love. Because we are taking such great care of ourselves..straddling these two worlds should not cause any snappage. If anything, we have exposure to both sides. We can draw on the experience of both the left leg and the right legs to jump into OUR life with both. Live life to the fullest with no holding back..and embrace IT..
and the ones you love.

Stretchhhhhhh..

A

Copyright © 2009 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.

Hat Head

Dear Diary,

The fun thing about eldercare is that you really get to expand your horizons in ways you never dreamed of. In the MANY years I have spent as advocate/caregiver for my MIL Ruth (in all of her dementia splendor) and Granny Marnie (electric scooter riding adrenalin junkie) I have found myself in the position of wearing numerous types of hats almost daily. Doctor, lawyer, therapist, matchmaker, spy..you name it..I’ve done it. Even the hats you didn’t name because we’re in mixed company. I’ve worn THEM too. Because I’m one part thrill seeker and one part clueless..I’ll try on anything—at least once. Well.. with ONE exception. Ruth’s white FLOPPY, fake fruited, Chiquita Banana girl beach hat. Sorry. NO. I refused to “model” it for her even though she begged and offered me all the stolen free, green foiled mints, she had shoved into her coat pocket over the months. Forget. That. Being that my objective is to ensure a quality of life that is “over the top thrilling” for Ruth and Marnie, I just place my head in to awaiting head covering and miraculously..KA-POW. Presto change-o. I become whatever skill sets they need and enjoy the thrill of on the job training to boot.

Some of the hats I have to put on regularly:

1. Skull Cap: Ethics

Relationship Counseling: Anything having to do with dating, men, marriage, etc. And dating married men with etc.

Marriage Counseling (Marnie): How best to negotiate so it’s a win win during arguments dealing with- thermostat variations (she wants it cold 75 degrees, he wants it warm..90 degrees), food preferences (she likes her food and drink..real, he likes his food and drink in neon colors) and in the bedroom (HE never wants to leave the bed..EWWWWW. You’re my GRANNY.)

“All he does is sleep.” Phewwww.

2. Scrubs Cap: Medical

Gastroenterology: Treating constipation issues, hemorrhoid complaints, prune over doses, off gassing problems, regularity disorders.

Urology: Diagnosis (because crazy mood swings and table dancing won’t be cause for alarm with the Happy Daze Assisted Living staff I can count on THAT). Collections (Oh..you think your going to “find someone ELSE” to get it for you. NOT in this life.) Delivery (transport of precious cargo to “real” doctors office for testing to confirm what you ALREADY know.. but now need to pay $150 to confirm.)

Dermatology: Ability to spot “pre-cancerous trouble” and then cover-up by telling her..she’s going to the spa to get BOTOX injections while driving her to “real” dermatologists office to get moles frozen off.

3. Knit Beenie Cup Cap: Athletic Supporter

Leading Chai Tea Class: Slow, Soothing movements for those that like to eat (scones) and drink (mochas) while they exercise.

Teaching Cardio Class: Get the heart pumping while sitting on your bootie lifting your arms up and down to the soothing sounds of Lady GaGa singing Love Game.

Happy Hands: Wrist turns and finger thrusts are all a part of keeping the digits flexible. Because you never know when you might need to use the old “bird finger”.

4. Dunce Cap:
Data not available at this time.

My Sandwich Generation friends, it doesn’t matter that you might not have attended Medical School, Beauty School, Psychiatric School, Geriatric School, Driving Sch…Nooot so f-a-s-t. That one you DO need. When some “little” issue arises it doesn’t matter that you haven’t read it yet in your eldercare manual (as if). Count to three and jump right in..just make sure your helmet’s on tightly. My guess is that your hair may suffer but your senior sure won’t.

Here’s to helmet head!

A

Copyright © 2009 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserve

Saving Face

Dear Diary,

I walked into Marnie and Papa G’s place the other day..KillJoy Senior Living: if it’s not already done—we’ll do it to you..only to find a big huge surprise awaiting as I entered through Granny’s front door. I have to admit.. I did have a moment of elation as I bent down to hug and kiss Marnie and observed two near perfect symmetrical eyebrows..placed just where they should be (not in the crease of her eyelid or three inches above, gravitating into her forehead). This morning as I gazed at granny, reclining back in her electric scooter, an immensely appealing expression radiating forth from her face..I had the thought how fortunate we all should be..to age so gracefully and be so hap..

“AAAAACCCCKK! OMG! Your FAAAACE! What happened to your f-a-c-e?” Papa G. had just rounded the corner with a shiner spanning the entire length of the left side of his face. A beautiful canvas in which various shades of purples and pinks had blended together to form the portrait of a man who looks like he just finished a few rounds in the ring with..

“I fell off the toilet yesterday and hit my head on the counter. Had to call emergency and everything. No, your grandmother didn’t do this to me.”

O.K. Adrienne be cool. You don’t want to freak the poor guy out. Judging by the looks of things he’s already suffered from enough trauma.

“You fell off the TOILET? What were you doing on there?”

Duh. Wait. Let me re-phrase that.

She hit you didn’t she? You turned the heat up to ninety again and BAM! Please tell me she hit you..because that other story is NOT something I would care to repeat. I know. It was Edger down in room 312 wasn’t it? That E-D-G-A-R. Always a hot head. I’m going down there RIGHT this minute. I’ll bet he’s looking wayyyyyy worse then you. Right Papa G.? Right?

“So, my hip hurt and the next thing I know..down I went.”

CRIPES.

Turning to Marnie for answers is not always the best path to choose when one needs explanations fast and accurately. Yet. Because I never learn..

