Memory Care

I am not a crier by nature (the recent bout of depression not withstanding).  I

did not cry when I went back to work after each of my maternity leaves. I did

not cry when my kids started kindergarten.  I did not cry when I hauled each of

them off to college. Okay, I did shed a tear or two at their commencement

ceremonies but no wailing and gnashing of teeth.

However.

The first time my mom didn’t recognize me just about put me on my knees in

despair.  Even though I knew it was coming as there is a strong family history of
dementia in Mom’s family.  Even though she has called my by her sister’s name
forever. When she literally thought I was her sister and should remember an
incident from their childhood, it shocked me.  

When she started to wander away from her house looking for people who can
only be found in heaven, we knew it was becoming a safety issue and made the
decision to move her to a memory care facility.

We found a wonderful place close to Baby Brother’s neighborhood.  The staff is

friendly and welcoming and inclusive. The whole building is bright, cheerful, and
full of natural light.  The rooms are cozy, clean, and private. Best of all, there
are people there who can give Mom the kind of care she needs.

So now we have all of these memories that no one else knows and only we

remember.  

Some of my personal favorites are:

When Mom and I were trying to capture a loose calf and return it to its pen, but

when Mom got the halter on it, it jumped and ran and dragged Mom through
some yucky stuff.

When Mom made her award-winning outhouse Halloween costume out of chicken

wire and paper mache (see photo above).

When Mom and I went to my orthodontic consultation and they gave her the price

of my braces. She turned to me and asked if I was worth $2000. I told her I was priceless.

When I asked her what was the difference between liking someone and loving

someone, she told me, “You like someone because.  You love someone although.”  

LOVE that piece of advice!

When I asked her what to look for in a husband, she said to marry someone who

could make me laugh but who I was comfortable being silent with.

I've adjusted to her thinking that I am her sister now so when she asks me if I remember something from their childhood, I simply say “No, I must have been too young to remember that.”  It isn’t the whole truth but isn’t really a lie either. So even though I am not a crier by nature, this new normal with Mom does bring a tear to my eye more often than not.

Your loved ones will someday be the keeper of the memories of your times
together.  Take care to make them good memories. That’s what I call memory
care.

Images used:

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Calm Down, Gramma, It's Just a Bear

Finally...something that inspired me to write again.  I was starting to worry that I had
“lost it” after our debacle of a winter.  Whew!!

We had a fun weekend because Cubby was around.  That kid slays me! She was here
Saturday afternoon and evening while Young Man and Mama Bear went out with some friends.  

We took her to church with us and for a Lutheran toddler, she did really well sitting through
a Catholic Palm Sunday mass!  She actually had a stare down with a whiny child behind us. 
She’s kind of judgey! 

After we got out of church and I was buckling her in her car seat, she says, “Gramma, where
are we going to eat?”  The following conversation took place. 

G:  We are going home to eat supper.

C:  At my home?

G:  No at Grampa and Gramma’s home.

C:  I want to go to McDonalds.

G:  I understand that, but we are going to our house.

C:  Why can’t we eat at McDonalds?

G:  Because we are going home to eat.

(By this time we were well on our way home on Highway 52)

C:  Grampa you just passed McDonalds.

G:  Yes, and he is going to pass a couple more on our way home.

C:  Don’t you like McDonalds?

G:  Not really.

C:  I like McDonalds hamburgers.

You get the idea.  

So we get home and I start making supper consisting of hamburgers, candied onions, and
green beans.  We get sat down at the table, say grace, and I put some hamburger on her
plate. 

“Gramma, I don’t like hamburgers.”  What the fudge?! What happened to the 15-minute
conversation about McDonald's hamburgers?  So….you just don’t like MY hamburgers.  Tough
luck, kid, eat the hamburger. 

After the battle of supper, we retired to the recliner for snuggles and Netflix.  She finally
settled on Barbie.  I could have gone the rest of my life without needing to know Barbie had
a TV series because she is more annoying than Barney.  

Over the course of several episodes, there was a bear that kept popping up in the scenes.  
After the third time, I said, “What’s with the bear?” 

Cubby looked up at my, put up her hand in that talk to the hand gesture and said, “Calm
down, Gramma, it’s just a bear.”  I almost wet myself laughing. 

I wasn’t laughing so hard later on when I went to take her home and tried to back out of the
garage without opening the door first.  We were both crying after that.  Luckily Captain is a
handy dandy kind of guy and he got it fixed good enough that it works even though it isn’t
as pretty as it used to be.  Come to think of it, I should probably look at my truck to see if
that has any damage.  Wouldn’t that just be a kicker?

Sunday morning Captain took me out for breakfast at Newts, which was nice to just have a
relaxing meal out together.  With spring rush coming, we won’t be able to do that for
awhile. 

