My mom has a rare disease called Progressive Super nuclear Palsy or PSP. (Follow that link to learn more about it). It's a rare and horrific disease. Her symptoms include, but are not limited to: no peripheral vision, double vision, slurred speech, dizziness, loss of balance, muscle stiffness, rigidity, loss of motor skills, difficulty swallowing, etc. Basically, she's a prisoner in her own body. She can talk, but she talks S-L-O-W and is hard to understand because she can't open her mouth very wide and talks through her teeth. Eventually she won't be able to open her mouth at all. She can't walk and needs help doing everything. We have to dress her, take her to the bathroom, feed her, etc. She has an excellent memory. People always think she won't know them or that she'll be out of it, but she's not (well, not usually, but she's come up with some doozies lately). Which, honestly, makes it even harder. Sometimes I wish she was just a total nut job and completely out of it, but knowing my strong, independent mom is inside there hating every moment of me feeding her just kills me. Anyway...
I'm suppose to be funny, huh? OK...sorry for the mush...moving on....
Since moving mom into the nursing home, I've spent my fair share of time there. I'm telling you...if you need some entertainment, you should try hanging out in one. I don't mind it so much, but it totally freaks Gracie out. On occasion you get the one that just yells uncontrollable. Those frighten her. Wimp. Sometimes when we're walking through the halls and there are residents lined up against the wall, I like get behind her and yell..."HELP!!" I think she peed once.
**This blog is meant to entertain and not offend anyone. Being that my mom is one of these people, I don't mean any harm. This is a laugh or cry situation...and I personal prefer to laugh.**
One time, this adorable woman asked if she could talk to me...then proceeded to ask me if I could help her steal some drugs for some friends of hers that were "really good people, just like you and me". Well in that case, young lady. What would you like me to get? Some enemas? Viagra? (God help us if they have Viagra in the nursing home!!!!) Another time she kept telling us she was so excited to see Freddie Fender and that she just really loved his voice. Um...Who is Freddie Fender?
Get this: There is a designated smoking area...where the residents sit, with their oxygen tanks, puffin' on their cancer sticks. I don't know for sure, but if I was smoker, on oxygen, and had to be put in a nursing home, I might think about quitting. Then again, maybe they're thinkin' "Oh, what the hell!! It's not like I'm going to walk out of here! Might as well go out with a bang and take a few of these other poor saps with me!"
Then, there's the spitter. Oh mylanta. The other day my aunt and I were sitting in the dining room with mom while she ate (we fed her) dinner and there was a man behind her that kept hawkin' up nastiness...and spitting it out on the floor...in the freakin' dining room!!! There was one old lady (that looks like my Uncle Jr, by the way and it's really weird) that kept yelling at him! "HEY!! Stop spittin' on the floor!! Stop spittin'!!" It was HILARIOUS! She was like obsessed with it. She kept watching him and yelling at him, then he would say, "who me? Are you telling me to stop spitting?" Um, sir. Are you spitting on the floor? Then, yeah. She's talkin' to you! Naturally I was grossed out, but at first, I thought it was just saliva...then, he rolled his wheelchair and I saw something gooey string from the floor to his wheel. (FYI: I'm violently gagging right now). Then he rolled back and then back again, and it was stuck to the wheel and kept flipping back onto the floor. I swear, it was the thickest, stringiest, gooiest snot I had ever seen. I started gagging and I tried to tell the CNA, but it took me about 5 minutes to get out, "That {gag} man {gag gag} ba-{gag} back {gag gag violent gag} there is {gag} sp-{gag} spi-{gag gag} spitti-{gag} spitting {gag} on the floor. {gag gag gag gag}" The CNA response? "Yeah, we're use to it." WELL, I'M NOT!!!!! Clean it up!!! Mom and Aunt Kathy were laughing so hard mom had to change her depends. And I think Mom spit her dinner across the room. At least it wasn't snot!
