Today it's about how spoiled I have become, and how easily it is to break me of that habit. It is A/C day.
I remember growing up in a small frame house without any form of cooling other than the box fan in the window. That was a luxury. Later came the water-cooled outside monster. I have since learned that such a fan is more appropriate for a dry desert climate, rather than our very humid one. That thing in our room would blow the covers off the bed, but boy was it a cool way to sleep.
As kids, me and my brothers would spend time in Monterrey Mexico with my aunts, including my previously mentioned Aunt Bea. Her house was worse than anything we ever had in Texas. The tile floors in her house and in the patio hallway would be mopped before we lay down and that was cool - for a short time. After a while, we would resort to a piece of cardboard to fan ourselves to sleep. This really put me to sleep, maybe out of exhaustion. In time I would wake up in a sweat and continue fanning. That was what is was. We enjoyed out summers in Monterrey, heat and all.
In a fast-forward to the world of A/C, it is easy to survive in south Texas, with almost 100% humidity and high temps. We live in A/C, hurry to the A/C in the car, hurry to the store's A/C and return home with hardly breaking into a sweat. An example I would use in my Psych class, regarding Operant Conditioning, was about "air conditioning. Back in the day, the store window might have a sign that read, "Air Conditioned Inside." Not only did that sign tell us about a change tot he air, it forecast a change in us too. We flocked to that store. We have been conditioned to live in A/C.
The house's A/C has been acting up. Two days ago it stopped cooling. The outside fan quit and we were getting warm air through the vents. The thermostat is set at 80 degree and it very quickly went to 84 - lions and tigers and bears, oh my! Quick call A/C 911. I had paid to have this same problem "fixed" two months ago. The company boss comes to check it out. He is a good friend and distant relative to my brother- in- law. He determines that the problem may be something else with the unit. The entire unit will have to be dismantled and thoroughly chemically cleaned. There is also a problem with the water drain. Besides a hefty charge, what does this all mean? It means that there will be no A/C in the house until the work is done.
For me, there are three solutions to the problem. I can spend the day at WalMart's A/C. I can go buy some electric fans. I can find a piece of cardboard and start fanning. The WalMart idea will not work because my aunt cannot leave the house and I cannot leave the workers alone in the house. I won't buy fans for such a short time use, and I am too cheap. The dog could survive outside. On the plus side, it is cloudy today, and there is a slight breeze. I opened the windows, and shared the cardboard with my aunt. Even though things change over time, much stays pretty much the same.
It may not be as hot as hell, but it is close. The cardboard fan will work until fatigue sets in.
Joe V
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Mi Tia (My Aunt)
My aunt has a home care provider that comes in at 9 and leaves at 2. The woman gets my aunt up and ready for the day, prepares breakfast and lunch and cleanes my aunt's room, etc. Today the provider did not show and I am in charge. I will focus on my aunt today.
History:
My Tia Bea was born in Mexico, the oldest of three children. Her mother died when my aunt was maybe 12 tears old. My grandfather remarried and there was trouble between the step-mom and the kids. The kids were soon sent to live with other relatives. I imagine that my aunt's life was similar to that of Cinderella, before the pumpkin. My aunt heard, "This is not your house; what are you doing just sitting there; you are always in the way and this is not yours." This history is important to the development of my aunt's mind set.
My aunt was living by herself in Mexico, after her sister died. My mother was alone in this house. I thought of putting one and one together. This was somewhere around 1993. Although we tried to make my aunt as comfortable as possible, bringing most of her belongings here, she seems to feel that she is in the way and not at home. Although at some level I can understand this thinking, I would think that all of our efforts for her would ease her thinking that at any moment we would be kicking her out into the street or worse, sending her to a nursing home.
Examples of how she "is in the way" include:
Bump into her chair or her walker in the slightest way and she will quickly tell you that she will move to not be in the way.
Dinner or lunch - When there are 6 people for lunch or dinner, she will want to allow others to eat first or she will eat qucikly so that others can sit at the table. Two days ago she told me that she wanted to eat quickly so that other could get to the table. I reminded her that it was only me, her, and the dog.
Rarely does she disagree with anyone. She has mastered the art of passive aggressive behavior. She will be agreeable but not follow through with the action. Although at times, this can be attributed to the dementia, I remember this behavior from way back. This behavior can be a detriment to her health as she will not complain about physical ailments. When the medical folks are involved, nothing hurts, her vision is perfect, and her arthritis is on the mend.
