Sorry Mom. I fell down a slippery slope and took you with me.

Warning
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go.
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.


Mom and I love the above poem.  I'm feeling like that poem today, non-conforming.

Being a  preacher's kid,  I used to rebel against the term "slippery slope". Why? For those of you who did not have to go to EVERY bible class and got to stay home and watch cartoons instead, there are some important things that you can learn there. One is that you are not supposed to add or take away from the Bible. Don't think I don't know where that Bible verse is! It's Revelations 22:19 "And if any man shall take away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life, and out of the holy city, and from the things which are written in this book." Church members often quote this verse and then quickly add the slippery slope argument. There you go again, doing things that are questionable, adding things that are dangerously close to the edge and doing this or that should be avoided at all costs because before you know it, you are sitting smack dab in the middle of  Sodom and Gomorrah.

I still hate the slippery slope argument sometimes. I still ask "why not?" a lot. I still argue that although there is a chance that one thing may lead to another, there's another chance that nothing will happen at all. Once a PK, always a PK.
 

OK so I have to admit it. There is such a thing as a slippery slope in elderly care. I believe in it and avoid it at all costs. Watching the elderly get just one small thing, a cold, a urinary tract infection, a broken bone and then they fall down a slippery slope, one thing leading to another and in just a few days, they are dead. It happens more time than not. Something like this happened to mom recently. She didn't die but we both slipped down a slippery slope.


There was this nurse aid that Mom was complaining to me about. This person did small things that just annoyed her. These things were little complaints like not caring about what mom preferred to wear, telling mom she needed to wait until a certain time to go to the bathroom, taking things of Mom's and using them on other patients. I remember when I was young, I had a mean teacher, she did small uncaring things like this to me. My dad went up to the school and told her, "my daughter is learning from you, but the problem is she doesn't feel loved ." My mom had a similar complaint. She didn't feel loved. I decided that since none of these things were serious or urgent, I would wait until the scheduled care meeting to complain.  I guess the reason I decided to wait is because I forgot that everyone doesn't have to like me. I didn't want to be that person that complains about something every day. Also, I told myself that if I complain too much, my important complaints wouldn't be taken as seriously.  Thinking like this was a big mistake.


This nurse aid injured my Mom's knee because she was in a hurry and didn't use the proper method of transferring her. I don't think she hated my mom. She just didn't love her.  She didn't care enough about the small things. The injuring of Mom's knee caused her to have to use the mechanical lift again. Mom hates the mechanical lift. Mom was put on pain killers. Pain pills make Mom anxious and irritable. This made everything in Mom's life change. Elderly people do not react to change every well. Mom had to change her schedule, the way she goes to the bathroom, and just couldn't go at all  for three days. She had to take a shower laying down and her hair got all wet right after it was fixed at the beauty parlor. She became depressed and told me she wanted to leave this world. Her depression meds had to be changed.

This was a mistake that I will never make again.  I turned into a big you know what and everyone in the entire nursing home now knows that I could care less whether they like me or not. This happened several weeks ago and I was so angry I had to wait this long to even write about it. This particular nurse aid will never come near my mother again. Never ever let anyone take care of your loved one that has an uncaring attitude. Never worry about complaining about it. Don't try to comfort me about it and say "well you didn't know that would happen, it's not your fault." It is my fault! It's the nurse aid's fault and it's my fault too. It's certainly not Mom's fault.  I am very sorry.

That's my hard learned lesson and my advice for anyone caring for an elderly person.

