Some Fun, Some Not So Fun, Some Sad--July Update

July began with me not feeling well. I was aching from head to toe. There was no cold or sneezing, just a deep congested cough coming straight from my chest. I knew immediately the weather in June made a home in my lungs with bronchitis. An appointment with my doctor and a chest x-ray on the 15th confirmed it. I was put on antibiotics for two weeks.

My daughter, Stacey, and her family came up from Alabama for a visit on the 24th. They visited with us all day on the 25th while Mom was at club. Two Feather was cleaning up the branches from the big oak that was left lay by the loggers in the lower yard.



Stacey’s husband, Dennis, was throwing the small branches onto the wagon and Stacey drove the Mule behind the house where we threw the branches and brush over the hill in a large gully.



Trinity and Quenton helped throw branches, too. Tux, Stacey's dog, had to get in the action, too. They were having fun helping Pap Pap and Bammaw clean up GG’s (great grandma’s) yard.

On the 26th, Stacey, Dennis, Trinity, and Quenton came over and spent the entire day visiting with Mom and on the 27th they came back again with Angel, Tim and Katie and visited most of the day.



I managed to get everyone in the picture. Of course, there are two people missing in the picture; I was taking the picture and Two Feather ran up to our house to bring Ricky the raccoon down to meet the family.

Angel and Katie met Ricky in June. This is a picture of them.


The kids loved petting him.



Mom thought he was adorable and held him on her lap for a while. Her eyes lit up when he crawled onto her shoulder and squeaked.



She thought it was great that we nursed him back to health and that he was so small, cute, and cuddly. She just loved him.



I snapped of shot of Angel and Stacey playing ring-around-the-rosy with Katie, Trinity, and Quenton. Shortly after, the girls announced they were leaving because they knew Mom was getting tired. They planned to go out for dinner and left so I could get Mom something to eat and keep her on her schedule. It’s times like this that I miss being able to get up and go and spend more time with my kids and grandkids, but I’m very thankful that they recognize the signs of Mom growing tired and understand the need to keep her on her schedule. Mom is only able to take so much out-of-routine and more-than-normal crowd around her for so long. You caregivers know what I mean; anything and anyone out of the ordinary seems to mentally fatigue our loved ones that much more.

Monday the 28th I took Mom to day care and I went to my doctor because my bronchitis wasn’t much better. He gave me another seven-day prescription and insisted that I take care of myself for a change. I wasn’t getting the rest I needed for the antibiotics to work properly. It was either place Mom in the ALF or I would end up in the hospital and have to place her anyway. I called the ALF to take her in the next morning. After I dropped her off, I went to my house and slept and rested the rest of that day and all of the next.

Angel and Stacey wanted to go to the local amusement park, Kennywood, on the 30th. Angel, Tim, and Katie were meeting us there after work. I told them Two Feather and I would go along and watch the grandkids while my daughters and their husbands rode rides that the munchkins were too small for. After all, I’d only be walking around and the temperature was in the high 80’s so what harm could it do?

Two and I took the kids to Kiddieland to ride the kid’s rides. Trinity, Quenton, and Katie had so much fun riding the rides. I rode a few of the rides with them.

While Angel, Tim, Stacey, and Dennis rode the roller coasters, Two and I bought the kids drinks and a funnel cake with powdered sugar on it. Between sharing the funnel cake and talking with our grandchildren, we kept them occupied until my daughters were off the rides.



I thought it was cute that Angel kept calling me from the cell phone asking if we and the kids were okay and letting me know where they were in line and how long it would be before they came back.

The day was beautiful. I even road a few of the rides, too. I rode on the King Kahuna, which swings up in the air and upside down. There was a harness that came down over the shoulders and locked in position and it had handgrips to hold onto. It wasn’t too bad.

I love amusement parks! I love roller coasters and thrilling rides, but I can’t go on those type rides anymore since I have a plate in my neck. I’ve never been afraid to go on any ride…ever.

The last ride of the day, before we left, was the Phantom’s Revenge. I’m thankful Angel had gone on it prior to her convincing me to go on one last ride. She said I’d love it and she went on it with me. She hadn’t bothered to tell me there was no harness or handgrips. It was a long panel of seats in a row—something like movie theater seats. The only difference was it had a skimpy seatbelt and it swung high up in the air. Not too bad, I thought as it started swinging. Then, Angel said, “It’s not over yet!” When I asked, “What do you mean?” She giggled and said, “You’ll see.”

