The Joke Is...

So to make things easier for Mom and Dad and to save money, we opted this winter to replace the wood stove with a pellet stove. It's a cleaner burn, it gets you a bit of a tax break in Maine, it's something that I can get started in the morning and it will burn while I'm at work requiring no maintenance from Mom and Dad. Ideally this was the perfect solution.
Since it's installation in early December (and the fact that it took that long to install after ordering it 2 months prior is another long story) the thing has worked for a combined 3 weeks? The high heat switch has tripped more times than Carter had liver pills (only a certain generation will understand this reference). The company that installed it has been out to the house at least 6 times to fix this issue, eventually replacing the high heat switch. Everything has to be followed in conjunction with the manufactures warranty and there are no house calls on the weekend. Needless to say it has been a time consuming process.
I title this blog entry The Joke Is because from installation to every house call, neither PJ or myself has been able to be here when they are. Usually I come home, find out there's a problem, call PJ, who calls the company who says they will come by. I come home after they have been here and ask what happened, because now the stove is working. Well Dad has the memory, but difficulty speaking and relating what was said. Mom has the speech to relate what was told to her, but not the memory to tell me. It's a catch 22. You have to laugh at life. This is what the joke is and it's pretty funny.

The We

I was reminded recently to remember the "we" instead of the "I". I've been focused on the "I" lately instead of the "we", through no ones fault but my own. But it is the "we" that needs the focus, never the "I". I write this blog about Dad and the experience continuing after his stroke. I rarely write about Mom, yet she is a huge part of the equation. Dad cannot take care of Mom anymore, something he had maintained prior to his stroke. I've been doing it the last two years, under the illusion that she was able to help take care of herself. Illusions are just that, illusions and not real.
Mom had a sugar low tonight. A sugar low that required a 911 phone call, incoherent sugar low. A sugar low we dealt with only one other time about nine months ago, when at work I called to see how everything was going and realized Mom was in a sugar low only to then realize she wasn't able to get to something to fix it so I had to leave work, calling 911 on my way home. Was the sentence really that long? Yes yes it was.
I am ok with taking care of my parents, now taking active care of both of them. It is still not a nursing home. It is still better than a nursing home. I do it because this is what you do with those you love, whether your parent, your partner, your child, your friend. It is something I love doing. I know people that do this with regards to each scenario mentioned. My friend Pete, whom I've recently reconnected with comes to mind immediately, having taken care of both his mother an father during different periods. Then there's my friend Mindy, truly a gift on earth and caregiver to her ex husband who had a stroke similar to Dad's. These are the selfless people I think about and admire. These are the individuals I am blessed to know.
Mom is now not allowed to take her insulin unless given to her, based on her numbers. It is not a dig against her. It is to help her, protect her. It is for the best. It is not "something else on my plate". It is just something I know I do without question and what many people I have been fortunate enough to know do without question. It is just what you do.        

Visitors

It's always nice to have visitors come by that knew Dad pre-stroke, even if they weren't part of the early months post-stroke, because I like to ask their opinion on how they think he is. Dad still sees no improvement in himself, yet as I've written countless times on here, the improvements could move mountains.
This past weekend we had my cousin Dawn and Aunt Lisa come up for a visit. Actually they are still at PJ's inn, with both their flights delayed due to the blizzard we are supposed to get tonight. The last time Dawn saw Dad she was here with her mother, my Aunt Melody and Dad was still in the hospital awaiting transportation to Stillwater Skilled Nursing. As a matter of fact when Dawn was here last time, we had a huge blizzard. I joke that she can only visit in the spring or summer from now on. The last time Aunt Lisa saw Dad was August 2012, when she and her husband had come up for a visit after dropping my cousin Kate off for her freshman year of college.
Dawn was immediately impressed with how far he's come along, especially his speech. Last time he wasn't even speaking yet. Aunt Lisa said, after dinner, "It's still your Dad. His facial expressions, mannerisms, even the fact that he can spit out the word shit when it's appropriate." Honestly it all made me feel better. I don't know that Dad believes it. That's ok. I believe it, Mom believes it, PJ believes it.   

Little One Lays An Egg

Yeah I know it's a picture of three eggs. You might not be able to tell the color difference but the far left is a light blue, the middle one a very light brown, the last one a definite brown. The first two I described are from the Easter layers I have that have consistently laid just about everyday of the week for several months. Today, I discovered what I was hoping for, the third egg in the row, the brown one. My 'little one' as I call her, my silver lace, finally laid an egg! Recently we lost my two original Plymouth Rocks to illnesses I didn't catch in time. It was quite trying as I don't do well with dead things, let alone animals that die on my watch and I'm still kicking myself for not catching it sooner. Antibiotics were too late despite injections of them. Anyone who said raising chickens was easy didn't have the luck I've had this past eight months. Quite the learning curve, it's been more difficult than I anticipated. I had about given up on my silver lace laying eggs until today! Currently we only have the three that are now laying. I mention any of this, because of Dad. He will never admit it, but he loves these chickens and the process I've undertaken by having them, something he wouldn't have ever done, despite secretly wanting to. There isn't a day that goes by that he doesn't look out the back door to see if they're in the run or ask about them when I come in from the garage. He says hello to them when he sees them and gets the biggest kick out of the fact that if I'm outside and call to them, they come out of the coop to see what's going on. It has all been worth it for this fact alone and now we get the third egg.

I have a friend who incubates duck eggs. I've been toying with the idea....hmmmm. I didn't become a farmer because?       

Conversations with Dad: Exercises

Dr. Biswas asked Dad this week if he was still doing his physical therapy exercises at home. If he doesn't keep up on his physical therapy at home, eventually his muscles will atrophy. Dad sheepishly said no. For some reason both Mom and Dad need their Doctor's to tell them what I tell them before they will listen and then do. I guess I'm not that authoritative, I don't know.
This morning I mentioned to Dad, since he was cold, that he could do his exercises and it would warm him up. Dr. Biswas keeps asking if Dad can hold anything in his right hand. We tried this with a spoon. After a few humorous attempts, Dad had a better idea. At first he tried to tell me just by pointing to the TV. After a very quick bout of charades I said you need to get up and show me, as the only thing I was finally able to get out of him was that whatever it was, it was in the other room. Away we walked. Once in the living room he pointed to his bookshelf, where I saw two 2 pound weights, sitting on one of the shelves. "Oh ok, you want to use the weights," I said and went to grab one. I handed it to him. He grabbed it with his left hand, so happy he was going to start using this to help build up his strength. As he turned to walk away, he grabbed his cane and said almost triumphantly to me, "Thank you." Then he stopped dead in his tracks and held up the weight. "Shit," he said, realizing how heavy it was. We looked at each other and laughed.
We'll see how it works out.