The story of Nancy Wright's birth

Mom's birthday is August 1st. She will be 87 years old. This is the story of her birth. It is a true story. It is not like a blog posting but since it is her birthday, I thought it would be appropriate. This may be the first 2 chapters of a book someday, you never know.

find the story of Nancy Wright's birth below:

The flood was coming! The entire drainage area between Hutchinson and Arkansas City received excessive rains. Major flooding occurred all along the Arkansas River carrying away most of the bridges. In Huntsville Arkansas, little Ada Whitten sat on the porch of her meager home with her legs crossed Indian style. She watched the high waters coming closer and closer to her scanty little dwelling with fear in her heart. Ada was with child. She had gone out to see the water rising the day before and within it, she saw several little black snakes. Startled, she ran inside. At church that evening, she told several of her friends “I saw black snakes in the water and I’m afraid of snakes, more than the flood!” Fearfully, suspiciously, they whispered to Ada, “Do not look at those snakes, don’t speak of them or even think of them for you will mark your unborn child!” Ada reached down and felt her swelled pregnant belly, the baby moved and kicked at her as if it were warning her too. Ada sat on the church pew that night and listened intently to her beloved husband David preaching the gospel of Christ and chased away the thoughts of the black snakes by praising the Lord. She sang the hymns passionately and faith took the place of her fear.


Ada didn’t like Arkansas. Ada was proudly from Texas. She followed her husband, a preacher with immovable conviction to spread the truth and help the church grow there. She came to this foreign state and foreign people against her will but she never mentioned how miserable she was to David. Ada believed that her husband David knew what was best for her and her family and she had promised to obey him. She honored him and sat at his knee happily every evening as he prayed.

Many of the folks in these parts disagreed with David Whitten’s “Campbellite” Church of Christ gospel. They were downright hostile about it and it frightened her. David had been beaten up and run out of towns in the past after winning his Bible debates. She worried those who disagreed in this place were so backward, they would kill him! “Those ladies at Church have got me spooked over nothing!” she thought. Unfortunately, ideas of the baby being marked by the snakes kept cropping back up in her mind. Ada knowing her Bible by memory came up with Genesis 1:24-25 for c omfort. Then God said, “Let the earth bring forth living creatures after their kind: cattle and creeping things and beasts of the earth after their kind.” And it was so. And God made the beasts of the earth after their kind, and the cattle after their kind, and everything that creeps on the ground after its kind; and God saw that it was good.” Ada said proudly out loud to herself, “God made snakes! Snakes are good! This baby will not be marked with evil but with good and God’s love!” There she stood proudly outside the small and meager little shack she unwillingly called home. There she stood with her hands in the air praising her almighty God, her tiny pregnant body, about to pop! It started to rain and she noticed the waters were still rising. It’s perfectly dry in Texas she thought. “You can always tell a Texan, but not much,” she giggled.

Ada started feeling the pains of labor coming on the next morning while fixing breakfast for her family. She and David had been blessed by four female children and they both secretly hoped this one was a boy. Doris, the oldest of the girls noticed her mother squirming around oddly and took over her duties. “You go and lay down; I’ll take care of it.” Doris was able to sense that the birth may be coming because she had watched while the other three were born. Ada whispered to David, “It’s coming, get the Dr.!” David then reluctantly revealed the dreadful news he already knew but was keeping to himself and hoping he didn’t have to bare. “The doctor can’t get here because of the flood. He will come as soon as he can but he can’t come now.” David looked at his small but sturdy little wife with love and as much certainty and optimism as he could muster, “We will do this without the Dr., the Lord will be with us and you and the baby will be fine!” he said.



On August 1st, 1923 in Huntsville Arkansas, the Lord blessed David and Ada Whitten with yet another little girl. She was carefully delivered by her father. She came fairly quickly with no complications. They affectionately named her Nancy Lou and oddly she was born with two little front teeth and a squiggly looking birthmark on her forehead. It looked kind of like a little black snake.

The Dr. traveling in his black buggy finally arrived a few days later at the home of David and Ada Whitten. After examining Nancy and her mother, he found them to be healthy. Ada asked about the two little teeth. “Have you ever heard of a baby born with teeth?” The Dr. reassured her, “it’s rare but it does happen and they may fall out in a few days and they might just stay right there.” He added with a smile, “Nursing could be a little painful though.” Ada was a little embarrassed by that remark and didn’t respond. “And the mark on her head?” she continued curiously. The Dr. responded kindly, “it’s a birthmark and as she grows it will move right up to the top of her head under her hair.” “Don’t worry about it, your little Nancy is just fine!” he said confidently.

