Age is Taking Too Much

My mother lost her hearing gradually.  When I was a child, she didn't have hearing aids. As the years marched on, hearing aids became a part of her life. Part of her routine was searching the junk drawer in kitchen or the bottom of her handbag for fresh batteries.

When I was in middle school, we got a volume control on the phone receiver. With this device she was able to use the phone for a few more years.


My siblings and I learned to speak slowly and enunciate syllables clearly. No mumbling!  We knew that if she wasn't facing us, she couldn't hear what we were saying. There was no point in speaking to her if her back was turned or she was looking away.

We also knew when she didn't hear what we were saying. She would have a repertoire of replies and sounds that fooled a speaker into thinking that my mother had heard everything they said and she was in agreement. It made ordinary social interactions just a bit smoother for her. Most people would think that she had been participating. Her children knew the tricks and could spot when she wasn't understanding. Sometimes we would step in and re-explain the conversation to my mother if we saw that the speaker was expecting a more complete answer. It would give the game away so we had to be judicious where we stepped in.

We knew that we had to make darned sure she knew what she was agreeing to in conversations with us. We could never be seen to use her deafness to our advantage. "You said I could go! I asked you and you said yes!" Taking advantage of your mother's disability would have shown a shocking lack of integrity. We just didn't do it.

By the time the 80s rolled around the volume control wasn't enough. I think the last time my mother used a normal telephone was 1981. When I joined the Navy in 1981 she couldn't really use it very well when I called home.


We had a few years with a TTY machine. This was pre-internet and before mobile or cellular phones but I was thrilled with another and simpler way to communicate. It was like using a walkie talkie. There were loads of little short cuts. I don't remember them all. I do remember that when you had finished your sentence, you typed GA for "go ahead". This way you weren't both trying to type at the same time. I had a machine here in Scotland and my mother had one in Washington, D.C. where she lives. Long distance phone calls were still hideously expensive but if we needed to speak to each other, we could still communicate.  With the onset of the internet, chat rooms, and e-mail the TTY machine gathered dust in a cupboard in my room.

The world and technology has moved at a rapid pace. For years we have been able text and email each other. We have chats on line and the cost of international phone calls now costs me nothing extra.

We still don't have the half hour calls that some people have with their mothers. Maybe it was because of her deafness that we never had long conversations on the phone. We never developed a regular phone thing early on. When things started to become a problem, I didn't pick up on them. How could I? I live in another country.

Facebook came on the scene and eventually my mom created a profile. She learned early on how to swim around in the social media pool. A few years ago and  I don't know how but her profile became the target of those people who copy a profile and start to harvest the friends list for their nefarious purposes. We got that profile removed.  It made me careful with every friend request I get from somebody with whom I am already friends.

Despite the copycat profile being removed, I have five separate profiles on Facebook for my mother. They are all genuinely from her.  In the last few years she would forget all her log-in information. It must have been just easier to start a new profile rather than go through the headache of fishing around for the right login information. These profiles show clearly the beginning of a decline of something other than her hearing. She stopped writing in her blog too. Technology was becoming increasingly too complex for her.  

She started to have dizzy spells.  This was diagnosed as a natural reaction to dehydration.  She wasn't drinking enough liquids. It became obvious that she was losing weight as well.  When people develop dementia, the feelings of thirst and hunger don't translate into action.  

We started to have conversations about her going to assisted living accommodation.  These suggestions were always shot down in flames.  My mother has always prized her independence and wasn't going to give that up.

When Covid-19 hit the states, her day centre shut.  On the final day it was open, they sent all their people home with food parcels.   My mother with her natural generosity gave it all away to her neighbours.  We weren't overly pleased with her generosity.  She didn't save anything by for herself.  It was clear that she couldn't plan past what she wanted to do then and there.  The thought of making sure she had food in three days time wasn't on the radar.

It was really hard work to convince my mother that staying in her apartment was essential.  She would walk out to get a coffee, check her bank balance or get a newspaper.  

"I survived polio, I can survive this." 

Meanwhile we are all trying to convince her to stay put.  I could only do that by sending her really grumpy texts or scold her via Facetime.  It would work for a day, sometimes two days and then she was out again. 

It got worrying when she started getting lost.  She would call her friend and tell her that she didn't know where she was.   By identifying the restaurants she was near, her friend could figure out where she was, collect her and bring her home.  She seemed to be chastened by this episode . . .for a day. 

A few days later she was at the Metro station, got confused and the police brought her home.   Then it happened again. . . I'm not sure about the time line for when these things happened but the police brought her home a couple of times. 

Then there seemed to be an event. My mother had another dizzy spell, and was sick.  Things weren't right. My mother's regular doctor was called.  The doctor made arrangements for my mother to be evaluated at the hospital. It was at this point my sister drove down from New Jersey to Washington and supervised getting my mother to the hospital.

Initially we were happy that Mom wasn't in a care home or in assisted living when Covid-19 hit the USA. Those places seem to be hotbeds of Covid-19 infection.  They certainly are in the UK.  Now we wished she was in one so that she was safe.