“Marnie..where were YOU when all this was happening?”

Marnie it turns out had a few..uh hum issues of her own..thus explaining the ICE pack I have now astutely observed her SITTING on.. in the thirty or so seconds since I walked in the door. Yup. Too many prunes can do that to you. What did I tell you about MODERATION? So in other words Marnie, you were..ummm—“indisposed” down the hall, when Papa G needed some help. Then when you heard him shout out for help you..What? Oh I see. It took a few more “minutes” before you “jumped” back in your electric scooter to see what all the fuss was about back in the bedroom. How’s your hearing these days Marnie? Blechhhhh.

I don’t even want to think about how long Papa G was down and out. The important thing is that he got the proper help and he’s still standing.

“Is there anything I can do to cover this thing up?” Papa G. is staring imploringly at me. “Wellllll. I could slap some foundation and concealer on it and see if that helps.” Yeah. That was a good answer. But. Oh. No. Couldn’t just stop there. Had to give a full explanation of how the concealer has yellow undertones that will help to cancel out the red of the bruise and that the foundation has blue to counter act the effect of the red. Papa G. was not buying any of it. The mere mention of me applying anything on HIS face made him recoil in horror..the much too fresh memory of me drawing on Marnies eyebrows for 1 1/2 hours LAST week still apparently lingering. I took another approach.

“G—I have to tell you. You can carry “it” (banged and battered) off..really well. I know so many guys around here with the same badass LOOK. Think of it as right of passage into the hip dudes club. All you need is a pack of MARLBOROS rolled up in your under shirt sleeve and a can of Schlitz (Drat. Marnie had one in the refrigerator but I tossed it. Had NO idea it was a false bottomed “safe”) and you will look all fly and tough boy. Girls like that. Right Marnie?” Marnie? M-A-R-N-I-E?

Here comes Granny zooming around the corner like she’s drag racing, shouting “H-o-n-e-y. We have a slight problem” and waving empty medicine vials in my direction. “Papa G dumped out all his different TYPES of medicine bottles full of tiny white pills and we need you to sort them out. How are your eyes..today? OK?” My eyes are fine it’s my SANITY I’m most worried about.

UURRKKKKKKK.

She has just missed my foot by ¼ of an inch with that 400 LB. scooter of hers. I swear..one of these days she’s gonna flip that baby over or take out Papa G.. if she doesn’t ease up on the gas. THAT would be an interesting 911 call..as if THIS incident wasn’t thought provoking enough.

Doesn’t matter where your seniors live MY SANDWICH GENERATION readers..there is always the chance that the most innocuous fixture or appliance (those heated hair rollers..SCARY) can cause injury. The only action we can take in our advocacy roll is to make sure the throw rugs are removed, the computer cords are stashed and all bathrooms sinks are padded. After that..march on down to SEPHORA and purchase bulk amounts of concealer stick. You’ll need it for YOUR dark circles.

Don’t trip.

A

Copyright © 2009 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.

IN THE MOOD

Dear Diary,

Life’s predictability got you down? Is every day just a repeat of the one before? Well, now there’s hope for all of you who crave a change from the monotony of the daily grind. I found it and now I’ll share it with you. Through this exclusive,  limited, ONE time offer— You can borrow my MIL Ruth (dementia) for..What? Five hours..maybe six? Money back guaranteed, if not delighted. Chase away your doldrums and add punch to your day. That’s right. Act now and I’ll even throw  in a COSTCO size Prunes..plus, your own “be prepared” bag filled with all kinds of goodies (a $55 value..the DEPENDS alone were $20). All THIS for.. Absolutely NOTHING. Yup! You heard right.. What a bargain huh? Going once. Going twice. Going three times. YO. Just shout out any time. Going four. Five. Cripes! Maybe you want to know what you GET for your money. I can’t tell you exaaactly what you’ll get.. but I can assure you you’ll be in for a surprise..Every. Single. Time. And oh how fun THAT is.

I don’t have a problem with moody people. When I walk into Happy Daze Assisted Living and head up to floor ROAM I actually get a few butterflies’ just contemplating all the excitement that might befall me as I walk through the faux bookcase doors. I guess you’d say I’m a bit of an adrenaline junkie. Down the catwalk (I can HEAR you whispering trash about ME to Lena..Shirley. My butt hasn’t changed size FYI) I go. Rounding the corner I enter the dining hall..like some of those guests stepping onto the Oprah stage for the first time.. a tad skittish with a smidge of terror and a “holy cow” grin plastered upon their faces.

Now it can go two ways. Ruth will either be sitting on the couch with the rest of her peeps..just chillin’ talking smack about Ellen’s pension for hussy behavior and happily guffawing away with the rest of them. Then—upon seeing me.. Ruth will wave and jump up and kiss me and introduce me around.

(Sweet chirping voice) “A”..I’d like to introduce you to my friend.. Ummm Frank? No. You’re not Frank. You’re Ned..No. Not Ned? Aren’t you that guy who I see all the time in the hall and wave to? Well..then your name is Ned. That’s what I’ll call you from now on. Ned.

or with sucky bad luck I’ll get..

Sitting in a chair off to one side with a look of pure contempt for having been kept waiting for over five minutes for her   “Chai Tea” class to begin. Then when laying eyes on me.. my greeting will change e-v-e-r so slightly.

(Piss and Vinegar voice) “Adrienne. Look what they are having us do? Can you believe this? We’re all just sitting around like a bunch of dummies? So, let’s do something. Can you dance?”