We ran into a couple of folks from church so stopped and chatted with them for a bit before
going on a look-about.  We just sort of meandered here and there on our way home and had
an enjoyable time together. 

I worked Aisles On Line (hereinafter referred to as AOL) in the afternoon and evening.  I’m
getting the hang of the job.  For everybody (including myself) who thought it was hilarious
that I have a job grocery shopping when I can’t stand doing my own grocery shopping...this
is different.  This is buying specific items.  There are no decisions to be made, no angst of
price-per-unit differences, and no Captain beside me telling me I’m buying the wrong thing.  So don’t judge! 

I am finding it is an excellent exercise program.  I should really invest in a FitBit or knockoff
thereof.  Or maybe my phone has a pedometer on it.  Hmmm...that’s worth checking into.  

That all might not seem all that exciting to anyone but me as far as weekends go, but it
worked for us.  Being inspired to write about it just absolutely made my day!!

Blessings, my friends!

Images used:

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What's In Your Purse?

How many of you ladies have heard your husband say, “What do you have in this purse...the kitchen sink?” Can I see a show of hands?

Yep, 96.87%...about what i figured.

Aren’t they precious?



If you mined my purse you would find: a tube of Burt’s Bees chapstick, a tube of Carmex, a tube of lipstick, my ID badge for work, a multipurpose tool, my sunglasses, my Big Fat Wallet (™), a dozen loose receipts from Walmart, Target, and Hy-Vee, two checkbooks, a pack of Wet Ones, three paper clips, a bottle of Febreeze, four pens, a comb, and a fishing bobber (thanks, Captain).





Not one kitchen sink to be found.

Know what else is not and never has been in my purse? Kleenexes. Even when the kids were little I just never got in the habit of carrying tissues in my purse. This has caused a conundrum on occasion when noses needed to be wiped, but I could usually come up with a dried out wet wipe that would do the trick. Or the kids would just use their sleeves.

One new thing I have started carrying in my purse due to recent events is a bottle of peppermint essential oil to sniff if my tummy is giving me fits. I don’t know why it works, but it does.

I am new to this essential oil game but I’m becoming a believer. Maybe it’s a placebo effect that is all in my head, but whatever works, right? Besides the bottle in my purse, I also have a diffuser (like a humidifier/mister kind of thing) on my nightstand.

As I was tiptoeing around the internet trying to find reputable information on aromatherapy I found multiple references that ginger was one of the best oils to use for nausea prevention and treatment. So the first night I had the diffuser, I followed the directions where it said to fill it with water and add 2 to 3 drops of oil.

If you ask Captain, he will tell you that ginger oil in a diffuser smells like dog butts. Don’t ask me how he knows what that smells like...I don’t want to know. It’s true it was pretty potent and I have since found out that it is much more tolerable if you use 1 drop of ginger, 2 drops of lavender, and 3 drops of peppermint.

Captain kind of turns his nose up at the essential oil craze and calls it hoo-doo. When you think about it, though, it is probably what people used before there were tens of thousands of pills to take. I’m sure Native Americans, among others, used many of the same remedies, and they must have worked.

I just know that it seems to be helping me to use these oils so I will continue to do so until they don’t work.

Blessings to you my friends!

Images used:

http://d21c.com/micjam/Winter/Think-Spring.jpg

http://healthfoundationsbirthcenter.files.wordpress.com/2014/02/essential-oils.jpg

Even Keel

Hello, friends!  

I realize it has been a very long time since I've posted anything.  Life has been...let's just say...beyond crazy for the last weeks and months.  

For part of that time, I found myself in a dark place.  This is uncharted territory for me as it has always been a point of pride--smugness--that I could handle whatever life threw at me with the grace of God and supportive family and friends.  

Turns out I was wrong.  Oh, I still had God, family, and friends on my side.  I needed more.

Apparently one person can only take so much crap thrown at them before there is a breaking point.  Or at least a crack in the foundation.

The cumulative stress of being treated for (and cured of...YAY) breast cancer, another dismal year in the farm economy, major surgery for Captain, and extended cold snaps beat me down enough that it affected my health by way of ulcer-type stomach symptoms.  

That's easy enough to treat, right?  They have all kinds of medicine for that.  So I started taking it.  Two weeks later when it was no better I finally made an appointment with my family doctor to talk about treatment for depression.  I'm not ashamed of having to take medication for this, but I'm not totally comfortable with it yet, either.