She does not ask for help. She needs both hands for the walker. Yet, she tries to take her dishes from the table to the sink or may try to wash her dishes. When I take these from her, she thanks me profusely, when none at all are needed. She has fallen when she tries to clean up a mess she made on the floor. It would be so much easier to ask for help.
Good days and bad
Today her brain neurons were firing okay. She followed my instructions for changing and taking her pills, etc. On her good days, my aunt does relatively normal stuff. She eats, naps, walks up and down the hall after lunch, plays with the dog. Caring for her on good days is easy.
When one neuron does not know where the other one is, it is a bad day. This is the dementia. Recently she asked me three times if I had eaten. Each time she had to motor from her room to the living room. The fourth time she came out to ask if she could fix us all some dinner. I reminded her that it was only her , me, and the dog and walked her back to her room.
On the bad days, her schedule is messed up. One of the schedule items is "merienda."
This is the Mexican tradition of having coffee with toast or sweet bread around 5 p.m. Since dinner is usually later, this carries us over. We have coffee around 5, and 45 minutes later she will be trying to get the coffee maker going again.
The schedule is to have lunch around 12:30. On the bad days, she will be heading to the kitchen looking for food at 2 p.m. When asked what she wants or is she hungry, she says that she has not had lunch. I tell her that she did and she wants to know when and what she ate. She may also ask me how I know this, not remembering that I ate with her.
Bedtime is around 8:45. She needs a glass of water and her evening pill. On bad days, there may be several trips to the kitchen for water, even though I tell her that the water is by her bed. She may also make several trips to the bathroom. I will let her have two or three trips. These involve going in, closing the door and immediately coming out again and not doing anything. Ultimately I will confront her asking her if she is in pain, having discomfort, etc. She says that she was going to the bathroom. I tell her that it is the fourth trip and that if she is ill we will see a doctor immediately. I walk her back to the room and she sleeps it off.
On a recent bad day, I thought that she had entered a state of psychosis. When I got up at 6 a.m., she was sitting in the dark in the kitchen, looking out the window (still dark out). She said that she was waiting for my mother. My aunt said that my mother needed a ride from the bus station. I asked her where she was arriving from and my aunt was vague on that detail. I told her that my mother had long died. None responsive to this fact. She continued with this delusion. I finally told her that my mother would call from the station when she arrived and that someone would pick her up. With this she agreed to go back to bed.
I was worried if my aunt did not come out of this delusion. I would have to consider moving her to a nursing home. Luckily, by the time she was having breakfast, her neurons were communicating and she had a good day.
So far today, the good day continues.
Later.
Joe V
History:
My Tia Bea was born in Mexico, the oldest of three children. Her mother died when my aunt was maybe 12 tears old. My grandfather remarried and there was trouble between the step-mom and the kids. The kids were soon sent to live with other relatives. I imagine that my aunt's life was similar to that of Cinderella, before the pumpkin. My aunt heard, "This is not your house; what are you doing just sitting there; you are always in the way and this is not yours." This history is important to the development of my aunt's mind set.
My aunt was living by herself in Mexico, after her sister died. My mother was alone in this house. I thought of putting one and one together. This was somewhere around 1993. Although we tried to make my aunt as comfortable as possible, bringing most of her belongings here, she seems to feel that she is in the way and not at home. Although at some level I can understand this thinking, I would think that all of our efforts for her would ease her thinking that at any moment we would be kicking her out into the street or worse, sending her to a nursing home.
Examples of how she "is in the way" include:
Bump into her chair or her walker in the slightest way and she will quickly tell you that she will move to not be in the way.
Dinner or lunch - When there are 6 people for lunch or dinner, she will want to allow others to eat first or she will eat qucikly so that others can sit at the table. Two days ago she told me that she wanted to eat quickly so that other could get to the table. I reminded her that it was only me, her, and the dog.
Rarely does she disagree with anyone. She has mastered the art of passive aggressive behavior. She will be agreeable but not follow through with the action. Although at times, this can be attributed to the dementia, I remember this behavior from way back. This behavior can be a detriment to her health as she will not complain about physical ailments. When the medical folks are involved, nothing hurts, her vision is perfect, and her arthritis is on the mend.
She does not ask for help. She needs both hands for the walker. Yet, she tries to take her dishes from the table to the sink or may try to wash her dishes. When I take these from her, she thanks me profusely, when none at all are needed. She has fallen when she tries to clean up a mess she made on the floor. It would be so much easier to ask for help.