Every once in awhile..I have to admit..Ruth wakes up a little on the pensive and brooding side. Then it’s all..w-h-a-t-e-v-e-r. We just adjust the activity of the day from a jog around the courtyard to.. staring at the fish bowl. Not hugely entertaining, but it’s NOT me were trying to entertain. O.K. that’s not ENTIRELY true. It’s a better day when Ruth and I can watch Harriet cuss out Faye for cussing out Ted for trying to put his hand on her thigh. Yeah..fascinating. The best plan I have on these PMS (Problematic Mother-in-law Situation) days is to lay low and try not to get an accessory of some sort thrown at me (macaroni tube necklace or plastic pink lei).

I’m a ONE mood at a time type of gal. If we’re going to PMS then I know how to redirect and do foolish things like reading some tabloid trash (my twitter page) to take Ruth’s mind off of whatever it is that’s irritating. But, I tend to get slightly confused when “moody Madge” switches it up on me every 20min. so that I don’t know who I have standing in her UGGS in front of me at any given time. I can do “peeved to happy to jubilant” It’s the “darling to irked to flipping me off” that I stink at. I could be in the middle of a charming chat with Ruth and some of the girls around the staff hangout..and out of nowhere..KABOOM!

“I’ve had enough of THESE people. Don’t they know I have things to do?” (Um. I’m sure they did Ruth but it slipped their minds..entirely.) STOMP. STOMP. “Well don’t just stand there..take me home. In fact..NO. I’ll walk home.”

Off goes Ruth with yours truly following closely behind. Swerving down the hall like a girl that’s had a few too many Prunetini’s, Ruth seeks out her residence. Slight problem. WRONG Hallway. Hmmm. Wait. She’s pulling a U’y and heading back towards me.

“Now what do you want? Are you following me? Who moved my room?”

The best treatment for these little episodes is some rest and liquids..

And wait for Ruth to find her way back to her room.

My Sandwich Generation— a valuable piece of information for you. Sometimes when your senior parent acts a bit weird and you have ruled out relationship turmoil such as but not limited to:

1. Breaking up with one or more of boyfriends listed in little black book on nightstand.
1a. Catching Hattie putting moves on love interest when preoccupied with “corn removal” on feet.
1b. Finding love interest in somebody else’s bed. Not realizing that it WAS his bed— Betty just THOUGHT it was hers..by mistake.(wink wink)

Then you must rule out physical causes. Just remember..wait till they cool DOWN before collecting “specimen” from a pissy parent.

Going once. Going twice.
SOLD.

A

Copyright © 2009 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.

VAGUE-Health and Fitness: Inside Out

A woman’s quest to achieve and then maintain, throughout her life an eternally youthful look and super ripped (functioning) hottie bod— is a universal one. There is not a girl among us.. living at Happy Daze Assisted Living-floor ROAM, who doesn’t think from time to time about keeping her waist line under the circumference of a 500 year old Sequoia and her more MATURE skin less wrinkled then her Sunbleached Crinkle flower tee (J.Crew $42.50 Item 19095 in case you care) that has been shoved in her night stand. Of course if shriveled tee is paired with distressed vintage women ummmmm..slim jeans.. in antique destroyed wash, the look can be ultra fresh and hip. My MIL Ruth, who has dementia and is not afraid to USE it..is extremely vocal on the subject of wrinkles and exercise but also expresses articulately— that to capture beauty..one must find it first from deep within. The editors of VAGUE Magazine recently had the opportunity to sit down with Ruth (our June cover model) for her perspective on keeping healthy, fit and happy when walking the hallways of ROAM.

When we found Ruth she had just finished her daily Happy Hands class and was daintily dabbing at the perspiration that had come.. due to the intensity of the finger twirl reps her group had just completed.

“You know I make it look easy..but there is nothing easy about holding up this finger (bird finger) and twirling it around in circles.”

Ruth was right. We tried the bird maneuver and had little success completing more than five twirls ourselves. It was tough work. Who knew that by doing finger twirls and thrusts we could elevate our heart rate and burn off maybe..10 calories in the process.

Ruth told us her next fav exercise and secret to good health is her twice daily practice of TM (Transcendental Meditation). We were asked to wait a moment while she changed into her special meditation clothes. We were not sure what to expect when it comes to TM attire but were pleasantly surprised when Ruth came back out wearing her sequined Liz Claiborne white tank and matching cardi, crème slacks and her best pair of old lady pumps in tan (it’s a look). Fresh lipstick (MAC, FYI) had been aptly applied and her hair looked divine. This is definitely something that could work for us.

Of course we were all secretly hoping Ruth would emerge from her changing room dressed in long flowing robes or at least lulu lemon yoga pants and halter. In she’d float..all wisdom and grace, wrap her legs around her neck and begin some other more noticeable and dramatic display. Bummer. What we witnessed was much more subtle. Ruth showed us her “meditation” chair (a mega lazy boy recliner) where she sits—plunked herself down, kicked up her legs onto the leg rest and begins her Transcendental dive into silence.

We sat transfixed as she performed this technique with skill and efficiency. Well, we’re not really sure how much skill it takes to close your eyes and relax. But within moments we could almost swear that her breathing was non-existent. One of us got up and walked up to Ruth to..you know..JUST check to be sure..she was..

ALIVE.

“Yes? What do you need?”

OOPS A DAISY.

Guess she’s good.

