The Woman She Was.

Rhona with her 1st grandchild, Tyler. 1989

The woman she was...

was feisty. 

On a friendship level... she had a very small circle of friends. She simply didn't put up with drama and/or bull from anyone. She wasn't a social butterfly. She refused to be part of the local gossip. For the most part she kept to herself and her select few.

Mom was true to her few. She was there for them at the drop of a hat if they needed her.

She was a workaholic. A massive workaholic.

As a single mom, she would pull whatever hours she needed to make the ends meet and to be able to have things she wanted or trips she wanted to take.

Growing up, she was always at work. We were always home alone. 

She wasn't the mom who attended school parties or events. She wasn't the mom who was there cheering us on during the sporting events we participated in.

She was at work. All the time.

When Tyler entered the world, she softened a little. No matter where she went, he always got a treat or toy when she returned. She taught him to love to shop and their shopping adventures together were UNREAL. He didn't want for anything.

When I say she work a lot..... she did. 

She was a supervisor for the postal service. She would cover for any supervisor when needed. 

She was rough and ran a tight ship!

I subbed on a rural route as a part time fill in, in the office where she was a supervisor. 

I'll never forget this incident.

It was early in the morning. We were casing up mail when all of the sudden you heard two people fussing with each other. It grew louder and louder. 

It was her and a male carrier.

He was a full time carrier and he had a calendar hanging in his mail cube of female models in swimsuits. They weren't one piece swimsuits. The images of models were in thongs showing their buttocks and small bikini tops with cleavage.

She was offended. Said she didn't need to look at half naked women.

Mom directed him to take it down. She said she shouldn't have to look at that when she came to talk to him about his route.

His response wasn't what she wanted to hear, so the match began between them. He stood his ground on the fact that it was his cubical and she didn't have to enter it to talk to him.

She was his superior. She sent him home.

He lost his battle and the calendar came down.

In my opinion, she was rude and nasty about it. I will never forget that day. It could have been approached in a much better fashion, not with a office of carriers trying to get their mail up, bags & trucks loaded, but who was I to say anything. I needed my job. It could have been handled behind closed doors, but it wasn't. In my opinion, it was done to set an example. To let everyone know she was the woman in charge and you will not mess with her.

Had I said anything, it would be double trouble for me. Trouble in the office and trouble at home.

So, I remained silent. 

To this day, I despise that day and her actions.

~bo

A CRAPPY KINDA DAY!

 

8/31/24

It was a quiet morning. I was able to sit with a cup of coffee and simply chill in the living room with Sammi Kay.

I enjoyed every sip of my 'Jamaican Me Crazy' coffee. 

I didn't want to move from the couch. It felt good to sit in silence and just pray and sip. Just me, my dog, my coffee and my Jesus.

I mustered the energy to move and put a roast in the crock pot. I do NOT like to cook (YET) and I now have learned that not having something for mom to eat makes me stress out more trying to figure out what to feed her when she's hungry.

Living alone was so easy. I rarely cooked.

Now, I'm trying to learn to plan - which I don't like (YET) but I'm trying.

I hear movement from moms room. I can tell she's getting up to use the bathroom. Then, I hear "dammit!' I head down the hall and ask what's wrong and she replies, "I'm pooping." All I could do was groan.

Sometimes, 'I'm pooping' isn't as bad as I think it will be. I was hoping for that type of 'I'm popping'....but I wasn't so lucky.

She left a trail.  It went from her room to the hall into the bathroom. She only had a gown on so it was free to escape her adult underwear overload. I wanted to cry.

I started cleaning her up first and explained she had to get in the shower. There was no choice. It was just too much. (She hates getting in the shower. It means she's wet and cold.)

At the time I wasn't laughing but as a caregiver all you can do it look back and laugh.

We have a shower bench for mom. She can't stand and step over the tub so the bench allows her to sit and scoot. But once in, I needed her to stand and bend over so I could spray that crap off.

I have THE BEST shower sprayer. Seriously.... the best! 

Our bathroom is small. When you put two plus size gals in there, there is simply no room to move. I ended up getting drenched in the process.

I explain to mom I need her to stand and turn around and hang on to the bench while I spray her down. There was just too much!! It had to be hosed off before I could even bathe her.

She's cleaned up and to bed she goes to get warm and rest. A regular shower kicks her booty. This was twice as long.

I give her a Imodium to help her loose issue.

Down the stairs I go to begin laundry. In this moment, I'm regretting the quiet time I took to sip my coffee. I should have been downstairs tackling all the laundry from urine the day before. Laundry seems to be non stop.

I hate laundry. I hate the steps to the basement where the washer and dryer are.

Maybe, 2 hours later, I hear her stir. I think she's simply getting up for the day.

NOOOPE. Accident #2. And it's worse.

Sammi Kay is a velcro dog and is always under my feet. I thought I had her blocked out of the hallway. Much to my dismay...she was walking through crap on the floor and tracking it. I flipped my shit. 

Insert after laughter.

I had to tell mom to sit still on the toilet while I clean up the dogs paws and all that she's tracked. Then...to the kennel she goes so I don't have a 2nd tracking mess from her.

A friend recently gave me a bag of old towels. Can I just say what a blessing those towels are on this day?!!

Bed stripped and remade. Floor cleaned and mopped. Mom still patiently waiting. She begins to cry when I tell her we have to get her back in the shower again. It's just too much to try any other way.

Shower #2 - complete.

Mom decides she wants to come in the living room after shower #2 and and watch tv and I say, "awesome" even though my heart and mind screams "No. go back to bed!" My back hurts and I just want to cry. So out to the backyard I go.

I don't and won't cry in front of my momma. She doesn't understand. I don't need her any more upset than she is.

I come in from outside and she's headed to the bathroom. Accident #3.

Sweet Jesus, give me strength!!!!!

Her pajama pants caught the majority of this load. Unfortunately, it didn't stop us from having shower #3.

My back is now screaming. It's not strong enough to do all this bending and twisting and carrying wet clothing. In this moment...I want a good stiff drink, but I've been sober for 23 years. Today I crave. Today has been a lot. 

A LOT!!!

I head back outside. I tell mom to stay inside because it's to far if she has another accident. (She loves our backyard and loves coming outside to watch Sammi Kay run and play). Honesty, I just needed to sit and cry. No more holding it in. I needed it to be free and flowing. So, I sat and bawled in my backyard realizing how lonely I am and how hard this is.

A friend sent me a message to say she saw my post and is praying. She encourages me to focus on 5 positive things. I have been practicing daily gratitude for about a year so I instantly pop these 5 things out:

1. Extremely hot water. 2. A washer and dryer in my home. 3. That’s she with me and not being abused. 4. That this is only a rough day and not every day. 5. That I have this time with her even though it’s not easy.

It's now 9:00pm and mom has gone to bed. I'm praying we won't have any incidents in the night.

Being a caregiver is hard. I think it's the hardest thing I've ever done. But this is what I'm learning.... these days, these crappy days, are few compared to the days there are no accidents. On these days, I might flip my shit because I have little to no help and it's overload when it happens ----- but it's just a bad day. It's not the entire journey. It's not every day....but MAN they are HARD and they STINK!

I realize I need to grieve. 

I've lost my complete freedom to come and go and do life, as I please. 

I've lost a mom who can't control her bladder or bowels in certain moments.

I share walk this journey with grace, love and joy. Even on the hard days.

~bo