The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly!

I found some reports and writings from my college days and started recalling what my tenure as an Adult Returning Student (ARS) at the University of Montevallo was like.

The Good

It was a wonderful opportunity my hubby made possible! The friends I made at school are priceless. A couple of my professors inspired me to achieve beyond my wildest imaginations. During my Freshman year, an English professor made me angry enough at myself to enter a writing contest. I wrote about the life and culture of truck drivers - I won! I admired Dr. Forbes because she was always very professional and businesslike - she knew her "stuff" and motivated me to excel in Management classes. Being a roving reporter for the school newspaper was extremely challenging, while offering me many happy times. Qualifying for and participating in the Student Exchange program was a highlight I cherish. Serving as the ARS Senator on the Student Government for two years afforded me an insight into the politics of college life. Being inducted into the Golden Key Honor Society, while a high honor, also humbled me. An advisor who, although he continuously messed up my schedule, always listened to my "I just can't do this" and would respond, "Who said?" The many papers I corrected for students from 38 non-English speaking countries while an exchange student (all classes were taught in English, thankfully for me). As a result of charging a guilder for each paper, I was able to lighten my hubby's financial burden for my stay in Amsterdam.

The Bad

The death of my hubby one week before graduation. Algebra! Still don't understand the need for doing math with letters rather than numbers. Instructors (not professors) who were young enough to be my grandkids. The professors who taught theory because they'd never actually worked at what they taught. Having to get to campus VERY early in order to find a parking place. Not being able to use the dining room table for anything except doing homework. My hubby working algebraic formulae in his head and not understanding why it was so difficult for me to factor. Watching another ARS waste away with cancer. Falling down a long flight of stairs leading into the Student Union building and breaking my left wrist. Although, I was fortunate it wasn't any worse than that! The "burn out" which occurred in my Junior year. Working with so-called "teams" and having to do all the work myself.

The Ugly

Rampant age discrimination. Feeling the need to constantly justify why I was attending college at my "advanced age." One professor in particular ridiculed my age and life skills in a class of 82 students. He was gone my next semester! A professor in Amsterdam (while I was an exchange student there) stated it is perfectly alright to lie and cheat while conducting business - which explained why his business failed! The German students at Hoegschool of Economics, during an open forum discussion about the subject matter of the day - announced they didn't want to attend class with an "American grandmother who is only there for a lark!" I guess I showed them, as I came home from the six months of study with the highest grades ever of previous students who had been sent from Montevallo!

All in all, my college experience was all I had hoped it would be, plus much more. One of the reports I recently found was a Business Plan for a pretend business I was going to start. Everything in it was bull poop - but I received a grade of A+ and got an extra ten points above that grade toward my final exam! How much fun was that for me? Still laugh about it today.

Tomorrow, my hubby will have been gone for seven years. Although he wasn't with me in body when I graduated, I know he was with me in spirit (hindsight brought that info into my brain). I probably won't post anything here tomorrow - already dreading the day, to be truthful. However, even with the good, the bad, and the ugly, I wouldn't trade a moment of time I spent the 4 years I attended college. I learned a lot, taught others, and had a ball doing it.

Alzheimer's

Taking care of a loved one with Alzheimer's Disease is challenging, frustrating, and requires total commitment on the part of the care giver.

Although I knew nothing about Alzheimer's back in the 80's, I found myself as the full-time care giver for the ex Son of a Blotitch's mother. This gentle, sweet, and Christian woman became a monster of meanness before my very eyes - even during my "I'm in denial phase" of her care.

One day, within a matter of hours, she forgot how to dress herself! She loved to go to town to shop and eat lunch - always a fish sandwich! As she ate her breakfast, I told her we would go to town later, and then I'd take her out to eat. Excited and eager as a child, she hurried through her breakfast, made her ablutions in her bathroom, and prepared to get ready. I went about my regular morning chores and also prepared for a day in town.