The Whitten family had become so pitiable by the time Nancy was born that the little newborn girl was diapered with old second-hand cut off shirts, provided by the other church members. The newly founded Arkansas church tried their best to help but they didn’t have any money either. David was dedicated to preaching the truth and spreading the word. He had expressed to Ada many times that this task took some sacrifice.

Ada just wanted to go back home! She remembered such better days, riding to their Texas church in their covered wagon with a plate of fried chicken to eat! She recalled the little girls all dressed up nicely and enjoying their chicken without spilling one little bite of it on their Church clothes. She thought of this and what happy times they had back then. She looked sadly at Nancy’s diapers. She felt embarrassed and ashamed for little Nancy. “My child deserves better!” she cried. At that very moment, Ada did something completely out of character, something she never would have thought that she would do, something she would never before have had the nerve to do! She marched right up to her devout willful husband like a mother hen! Standing there, the persevering young woman put her hands on her tiny hips obstinately, looked her husband right in the eye and declared her wishes. “Nancy Lou needs real diapers and we are going home!”

The poor little Whitten family moved back to Texas shortly after that exceptionally rare motherly declaration. David, the spiritual leader and father that he was, knew what was best for his family. They couldn’t live on faith alone. Not this time, not now! They needed to move home where Ada’s parents could help them. David knew he would find somewhere to preach the gospel there and farm for money like he did before. From then on, Nancy Lou giggled and cooed in her new bright white cotton diapers.

It was David’s decision to move back. Ada’s maternal instinct helped to inspire it. The new little mother was happy when Nancy’s two rare teeth fell out. It made nursing easier. New baby teeth came in and her strange little squiggly birthmark disappeared under her blonde braided hair just as the Dr. said it would. Nancy Lou was a good baby with a gentle temperament, just like her dear mother. Ada affectionately patted her lovely child on the head from time to time saying, “Nancy Lou, you were marked with God’s love and he has so many good plans for you!” God did have plans for Nancy Lou! Wonderful plans! Her parents with God’s help would make certain of that!



                                                         ###

What's to argue about? Not much.

"Thus says the Lord, who created you, do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters I will be with you:and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you: when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. you are precious in my sight, and honored , and I love you." Isaiah 43:1-2,4.

This blog is about elderly people who for some reason have ended up needing 24 hour nursing care. None of us really want to end up there but we may find ourselves there someday or at least visiting someone we love.. By visiting my mom every day, I  learn and observe similarities that I feel the need to express. For example: What's to argue about?

I'm certain you can think of a time in your life when something happened, something tragic, something life changing and it made you stop. You stopped arguing with your family, battling with your ex, bumping heads with your boss or facing off with your coworker. For a brief moment in time, all the bickering ceased!  In my case, it was when my teenage son was hit by a car. Before that,  my ex and I had been constantly arguing and in complete disagreement about everything!  It had come to the point to where I didn't even have an emergency phone number because he didn't want me to have it. I had to have the operator call his blocked number and leave this message: "Luke's been hit by a car, he's going into surgery, what ever we were angry about, it doesn't matter now. Just hurry to the hospital, our son's been hurt!"

Don't you wish that moment in time just remained constant?  There wouldn't be any wars, any neighbor's fuming, any inflamed emails about politics, no church disputes, no divorce, no family grudges, no resentful co workers and no indignant bosses. Instead just peace!

  Elderly people seldom argue about politics, religion, family, exes or anything else. They watch the news, they know who the president is, they still believe in their religion but they just don't argue about it anymore. They talk about the important things in life, like love and family, how good God is. What's important? Waking up, eating, singing, praying, playing, working, exercising, living and breathing. It's simple to be happy!  Have they come to the realization that they can't change other people's minds? Is that it?  One of my Mom's elderly  friends , a veteran and a gentleman described it perfectly while shaking his cowboy hatted head sadly and discribing his son's total disdain for the politics of the day, " Yelling at the TV? What good does that do!"