The ride swung higher and higher, and my heart felt like it was in my throat when the next swoop took us so high that we were facing the cement beneath us. I couldn’t wait for the ride to be over! Never in all my years of riding amusement park rides has there ever been a ride I wouldn’t go on again. There is now! I won’t even repeat what came out of my mouth as my heart jumped in my throat with each swing. When I walked up to Two after I got off the ride, I said, “That was terrifying! There was nothing to hold on to. Never again!”

Angel asked someone take a picture of all of us before we left the park. I'll have to get that picture from her.

It felt good to get home, take a hot shower, and cuddle up on the couch. I was tired from walking all day, but we had a wonderful time.

On the 31st I asked everyone to meet us at a Mexican restaurant for dinner. I wanted to take them all out to dinner to celebrate Angel and Tim’s wedding anniversary (which was on the 29th)
and Stacey’s birthday (which would be on August 3rd). Stacey was leaving on Friday morning and I wanted to be able to spend time with everyone before she left.

All in all, July wasn’t too, too bad. My bleeding ulcer is being treated with two medications. The abnormality in my blood was diagnosed and I had another small surgery at the beginning of the month. There are a few other things I need to take care of that I wouldn’t mind telling my friends about, but I really don’t feel comfortable putting it out here for nosey eyes to read. Let’s just say, things are going as well as can be expected and I will persevere!

On another note, a dear friend of ours passed away, another friend’s daughter had a gorgeous baby girl, our loving cat, Coffee, died this month, and the logging was completed on July 7th.

Be back as soon as possible with the next update. I’ll try to cram August and September into one post so I can get back to regular posting. Keeping all of you in my prayers.

When It Rains, It Pours--June

The month of June did exactly that – poured.

June was a busy month all the way around. Two and I talked about going to a few Powwows this summer and worked toward spending a few weekends together. Sort of like getting some of our life back—but not. All of you who had been and still are care giving know what I mean.

The first Powwow was at the beginning of June. It was a powwow we hadn’t attended in four years. We planned to take Mom with us, but when we called about facilities and conveniences for her, we were told there were no bathrooms close to the Powwow circle and the camping was a half-mile from the circle. While on the phone, the Powwow director asked if Two Feather could set up his Indian art since we were planning to go. After thrashing around the idea for a few days, I decided that the best place for Mom would be at the ALF for that weekend. There would be no way I could keep and eye on her, help Two with his booth, dance, and get her to the bathrooms and camper a half-mile away when she needed to go.

We enjoyed the Powwow immensely. Two was gifted highly and honored by the lead lady dancer, a Cherokee woman from Oklahoma. She gifted me as well. It was a very spiritual and relaxing weekend.

Here is a picture of Two Feather’s set up at the Powwow.


Mom did fine in the ALF and enjoyed seeing her friends there again.

The rest of June was filled with the sound of chain saws and trees falling. I decided to have a selective cut logging (14" or more in diameter) done on the property in order to put some use to the larger and older trees rather than have them die or blown down in storms. The logging started June 11. All I’ll say about the logging is to make sure “everything you expect” is in the contract.

They knew the terrain would require a bulldozer to cut in trails, but they wanted to cut corners and not bring one in. That resulted in them ripping up the yard and damaging the block foundation of the barn before they finally decided to bring in a dozer. Also in the process, one of the logging trucks ripped the cable line off the house and we had no cable or TV for nearly two weeks. (One of the reasons I hadn’t posted anything in June). Comcast cable finally got the cable repaired and didn’t charge us, but the barn damage became a two-month-long issue with the logging company owner, who would not take responsibility. One of the Amish workers who ran the bulldozer ended up paying for the damage since his boss wouldn't.

Here is a picture of just one pile of logs brought in before it was loaded on the logging trucks.

I wouldn’t recommend the logging company I hired. In fact, I won’t even mention the name, but I would recommend Detweiler’s Wood Products of Kennerdell, PA. Mervin Detweiler IS a man of his word.

During the time of the logging, Two and I were traveling back and forth from our house to Mom’s on his Kawasaki Mule while she was at day care. One early morning on the way to Mom’s we saw a small animal move its way slowly across our path. I got off the Mule and walked to the edge of the path and found a fairly young, weak baby raccoon. He couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old, if that. He was very skinny and clumsy. Either he had fallen or had been pushed out of the nest by the mother. We picked him up and took him up to our house to see what we could do for him.

This is what he looked like when we took him home before he was cleaned up.