About 1/2 an hour later, I knocked on her bedroom door to ask if she were ready. I can't begin to tell you my reaction when she stepped out of her room while saying "I'm ready to go." Her favorite tangerine sweat suit was on upside down - she had the bottom on as the top, draped over her shoulders 'cuz she couldn't find where to put her head. She had the shirt on as the pants with her bra tied in a knot to hold it up. Her panties were on her head as a hat, and she, of course, had her purse hanging on her arm. When I took her into the dining room where there was a mirrored wall to take a look, I asked "Do you really think you look okay to go to town?" As she viewed her image, she very carefully moved her panties a little to one side and said, "My hat is crooked."

At that moment, I no longer was in a state of denial about her mental condition. As I attempted to dress her correctly, she got very agitated with me and used language I didn't know she even knew, much less dare say!

Watching someone you care for slip away from you because of the debiliating ravages of Alzheimer's is a terrible thing. I felt so completely helpless, and often hopelss, because I had no help. There was no support from her only son - he was too busy with his skirt chasing to give any thought to his mother. There was no support group anywhere to which I could turn for help. There was no support from the church to which she had been a member for over 50 years.

The night she got out of her room and fell out the back door while I was asleep was terrifying. I awoke to hearing her call for help, but I couldn't find her! When I did, there she was in a crumpled heap on the ground, soaking wet because it was raining. It took me nearly an hour to get her back inside the house, and then another hour to get her bathed, warm, and into her bed. She weighed about 160 pounds - I couldn't lift her, so I ended up placing her on a scatter rug and literally dragged her up the stairs and through the house to get her where I could check her all over to make sure nothing was broken. The next day, I called the local medical supply business and ordered a geriatric chair, a lift, and a porta-poddy. I thanked God every day for that lift, believe me.

A short time later, she pitched a fit of rage because she claimed she NEVER had worn dentures and wasn't going to wear these! She threw them across the room at me, where they hit the wall and broke into many pieces. From then on, I had to feed her as if she were a baby - pureeing her food for her. One night, soon thereafter, I awoke to find her standing over me in bed with a knife in her hand. She wasn't threatening me - she wanted to know what she was supposed to do with the knife! I childproofed my house from one end to the other the next morning!

For nearly 2 years I was the 24/7 care giver to this woman who had once been so vibrant, active, and busy. In essence, she became my little girl who ended up being completely bedridden, forgetting how to do everything, including how to talk or eat. When she died, it was as if I had lost another child, and for a long time after her death I would second guess myself about what I could have done differently to help her. A special on television about caring for Alzheimer's patients made me aware I couldn't have done anything differently whatsoever.

I am go glad I had the opportunity to care for her.

Emily Margaret

I just visited a site wherein the writer asked about a person's favorite stuffed toy. Sorry, can't remember the name of the site, but the question really stirred something within me.

As a child, I had no toys - never had a stuffed toy, a doll, a sled, or (heaven forbid) a bicycle. My family was far from wealthy, but there always seemed to be plenty of money for booze, booze, and more booze for my parents!

The Christmas before I turned 50, my 9-year old grand-daughter made me a Cabbage Patch Doll as a gift. I treasured the doll - to me it was the most beautiful thing that had ever been given to me! My grand-daughter thought her Gram had lost her marbles when I started crying upon opening the package with that wonderful doll inside. I named her Emily Margaret after my imaginary childhood friend.

One day, about 6 years ago, Emily Margaret inadvertently got put into the washing machine, along with towels and sheets! Oh, my poor Emily Margaret was no more. I stood in the utility room and cried like a baby at her demise. My first and only doll was gone forever!

My hubby's Mom - a wonderfuly eccentric lady - promised to make me a doll. Her ceramic dolls were very lifelike and natural looking as a result of the time and effort she spent cleaning, firing, cleaning again, painting, and sewing. She hand sewed the clothes for her wonderful creations, and gave each its own unique name. But, she became too ill to make me a doll. And, since her death, her kilns and molds were sold to a ceramic shop somewhere in southern Florida.

