Incredible tenacity

Well, apparently this positive thinking isn't working as well as I'd hoped. Six weeks since the last time I wrote. Honestly, though, I did feel like writing again the day after I wrote that last post, but I had so many other things to do, I waited. And then I just had so much to do. How does one get out from under this?

I have work. I only work part-time, but it is teaching, which always needs more time than you have. Right now I've got two sets of assignments for each of two classes to grade and return. And this is my afternoon off, so I won't do it now.

Besides my "regular" job, I have Mom. And we do get paid for taking care of Mom. Though I prefer my oldest brother's way of saying it: "If you don't have enough money to live on, then you won't be able to take care of Mom." So we get paid by her trust (thanks, Grandma, for willing enough money to Dad that Mom can be provided for after his death!)

Mom is still holding on with incredible tenacity. She's down to 97 pounds, fully dressed, and she's all muscle and resistance. We try to get her dressed in the morning, and she clamps her arms to her sides, and steels her knees so they can't be separated. We try to get her to drink, and she won't swallow. We try to brush her teeth, and she grabs our wrists with a grip that leaves bruises. It gets frustrating, and no one really understands what it's like. Half the time I don't even understand what it's like. I think about how much time her care requires, and sometimes I wonder how she can so completely zap my energy. Then I think about the battles we try to fight on her behalf (the latest being with her day care about the absence of safe parking they provide), with her battling us at the same time, and I don't have to wonder. But keeping that awareness present, so I remember that I'm not crazy or whining, is difficult.

Now that I've started writing, my mind is uncovering all sorts of threads to write about. Can I retain them for more than a minute?

We almost folded the other week. We have three cats and a dog. Our cats our 13 and 14 years old, so they have some health "issues" of their own. One has a special food to prevent tartar build-up on her teeth. One has arthritis, so needs to eat a soft food we can mix her Cosequin into. The third one has kidney disease. We almost lost her last November, but she's doing really well now, thanks to a special food she doesn't like and to twice-weekly subcutaneous treatments. If you're not familiar with what a subcutaneous treatment is, it's basically giving her an IV. Which she hates. We bought a special bag to bind her in so we can control her long enough to stab her and squeeze 150 mls. of fluid into her. We have to feed the three cats separately since they each have their own special foods.

Then two weeks ago we had to take Cleo the wonder dog in for a teeth-cleaning. She had to have two broken incisors removed, which put the cost at you-don't-want-to-know, but worse than that, she wouldn't eat, had accidents overnight, and had diarrhea for ten days in a row. That was the straw that came perilously close to breaking the camel's back. I really was not sure I could take care of one more living creature. Oh yeah, I was simultaneously conferencing with my freshmen, what they call "developmental advising," making sure they weren't failing school and/or suicidal. It was a lot all at once.

But, here I am, with an afternoon off, but ending this post before I tell EVERYTHING there is to tell. Jeanne wants to use the computer as we sit here in Starbucks, and I really should let her. Besides, I don't want to get into the habit of this writing thing. People might get the wrong idea.

p.s. I am aware of the irony that I need to take an afternoon off from caring for Mom in order to have time and energy to write about caring for Mom.