Mary Ellen

10 days before her 86th birthday, my mom left her body.

(I wrote this in November 2022)

When she entered the world Franklin D Roosevelt was the president. Here in Britain we had the abdication crisis.   Hitler was and his Nazi party were in power and war was on the horizon.

My mother and my uncle Gene contracted polio in approximately 1940.  My mother was about four years old.  My mother's hearing never fully recovered from contracting the disease and my uncle's legs were affected.  Post polio syndrome made my uncle's final years more difficult.  He used a walker or zimmer frame to get around.  Oddly he could still ride bicycle.  

She had to learn to walk again.  Her parents gave her piano lessons to strengthen her hands but it seems that her hands or her legs were affected by the polio.  Her hearing was what was damaged.   It was going to be years later before this was discovered.  The hearing loss was gradual and relentless. 

She was born in Nebraska but the family moved to North Dakota.  I am not certain of the timeline . . . but I know that most of her childhood was spent in Fargo. 

It was looking out a school window one winter at the snow blowing and piling up outside my mother had the most comforting thought, "I don't have to live here when I grow up".  When one is a child you live where your family lives.  She told me that realising that she could live anywhere she wanted was powerful.

She was tough.  Probably  harder on herself than anyone else. She was an advocate for women's rights and could often be found on in a protest. 

She was a big contradiction when it came to politics. At the end of her life she was a Democrat and was horrified by Republican presidencies.  She saved her deepest hatred for the 45th president.   I didn't want to be the one to remind her that in the 80s she voted for Ronald Regan TWICE.  I also remember being in the back seat of the car and my mother praising Nixon when she opened up an envelope that contained a tax refund.

She worked hard her entire life.  She was very generous and would give away her money to anyone who she thought needed it more than she did. She was particularly great at giving gifts.   I have never once returned a gift that she has given me.  They were always in the best taste and beautiful to look at. 

Bees

Years ago we had a swarm visit the place.  It was exciting and a bit frightening.  I called our friend/plumber who has been keeping bees for years and he was out in moments.  I firmly believe that if I called him about a burst pipe, he would told me that he couldn't come up until next week. 

Roll on to this year.  In January, I found this 

I believe it was left by a swarm that found a better place to live.  This means that swarms come by our place on a semi-regular basis. 

I started out by getting some second hand boxes.  A new beekeeping person gave me a smoker.  I joined the local bee keeping association.  Why not?  Annual membership is a bargain at 15 pounds a year.  The bee club is turning out to be a valuable resource! 

For those who know about bees, I bought second hand Langstroth 10 frame boxes.  They seem solid. Each of the four boxes come with a floor and a cover.  I bought them on impulse.  I am keen to take advantage of a bargain.  

Hives in the UK are normally National hives. They are a slightly different size to Langstroth hives. If I had been thinking more sensibly, I would have waited until some second hand National hives were availble for sale.  But I didn't wait, did I?  I am now committed to Langstroth hives. 

I had to order and build the frames to put inside the boxes.  Until they have frames, they're simply wooden boxes aren't they. To save money, I got them unassembled.  I think saving money is going to be a regular theme as I set about kitting up this new hobby.  I built 20 frames, enough to fill two boxes.

Now I'm almost ready, frames (with foundation) ready to go.

I have a bee suit to protect me from stings. The smoker to help keep the bees calm when going near the hives. 

I will  have to feed any bees I get when they first arrive.  You can't just stick the bees in the corner of the garden and let them fend for themselves.  They need to settle in.  I don't want them to starve to death while settling in.

I'm going to get a couple of old wooden pallets to keep the hive off the ground.  Bees don't like damp.  

There is such a learning curve with beekeeping.  I am glad I have a couple of friends who have experience of keeping bees.  I will be plaguing them with questions.

So, I've started the new hobby.  I hope it's fun.

Happy Birthday Mom

 Today is my mother's 84th birthday.  Happy birthday Mom!

I have a lovely memory of spending her 70th birthday with her in Paris. 

You can read about that super fun birthday here.

I'm glad that we have this memory to look back on.  

I'm afraid that my mother's memories have not stayed with her.

This is a screenshot from my home computer.

It shows four of the seven Facebook profiles I have for my mother.  We should have booked her in for a CT scan when this started happening.  My mother would forget her log-in information.  Instead of figuring it out or asking for help, she would just start over.