How silly is it to miss a stuffed Cabbage Patch Doll? It might seem silly to someone else, but to me it is far from being silly. It was as if a part of me had tragically disappeared, never to be replaced. The little girl inside this old body still mourns the loss of both Emily Margarets.

I've Been "MeMe'd"

Mama Mouse "meme'd" me! I goofed up and responded by commenting on her blogsite - wrong! (Forgive my stuipidity Mama!)

Questions asked:

1. What is your happiest memory of your husband?

A few minutes before he suddenly died, he patted my knee and said "I'm so glad you are my wife."

2. What is your favorite childhood memory?

My grandmother (my mother's mother) standing at her wood stove cooking and my reaching into her apron pocket for a peppermint stick. I always felt safe, happy, and loved in her presence.

3. How do you relax and de-stress?

Usually one of 3 ways: take a long and luxurious bubble bath, create a new embroidery design, or read the Bible (not necessarily in that order).

4. What relative from your childhood was your favorite? My grandmother (cited above). If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be alive today.

5. What is your favorite meal to cook?

Weiner Schnitzel, German potato Salad, and German chocolate pie. I'm not German, but love this meal!

This was a fun project, Mama Mouse!

It's not always nice to dream

I had the most impossibly horrible dream last night. As a result, I've been more than slightly disturbed by it most of the day.

I dreamed a heavy knocking began at my front door while I was asleep. Miss Freckles was frantically barking and making every effort to get through the door to whomever was making all that racket.

In my dream, as if in slow motion, I arose from my bed, grabbed the "special" baseball bat that remains in a prominent place, and headed for the living room. I turned on the lamp by the sofa and unlocked the door - all the while demanding "Who is it?"

Positioning the bat for a hearty swing, I opened the door. There, on the front porch peering in the screen/storm door, was standing my grinning and very alive deceased husband! In a complete panic, I yelled at him "Where have you been? Why have you pretended to be dead all this time? Why did you leave me all alone?"

That's when I awoke in a state of complete terror.

I have wild and weird dreams sometimes, but nothing like this one ever! Have no idea where it came from or what it means. I've felt very disjointed and disturbed by this dream all day - found myself looking out the window or opening the front door continuously and scared of what I might or might not see!

The men in the white coats are coming for me soon, I'm sure! Hope I never have this dream again!

An extraordinary day

Because I was suffering from a severe bout of cabin fever, I just had to get out of the house for a while today. And, I'd compiled a small list of groceries I needed. Perfect reason for me get the car out of the garage and make the soujourn to the local Wally World!

Naturally, the items on my list ranged from one side and end of the store to the other! Walking with my cane is tricky enough - but leaning on a carriage for support is much more difficult for me (as I learned today). Learning how to pick up things and place them in the carriage without causing myself bodily harm was quite an experience also. Checking out wasn't a problem, because the cashier very nicely put only a couple of items in each bag and then placed the bags in the carriage for me to push outside to my car. That was appreciated, but I couldn't help but wish she were going home with me to lug and tote and put away!

Getting the bags into the car was a trip - but a very nice young man helped me. I'm always amazed at the kindness of others toward me! However, upon arriving home, it took me what seemed like an inordinate amount of time to get the bags into the house and then put the stuff away! Won't go by myself again until I'm better, of that I'm sure!

My embroidery designs aren't selling like I thought they would and my budget is so tight my butt squeaks when I walk! So, sent up a silent prayer this morning for financial help.

Shortly after lunch time, I got a call to teach digitizing classes for four ladies I met when I made a presentation at their sewing club earlier this month. And, a few minutes ago a dear friend of mine called to ask me if I'd like to work for her and her husband on a part-time basis (probably wouldn't have to work more than 4 - 8 hours per week) keeping their books for them.

How cool is it to receive an answer to prayer so quickly? Still have goose bumps as big as golf balls all over my body!!!