That's what I love about this stage of life! It's a "respect your differences" argue free zone. It's calm, collected, neutral and friendly. Please God, let it rub off on me!  Will I care about this when I'm old? If the answer is no, then I'm going to stop being so angry about it. Dear God,  "Grant me to accept the things I cannot change. Change the things I can. And the ability to know the difference." Elderly people seem to know the difference and they are preparing  to go somewhere else! Somewhere better, somewhere God lives.

What has no end?

What has no end? Well not this life…anyway.
“I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End.”

Revelation 22:13

What has no end? God and God’s love is eternal. The other answer is “a doughnut.”

There’s a nice tall older gentleman in my water aerobics class. He’s in great shape for his age and never misses a class. As we were bobbing up and down in the water doing our required amount of leg kicks, he said to me, “Life expectancy in the USA is 70 years old. If you get there, be happy! That means you did good! It’s all downhill after that.”

People who are older and I mean obviously nearing the “end” insist that their day have a set beginning, a set middle and a set end. My mom likes to stick to an established routine. She does not desire any spontaneity in her life. Variety is a bad word ! She wants it all to be the same way, the same time every day. She even dislikes it if I’m pushing her in her wheelchair back to her room and I decide to take a different route. The minute I start to turn, her feet plant themselves down on the floor to stop the movement of the wheelchair and as I’m about to topple over her because of this abrupt move, she says “whoa, why are we going this way? No!!! I don’t want to go this way!”

There’s a nice old lady at Mom’s dining room table that must have chocolate ice cream for dessert every meal. About halfway through the meal, she starts wondering where her chocolate ice cream is. This lady never says anything else throughout the meal but half way through, she takes the big effort of holding her bony little hand up in the air and waving, she insists, “Where’s my chocolate ice cream? Where’s my chocolate ice cream? Chocolate ice cream? ” She says this over and over until someone notices and gives her some cold creamy chocolate ice cream! The same thing happens every day, “chocolate ice cream” like clockwork.

Another petite elderly lady with tiny little glasses and a big happy personality can suddenly turn into a big grumpy if her bath’s not on time. As I walk toward her she sighs “Oh, oh, oh, no”. Of course you and I both know that this means I should come over and touch her shoulder and ask her why. She can’t hear so I lean over and speak loudly into her ear, “What’s wrong?” She then scrunches up her wrinkly little lips, looks at me with sorrowful teary eyes and squeals “Oh they didn’t come and give me a bath today until three o’clock!” "it just ruined my day!" Her bath is supposed to be at two o clock. Old ladies always watch the clock! If you are late, they hate it!

OK, so here’s the truth!

All this makes you want to roll your eyes and say, “Big deal, your bath’s late, Don’t worry about it! You are an old lady anyway and your bath time is not the most important thing in the world! “Or “Shut up! You’ll get your ice cream, there’s plenty of it, this is the United States of America and there is no shortage of chocolate Ice cream! “Or “Get over it! We are taking a different route to your room? I looked it up on map quest and turning here will get you there just as fast!”

I admit it! Sometimes I DO say that! When I do, I get different reactions, Sometimes the reaction is a look of surprise and then a smile. Sometimes it's not.

Most the time,  I say what I know that I should say, which is “Bless your heart, pick your feet up and we will go the way you want to, the same way as we go every day, Your so right Darlin, it’s just terrible that your bath was an hour late, those bath people should be ashamed of themselves for making you wait and All right sweety, let’s get you some chocolate ice cream, you deserve your chocolate ice cream right now!”

Old people do have an end and it’s soon, there’s no reason to argue with them, if possible, it’s best to just go with the flow.

“Whatever you want mom, whatever it is, lets’ do it. I love you so much”

How do you do that sitting flat down in a chair?