We apologized and went back to our assigned seats to continue watching the metamorphosis. Her face relaxed, all tension in her body abated..the silence around her was so profound. We watched quietly. Hmmmm. Nothing too much to see. Well.. one thing we noticed. She began to make a s-o-u-n-d. It was a very familiar sound. Much like the one my husband makes right before I jab him in the rib cage and tell him to SLEEP ON THE COUCH. By golly. Ruth was S-N-O-R-I-N-G. We tiptoed out, careful to not awaken our sleeping Yogi.

Ruth emerged later..having changed back into her “street attire”— looking ever so bright and refreshed. We asked her if there were any OTHER secrets she would be willing to share on her delightful beauty..inside and out.

“Not that I r-e-c-a-l-l. Did I mention the finger twirls?

Before hitting the Root Beer floats being passed as accompaniment to the Tuna FINGER sandwiches; Ruth came over to restate her point. Anyone can capture the fountain of youth. Doesn’t matter if you’re young or just plain young at heart. It’s easy, reasonably priced (unlike the FACE LIFT everyone knows Greta had) and brings out the true inner as well as outer beauty in all. We only need to have the tool to dive deep within to capture the prize that lies inside.

Finger twirls..ONE..TWO..THREE..FOUR..

Faking It

Dear Diary,

Way in the back of select medical school texts, after the paragraph (no less than 5,000 pages) on dementia.. exists a very teeny-tiny section dedicated to those much like my MIL Ruth (Alzheimer’s) who posses the talent for faking it. These dementia clad, are so incredibly skilled..so SUPREMELY gifted in the arena of the fake out that it can be virtually impossible to distinguish between them and their fully functioning cohorts. When Ruth decides to flip the “switch”— usually prior to meeting doctors, friends from the past or extended family. It can be extremely unnerving to the caregiver (me) who has done the pre-dementia prep. and now looks like a complete moron and pathological liar because loved one has failed to put out proper dementia behavior.

Supremely gifted and talented Dementia Peeps: How to diagnose the fakers, is a must read chapter.. that goes into great depth about being able to pick up the obvious subtle differences between, say— An attractive women showing up for her Happy Hands class with her nightie tucked fashionably into her stretch pants (who has impaired cognitive functioning) as opposed to the woman who shows up in the IDENTICAL outfit who is “all systems go”. With a series of possible scenarios this awesome page guides the doctors–to-be in ways to see what lies under the façade so that misdiagnosis does not occur.

When Ruth was getting ready to move into Happy Daze Assisted living-Floor ROAM after having lived with us..I knew that the facility would have a good clear read on where Ruth was in her dementia as they sat her down to ask a few questions.

Examiner: Ruth, can you tell us what season it is?

RUTH: Brrrrr. Does it feel cold in here? Did you bring your coat in?

Examiner: Why yes..would you like to borrow it? (handing her his down parka)

RUTH: No I’m fine. It’s Winter.

DING. DING. DING.
Ruth one. Examiner— goose egg. Next question please..

Examiner(Handing Ruth a 60 item lunch menu): Here Ruth. Take a gander at this and tell me what you would like to have for lunch. Take your time.

RUTH: What’s good?

Examiner: I can’t tell you Ruth. You have to order by yourself.

RUTH: (leans closer to examiner under the auspice of warm friendly action, but in realty is sniffing his breath)  Tuna.

Examiner: Well done.

At this point in the exam I’m feeling a slight bit concerned. Come on sly fox. Screw up. I know you too well. It’s just a matter of time..

Examiner: How old are you Ruth?

RUTH: 92 years old.

Ah ha! She’s only 80..

Examiner: What year were you born?

RUTH: 1965.

Woo Hoo.. Woo Hoo.. Woo Hoo..

Examiner: Where do you live now?

RUTH: With her.(pointing to me)

That was TO FREAKIN’ EASY. Foul! Foul!

Examiner: Who is that Ruth?

RUTH: Oh come.. on. That’s ADRIENNE. We’ve known her for years. She’s married to my son..

Yeah Ruth. Which ONE did I marry. Speak up.. we can’t hear you..

RUTH: my son..

V-I-C-T-O-R-Y. Booh-Ya.

RUTH: ahhhh.. I’m feeling a bit parched. Do you think I may have a sip of water?

I always go to great lengths to “prepare” all Ruth’s guests prior to their arrival for their “Ruth Date” on what they may encounter during their thirty to forty-five minute chat with my MIL. It’s so comforting to have the visitor in the course of my pre-chat tell me “Of course Ruth will remember me. How can she not?” Yes. I’m sure she will. Positive in fact..
I’ll tell you how she CAN NOT!! She has DEMENTIA people. GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

It’s not my problem if they blow off everything I tell them in favor of clinging to their ignorant beliefs. I try to prepare them for changes they may observe in Ruth thus avoiding potential shrieks of hysteria—

“OMG Ruth! What has SHE done to you?” or “Ruth..are you feeling better? Do you still have that.. what-do-ya call it?” Or my personal fav “We had asked Adrienne if we could take you to a party but she told us no.” Shocking. The. Nerve. To invoke my name in conjunction with the word PARTY is unforgivable especially if used in a way that even remotely suggests that I have interfered with party attendance. Ruth does not forgive easily if a leak occurs and Ruth catches wind of an affair to which she had been invited that I had declined on her behalf. I only do it because the last function the loud speakers were blasting the Cha Cha Slide and Ruth got soooo confused about the direction she was supposed to go..

Slide to the left.. Now, slide to the right..She was bumping into kids, bumping into walls.. it was a real travesty.
All that instruction wacked her out for a full week.

