Hi everyone....
I thought I'd post so you knew I was still around and still a faithful
reader of the pertinent stuff.  One day I'll have to read the help
section to find out how to killfile or otherwise reduce the occasional
detritus.  For now I just rely on the scroll-bar and the delete
button!

I've felt pretty worn-out and impatient lately.  My husband and I joke
about our well running dry.  Fortunately, our wells run dry on
alternate days--so one of us is there to support the other.  I could
write a long litany of complaints about grandma doing this or grandma
doing that--but I'd sound like an uncompassionate jerk.  And that is
how I feel sometimes--a dry well of compassion and a jerk to boot!  To
my credit, I don't express my jerky and uncompassionate thoughts out
loud.

I do try to outwardly act differently than I feel--because grandma at
least deserves a semblance of humankindness.  So I try to deliver that--
by taking good care of her and making sure that she gets not just food
and shelter and assistance with the smallest things but that she also
gets the small pleasures she always enjoyed--a jr. bacon cheeseburger
and a coke at Wendy's, Lawrence Welk cranked up LOUD, chocolate,
shopping for clothes, going for a Sunday drive.

What drives me crazy is the little stuff--she follows me around
everywhere.  The constant repetition is maddening second only to the
continual verbal drivel (she's lonely and wants to talk).  Her bowel
obsession comes in a close third.  She can't recognize the cereal box
anymore (tried to pour herself a bowl of uncooked noodles).  She's
becoming more hesitant to take a shower (I have to turn on the water
for her---she can't figure it out).  She's lost many of her social cues
--we're always trying to prevent her getting undressed in public.  She
made a sexual advance towards my brother!  She's not been able to
remember anyone's names for a long time.  Knowing who we are in
relation to her is getting real shaky lately.  Overall--she is sooo
lost in a cognitively global way--and sometimes aware of just how lost
she is.  She'll hold her head in her hands and say "Its just not right
up here."  It's then that my well fills up a bit with compassion and
patience and I can face being a caregiver again.

She attends day care one day a week.  We want very badly to up that to
two days a week and are working with the day care folks to help 'set
the stage'.  I've completed the nursing home tours and have her name
on a waiting list at a local care facility, should the time come.
Ironically, she's always throwing out the 'maybe I should just go live
someplace else' canard.  We reassure her that this is her home.  And
feel secret guilt that we've put her on a waiting list.  Her MIL
apartment is in the daylight basement of our home.  We're all too
aware of the daily risk of her going up and down the stairs.  She's
already fallen on occasion--luckily not on the stairs.  She spends most
of her time upstairs anyway (following me) so we are planning on
moving her to a first floor bedroom.  She will hate this and accuse us
of nefarious things.

You know, it felt good just to write this and know that you guys may
understand and not think too badly of me.  Thanks for being there.
Even when the group seems silent--I'll bet a ton of folks are still
reading!
Take care : )
diane