Granny the Ho had her 92nd birthday yesterday. Mother and I took her to Target and then we all went out for enchiladas at Chuy's. Granny had a nice time telling everyone it was her 92nd birthday. The women who were checking us out at Target were the most fun since mother and I shared the information about Granny's five husbands with them.
The trouble started when we got home and Granny couldn't get her breath. Mother and Granny both say that's because she was late with her medication by nearly a half hour, and that may be true. Granny was off her oxygen for three hours which may have been a factor. One thing is certain: when she couldn't get her breath she freaked out which worsened her already high anxiety which in turn made it harder for her to breathe. It was a tense situation.
Mom and I got Granny in her night gown and hooked up to her oxygen, then I lay beside her on the bed holding her hand while the meds took effect, she relaxed a little and got her breath back. As she was drifting off to sleep, Granny told me I should make more of an effort to get along with my mother-in-law since she's family. I suspect that when she made that statement, Granny had forgotten I was divorced. Evidently she's worried about family these days although I doubt she could even name all eight of the sisters which is probably why she's worried about family ties now.
Granny spent today resting in bed. Her breathing is still labored because of the fluid in her lungs, but the renal failure will finally carry her off. In the meantime, she reads Danielle Steel novels and watches Food Network. This afternoon, I watched the Gilroy Garlic Cook-Off with her and when the winner was crowned with a wreath of garlic cloves, I had to wonder if getting into Heaven is like winning a cook-off. I told Granny that I felt sure she was going to get into Heaven, if there is one, on the strength of her oatmeal, pecan, chocolate chip cookies alone not to mention the meatloaf sandwiches she made me for lunch in High School.
Last time Jose the Hospice Nurse was here, Mother told him Granny had been wishing she could go ahead and die. Jose the Hospice Nurse says people need to quit praying for Granny. He also told Mother that she should forgive Granny for being such a Ho. It'll be a cold day in Hell when that happens unless Granny says she's sorry first which will happen on another cold day in Hell. Busy, Busy, Busy.
My job for tomorrow is to tell Jose the Hospice Nurse that Mother needs an emergency plan she can trust. Jose has given Mother two phone numbers for Help Lines, but one is only good during business hours and when she called the other for a less important matter, they had never heard of Jose. Ergo: Mother fully believes that something will get fucked up if she follows Jose's instructions and gives Granny the morphine Jose himself said should be administered when Granny is short of breath; Granny will croak, and Mom will be hauled off to jail. While I'm sure Mother's fears are not reality based, Jose told Mother some time ago that if Granny fell, everybody and his dog would be under investigation, so I can see why Mom is worried. Every aspect of caring for a dying parent in your home is overwhelming and Mother never could self-advocate. Fortunately, I've lived in New York long enough to know that when being nice isn't getting you anywhere, it's okay to be a double barreled bitch.
- ► 2014 (13)
- ► 2013 (51)
- ► 2012 (67)
- ► 2011 (103)
- ► 2010 (120)
- ► 2009 (142)
- ▼ April 2008 (7)