Much behind the scenes prep work goes on with granny BEFORE her “big reveal” to her friends and distant cousins (who saw her last in 1803).. There are names to be learned, factoids to memorize, and wardrobe malfunctions to be conquered..
“No. you’re not wearing that sheer blouse over a tank. It does NOTHING for you and it looks cheap..all that boobage falling all over the place. I don’t remember buying it for you Ruth..what were we thinking to put it with? Oh..yeah..”

Down we go.. to the “Free Tea and Cookies” area. Act one. Scene one.

L-I-GH-T-S    C-A-M-E-R-A   A-C-T-ION

Ruth enters with huge grin on her face. Waltzes stage right..to cousin Doris and exclaims, “Doris, you look fantastic. You haven’t changed a bit since the last time I saw you 5,000 years ago at Hortence’s party. Are you still selling Real Estate in..

At this point Doris has glanced up and is smirking at me with a “In your face. I T-O-L-D you so” look. My girl Ruth is looking like SUCH a star. There they are..back and forth. Doris pitching and Ruth smacking it out of the park. Yeah. It’s all good. All. Good. Then Ruth has to go to the bathroom. Up I jump to escort her through the routine and Doris needs to hammer in the last nail, “Ruth remember Dick?” “Oh sure I do”, answers Ruth as she launches into a 15 minute detailed synopsis of her relationship with DICK and Tom and yes..even Harry too. Doris starts to leave on this parting note..pulling me aside she whispers (spitting on my face), “Ruth was just as with-it as ever. That’s what Bertie had told me she’d be like. She said Ruth does just fine and we should ask her if she wants to go to Kitty’s 82nd Birthday luncheon. We’re only having a small group of thirty-five girls. What do you think?”

Strippers?

Ultimately after visits with fore mentioned “forgetful one” I will be faced with the very pointed comment from the departed visitor upon post phone wrap up that goes something like this:

“She doesn’t look like she has Alzheimer’s. And she certainly doesn’t ACT like she has Alzheimer’s. Are you sure she has it?” No. You know what? You’re right. She doesn’t LOOK like she has Alzheimer’s because how do people with Alzheimer’s look? Yes. I just get a cheap thrill out of peeping through her bathroom stall shouting instructions because I have nothing better to do. Plus, I haven’t the heart to tell you this..but, the minute we left you..Ruth wanted to know who you were, because she had never SEEN you before in her life and for the record..has “no idea” who Dick is. Then she went to her bedroom and passed out until dinner. That was hard work for Ruth. She’s just a truly remarkable and talented actress who can give you a show of a lifetime. My Sandwich Generation, just remember, they may try to fake it with everyone else but you will always know better. It will be our LITTLE secret.

Wink. Wink.

A

Copyright © 2009 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.

A day in COURT

Dear Diary,

I have a question. Should women DATE the married men they live with? Is this ever a good idea? So, let’s say for the sake of argument.. that there’s this GUY that you think is just d-i-v-i-n-e and he lives in room 217 on the dementia floor— right next to you. Good. Now, let’s add another element.. Say he’s not married.. then a week into the relationship, POOF— suddenly “remembers” he is. What do you do with that information? Sure..he tells you his sob story about his floozy eighty-eight year old wife living down stairs. How she conspiratorially moved him upstairs to the ROAM floor NOT because he had episodes of following strangers out of Happy Daze Assisted Livings front door yelling,“Hey.. that’s mah boy ova there..HOLLAAAAA!” But.. because she was cheating on him— with another dude. Do you believe his tale of woe? Or kick his pathetic excuse for buttocks to the curb? All of you riding on moral high horses climb on down and let me explain..then you can be judgey if you so choose.

My MIL Ruth also has dementia and she knows full well that this gives her carte blanche to do pretty much whatever the heck she wants. Let’s say she wakes up one morning and thinks that it might be nice to strike up a relationship with a good looking gentleman(s). Why not? Nothing else to do. With some minimal assistance she gets all gussied up in her finest stretchy pants (last season) and body hugging “sharewear” top from next door neighbor Shirley (two doors and two sizes.. down) and marches into the dining room deciding which lovely gentlemen will be the recipient of her charms. Ruth is one of those girls that with a slight crook of the finger all the suitors jump in line. Maybe jump is not the right word in this case..more like “wheel in line” or “shuffle quickly in line”. Whoever gets to Ruth first wins. But only if they’re:

- reasonably good looking. Suitors must be able to “see” or pretend to, Ruth’s beautiful smile and her lovely eye’s with those “dramatically drawn on” expressive brows. What you shouldn’t be able to see are the chin hairs that developed in under 24 hours..Causing me to ponder the idea that m-a-y-b-e her facial moisturizer is acting like a fertilizer to nourish new sproutings.

-packing their own teeth or at the least..a pretend set that stays in with good glue. She will notice when their dentures do the slip and slide while they chew and talk.

click.   click.   clack.   click.

Not a good look for anybody. But fascinating to watch.

-drive a nice car. They cannot remember that they “..now drive a 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air Convertible.” SOOO will not stand a chance. Go directly to back of line.

Today she had an announcement to make and decided to hurl it in my direction in the middle of chin hair weeding. As I.. the forever steady handed MOTHER PLUCKER, began to work my way through the thatch that had just recently popped up (much akin to the Hairy Crabgrass sprouting on my lawn) Ruth shared her good news.

“I’m seeing two nice married boyfriends. We all get along so well.. OUCH! What happened there? You find a big one?”

I always like to play it cool. You know..just until I can gather all the dirt scoop. It can take upwards of two..maybe three hours to get to the crux of the sordid tale. What you don’t want to do is PANIC. Just nice and easy does it.

