Now who needs the anti-depressant?

This won't be a news flash to anyone who knows the situation, but I am not going to win Daughter of the Year (or wife or employee or friend, but those are separate columns). And I also have to acknowledge that Big Pharma does have something going for it.

About three days before a business trip, I was scrambling to make sure my mom had all her meds and that I had placed them all in the proper containers so her caretakers could dole them out at the appropriate time. Three needed to be refilled, so I called them in and went to pick them up.

The pharmacist, who is sometimes my BFF and sometimes the Spawn of Satan, apparently had chosen Personality No. 2 and would not, not, not refill the Lexapro, an anti-depressant, because it was too early. But, I said, I'll be out of town. Way too early, she said.

So I was two for three. If Manny were that good, we wouldn't have had that cliffhanger vis a vis winning the division. But in the world of elder care, two for three isn't quite good enough. She had enough for five days, and I would be away only for seven.

So I went off and came back. And then I did the bad thing.

I forgot.

I forgot that the one script that remained unfilled was the anti-depressant, and I didn't remember until the first Sunday I spent with her. We could have made a movie called "The Devil Wears Depends" that day.

I quickly had the script refilled and re-started her on it. This Sunday, she is like a different person. She is smiling and laughing, and a moment ago as I was standing near her, she reached out to pat my hand.

She should have slapped my wrist.

Because 88 is no time to lose a day to depression.

The Mom Chronicles: How Can I Be Blue?

My mom and my dog are best of friends. I think Mom identifies with Blue (at right).

Blue (a.k.a. Puppy Girl) is a rescue Dalmatian who came into our lives about six years ago. She was a quivering mess. Still is, somewhat. We're not sure how old she is, but we believe that she was one of the puppies born shortly after the last "101 Dalmatians" movie, which was 1996. Which means neither she nor my mom is any spring chicken.

From what SavetheDals.org tells me, Blue was used as a puppy mill and when the family moved, she was kicked to the curb. We don't know much more, except that the hair is gone from her joints because she apparently slept from concrete; that she is afraid of brooms and sprayed water, which may have been used as discipline; and that, despite it all, she lives to please. Her tail could challenge any metronome and win.

My mother was furious with me when I showed up at her house with Blue (so named for her blue eyes). "You work too many hours to have a dog!" she barked. (My mom, not Blue.) And in one of the more famous nonsequiturs, I said, "Let's go to the beach." And we did. As we sat on a bench, I told her what I knew about Blue, and her heart melted, as she heard the sad story of puppies taken away and punishment meted out.

Puppy Girl was in. They've been the best of friends ever since.

When my mom still lived in her own home, P.G. would say with her. Nowadays, Blue comes for short visits or my mom comes to the house to see Blue. Absent a personal visit, we have photos of Blue in the apartment and a Dalmatian calendar and a Dalmatian blanket that Mom has dubbed "Puppy Girl."

At 5:45 this morning, my mom is ready to get up. I am not, but it doesn't matter. We get up anyway, and she totters into the TV room. The blanket is ready to assist. Its companion is a blue blanket, which my mother has dubbed "Puppy Girl Part 2."

As I spread them over her legs, I say, "Here comes Puppy Girl!" and then "Here comes Puppy Girl Part 2!" and my mother says, "Oh, Puppy Girl. Oh Puppy Girl Part 2. I need you. I am so cold. You warm me up."

You do too, Mom.

The wisdom of the cousins

I tease my cousins a lot about being older than I—I am the youngest of about a dozen-but it is precisely because they are older that they bring such richness to my life.

My cousin Rosemary, after reading my last post, sent this e-mail to me about caring for her mom, an elegant, raven-haired lady who always seemed to me to have a magical quality that she passed to her children. I wanted to share Rosemary's note to me because it’s full of the kind of wisdom we need more of.

“You have a child who won’t get well, but who will love you -- as no one else ever will -- for loving her,” Rosemary wrote.

“In my final days with my mother, I realized that she had always been the endearing, willful, complex, difficult child she was then, but I hadn’t ever seen it before because I needed her to be powerful. When she needed me to be powerful, I fell in love with her as never before -- and now, as time passes, I’m so grateful that I had the chance to know and love her as a child.

“Though it was all so scary and sad, she was enchanting – as she always had been, but I hadn’t fully realized it. Of course, in a way it made losing her even more painful, but it was an important lesson in through a glass darkly.

“Life is what it is and you’re making the best of it now – even if you can’t know it because it’s so hard.”

Thank you, my cousin, my friend.

Listen to your intuition: It could save a life

Dr. Mary Louise Hatten, who taught economics (or in my case tried to teach me economics) at Simmons College Graduate School of Management, used to say, "Listen to your intuition; it is your experience at work."

As women, we often discount that inner voice.

But I'm writing today to tell you a story that has reminded me to listen.

Many of you recall that my mom was transferred to a convalescent hospital in June 2008, after hospitalization. I was so unhappy with the care that I removed her from the place against medical advice. When the hospital tried to place her in the same facility after her hip break and replacement this spring, I refused, vehemently.

Meanwhile, a work colleague recently moved her 80-something mother to the same senior residential facility as my mom, partly on my recommendation. Her mom was there about three weeks before she fell and broke her ankle. She also was having some other medical problems, and she was hospitalized. When the time came to discharge her, they sent her to the same place my mom was sent in June 2008.

New name, new owner.

Same bad care.

After a few days, my colleague told the personnel she was taking her mother out. They told her that her mom was getting better, so against her better judgment, she left her mom there.

A couple of days later, she found her mother slumped over in a wheelchair. She called 911 and had her transferred to another place, where she was diagnosed with pneumonia.

Her mom died last Sunday.

My colleague is a wonderfully nice person. She doesn't have a hot little temper, she doesn't overreact, she doesn't have screaming matches with nurses. She doesn't just walk into a place and put her mother into a wheelchair and take her home, never telling anyone. I confess to all of that.

I wept when I learned that her mom had died. Her mom isn't suffering anymore, but she is.

It's a huge lesson. I hope to God I've learned it. My intuition tells me to share it with you.

An unexpected visitor at my mother's home

Guess who showed up at my mother's apartment on Wednesday?
My mother.
"Oh, look at those roses. They smell wonderful! It's so good of you to share. You do have some beauties."
and
"How am I? I can't complain. Oh, wait, I'm me, so I probably will."
and
"Don't push yourself so hard. You have lots to do."
and
"I love you so much."
And that, my friends, is the cruelty of this disease. Is it better to see her as she used to be, only to be surprised when someone else appears in her place the next time? Or is memory better than reality, if reality is fickle?

Pray for us sinners

Dear God:
Today was a good day. Why can’t all of them be good?
My prayers fall on deaf ears.
You promised you would always give me what I need, just not always what I want.
I need my mom.
But do I really?
Or do I need to grow
Wiser and more patient?
Less judgmental, less reactive?
Do I need to become
A woman in the image
Of your very own mother,
Selfless and true?
Holy Mary,
Pray for me.
Pray for her.
Pray for us.

Cross words

We are united
Against the enemy.
It is Sunday,
and it is printed,
Blocks and clues
bring us together.
A four-letter word.
Slang for safe cracker.
Starts with a Y?
Yegg, she says.
Yegg? I ask.
Yegg, she says.
Huh? I say.
It's a criminal, she says.
How'd you know ? I ask.
Crosswords for years, she says.
And I look at her.
And she knows I am thinking
That she cannot remember
what I said two minutes ago
But she can remember
this obscure little word
and somewhere in there
My mother still lives
And I smile so
my heart
won't burst.