Meanwhile, for the stomach issues, I made major diet and lifestyle changes.  Folks, I haven't had any coffee--none--in three weeks.  Actually, make that I haven't had any caffeine of any sort in that amount of time.  I don't eat anything with tomatoes in it.  I've been eating a lot of scrambled eggs, peanut butter sandwiches, and any sort of chicken soup or entree.  I've even resorted to Ensure drinks to make certain I am getting enough protein.  

I also started using essential oils (peppermint) as a topical rub and aromatherapy in a diffuser to try and combat the stomach stuff.  I sleep with four pillows behind me...so basically sitting up in bed.  

When I had my implant exchange surgery I thought that would relieve some stress.  Nope.  Now I was having increased anxiety with ridiculous and illogical thought processes.  

Back to the family doctor for a follow-up.  He assured us that after a negative abdominal CT scan, H. Pylori test, and EKG/Holter monitor testing the most likely cause for the stomach issues was situational stress, depression, and anxiety.  He adjusted the medication dosage, and we'll see how that goes for the next little while.  

I said I wasn't ashamed of having to take medication, and I'm not.  I'm--what's a less harsh word than ashamed--that I got knocked off my even keel and have actually been sort of wallowing in victim mode for a few weeks.  

I don't like that.  At all.  

So I'd ask you, dear friends, to pray for me.   That God heals me and makes me whole again.  Or, if that's not the plan, that God gives me the strength and courage to find ways to manage these health issues and not fall into whiny butt victim mode.  

Images used:
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Toddler Talk

Someone asked me recently why the blog posts had been few and far between.  Partly because I was distracted by medical appointments and then harvest and partly because I just wasn't feeling it.  Call it writer's block or whatever you want...there was just nothing in my head that was worth sharing with anyone!

Thank goodness for Cubby to get the old creative juices flowing again.  I do believe she is going to supply me with endless material over the next few years!!

We've seen quite a bit of Cubby in recent week since Young Man is helping Captain in the field with harvest.  Being a whopping three years old now and possessed of a fierce will and strong opinions, there have been some interesting conversations!

One night after she heard me have a heated discussion with Captain that included me shouting a blasphemous expletive on the phone, she asked if Grampa was naughty, which I assured her that he was!  When she saw Captain moments later, the first thing she said to him was "[insert blasphemous expletive] Grampa, you're naughty!"  Ooops...bad Gramma!

Another day when she was in the house with me, we were scrolling through my Facebook timeline because she likes to see the pictures.  It happened to be Veteran's Day, and she stopped scrolling when she came to an image with the American flag and an eagle.  She looked at it for a minute, looked up at me, and bellowed, "'Murica!"  Man, I love this kid to pieces!

Later that same day when Captain and Young Man came in from outside to have lunch, Captain was moaning about something, and Cubby turned to him with her hands on her hips and told him, "Grampa, quit your whining!"  Could she BE any cuter?!  Out of the mouths of babes, eh?

I know Molly gets a little upset when I say this, but the Gramma gig is the best thing ever and I just had to share some of it with you!

Images used:
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Harvest Happenings

Any of you who know someone who is trying to farm right now...you know how darn frustrating this fall has been! I’ve never seen anything like this weather.  We went from summer to winter with no really fall-like weather.  

And the rain/snow wet yucky stuff is not helping either.  If you didn’t have all of your soybeans harvested before that snow a couple of weeks ago...you may or may not have another opportunity to finish them this year.  I know this because we have 80 acres of soybeans out there waiting, but until it dries out, there is nothing we can do about it.  

We do have a bright note in our harvest adventures this year.  Cubby has joined the crew!

Sparky was not able to help us out this year due to a new job and different hours.  Everyone is sad about this.  

Young Man stepped up and agreed to help Captain with harvest at night and on weekends which has been most helpful.  Along with Young Man came Cubby.  

She has been most excited about "going farming" with the guys, and she has fairly firm opinions on things for a toddler. Case in point: If you see her, ask her if she thinks Grampa is any good at driving the grain cart.  

I’m not going to comment on maintenance, repairs, or parts runs so as not to jinx the situation.  I’ve done that before and learned my lesson!!

My contribution, as usual, is taking over Calf Country.  This wasn’t a burden during spring and summer at all.  Then I got that 6-week break after surgery.  Now that all my restrictions have been lifted, I have resumed my duties...in the cold and dark.  

I can handle the cold okay because I have all the appropriate outerwear needed for that.  It’s that dark thing that throws me for a loop.  Scoff all you want...I get anxiety attacks when I am in the dark alone.  Maybe I should have my cell phone on speaker and call someone while I am patrolling Calf Country in the dark.  Hmmm…

My other contribution is watching Cubby when it isn’t conducive for her to be in the field with her daddy and grampa.  I have learned something during the last couple of visits to Cubby’s house.

• I think three year olds are smarter than they used to be.  
• There is something out there more annoying than Barney.