Old age doesn't come alone.  There seems to be some evil roulette table we are all lined up to play.  As you age more dark spaces are added.  If the wheel lands on a dark space you'll lose something.  Sometimes it's just a tooth or you will suddenly and inexplicably have higher blood pressure.  Other times you develop bunions and not only can you not run, you have difficulty walking.  Your skin will wrinkle, your hair will get grey or go altogether. The more sinister spaces on the roulette wheel of ageing are brutal: cancer, stroke,  heart attack and dementia.  The come along with a loss of dignity that's hard to witness. For a woman whose ability to be sharp, educated and quick thinking has kept the wolf from the door for herself and her children, the loss of her mental ability is particularly cruel. 

This week my mother was moved to a care home for rehabilitation.  She is deaf, confused and in a place where she's never been before.  I take comfort that she is safe, she is being offered regular meals and she is taking her medicine regularly. 

During this global pandemic, I find myself repeating the first part of the Serenity Prayer that the AA use all the time.  

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change; 
courage to change the things I can; 
and wisdom to know the difference.

I am not religious but this prayer reminds me to let go of things for which I have no control.  I can't control other people's actions just like I can't control the weather.  Worrying about it is a complete waste of energy. 

Oh! Things are starting to happen!  A few small green tomatoes have appeared on the vines.

I really want them to hurry up, get fat and ripen!  More food needed for the tomato plants.  I have plenty of tomato food so that's not a problem.

When I went out there to tie up the tomato plants, I discovered a slug on the lettuce.  It had already munched a whacking great hole in one of the leaves.  I had always assumed that the big black ones didn't eat stuff in the garden.  This one was caught in the act!

I just plucked it off and promptly threw it at my husband.  He was not impressed. It was an underhand toss.  It wasn't like I was throwing a baseball. . . .  I thought I was being very funny.

Windy Today

We had a scorcher yesterday.  It was lovely, still and hot for most of the first half of the day.  Today is howling with wind.  The baskets are unhooked and down again.

The front beech hedge was clipped back so that we can have better access to the herbaceous border along the western edge of the garden.  We clipped back everything by hand.

This is what the hedge looked like as I started.

This is what it looked like at the end of the afternoon.  Over ten wheelbarrow loads were hauled away.

It is not cool to cut a  hedge during nesting season.  We used hand tools only and went very slowly.  We stopped when we were  two thirds of the way done because there may be nests.

This shows where work stopped.  I heard lots of cheeping so we didn't go any further.  It may be  months before we finish.  I'm okay with that.

We can't get all the way to the top safely.  I'm not worried about that either.  When the tractor comes along in August, the top will get cut back.  I also didn't cut back the hawthorn that has seeded itself in this hedge.  It's in bloom.  The bees need those flowers.  It looks a bit insane but there you have it.

Work stopped when slurry was spread on the field next to the house.  It was supremely smelly, drove everybody indoors and I shut the windows.  A few hours later it wasn't quite so pungent. When it was first put down, it was fierce!  I really don't mind much.  I'd rather have slurry stink than car exhaust.

We went outside toward the end of the day when the smell had lightened up a bit.  There were clouds building in the north so I started picking up tools and raking up dropped leaves.  When the rain started, I was in again.

This is this weeks star visitor to the garden.

A little juvenile weasel.  I saw it running around in the wall near the bird feeders.  I guess this means that all the voles that used to live there are gone now.  The appearance of the weasel also explains why the pheasant chicks aren't around anymore.

I saw a little weasel again later on and it looked like a different animal.  The first one had a shorter tail. When the weasel ran away, it ran to a pile of stones that lives under the big pine tree.   It is in this pile of stones that I saw a weasel years ago.  It is my hope that this pile of stones is a permanent home for a family of weasels.

Covid-19 Lockdown begins 23 March 2020

As our place is out in the countryside there are aspects of life here that hasn't changed.

At the time I write this, the UK have done terribly with controlling the virus with over 38,000 deaths. The US is worse with over 100,000 deaths.   With infection rates are decreasing in the UK but not enough to say the problem has been managed.  Because the lock down restrictions started on the 23rd of March we have been under lock-down for seven weeks.  We should have started earlier and had a framework in place to help manage this.  The UK government has been acting like a deer caught in the headlights.  . . . but I'm not going to rant just now.  There are plenty of other places you can go to read about the shambolic government approach.

I will write about how it has affected me.  It has frightened me.  How do you prepare for this?

I didn't need to rush out and overstock on toilet paper.  We have always kept a rolling three month supply here.  What I did was rush out and get chicken feed and dog food.  If we're going to be restricted to the house, I will not let the animals suffer. 

When I was in town for probably the last time in months, I managed to get a 25 kilo bag of potatoes.  I came home with the car loaded with provisions.  I felt like all those conversations we had about the zombie apocalypse.

So we're in the house.  We're all stocked up.  We can last for ages . . then on Monday my husband goes off to work!  I'm going nuts!  This is not safe!  He can do 98% of his work on a computer!  They can arrange for him to do this at home!  This is the man who has trouble shutting the silverware drawer in the kitchen and leave the lid off the butter.  He's not going to remember to wash his hands and stay two meters apart from people.   He also works with people of varying degrees of intelligence.  They're going and sit on the corner of his desk while he's working just to chat.