ME: (caps lock voice): COME AGAIN?

RUTH: I’ll bet you even know these fellas..lets see one is named..ummm…

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

ME: Is it Gart and Cracks?

RUTH: Ooh. Ouch. Ooch. Yeah.. How’d you know? Did I tell you before?

ME: No. I just guessed.

Here’s what I know about Cracks and Gart.

Cracks can’t seem to keep his story straight about his marital status. Wow. Shocking. I. Know. First he’s “not married and I’ve been single all of my life.” Then his wife shows up (to bust his sorry posterior) from downstairs..Bertie, and suddenly he’s all, “I want you to meet my wife of fifty-two years we have five children and 13 grand children and thirty-five great grandchildren together. Now sit right here on the couch with us for an hour Ruth and let me rattle off all of their names and birth dates to you.

Then what happens when “Bertie” walks out the keypad locked faux bookcase and heads back down stairs?

Wife? What wife? I don’t have a wife. That lady that was just here? Don’t be silly..THAT was my mother.

Peh.

Ruth fell for him in all of five seconds. Not just because of his “amazing” backhand during Wii tennis but also because he’s a sharp dresser and a great conversationalist. What do they talk about? It’s mostly about him.. Cracks tells her all about his top position as Productions Assistant for RCA..specializing in record player productions.

“Remarkable year we had..this year. With that new fella Bing Crosby putting out all those great records. The kids need something to play them on huh?

Heh. Heh. Heh.

“Tee-hee-hee.” Laughs Ruth, in her polite lady like titter (no..I didn’t say twitter). She looks up at him with her big eyes and flashes him her pearly yellows and I’m telling you..poor Cracks can’t help but drop soup down the front of himself..

Cracks has another name..it’s Heath. Ruth and I just named him cracks because he likes to wear his pants on his hips like “those fellas I see on TV.” I don’t know why the staff lets these people watch that GARBAGE. When I leave the TV room (after Cribs is over)..  my guess is that.. they are secretly turning it back to MTV. Where else would Ruth be getting the idea to wear her intimate apparel on the outside of her shirt and “forget” to put on DEPENDS under her slacks. Thanks Paris. Lindsay.

Gart is the one with the cheating eighty-eight year old wife. I guess he could POSSIBLY be telling the truth. It’s not completely out of the question. Maybe his “old lady” IS cheating on him.. I’ll have to inform my team of special investigators..Agent Fran #9 and Agent Lil #13 to take mental notes. They watch and know everything that goes on around Happy Daze Assisted and will be MORE than willing to keep eagle eyes on old Garts wife. Until then..anything goes.

My Sandwich Generation..who are we to judge? We can’t possibly hang a guy simply for forgetting he’s married. We will allow him to live..provided he produces a medical certificate proving without a shadow of a doubt that he’s NOT faking. Not an easy deal to watch your loved one date..but the reality is whatever makes them happy..makes YOUR life easier. See..there is an upside to dementia.

Guilty!

A

Copyright © 2009 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.

BASKET CASE

Dear Diary,

I don’t know what possessed me. Usually I’m very careful to make sure that before my Mother-in-law comes within twenty feet of our house— the place has been properly fumigated, sterilized and every last bit of debris disposed of or at least hidden well from the “prying” eyes of Ruth (club dementia). Being the procrastinator that I am.. I tend to put off  “Operation SH- Hovel” until the last possible second. Upon MIL’s impending arrival I hastily cram anything left over into an inconspicuous plastic storage bin PERMA-marked in GIGANTIC letters “Stay-Free Maxi Pads”. It had to say something that would dissuade one as overly curious as Granny from further inquiry into drawer contents. Pretty much what I’m banking on is that she will recognize the words “Pads” and think they’re DEPENDS..no thrill there.

I question the judiciousness of my actions NOW..but at the time I thought it was a fab idea to take Ruth up on HER offer to come over and help me with “any chores around the house”. I just take a moment here to fill you in on the fact that Ruth l-o-v-e-s to help. Take for instance the time that Frank did I face plant from his walker over on ROAM (Alzheimer’s floor). As the story goes 6’2 tall Frank (190 Lbs) was cruising down the hallway at warp speed when he leaned a little too much to the right and..POW. The next thing you know our good ole boy was kissing the ground at Ruth’s feet UGGS. What does she do? Why— what any good Samaritan worth their salt would do. Feeling that it was nothing she couldn’t handle ALONE.. she began trying to hoist him up by his belt..

Puuullllinnnnggg..ughhhhhhh. Tuuuggggggging..arghhhhhh.

Wouldn’t budge.

Poor Frank was going to suffer MORE before this rescue was complete.

Finally..the Happy Days Assisted staff “stumbled” upon them when they heard poor Franks calls out for help. Seems that Ruth, unsuccessful at her attempts in belt pulling switched to “other” methodologies. The guy couldn’t walk for a week..and NOT because of “back” soreness.

Ruth is always asking me if she can help ME out in anyway. When she lived with us I always felt it was important for her to participate in tasks so as to feel that she was a needed and contributing member of our family. With dementia, it’s important to find activities that meet the following criteria:

Easy
Dull (no cutlery polishing please)
Stain-resistant
Inexpensive
Redo-able
Seated (to avoid walking while engaged in “job” hence tripping over unseen LEGOS on floor)

Keep in mind that this list is a loose compilation and may not work for everyone i.e. anal-retentive. Please let’s NOT get me started on THAT issue..again.