Although my mother has not been known for being reasonable, this tendency started to become much more pronounced in the last few years. When does natural grumpiness turn into an actual symptom?

The aging process is unkind when we get near the end of our lives.  Brain health is vital.  Conditions like high blood pressure and atrial fibrillation can put us at greater risk of stroke.  Even when we think we have these things under control we can have a "silent stroke" and TIA, transient ischaemic attack and the dreaded Alzheimer's disease.  These things can rob a body of it's abilities and our brain of it's faculties.

As Time Goes By

When I first started blogging, I started following a blog entitled As Time Goes By by Ronni Bennet.  A former television producer who had been looking for a forum that was honest about what happens to the human body, how society acts and reacts to people as we age.   She couldn't find a reliable and honest (non-commercial?) account of actual aging.  I am speaking of her in the past tense because a few days ago, she left her body.  I am glad that she is now at rest.  She already had the peace. It is a comfort to know that she was not fearful when she crossed over.  One of her final messages was: "When you get here, it is really nice. I am not afraid."  Rest easy Ronni. You will be missed.

Everybody experiences aging.  Leading a healthy life is merely slowing down the rate at which we age.  It can sometimes prolong death.  Don't kid yourself, a healthy life doesn't make you immortal but regular exercise IS important. 

Ronni had a list of elderbloggers.  I love that list of blogs.  Colourful and fascinating people who are immensely valuable in a short-sighted world where youth and modernity are worshipped.  As I was only in my 40s when I started my own blog, I was considered too young to be included in that list.   When I turned 50 I requested inclusion to the list of elderbloggers.  I was finally old enough to be included in the group.  I was on the list for a short time.  I was removed when my blog entries slowed and all but stopped.  

A number of people who followed my blog back when I was more active have died over those years.  Fascinating bloggers who had amazing lives.  I miss their input and perspective on things.  I am so glad they are not here to see what is happening in this terrible year but I sure could do with their opinion. The political world is chaos and it is not helped by a global pandemic.  These two topics dominate the headlines.  

I am now thinking back to all the friends I have made through this blog. As in life you make friends through connecting with people.  Some bloggers became very good friends. I am also pondering the changes in my life, changes to my family and body that have occurred over the last 14 years.  The blog has a delightful archive that can be revisited.  It is a great big journal with pictures and comments.  My theme is roughly and very loosely based on my garden but I write about a lot of topics.

This is a list of things that have happened and come to understand

• My father died
• My mother has dementia and in a care home
• I have fewer teeth
• My feet won't work well without constant support
• I discovered how vital it is to have integrity 
• A number of friends have died
• Gray hair has showed up
• Your life can change in a moment
• I love my family 
• I find joy in nature

I am going to start touching on the aging process as it pertains to my life.

Small Town Life

In 1980, I was 18 years old.   The drinking laws had just changed in Iowa.  Previously the legal age was 18. The law now stated that a person had to be 19 to be able to go to a bar.  I was still 17 when the law changed.  I was a few months too young to be "grandfathered" in.   In my world, this was the most unfair and cruel thing that could happen to me.

 I lived in a very small town.  There was precious little else to do.  I went to school, studied and worked.  I worked in the food service at the local college in town.  This meant that a lot of my friends and coworkers were college students. Naturally they were a couple of years older than I was. I was a high school kid, a townie.  If they were toddling off to the bar after work, I would walk with them part of the way but turn off to go home not continuing to the bar with them.  

It was December and the campus was closing down for Christmas.  Many of my friends were going back to their own homes in other towns or other states for the holidays.  On the last night before they left we thought it would be a great idea if I came with them to the bar.  It was their last night before they left.  I wouldn't see them for weeks.   It would be churlish to turn toward my house and sobriety on this special evening. 

I walked with them and boldly walked through the front door of Joe's (the bar). We squished into one of the booths in the small but crowded bar on the main street in my home town.   

Naturally the bartender (Clay) knew me and I knew him.  He was unsure how old I was so I was "carded" to prove that I was old enough to be in the bar and drinking alcohol.   Of course I didn't have it.  I was underage.  I gave some excuse as to why I was not carrying I.D. and the bartender left our table.  I thought I got away with it . . . until a few minutes later when the he came back to the table.  He had called my house.  Clay was informed by whoever answered the phone that I was only 18 years old.  I was rumbled and I needed to leave. 