Good days and bad
Today her brain neurons were firing okay. She followed my instructions for changing and taking her pills, etc. On her good days, my aunt does relatively normal stuff. She eats, naps, walks up and down the hall after lunch, plays with the dog. Caring for her on good days is easy.
When one neuron does not know where the other one is, it is a bad day. This is the dementia. Recently she asked me three times if I had eaten. Each time she had to motor from her room to the living room. The fourth time she came out to ask if she could fix us all some dinner. I reminded her that it was only her , me, and the dog and walked her back to her room.
On the bad days, her schedule is messed up. One of the schedule items is "merienda."
This is the Mexican tradition of having coffee with toast or sweet bread around 5 p.m. Since dinner is usually later, this carries us over. We have coffee around 5, and 45 minutes later she will be trying to get the coffee maker going again.
The schedule is to have lunch around 12:30. On the bad days, she will be heading to the kitchen looking for food at 2 p.m. When asked what she wants or is she hungry, she says that she has not had lunch. I tell her that she did and she wants to know when and what she ate. She may also ask me how I know this, not remembering that I ate with her.
Bedtime is around 8:45. She needs a glass of water and her evening pill. On bad days, there may be several trips to the kitchen for water, even though I tell her that the water is by her bed. She may also make several trips to the bathroom. I will let her have two or three trips. These involve going in, closing the door and immediately coming out again and not doing anything. Ultimately I will confront her asking her if she is in pain, having discomfort, etc. She says that she was going to the bathroom. I tell her that it is the fourth trip and that if she is ill we will see a doctor immediately. I walk her back to the room and she sleeps it off.
On a recent bad day, I thought that she had entered a state of psychosis. When I got up at 6 a.m., she was sitting in the dark in the kitchen, looking out the window (still dark out). She said that she was waiting for my mother. My aunt said that my mother needed a ride from the bus station. I asked her where she was arriving from and my aunt was vague on that detail. I told her that my mother had long died. None responsive to this fact. She continued with this delusion. I finally told her that my mother would call from the station when she arrived and that someone would pick her up. With this she agreed to go back to bed.
I was worried if my aunt did not come out of this delusion. I would have to consider moving her to a nursing home. Luckily, by the time she was having breakfast, her neurons were communicating and she had a good day.
So far today, the good day continues.
Later.
Joe V
Monday, August 23, 2010
Introduction
Greetings,
I have to tell you that I am invisioning the character from the film, "Julie/Julia." I am writing and wondering who will find this in cyberspace.
This is the view from my writing station now, the agave that is eating my yard. I am determined to keep it until it blooms, then out it goes.
The Methodist Church is in the background.
I have been in Texas since mid-June. Home is Weslaco, Texas. This house has been home since I was in the 5th grade. That was the year that I escaped the St. Joan of Arc School, across the street. The school is long gone and the church parking lot fronts the house. The church is across the alley from the property.
Weslaco is in the southern most tip of Texas. Although the area is called the Rio Grande Valley, the area is in the delta of the river. Weslaco was named after the W.E. Stuart Land Co. and it was established in 1919. At the time, my grandfather was working clearing the land/ the lots. He bought the property in the early 20s. Today Weslaco has about 30, 000 residents. Mexico is about 9 miles, that-a way. The Gulf of Mexico and South Padre Island is about 60 miles away. I hope that my drawings on the map are visible.
Living with me is my 94 year-old aunt, Tia Bea, my father's sister. Her schedule is my schedule. Because some days her dementia is worse than others, she cannot be alone for very long. A trip to the store, when she is awake, is as quick as I can make it because she may fall, or think that someone is at the door and leave it open. Also in the house is a dog, Coco. He is here because he is so attached to my aunt and she to him. He is an Australian blue mix, that likes nothing better than to chase a tennis ball. The good thing about Coco is that he is low maintenance. His biggest fault is that his stomach cannot handle any food from the table. This snacking results in his throwing up. This takes me back to my aunt. She cannot remember not to feed him anything. Catch her doing it and she will deny it. Her long-term memory is great. She can remember past events with great clarity. However, she will not remember what she had for lunch 30 minutes ago. This at times is frustrating for me.
Since June, I have been busy settling in. This is a phenomenon known only to those who have experiencing moving their householdings. Those who have never moved do not understand when I tell them that I am still settling in. I may have unpacked all the boxes, but the goods are still not in their final resting place. It is a matter of finding a rhythm, a life pattern. When I take off my cap or when I look for my cap, where does it go or where will I find it? Although I am getting better, I still spend a good amount of time looking for things. At the moment, my glue gun and glue sticks are on the most-wanted list.
