Another Birthday for Mama

Ninety-five years!  I can't imagine living that long - and neither can she.  We had a conversation about it one day when I was showing her some pictures from last year's party. 

"How old was I then?"
94
"How old am I now?"
95
VERY shocked face.  "95?!!"

She thought about it a minute and said, "How old is my oldest grandchild?"
47
"47?  Is that you?"
No, I'm 71.
Another shocked face (mine too!)

"Well, how old am I then?"
95.
Just shaking her head and smiling.

She does know that we're familiar to her, but she has lost her grasp of who we are and what generation we are in.  She will look at an old picture and pick out people and say their names - sometimes.  It's worrisome because she's stopped eating more than a couple of bites a meal.  She does drink her protein drink they bring her several times a day and loves the apple juice. 

If I ever say, "How about a cup of coffee?" her face lights up, and she says, "Hot coffee?  Do you have some?  That sounds real good."  I'll get it, and it's too hot, and then she'll fall asleep before she finishes it, but she does get the enjoyment of having it and taking a few sips.  That was always one of her favorite things when she lived with us.  She would come to the kitchen, get her coffee, put it into the microwave for 2 minutes (boil it!) and then set it on her walker and head for her room.  By the time she got back and got herself situated, it was just about cool enough to drink.

I'm sorry she doesn't get to enjoy a lot of the things she used to, but she did get to for a long time, and that's what's important.  She got to live long enough for her and Daddy to retire and travel a lot and enjoy their home and garden and grandchildren.  After he died and she came to live with me, she loved her coffee and green tea.  The three newspapers a day she read from cover to cover.  Days of our Lives.  Lakeview Church and all her friends there.  Every one of those things has gradually been taken away from her, and she is just kind of left with her thoughts.  She worries a lot about going to jail, for some reason, and even threatened one of the staff members and me with jail if we smiled at each other again.  There was just that one day that I saw her so agitated, but I understand she gets that way a lot of nights.

I did take some pictures, but they're not ones she would ever want on a public blog since she didn't get to go comb her hair and put on some powder and lipstick, but here is a little sampling of her life in her 95th year.

Andalusia Manor, which has been a good home for her now for a few years. 

The people there do an amazing job.  Theirs is a hard job, and they take it seriously and with a sense of humor too.  Lots of laughing going on in the halls and friendliness, and kindness and compassion, as I got to observe throughout 6 days.

I'm sorry I didn't get to get pictures of everyone.  I always plan to, but I'll forget.  I don't even remember all the names.  Mama's nurses are Christina, Lori, Trish, and Jessica.  I might have missed a night nurse or two since I wasn't there at night. 

This is Jessica doing a blood pressure check.

Lori is brand-new and just learning the ropes, but we had a chance to talk for a bit, and she is very sweet and caring.

I keep forgetting to check on her door to see the correct spelling of her name, but Shameca (Mika, as the other nurses call her) is the hall director and a constant source of information and comfort to me.  She listens to my concerns and reassures me, and I know she and the West Hall staff are responsible and conscientious.  I caught her on another hall Sunday and got this picture.  They love me and my camera, I'm sure.

There are numerous other girls who do the real daily caring for the patients - wheeling them up and down the halls, rescuing them and helping them find their rooms when they get lost, taking them for showers, dressing and grooming the ones who can't and just cheering them up by poking their heads in the door and greeting them with a joke or a smile.

I found out Monday morning that Mama had been dressed and taken to the beauty shop, and that was the best news.  It absolutely changed her personality for the next couple of days.  She balks at anything that's out of bed, but someone convinced her that day.  I walked down to the beauty shop and got these pictures.  Not the best but so much better than the previous days.

All up and down the halls on the way back to her room, people would stop her and tell her how beautiful she was, and that seemed to please her.

Carol, Kathy, and I planned a VERY small birthday party for her on Sunday, but it was not one of her best days.  She was able to blow out her candle and take a bite of cake and seemed thrilled with her gifts.  Kathy remembered she liked these:

Her eyes lit up, and she said, "Oh, I LOVE those."  She likes to be the hostess still and was offering them to everyone who came into the room - but then asked me to hide them later!

Mike and Robin visited her on her actual birthday and got these pictures.

It was a good visit.  I left sad but reassured she was in the right place for getting good care.  I'm not sure she even knew who I was or that I was leaving, but she did have a big smile and wave and even blew a kiss and said, "I love you."  And that's about the best I can expect.