At my age there's 2 things I have learned.
1. never pass a restroom AND
2..never trust a fart!"

My brother Johnny told my Mom that joke and she just cackled and giggled at it.
 I'm just going to say it strait out honest! Old  age is about BM. I know it's not what people like to think about, talk about or usually post in a blog but it's a problem that can't be politely ignored.  If you did, you would not be honest. We all know BM is not so bad for babies. We buy little diapers, wipe them down and powder off their little sweet bottoms. Then as we get older, it's something we just deal with but still humans figured out a long time ago, first with outhouses then toilets. We just flush it away and that's that. Then the day comes for lots of old folks when it becomes less private again.  This less private thing happened to Mom recently and it's a dreaded reality to elderly people. It's called losing your bathroom privileges . Yes using the bathroom is a privileges. Taking that away makes an old person feel defenseless, and without dignity.

This week the staff decided they couldn't help mom to the bathroom anymore. She's getting weaker,( dead weight ) and too heavy to transport from the wheel chair to the toilet. They now have to transport her from the chair to her bed with a large mechanical lift that picks her up in a sling. This lift does not work with a toilet in the bathroom. Mom found out she was put on the mechanical lift which she hates anyway and then realized it meant losing her bathroom privileges. Mom cried . I cried  with her.  We complained, cried, reevaluated, moved her to a new room, cried, had meetings about it, more meetings were held without us because we were crying, we saw the Dr., talked to physical therapy and just about anything else we could think to do. Solutions and compromises were made but not without lots of change. She had to move to a new room. She isn't thrilled with the new room either. She has to get used to new roomates and misses her old one. Her old roomate saw me and she cried too!,  She waved her little boney gloved hands around in the air and belted out, "I hate to get a new roomate. You always have to break them in again." Change is never considered a good thing to old people.

 Finally as a part of the compromises that needed to be made, the powers that be decided Mom could be transported into a larger bathroom down the hall once a day. She now has bathroom privileges back! We were much happier with this, even if it's only once a day. Thank goodness Mom is on a regular schedule regarding the you know what and usually goes you know where around the same time. Let's face it, old age really is all about BM!  Life for mom can be made miserable because of it, the more of it, the less of it, where to go, what to put it in. It's gross. When it comes to the concept of just doing it in your pants? Mom would not, could not do it!  The reality of it was stated firmly by my dear mother to me  "How do you do that sitting flat down in a chair?" Good question? The logistics of that would disturb most anyone.

How to love a grumpy old man!

Sing and you'll be happy today. Press along to the goal. Trust in him who leadeth the way, he is keepin your soul. Let the world know where you belong, Look to Jesus and pray. live by faith and sing it my friend, sing and be happy today.

That’s an old song my Dad and I used to sing. He never was a Grumpy Old Man. Even towards the end when most people would have been, my dad always had a positive attitude and a big “hi-dy” and a hug. I’m not saying that grumpy old men aren’t lovable. I think they are!

Mom loves that movie “Grumpy Old Men”. They recently moved two of our favorite grumpy old men to another wing of the Wesleyan. We miss them and their grumpy antics. They were often so entertaining. Why they don’t make a movie called “Grumpy Old Women”. Women are grumpy for some excuse or other for their whole life. We have PMS when we are young , we get post partum depression after we have a baby and later in life, we get menopause. There IS actually a medical term for “Grumpy Old Men” it’s called “ SLOH, a testosterone decline that has been clinically documented and significantly affects quality of life. In less medical terms, being an old man takes away your macho!