My children felt that THEY had much more appropriate chores for granny to do than the ones I had issued. AlienDude and SmartAlec “employed” granny to play “NERF PELLET” pick up. A little like the game 52 Card Pick-up..or that’s what they told her. They’d fire off a few rounds of NERF ammo at each other and then have their adoring devoted GRANDMOTHER run around and gather them all up. Tried the same stunt with the LEGOS all over the toy room floor..until their highly suspicious Mother stumbled upon their NERF ammo stacked neatly in the refrigerator and knew just who to scold.

Given the guidelines..the ideal job for Ruth is LAUNDRY FOLDING..maybe some vacuuming– but that’s a well-supervised task that requires proper accessories (ear-plugs) a cord holding assistant and no furniture whatsoever in the vicinity.. so that was a problem.

This time..banking on the fact that her eyesight is virtually nonexistent (except when an adorable Dude is spotted..hence AHBAD) it wouldn’t be necessary to put Operation Sh- Hovel into effect. I could bring Ruth over to our place without any prep work  to “help” with the laundry thus accomplishing three things..

Ruth feeling needed

Ruth getting out of Happy Daze

Ruth making a dent in five-foot high laundry pile

Even as I write this I am slapping myself upside the head.

I have Ruth seated in “her” comfy chair and I go to retrieve the basket from the..hallway. Ummm. I had NO choice. I had to. It filled up the entire laundry room and was spilling into the kitchen. Plus, I thought if I moved it into the hall “someone” would get the HINT. “Someone” used it as a recliner to watch SPONGE BOB on the living room TV. “SOMEONE” else laid his damp towels across the top so “they would dry.”

No. Such. Luck.

I drag in the basket part of the way..empty out a good 1/3 and continue on. Picking it up and carrying it to granny. Unfortunately when I dropped it down..it landed on her foot. Nothing like a sixty pound, full up, laundry basket landing on your foot to illicit a yelp of pain. OOPS.

“HOW many Y-E-A-R-S have you been saving up for ME? Adrienne..how could you let it go this long? Give me the phone. We need to call Marnie and tell HER to get her scooter over here and help..NOW.”

Unbelievable. When did she decide to become COGNIZENT? In the car ride over here?

She wants me to call my GRANDMOTHER (electric scooter girl). I’m not calling Marnie..that’s like sticking my own neck into the noose. Granny Marnie will have it advertised all over KillJoy Inc. and beyond.. in under an hour guaranteed. I’ll never be able to walk into her place without all the old girls sniggering at me and pointing..

(Pointing) “There goes the girl who made her poor MIL and granny do six hours of laundry. Can you imagine Fran? I ask you..What kind of PERSON neglects her laundry like that? I’ll TELL you what kind—it’s elder abuse.”

Honestly. I only had Ruth work on it for thirty minutes tops. I kept sneaking out armfuls and throwing it in the back bedroom because I couldn’t stop the trash talking to save MY LIFE:

RUTH: I have n-e-v-e-r. In MY day we did OUR laundry. What do you DO all day? Sit around and read OPRAH (should have hid that magazine)..

ME: Well did you see the bathroom? The bathroom’s clean.

RUTH: How can I see the bathroom when I can’t get up?

I told Ruth we’re done and she looks at me and says all snarky like..”WE’RE? I should get paid for this..next time.”

Ruth..I want you to forget this EVER happened..OK? OK? feh…feh.feh.feh.

MSG BFF’s.. Sometimes you just can’t do it all. Then it boils down to a coin toss..pure and simple. It’s important to involve your senior family members in your home life activities and to make them feel needed. Maybe you might consider doing a FEW of the dishes in the sink prior to their arrival, but other than that, the few harsh words you may have hurled your way are NOTHING compared to their gains of feeling needed and useful in your life..and theirs.

I fold.

A

Copyright © 2009 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.

GIVE ME A BREAK!

Dear Diary,

My heart is flipping over with such force that I think I can feel my nostrils vibrate. Good. That’s a nice look at a time like this. He’s speaking to me— leaning in really close..whispering just loudly enough for only my ears to hear. My breathing is getting heavy and more laborious. I think this is partially due to the after effect of the veggie bean chili with cheese and The Three Tomatoes I devoured at lunch. I think I might s-w-o-o-n. Since I’ve never had an opportunity to SWOON.. I’m not really sure of the mechanics of said swoon. You know..where do the legs go? Do I place the back of my hand on my forehead? Or is that too old school? No. I need to stick around to hear the crescendo. He’s leaning in closer and closer as he speaks and for a split second..I don’t know why..my thoughts veer off in the direction of a potential halitosis situation at hand. I can actually feel the intense crimson color turn a shade deeper on my face as he’s whispering those three little words that every girl longs to hear— to me..

WE.
LOST.
RUTH.

“..AAAAAACCCCKKKKK! How could you lose her—this isn’t NORDSTROM? Did you not know she has DEMENTIA? That’s her “job” to wander off and YOUR job is to stop her. That’s why she’s HERE remember?”

Poor Larry. Such a great guy. One of the cutest staff members at Happy Daze Assisted Living. My MIL Ruth loves Larry..in fact whenever Larry is leading an exercise class or has been assigned “bus trip” duty for the ROAM (dementia) floor, Ruth goes all AHBAD (Alzheimer’s Halted By Adorable Dude) on me and then almost convinces me with a finely thought out argument why she should “move out and get her own place”.