After a quick exam of the scrawny little masked creature, we found he had ticks in his ears and between his toes. We put Bag Balm on all the ticks and within a few hours they had backed out and died. I gave him a warm bath and wrapped him in an old towel to keep him warm and Two Feather named him Ricky. We figured we’d try to nurse him back to health and give him a fighting chance.

This is Ricky after he was all cleaned up. He's cleaning himself and our dog is curious about this new little furry creature in our kitchen.


We had an old wire dog-training cage in our garage and put an old blanket in it for him to sleep on. He had to be to force fed with a dropper because he was so weak. Two Feather and I were planning for our second Powwow the following weekend, so we had to somehow get Ricky on solid food before we left. We had six days to accomplish that.

The morning after we found him we thought we might lose him. He was lethargic and barely breathing. We took him out of the cage, wrapped him in a warm towel and continued to dribble milk in his mouth every 20 minutes. By afternoon he was much better. He was up stumbling around the house and curious about our little white Maltese. By the end of the second day we had him drinking milk from a baby bottle, he was more stable and running around the house playing with our dog.

Nose to nose.


Every time we called his name, he’d make the cutest squeaking or chirping sound. By the fourth day he was gaining some weight, getting frisky with our dog, giving me kisses on the cheek when I asked for a kiss, squeaking when he wanted fed, and came running when he heard his name. Ricky would crawl up Two Feather’s pant leg and sit on his lap, or crawl up to his shoulder and sit on his shoulder. He would make the cutest chatter or chirping sound.

Two days were left before it was time for us to go to our second Powwow. Ricky was still drinking out of the bottle but wouldn’t drink out of a bowl. We couldn’t leave milk in a bowl to spoil over the weekend anyway, so we had to get him on solid food.

The day before we left he finally drank out of a bowl. I decided to get some soft canned cat food to put in the bowl for the weekend and hope he ate. If he didn’t eat, he wouldn’t have been any worse off than when we found him. He turned his nose up at the cat food and squealed for his bottle. We fed him one last bottle before we left for the weekend.

The second Powwow we attended was in Farmington, Pennsylvania. The Powwow this year was in honor of the celebration of the birthday of the two-year-old white buffalo born at the Woodland Zoo. We camped at the edge of the Powwow grounds in direct view of the white buffalo. The zoo named the buffalo Miracle and its color has not changed to brown; by Indian belief, if a buffalo is born white and stays white, it is the sacred buffalo that will bring all races of man together.

At both Powwows the Longest Walk II participants were there. It was good to support them in their efforts of keeping Native American traditions alive and raise the awareness of Indian culture.

It was a very special weekend. Two Feather and I enjoyed the Powwow, dancing, watching the buffalo, and we met some very special people that weekend.

When we returned home, we were greeted with little squeals from Ricky when he heard his name. Nearly all the cat food was gone. He had done just fine! He climbed up the side of the cage by the door and squealed until we let him out. Once he was out the door, he climbed up Two Feather’s pant leg and chest and sat on his shoulder chattering.

During the logging and the Powwows, June was full of rain. It seemed the puddles didn’t get a chance to dry before more rain came to make more puddles and mud. The dampness and chill played havoc with my body. That brings us to July.

I’ll be back very soon with another update.

Hit Me Like A Brick

Today I decided to get off my lazy butt and start cleaning MY house. I’ve not taken very good care of it since I moved in with Mom. Being so tired all the time, I don’t give my house the attention or the thorough cleaning I used to. I manage to swipe a feather duster around the corners of every room and all the shelves and knick-knacks every few weeks and mop the floor once a week, but it’s not the same.

I gave both bathrooms a thorough cleaning—the down-on-my-hands-and-knees-type cleaning like I used to. I scrubbed the walls and took the shower curtain down and cleaned it. The bathrooms looked so nice when I finished that I decided to move into the bedroom and start working on it. I opened every drawer of the dressers and neatly rearranged all the clothes, cleaned the dressers with Murphy’s Oil soap, and gave them a good waxing. I put clean sheets on the bed, ran the sweeper, and started the laundry.

Then, I decided to tackle the bedroom closet. When I moved to Mom’s most of my clothes moved with me, but the floor of my closet was piled with clothes I’ve been hauling back and forth. It was time to get them out of the piles and hang them or put them in drawers. It took me 30 minutes to pull all the clothes out and set them on the bed to go through and decide where I was going to put what. There were things in that closet I knew I’d never wear so I put those items in a box to take to Good Will.

