I have returned. I received a few notes from friends asking me when I was going to post, wondering if they were no longer on the subscribe list. I am still here and trying very hard to organize my thoughts before the auto-alert goes out and tells you: Sans Souci’s words of wisdom are out there. I have no idea what I will call this until the end. I have no idea where this is going but I feel compelled to write.

It’s about cats and mothers and things falling apart and being fixed. Literally, figuratively.

 

The City (slide show)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Where have I been? Doing nice things here in the city but photographs are not always permitted so you’ll just have to use your imagination. Evenings at Carnegie Hall. Magical music, some never before heard in a concert hall, lectures by Maestro Leon Botstein before the concerts. The New-York Historical Society: the exhibit: The Armory Show.

The city in the snow. The sunset from bridges.

 

 

Ocular Migraines

I’ve been on a timed-release “calcium channel blocker” for several months and think I may be seeing (no pun intended) some progress. Here it is December and I have had eight episodes but these have been notably short–maybe five minutes each except for one of two I had yesterday. It’s almost like the episode begins with a little blind spot explosion which is usual and starts to go into the usual “C-shape” that gets bigger and takes over my vision but resolves before I am affected. I can deal if it stays this way. The second of the two yesterday rapidly went into vision mode but ended in about twenty minutes. Sometimes it is brought on by the computer or phone screen, a reflection in the kitchen from light on something shiny. Or I can be in the car. Yes, while driving. Or leaving my house. Or entering my house. Never when petting a cat.

 

 

 

 

Cats

One kitty recovering, another gets a strange eye thing. I am hoping I don’t have to return to the vet. It seems to be clearing up, but his eyes have been watering for a few days. I worry too much. Play, the amputee, is his old self, running for the treats, eating everyone else’s food. He’s back. He even jumped up on the couch–almost missed but made it, and stayed with me while I watched television.

 

 

Television

This is one thing that never breaks down. The RCA “professional” television from 1980.

I have become addicted (appropriately described) to Breaking Bad. It took about four episodes to get into it and then I was hooked. It is beyond expectation, not easy to watch, very real, based on reality. I’m in it for the writing and the character development. It is genius. A post Sopranos version of blood and gore. Up to the final season and I don’t want it to end. I need it to escape.

 

 

 

Strange Break Downs

• The towel rod. (repaired)

• The thingy that holds the receiver on a wall phone. One tiny little piece of plastic can require an entire phone being replaced. (the next chore)

• The arm on my NEW chair that has been disintegrating. (told for months the “boat was late from China, since August. Would have to wait until February. Went to Staples and got one off another chair. Then had to get metric tools to remove and replace the arm)

• Software conflicts on the computer. (reinstall AOL and IE for the 4th time in a few months. AOL admits version 9.7 is a dud)

• Misplaced stuff that turns up.

 

 

 

Mother

I haven’t written about my mother since November 16th. Just to fill you in, she did not come for Thanksgiving.
It was “too cold.” I was actually relieved. There were many other considerations about her care before, during and after the day.

Notice how I saved this topic for last. I am at her place one or more times a week.The other day I delivered: cash for the drawer, four rolls of quarters for the laundry, six new sets of towels, a new toothbrush, the rent check, two bottles of detergent, a bottle of Woolite, a dozen cans of CVS brand “Ensure” to try (she is almost out of the forty-eight cans I ordered from Amazon) two magazines from the health food store (“Life Extension”) three shea based products from The Bath and Body Store she wanted (“but it’s not the one I used before”), a Christmas card for Peaches, the aide, containing $75 with a little toiletry gift in a sparkly bag. All this required two trips to the bank, a visit to CVS, Bath and Body, Bed Bath and Beyond. Over two days. Getting to those stores required fighting traffic, looking for parking, standing on lines and thought--something I am getting tired of doing. Thinking.

The aide mom likes, Peaches, is the mother of three kids; she has to go home now and then. A family member stays with the children but they need their mother. My mother wishes she could stay. Three other aides have come to fill the gap when Peaches goes home. My mother has fired them all. They “stare” at her, “sit on their asses,” “talk on the phone, keep her up, snore, play music.” On and on. “Don’t come back. I am the patient. I pay you.”

My mother was moved back to New York in late July. She was doing fine health-wise until she caught a cold in September. She developed a bad cough and didn’t leave her room for over a month, having all her meals delivered (for a fee). I didn’t think she’d ever leave the room again but in her own time she started to go down for her meals. She knows what she wants, she knows who she likes, she is a tiny little woman who stands up for herself clearly and emphatically. Don’t mess with her or hell will break loose. The social worker has learned that first hand.

A woman in the building three floors above broke the law the other night and was not only smoking in her apartment but smoking in bed. You know what’s coming. She fell asleep. She’s gone. Seventy-two years old. She chose her way to check out and luckily didn’t take anyone with her. New York City has a strong fire code. The signals were sent to the fire department automatically, about twelve engines arrived without anyone summoning them. The fire doors closed, the apartment doors locked, the apartment lights flashed. The fire was extinguished in a half hour. There is a gaping hole where the window was: A gaping black rectangle where the tooth fell out. The cleaning service was in for at least a day dealing with water and smoke. Probably by now it’s like the woman was never there.

Though my mother is said to have told Peaches during the melée: “What would I do without you?” She has also said the following after I unloaded all the bags and tried to keep my cool:

“I do my exercises every morning (demonstrates with leg lifts), I went in to an exercise room–what am I going to do–sit there and hit the balloon? Come on! I like the movies, I have some friends. I go to the bathroom myself, I can dress myself. I can go down to the dining room. I get my hair done.”

”YOU HAVE TO HAVE SOME CONFIDENCE IN ME. I AM OK. HAVING THESE PEOPLE AROUND MAKES ME LOSE MY INDEPENDENCE. THEY DRIVE ME CRAZY. I NEED TO THINK FOR MYSELF AND MAINTAIN MY INTELLIGENCE. PLEASE DON’T HIRE ANYONE WHEN PEACHES GOES HOME FOR CHRISTMAS.”

“I am ninety-five. I have had a good life. I have no regrets. If the good Lord wants me he can have me and there’s nothing anyone can do. Now please let me be on my own, I need the rest.”

I had sent Peaches out of the room. She texted me from down the hall:

“Is it possible for you to pay me for next week and the other week since I am coming off Tuesday morning and come back Friday and will be working all the other week so you wouldn’t have to go back it would be $480 and $900 thank you don’t let your mom know. I said $900 because $180 is for the holiday January the 1 you already pay me until this Sat.”

Hmmm. I had been paying her in advance a few times and now she is expecting it. This was a bit much, I had to pull in the reins. I responded, “I’ll pay you the $480.”  I had too many expenses to pay her for the following week but actually that wasn’t the truth; I was pressured by someone in my employ and she was pushing my buttons. I needed an out. Guilt?  And “don’t tell your mom.” Rubbed me the wrong way. I handled it.

She responded, “no prob.”

To my mother I said, ” do you want one of those buttons to wear around your neck?

“No. I don’t need it.”

My mother stated her case. She is an adult, this is what she wants. Three days of freedom when Peaches is away.

I am still her child.

I granted her wish.

 

 

 

This series is linked: see “continued here.” Also, below the line there will be links for the previous post and the next.

The series starts here

the story is continued here