Larry looks absolutely distraught as he points to all the staff running helter-skelter around the downstairs area where a musical performance is in full swing. Code Red! Code Red! They’re coming from all floors now..staff running around in circles, staff hitting the streets, staff sneaking in back for a quick smoke. Didn’t think I noticed..did you? MR. you know who you are.. waiter dude. Couldn’t give me a refill on fries after I asked nicely. Peh.

I’m firing off questions to Larry left and right:

Where was she last seen?

What was she wearing?

Bra on the outside of shirt? Or inside?

Lipstick shade?

I can see it all now. Here come the sirens and the cops. Red lights flashing..

APB: We have a report of missing granny with freshly styled hairdo..Greyish with some blue highlights–missing from the ROAM floor. May look slightly.. perplexed, with poorly drawn on eyebrows. (break) Wearing nightie stuffed into stretch ugly colored pants and disposable (one time wear) pedicure thongs on feet. If found.. take directly to bathroom first before questioning. (break)

CRIPES. ALL. MIGHTY.

Oh wait. There’s more. Larry tells me Ruth has an accomplice. Oh dear LORD..please don’t let it be Harriet or Blanche..again. The last time this happened, Ruth and Blanche had been hanging out around the faux key padded bookcase on ROAM looking highly suspicious. When I saw them together.. I just sensed that something was going down. Plus— I know full well what a b-a-d influence THAT Blanche is on Ruth. Somehow Ruth had fallen in with the wrong crowd. Doris, Blanche, Shirley..they just had a nose for trouble. Anyway..Ruth and Blanche tailgated some workmen out the “bookcase” by “pretending” to not look like they had dementia according to one guy’s story. Yeah..I can see it now. Ruth with her big toothy smiley all..

“Hi. What are you up too? Nice day we’re having. Mind if my friend..umm.. (Whispering to Blanche) Pssst? What did you say your name was?

BLANCHE: Blanche

RUTH: Blanche.. and I come along?

“Sure.” says the guy and out they all go— into the hall, where Blanche and Ruth now have the daunting task of figuring out HOW to work the elevator. Hasn’t Ruth asked me a MILLION times how to use it “just in case” she EVER needs to “go somewhere?”  That should have been my first warning.

The girls made it onto the elevator and pressed floor one. Dumb freakin’ luck..that’s all I chalk it up to. Down the two escapees go to the first floor lobby looking forward to freedom as they headed straight towards the door. The mistakes they made were:

a.    Forgetting where the front door was.
b.    Forgetting what they were doing downstairs
c.    Asking the receptionist for directions to the Eiffel Tower.

The attempt was foiled by sheer chance. I was down the hall speaking with the activities coordinator about the purchase of appropriate work out clothes for Ruth’s Happy Hands class. Before I run out and spend a fortune on GROOVE pants and Silver threaded no stink top at Lululemon Athletica as Granny requested, I need to make sure Ruth has been actually PARTICIPATING in the class and not just sitting there socializing.

I ran smack gobbers right into the two outlaws in the lobby as they realized they had slipped up on their last “request” for directions and started hoofing it right towards the door.

“Ruth. What are you DOING down here?” I shout. Absolutely shocked that they made it THIS far.

RUTH: Well..I don’t know? (Turning to Blanche)What are we doing here she wants to know?

BLANCHE: I’m not quite sure..but we have a cab to catch so if you’ll kindly step out of OUR way.

Yup. SSSSSSSUUUUUUUURRRRRREEEEEE I will.

Holy Cow.. it’s Faye with Ruth on the lam! Now we’ll defiantly need to check every Casino and BINGO hall within a fifty-mile radius. The only thing going for us is the well-known fact that they’ll make a quick detour. Thanks to Faye’s love of the sauce, it’s a sure thing that they’re in some bar knocking back a few as we speak. Some Jell-O shots.. a little table dancing.. oh baby.. you’re stoked for a grand adventure.

SCREE-EEEE-CHHH-HHH.

Say what? Why who’s that standing over THERE watching all the excitement from the corner of the Ladies bathroom entrance? Why..I’ll be. It’s my Ruth and her little friend Faye. What’s that you say? You want to know WHY nobody has invited you to play “the game”. O.K. I’m going to be sooo cool and composed about this..

ME: What could you have POSSIBLY been thinking in that HEAD of yours? I have been worried sick..

RUTH: Adri..

ME: Let me finish.. I didn’t know where you were. I didn’t know if you’d been kidnapped? What? You think I just could go get another Mother-in-Law to take care of? Is THAT what you think? If I couldn’t find you..

RUTH: Adrie..

ME: NO. NO TALKING. I’m not done. Where were you that it was SO important that you RUN off with..FAYE of all people?

ME: Well? Don’t just STAND there. Answer. The. Question.

RUTH: Can I talk now?

ME: Talk.

RUTH: I was in the bathroom.

ME: Why were you in the bathroom?

Um. So, maybe it wasn’t the most intelligent question to ask. But I just needed to hear it for myself.

RUTH: Well, isn’t that where you go when you have to go tinkle? Is there someplace ELSE new that I don’t know about?

Oh I see. A real comedienne. A jokester now is she? Ha Ha Ha

RUTH: Faye said she knew where it was so I followed her. Big deal..What did I miss?

Oh MY SANDWICH GENERATION Hero’s (or Gyro’s for the authentic sandwich connoisseur)..never a dull moment in the eldercare game. The real lesson here is.. you can’t take your eye off your seniors even for a minute. Always be on your toes. With those eyes of YOURS wide open. If you ever feel the urge to blink..just pretend you’re a guard at Buckingham Palace..DON’T.

BAM!
Made you blink.

A

Copyright © 2009 My Sandwich Generation. All rights reserved.