Oh, I can't forget about what I'm about 98% certain is a cross dresser. I've only seen them once. (I'm going to refer to them as "them", because I'm not 100% sure of the gender and don't want to offend them by calling them a him when it's actually a her. Or by calling it a him when it's actually a him but wants to be referred to as a her. Or, I guess could call them "Pat"! Remember that bit on SNL about Pat? No one knew if Pat was male or female? Ok...Pat it is.) But when I walked in and saw Pat, my first thought was, "what the hell!!" (language, I know! But that's really what I thought!). Pat was adorable and you could tell Pat took great pride in Pat's appearance. Pat had Pat's hair pulled up into a high, perfect pony tail with these perfect ringlets draping down. Then these awesome poofy, "There's Something About Mary" -esqe bangs. Full make up, nails done, women's clothes, jewelry...the works. Pat was very large. Had huge hands and feet. Very tall. (Bear with me, I'm trying really hard to not be totally offensive.) Now, I don't quite know what to make of this. I mean...we live in Tulare, where men usually dress like men, and women usually dress like women. And this has nothing to be homophobic or anything because most gay people I know still dress like their own gender, you know? But anyway...I couldn't stop looking. I even took a picture, that, NO, I'm not posting on here. I wanted to say something to my mom, but another thing this disease has taken from her is her filter, and no telling what she'd do. Pat never said anything loud enough for me to hear so I couldn't tell by Pat's voice. It's killing me. I have to know....When I find out, I'll fill you in.
Over the last couple months, Mom has had a few roommates. In her first room she had this woman who refused to get out of bed and would just shit (again, sorry for the language, but sometimes there are no better words, because poo-poo does not quite describe what this woman was doing) her pants then yell for someone to change her. She was young (late 50's I believe), too. The smell was horrific. Poor thing. That's where I experienced my first gagging episode. Then mom spent nearly a week in the hospital and when she came back, she moved rooms, so she had a new roommate. This one (she was old) was just recovering from something and would be leaving shortly. Her husband was there all the time. One day my mom, bless her heart, waited for her the lady's husband to take her to the bathroom and then mom called me in close...then she proceeds to tell me that the woman was telling her husband that she wanted to go home so she could have sex with him (and I suppose this is where the Viagra in a nursing home might come in handy, eh?). HOLY HELLO KITTY. I literally yelled, "WHAT?!?!? I don't think so. I think you're crazy, mom!" She says, "Shhhh!! Don't let them hear you and no, I'm not, Kimberly. She said it." I'm still not convinced, but I suppose anything's possible.
Her latest/current roommate, Mary, is a doll!! She's 101 and speaks portuguese 1/2 the time. She can't hear a thing, either, so you have to yell into her ear. I think every time I walk into the room she sees me and says, "I have to go to the toilet." The other day her granddaughter brought her a milk shake and she lit up like a Christmas tree. Love her.
Oh yeah! Mom's next door neighbor. Oh Laaaw-dy (that's Lordy said with a very strong southern accent). She lays in her bed, without her teeth, and constantly yells, in a super nasal voice, "NAARRSE!! NAARSSE! I NEED TO BE CHANGED, NARSE!" Yes, narse. Not nUrse. NARSE. Try saying it. Knock out all your teeth, plug your nose and pronounce it NAAAAR-SE. Yi yi yi! Poor sweet thing. Her hair is always sticking up like she stuck her finger in a light socket and apparently she's unable to close her mouth because it's always wide open that that "Scream" guy. She's as skinny as a twig, too. I can't help but laugh. I'm sorry, but I can't. She's just as sweet as she can be, though. (Sometimes I write that stuff to cover my butt.)
You also never know who you'll see visiting a loved one in a nursing home. I saw an actor. His dad is next door to my mom (the other next door, not the one with the narse lady). He's one of those guys that pops up everywhere and you might not know his name, yet you know the face and voice for sure. Then I started wondering what the heck he was doing in Tulare, of all places. I've lived her for-eva and I'm pretty sure I would know if he was from Tulare. Anyway...When I saw him the first time, I blurted out, "Hey! Aren't you on TV?" (Apparently I have no filter, either. Like mother, like daughter.) And he said, "LET'S NOT DO THIS NOW! I can't do this!" Whoa...Calm it down, dude. Calm. It. Down. I felt like the biggest idiot EVER (that being said, he pretty much answered my question with that response, right?)!! I think I went through about 50 shades of red (not grey) and retreated back to my mom's room, burying my head in her pillow. Later when I was leaving, I saw him in the parking and wanted to apologize, but wasn't quite sure how to go about it, so...I just blurted out, "Sorry about that in there," and he responded, "OH MY GOSH, NO! I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that!" Then he shook my hand, introduced himself and apologized some more. Then I forgave him and now we're best friends! Well, if you consider running into each other in the hall at the nursing home, and me following him on twitter best friends, then yeah, we're BFF's!
Oh, the joys.
**Excuse Typos. My sister is my editor and she works and if I sent it to her to proof then it might take longer to publish and I'm impatient. Deal with it.**
1 comment:
Your mom is such an awesome person! I'm glad you can keep your humor in this situation. Do you read the blog to your mom? She would get a kick out of it! :)
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