Like a spinning dreidel, I move in and around, whirling and wobbling until I fall over. Then I am scooped up and sent whirling in another direction, depending upon the job and the need.
I arrived at Gram's on the ninth, to replace the woman who stays with her during those periods when no one from the family can be here. It seems I tag team with her more often than I do anyone else. Mostly, that's a bad thing.
Nothing is ever done (or, done well). It generally means dishes must be re-washed, laundry is not done, there's always a lot on the floor to be vacuumed, and she never dusts. Plus, she drops her medication and diabetic needles on the floor in the spare bedroom we all stay in, and doesn't bother to pick it up. I understand accidentally dropping something, but when it's meds or something that could pose an injury, bend over and pick it up...for crying out loud!!!
Gram has been in a rather over-tweaked mood this time around (I think it started with the doorstop I replaced). She has complained constantly about just about everything, and it begins and ends this time with being cold. I understand why - at 98 years old, it is hard to regulate your body temperature, and she is really feeling the gusts and bone-chilling temps we are experiencing outdoors.
Almost as soon as I arrived two days ago, I made for the windows in the two bedrooms. I attempted to tightly shut hers and then latch it to stop the breezes and the mournful noises. But it was no good.
So, I ran into the back bedroom and grabbed that pane out of the window and hustled into Gram's room, thinking I might find the fit a little tighter...or at the very least, the latch might actually close....AND IT WORKED!! It took a good deal of persuasion though, to get the window out of the track before moving it, but it was worth it.
Gram's room was now airtight as far as the horrible, non-insulated window was concerned.
Back in the guest bedroom I stuffed the ill-fitting (PITA) window into the track and pushed it shut, getting it to latch with just a little effort. At last that one was also FINALLY closed and not allowing the blustery 60MPH gusts into the apartment. We slept in comfort for the first time this winter without Gram cranking the thermostat up to 80*F.
When she complains about the other residents there not being social, I remind her that it is a two-way street, and sometimes YOU have to make the first move. Waiting for everybody else to knock on your door can be a futile endeavor. So when she raises the subject about the lack of folks to chat with, I encourage her to take a walk and knock on at least one door to simply say hello.
Sometimes it works. Sometimes she comes back complaining about having to make that overture (when she shouldn't have to...), and chickening out at the last minute.
Should I get as old as she, I shall never cloister myself behind my door and then crab about not having company!! If I entomb myself within my walls, I will relish the time and keep myself busy until such time I may choose to re-enter the world - with gusto!
When her pastor called out of the blue, he asked if he could stop by and bring her communion. She has complained about the lag in his visits, but when he called, the first thing she said was "Oh, I don't know. When? When were you thinking? Not today?" And he replied with hurt surprise, and told her it was the only chance he would have since he was going to be quite busy for the next several days. So, she acquiesced, and excitedly decided right then she would have to shower. You would have thought it was the Pope who was on his way (or Luther...since she is not Catholic). :^)
Her emotional pendulum swings faster than a woodsman's axe, and is three times more harmful.
When he arrived, the Pastor complimented her holiday decor. Commenting on the front door, she said my mom and her sister Joan hung the blue and other adorable things on the inside (bells, stockings...), but as the outside was my work, all she said was "somebody else did that part."
He complimented the Charlie Brown tree - tall and perfectly proportioned for her little home. She told me she wanted a blue tree for the holidays...and I trucked over quite a few ornaments to hang from it's boughs.
I suppose it is a matter of taste and up to one's likes or dislikes, but she said she liked it originally. However, she has since said to others that it isn't all that pretty. The Pastor said is was interesting and that the ornaments were lovely. She later conveyed to me that he really didn't say too much except that "...it wasn't all that much to look at and he didn't say it looked nice or anything."
Um, ouch!
And again, she said "The girl who's here now, she did it. I suppose she tried hard."
Smack and powie!
It's a good thing I am not all that attached to my name or my identity, or I would be a basket case.
This nameless dreidel only has two days to go before she is home for a scant two point five days. I need to recoup and lick my wounds where at least a couple of creatures on this planet [might] like me. Although, I do admit to wishing I was one of those cousins whose names she can remember and pull out of her twisted mind with ease.
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