I sat on the floor of my bedroom looking at the room, clean and fresh, and felt strange looking at a bed and cleaning a room I haven’t slept in for three years. That strange feeling turned to sadness as I glanced at all the wall hangings that had once been so neatly dusted and cared for. I turned my attention back to the closet as not to cry and arranged the half dozen pair of shoes on the shelf and pulled out another pile of things I had no idea what they were because I hadn’t been in the closet for so long.

Still in the bag, was an Indian blanket Two and I purchased at his reservation in North Carolina when we were there four years ago. Beneath that was a pillow heat/massager that would have come in handy the past few years had I remembered I had it.

Then, below that was what hit me like a brick! It was a treasure I’ll never forget nor one I’ll ever get rid of. My bed caddy! What’s a bed caddy and what’s so great about it you ask? A bed caddy is what you keep your book, eyeglasses, TV remote, and other essentials close at hand. It tucks easily under a mattress and hangs on the side of the bed. This bed caddy is special. I made it from a pair of my dad’s carpenter jeans.



After Dad died, I made one for Mom, both my sister-in-laws, and me. I’d taken it off my bed just before I moved to Mom’s since I wouldn’t be using it. When I pulled it out from the closet, all those strange feelings I’d had while glancing at the room boiled up inside and spilled from my eyes. I sat, on the floor of my bedroom, hugging my dad’s jeans and cried. The book I was reading when I left to live with Mom was still in the pocket with a bookmark Mom made me still holding the place. The pockets also still held my body lotion, reading light, extra pair of outdated glasses, and that darn TV remote Two Feather hasn’t been able to find for three years. I thought finding the TV remote would bring me to my senses when I chuckled, but the tears continued to flow. I held Dad’s jeans against my chest and ran down the hall to Two’s workroom, tears still streaming down my face.

“What’s wrong? What’s that?” he asked. Between sobs I managed the words, “My dad’s jeans.” The shocked look on Two’s face didn’t help stop the tears and neither did the bear hug he gave me when he realized what I was holding. I buried my face in his chest and sobbed, long and hard, whispering, “I miss you. I miss my dad. I miss my mom. I miss cleaning. I miss everything!”

I wiped the tears from my face, walked back to the bedroom, placed the TV remote on top of the TV, and put the bed caddy back in the closet. Two came in and asked why I didn’t put the caddy back on the bed and I told him I wasn’t putting it back until I could use it again.

He laughed and said, “In that case, you didn’t have to change the sheets on the bed. I haven’t slept in it since you left. I sleep on the couch.”

It was then that I realized how difficult our separation has been for him. In these three years I had no idea that Two didn’t sleep in our bed. All this time I thought he was sleeping comfortable and instead he’s been stretched out on a tiny couch in our living room. He’s always called it the “Joanne couch” because it’s only four foot long.

It’s strange how much our life has changed during this care giving journey and how little things like a bed caddy made from my dad’s carpenter pants can send me to tears. Dad died of Alzheimer’s and will be gone 10 years on the first full day of spring. There isn’t a day goes by that I don’t think of him. Losing a loved one is one of the hardest things to deal with. We caregivers tell each other it gets better, and it does eventually, but there are always those unexpected little things that take our breath away and reduce us to tears. Today, for me, it was my bed caddy and Dad’s jeans. Even after 10 years. Love you, Dad. I miss you.

Mom has been sleeping better with this low dose of Seroquel. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night she only got up twice to use the bathroom each night. YAY!! I slept pretty well on Friday night, but Saturday night I woke up five times. I think my body and mind had been so used to reacting these past three years that it doesn’t know what to do when it’s not called to duty—so it did what it was used to—woke up. It didn’t take me long to get back to sleep once I realized that there was no need to run to Mom. Sunday morning I did feel the effects of not sleeping sound, though. I felt like I was dragging.

It was a dreary day and Mom was having a difficult time deciding what she wanted to do so I decided to pack her up in the car and go visit my Uncle Joe. I normally visit him twice a month, but with everything that’s been going on lately, I hadn’t been to see him since Christmas. I called him in between, but that’s not the same as a personal visit.

He seems to be doing well at the nursing home. He still says the food is lousy but the nurses are good to him. We visited for a few hours and when Mom used the bathroom Joe said he’d follow us to the elevator when she came out. He looked tired and I guess he had had enough visit for one day.

When Mom and I got home, she wanted to eat and go to bed. I tried to keep her up until 5:30 but she was dozing off at the kitchen table after dinner. By the time I got her dressed for bed she was exhausted and fell right to sleep.

Monday was a nothing day. I did absolutely nothing. Guess I’m entitled to that once in a while. :D