With great eye rolling I left the bar and walked the few blocks back to my house.  I was greeted by my sisters and some friends who were visiting us for Christmas. They had answered the phone and told the caller that I was 18.  I think they were pleased with themselves for spoiling my illegal plans for the evening. 

I held a grudge against poor Clay for decades.  He didn't know. It probably never crossed his mind again.  This episode in my young life is fodder for a wonderful story. The story of life in a small Iowa town. Everybody knows you.  Everybody knows your business. You can't get away with anything! I never embellish this story.  It is great as it is. "You think you had it rough!  The bartender CALLED MY HOUSE!"

Moving Up a Gear

This summer my mother had a TIA.  For those who don't know, a TIA is a transient ischaemic attack.  It's a mini-stroke.  If any sort of stroke can be mini.  They just randomly show up and take a bit of your brain function away.    

The episode put her in the hospital.  From the hospital she went to a rehabilitation facility in the hope that she would regain enough of her faculties to return home. This hasn't happened.  She is not well enough to return home without full time nursing care and alarmed doors.   This meant that when my mother left her apartment in June, she would never return.

It strange how a planned life with schedules, cell phone headaches, dates to meet up with friends and  carefully archived mementos are gone in an instant.  The life my mother had is gone.  Are there any comforts from former busy lives on offer in care homes? I wonder if they can give patients hot coffee in care homes. I know there is a risk of scalding but sometimes  a good coffee, served how you like it, works wonders.  Can they have a beer?

I haven't been able to speak to her since she went into the hospital in June.  First she was in the hospital and there was no way to get the technology arranged.   Later she was moved from rehabilitation care and  became a permanent resident. During this shift a vital piece of her cochlear implant was lost.  She was then rendered almost helpless.  Without her implant there was absolutely no way to speak to her.  She wasn't able focus on the screen long enough to recognise the face at the other end.   The one time I tried to connect with her, it was really sad.  She was being fed her lunch at the time and wouldn't shift her focus from the food to the screen.  I kept hoping that she'd focus and see me but she never did.

My lovely sister has been down to see our mom again and taken her to all her appointments.  One of the appointments was the audiologist.  She has a fully functioning cochlear implant once again.   Scheduling an international FaceTime call isn't easy with a overworked (and caring staff) at her care facility. I have an appointment with my mom tomorrow.  I hope she can focus on the iPad.  I want her to be able to see me and have a conversation with her. 

Volunteering

When Covid-19 hit the UK and hit it hard, the government was SLOW to shut things down.  I also think the government is too quick to open things back up.  This is backed up by the return to shut-down in certain areas.

I have been saved by doing volunteer work.  I wrote about it here.

Four months on and I am still heading out a few times a week.  I used to be that I was heading out 5 out of 7 nights to collect food.  The frequency has decreased to 3 or 4 nights a week. 

I get a notification like this via WhatsApp from the charity coordinator and I head out to collect the food.

When I get food from the supermarkets, sometimes there is a treat.  One night there was loads of whole milk.    When I collected it there was plenty for my Syrian families and plenty for the village. 

As you can see there was a lot of milk.  I kept it in my little fridge over night and set it out in the  morning.  I was *slightly* worried that there would be some left, but our village met this challenge!  It was all gone by 5pm. 

Our village and the village next to us are so excellent about helping to prevent food waste.

This week marked the end of me having my mileage costs covered by the village council. As Scotland is moving into phase 3 of the release of lock down, funding for this is drying up.  I don't think for a minute that the community is less grateful.  I am going to continue to collect and distribute food while there is still a need. 

The man of the place and I had a discussion about the cost of collecting the food and distributing it.  I would really miss doing this for my community.

I get little thank you gifts from time to time.  So far I have received some delicious broccoli and Stilton soup and some coriander plants for the garden. 

On Friday I got flowers and a lovely card from one of the families.   This was so sweet!

When the food is put out, sometimes I find there are special items in the form of entire decorated cakes in the boxes.  I set delux items like this to one side for families with small children at home.  It is hard to try to keep children entertained and fed during lock-down.  Treats start to become a thing of the past.  I love seeing the smiles and hear the squeals of delight.  It's like Christmas for me.