My little long haired dachshund Oscar loves old folks. Most the residents where Mom lives love me to bring Oscar. They oooohh and aaahhh and want to hold him the same as if you just brought them their first grandchild! It’s funny because they even compete for his attention and beaming they will let him lick them all over their smiley old wrinkly faces. One day, I brought Oscar down the hall and this grumpy old man got very angry! “Get that blankety blankety blank dog outa here!” I replied nicely, “He’s allowed to be here in the hall, just not in the dining area.” He spitted back, “I don’t give a damn! Get that blankey blankey blank dog out of here! ” I got angry then and picked up my little Oscar affectionately, gripping him under my arm, I leaned down to answer him right in the eye, saying calmly and firmly “well I don’t give a damn either! Now listen to me you old  grump! I don’t work here and I don’t have to put up with you!” Then I saw it! That little mischievous look hiding there somewhere underneath in his cloudy grumpy eyes and his old pouting  mouth curled up a little to one side! He was enjoying this!
Laughing at how he got a rise out of me later, I realized that I love that old grumpy man! I really do, he cracks me up! All I needed to do was see the real man, the funny interesting one underneath! We have gotten along great ever since! Mom and I miss him too. Mom says “I really hate it when he takes the Lords name in vain but I still miss that old guy!”

She's just so "high maintenance" you know.

As the life of a flower,
As a breath or a sigh,
So the years that we live
As a dream hasten by.
True, today we are here,
But tomorrow must leave--
Just a grave in the vale
And a memory of me.

Chorus: As the life of a flower,
As a breath or a sigh,
So the years glide away
And, alas, we must die.

The above song is an old hymn that was one of my Grandpa Wright's favorites. You never hear it anymore because it's one of those early 1900 american hymns that contained lyrics and ideas of a different generation. In other words, people our age stopped singing hymns about dying. Mom sang this song to me this week. Why? Because her roses had started to wilt.

For mother's day, we gave Mom a bouquet of beautiful red roses. Mom deserves a bouquet of flowers on most special days so I add those to my grocery list. In Texas, if you go to the grocery store on any average friday afternoon, you will see several men dressed in their wrangler jeans, big belt buckles and cowboy hats buying a bouquet of roses for their sweetheart. I doubt if they are buying them for any special occasion at all. It's just the weekend and they want to let her know that she is special. I expect to be given flowers for this reason too. I also believe that I deserve manicures, pedicures and massages. I expect to be taken out to eat whenever I want. Women of Mom's generation didn't expect things like this. On valentines day, Mom was given one simple rose with baby's breathe. She didn't expect to get it and it didn't happen every year. Some years, she didn't get anything! She didn't throw a fit and think she wasn't loved. They just said "Happy Valentines day" to each other and that was that. Let's face it ladies, our generation expects flowers, jewelry, chocolate and a date all at once! When I mention to Mom that I'm going out to dinner, or to a spa, my Mom just sighs and shakes her head, stating sadly to her elderly friends "she's just so high maintenance you know". They all shake their heads sadly in agreement. Where did they learn that modern term? I guess from watching TV like everyone else.

Quarantined

Quarantine is voluntary or compulsory isolation, typically to contain the spread of something considered dangerous. A few weeks ago I started noticing that every day there seemed to be less and less residents in the main dining room of Mom's nursing facility. At first, I assumed they went on an outing but when the dining area became obviously sparce, I asked someone,"where is everyone?" "They are quarantined in wing C" they said. The big door for wing C was closed for days and days. An upper respiratory virus had spread to several and upper respiratory often turns into pneumonia and we all know what often could happen after that. Thank Goodness Mom lives in wing A and didn't catch it....yet. It was a 12 day quarantine and yes they lost quite a few beloved mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers and friends to the virus. In the mean time, we had a few die on Mom's side of a variety of other ailments. It's interesting to notice the calm way that residents in nursing homes take the death of their counter parts. Most the time, its just a shake of their head and a sigh. Me? I get more upset! I feel so sad for the daughters, sons, grandkids and all who love them. A wonderful lady across the hall that was over 100 passed away of congestive heart failure this week. You could tell she was a great person because she was so loved by her family and friends. I feel so sad when I look into her daughter's eyes and see the sadness and dread. That same face I've seen on several loving daughters in the past year, the expression that's there when you know it's only a matter of time and you wont be able to visit your mom anymore. She's going somewhere else where she can't be hugged or kissed or helped anymore. She's going somewhere where she can't be visited and told about a problem or a stressful day and count on being comforted. When I see those daughter's faces, I want to stay with Mom all day! I cry not for them but for me because I know that time will come and I won't have my mama to learn from, lean on, help or listen anymore. Recently I was having lots of trouble at work and I hugged Mom and told her, "Well at least I know you love me!" She smiled and looked me in the eye and said, "why yes I do and God loves you too! That's the most important thing that God loves you!" Thank you God for giving me some more time with her. Please make it as long as possible and help me to appreciate this time and how truly precious it is. Psalm 9:9
The LORD is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble.

