Two pairs of her summer slacks are ruined and I fear for the winter clothes I took over there last week. No, they don’t use bleach, but apparently the state requires laundry temperatures to be 160 degrees “for sanitation” purposes. I shudder to think what that will do to her nicer winter slacks. I’m told the temperatures are pre-set and not changeable.
Last week she had a new ear mold made. I’m hoping when this arrives that she will do better with keeping her hearing aid in. We had supper at home and it was night time when I drove her back. She was very concerned about “her folks walking home from the bus stop after dark.” I assured her that I would certainly pick them up if I saw them. Note: they both died before I was born.
In the course of the conversation, I heard for the first time a compliment of my father. We were talking about the little house we lived in on Cook Road. She said she always had admired him for building it (out of used lumber, was the story I heard) because it was just something he had to do.
Thinking about it, my father had absolutely no background in anything that had ANYTHING to do with construction. I never thought about it before – how he managed to figure out what was needed, how to do it, and then in fact to build that little place. Of course, forever after, he was the “expert” who not only couldn’t be told anything new but insisted on telling YOU exactly how you should do whatever it was you were working on.
None the less, it is absolutely the first positive thing I have ever heard her say about him.
Today I met her at her cardiologist’s office. One of the nice things about Medicaid is it will provide transportation to medical appointments, which means I save the hour round trip out to get her and back. The doc said her long-existing heart murmur (atrial valve prolapse = congestive heart failure) sounds no different now than it did eight years ago. He is amazed.
I have been well aware, though, how easily she gets winded. We went out to lunch at Chick f’il A (no Burger King nearby!). She walked in with my assistance, out, then at home, into the powder room from the car in the driveway, and back. It about did her in. I wanted to stop at home to pick up the dogs so they could ride in her lap that last half hour. She enjoyed their company, we sang a few old songs in the car on the way, and I helped her get into bed for a short nap before supper.
My late brother left her a very small inheritance. I have arranged for one of the caregivers I paid when she was a Hospice patient in my dining room to visit her twice a week. I’ve known Mary for 17 years. She is kind and patient, and at one time she and Mother were great friends. She lives less than 10 minutes from QO, so going out there for an hour or so really isn’t that difficult for her. I can’t think of a better way to spend this small windfall.