I have also been working on the house and making it home. The big project in the works is expanding the patio. In my 16+ years in Washington, I grew to enjoy sitting outside to read, drink some wine, and enjoy the breeze. Here in Texas the breeze would be more enjoyable if the air temp was not close to 100 degrees. I cannot change the August temperature, so I am working on the sitting part. Pictures of that project later. I am also attaching fabrtic to the bedroom walls. This is something I used before. It works and it is easier than painting. I could not stand to look at the brown walls any longer.
Things I have accomplished are replacing the kitchen door, the kitchen faucets, cleaning out the old storage shed (sort-of) and painting it, and some landscaping.
I decided to move the birdbath and plants and create a better setting for them. This is the before. Notice the storage shed in the back. The swing set belongs to my neice. She moved to a home that does not allow such things.
The after shows the painted shed and the new plant setting. I went on to paint the shed doors. A new privacy fence will block the view of the alley.
I have to tell you that I am invisioning the character from the film, "Julie/Julia." I am writing and wondering who will find this in cyberspace.
This is the view from my writing station now, the agave that is eating my yard. I am determined to keep it until it blooms, then out it goes.
The Methodist Church is in the background.I have been in Texas since mid-June. Home is Weslaco, Texas. This house has been home since I was in the 5th grade. That was the year that I escaped the St. Joan of Arc School, across the street. The school is long gone and the church parking lot fronts the house. The church is across the alley from the property.
Weslaco is in the southern most tip of Texas. Although the area is called the Rio Grande Valley, the area is in the delta of the river. Weslaco was named after the W.E. Stuart Land Co. and it was established in 1919. At the time, my grandfather was working clearing the land/ the lots. He bought the property in the early 20s. Today Weslaco has about 30, 000 residents. Mexico is about 9 miles, that-a way. The Gulf of Mexico and South Padre Island is about 60 miles away. I hope that my drawings on the map are visible.
Living with me is my 94 year-old aunt, Tia Bea, my father's sister. Her schedule is my schedule. Because some days her dementia is worse than others, she cannot be alone for very long. A trip to the store, when she is awake, is as quick as I can make it because she may fall, or think that someone is at the door and leave it open. Also in the house is a dog, Coco. He is here because he is so attached to my aunt and she to him. He is an Australian blue mix, that likes nothing better than to chase a tennis ball. The good thing about Coco is that he is low maintenance. His biggest fault is that his stomach cannot handle any food from the table. This snacking results in his throwing up. This takes me back to my aunt. She cannot remember not to feed him anything. Catch her doing it and she will deny it. Her long-term memory is great. She can remember past events with great clarity. However, she will not remember what she had for lunch 30 minutes ago. This at times is frustrating for me.
My diagnosis is that this dog has OCD. Once outside, he has one obsession - the tennis ball. His compulsion is to chase it. When I refuse to toss it, he will sit and stare at it, i ntensely. He may start to shake as he watches it. It is as if he is saying, "I am ready to chase you. I dare you to run."
Since June, I have been busy settling in. This is a phenomenon known only to those who have experiencing moving their householdings. Those who have never moved do not understand when I tell them that I am still settling in. I may have unpacked all the boxes, but the goods are still not in their final resting place. It is a matter of finding a rhythm, a life pattern. When I take off my cap or when I look for my cap, where does it go or where will I find it? Although I am getting better, I still spend a good amount of time looking for things. At the moment, my glue gun and glue sticks are on the most-wanted list.
I have also been working on the house and making it home. The big project in the works is expanding the patio. In my 16+ years in Washington, I grew to enjoy sitting outside to read, drink some wine, and enjoy the breeze. Here in Texas the breeze would be more enjoyable if the air temp was not close to 100 degrees. I cannot change the August temperature, so I am working on the sitting part. Pictures of that project later. I am also attaching fabrtic to the bedroom walls. This is something I used before. It works and it is easier than painting. I could not stand to look at the brown walls any longer.
Things I have accomplished are replacing the kitchen door, the kitchen faucets, cleaning out the old storage shed (sort-of) and painting it, and some landscaping.
I decided to move the birdbath and plants and create a better setting for them. This is the before. Notice the storage shed in the back. The swing set belongs to my neice. She moved to a home that does not allow such things. 
The after shows the painted shed and the new plant setting. I went on to paint the shed doors. A new privacy fence will block the view of the alley.This is it for the first posting.
Hasta luego....
Joe V
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