Brown, Green & White

Matthew 5:13-16
“You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled under people's feet. “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven."


I don't know about you, but to me delicious food is one of the greatest blessings in life. Diet experts often try to talk people into looking at it as just nutrition. "There's more to life than food" they say "change the way you think about food and only eat when you are hungry". I wonder what would happen if we all simply gave elderly people a choice.?
What if we all just said "choose between this healthy unseasoned low fat menu and you will live longer and feel better or you can just eat all your favorites just like you like them and be happy and enjoy your food now." If you were 80-100 years old and in a nursing facility, what would you choose?
One of Mom's table mates acts as if she is at a restaurant for every meal. She's a tough old bird, lived in Pittsburg, worked in a factory for years. Every time food is served to her, she immediately shakes her head no and groans a loud groan of discontent. Then she picks up her fork and pokes at her food as if it is a live frog ready for dissecting. "What the hell is this?" she questions. "Is that what they call chicken? There's hardly any meat on it. It's been cooked too long. It's all hard, I can't even stick my fork in it!" She moves on to her salad which always has healthy dark Romain lettuce mixed in, picking up the dark purple crinkled leaf and scrunching her nose at it, she adds" Who eats black lettuce? I've never seen such a thing. Lettuce is supposed to be green!" She then declares, "This isn't what I paid for!"
My mother has trouble swallowing as a result of her stroke. There have been times when she has had her menu changed to the dreaded pureed food. Most people who live or work in nursing homes know that they never want to have to eat the pureed menu. It's basically just a little glob of pureed meat, next to a glob of pureed green vegetable and third glob of pureed potatoes. Mom calls it "Brown green and white."
Lucky for her, she is now eating the "mechanical" diet, meaning ground up meats with gravy on them. As far as the brown, green and white goes, Mom shakes her head and moans,"No one could ever get any enjoyment out of that!"

Mom's on a NO streak.

"My neck hurts, my shoulder hurts" she says. "Would you like me to rub it?" I ask?
"NO, massage doesn't work with a stroke"she answers. "I have that neck thing that I can put in the microwave and we can put it on there to give you some relief, would you like that?"I ask. "NO, it's too hot and it's too much trouble." I say "Did they give you any medication for the pain?" She says "They gave me tylenol every 4 hours but it doesn't work" "Do you want me to get the nurse to give you the prescription pain killer?" "NO, it makes me feel bad and sad and anxious." She says,"I'm not sitting right in my chair, I'm not back enough and I feel like I'm going to fall out." I ask "Do you want me to get the nurse aids to come and situate you better in your chair?" She answers "NO, they can't do that right now, they are feeding the other people, I will just wait." I say, "Well mom you feel so uncomfortable and in pain, I guess I will talk to the Dr. about it tomorrow." "NO, she can't help me, she doesn't know what to do." I continue asking, "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" "NO, but that picture over there is out of place, it's supposed to be in the middle and it's too far to the side. Can you put it in the middle?" "Yes, I will do that for you. Now , tonight you will get a good night's sleep and tomorrow you will feel all better, that's what I think!"I say. "NO, this morning I woke up and I thought I had that fibor mialgia, that's what I woke up thinking!" "OK mom , here's the next question I have for you. Will I ever stop trying to make you feel better?" "NO" she answers.