Don’t believe me on either one of those things?  Here’s how I can convince you.  

1. Give any three-year-old that you know a smart phone to play with, and they’ll master it better than you do.  
2. Put in a DVD of Paw Patrol.  

I raised two kids who were crazy about that purple dinosaur, so I suffered for a couple of years watching countless episodes of him and his friends over...and over...and over.  

I’m here to testify that Paw Patrol is worse.  Trust me on this one.  I can't even pinpoint what exactly it is that irritates me so badly about it. I normally LOVE cartoons of any variety, but this one isn't doing it for me.

Apologies to Cubby and all others out there in Toddlerville who think Paw Patrol is the best thing since sliced bread.  We’re just going to have to agree to disagree on that one!

What happened to the good old cartoons like Scooby Doo (which, actually is a favorite of Cubby’s); Bugs Bunny; the Grape Ape; Speed Buggy; Rocky and Bullwinkle...where are they when we need some good honest entertainment?

Alas, harvest happenings mean I can’t take the time to figure that dilemma out.  Maybe when we are burrowed in over winter I will spend some time on that question.  Until then, stay safe in the fields pals of mine and prayers for a bountiful harvest!

Images used:

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Recovery Journey

I went to my breast cancer support group last night.  These are lovely ladies who have all faced breast cancer and survived.  Their stories aren’t mine to share, but I will say that after listening to some of their stories, I am so thankful that my journey was as smooth as could be expected.

My stock answer over the last eight weeks when someone asks how I’m doing is, “I’m doing very well, thank you.”  

It’s a true statement, and sometimes when I realize how much worse my journey could have been, I almost feel a little guilty.  A variant of survivor’s guilt I suppose.  Why do other people have such terrible struggles and I pretty much just sailed through the whole process without a hitch?  I don’t know.  Yet.  But God had a reason for it, I’m quite certain of that!

My road to recovery was paved with quite a few laughs.  I’ve said all along it’s laugh or cry, and you might as well laugh about what you can.  Crying gets you nowhere.  

Like when the plastic surgeon came into my hospital room for rounds the day after surgery and informed me that I had “very nice cleavage.”  Trust me when I tell you...that is the first time THOSE words had been uttered to or about me!  But...yay!

Part of my surgery was the placement of the tissue expanders.  These are basically rigid plastic air balloons.  Once those are placed, they strap on this torture device called a breast binder.  It’s a girdle for boobs.  I’m not sure what the logic is for putting major compression on balloons (wouldn’t they pop or deflate??)  but no one asked me.  

Under the binder were surgical dressings--one for each boob--and a foam shaper thing for each boob.  When it was time for me to take the first shower postoperatively, all of that had to come off and put back on again.  

I’m here to tell you that the foam shapers and the surgical dressings were no problem to get in place again, but to get that binder on was like trying to put an angry cat in a burlap sack.  It was pretty much a lesson in futility.  Poor Captain...I’m sure that wasn’t what he thought he’d signed up for when he agreed to nurse duties!

Luckily I was able to ditch the dressings, shapers, and binder within a week.  That just left me with a drainage tube on each side.  At the point where the tubes exited my torso, there was a small padded and medicated foam disk in place to protect the incision opening from infection.  Over all of that was a rectangular TegaDerm dressing.

Turns out I am allergic to whatever is in that medicated foam disk, and I developed painful blisters underneath of them that have left scars.  Amazingly, that allergic reaction was the worst part of the recovery process.  

Once the drains were removed, recovery was quick.  I still had to take a nap every day which was a foreign concept to me.  I have just never been a napper because I always feel crappier after the nap than before.  After surgery, however, my body gave me no choice, and I would just nod off in my recliner about 2:00 every afternoon.  

By four weeks postoperatively, I was feeling almost back to normal, and as I look at returning to work next week at the 8-week mark, I can say with 100% confidence that I have fully recovered from the surgery.  

This means that all lifting restrictions are over and I am back to being in charge of Calf Country.  On a brighter note, I can also now pick Cubby up and hug her like I used to!  My PA-C tells me I can try to bowl next week, so we’ll see how that goes.  

I couldn’t get the implant exchange surgery scheduled until late January at which point I will have six weeks of restrictions again.  This actually works out well due to Captain’s impending hip replacement surgery in December.  This way, one of us will be hale and hearty when the other is down and out.  I guess that’s what that whole “in sickness and in health” thing was about in our wedding vows.  

I am so very thankful for the smooth recovery process I had and for all of the love and support my family and I were shown in the last two months.  

For everyone out there who is on a survivor’s journey...my prayers are with you every day that you too can or will be able to say, “I’m doing very well, thank you!”

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