The Burrow

I've written about this before, and I'm sure I will be writing about it again. Today I selected an apartment for G'ma. She wasn't with me, though she did see it yesterday. I decided when she'll be leaving her current space and "transitioning" (apparently, the elderly do not "move", they "transition") to her pod-castle. I didn't ask her if she wanted to rush right into it or wait a month or so. I looked at my calendar and I picked a date. She'll have to give up some of her furniture (as she shrinks so does her living space, it seems) and though I'm sympathetic to her feelings of loss, I've also given her no choice in the matter. It is what it is. Because I say so. And I'm uncomfortable with the power. That's an unusual state of affairs for me. The gavel was one of my favorite parts of being President of the School Board. I know that the world would be a better place if I were in charge. I never played d...

I'm on terminal hold. "Your wait for the next available representative will be at least 15 minutes", the computer voice told me. I suppose I shouldn't have gotten so exited when the receptionist took my call after only 4 minutes on hold; I'd waited 17 minutes for her earlier this morning. Now, if the girl telling me that she appreciates my business and that I should hold for the next available representative would just stop annoying me, I could get on with my posting without interruptions. But, not, not only do I have inoffensive guitars setting my teeth on edge as I wait, but just as I start to get going on this post I hear her voice and, for an instant, I start to smile and think I'll actually be talking to a human. Then I have to listen to her repeat her 3 sentences. And I am distracted. If this post reads less fluidly than most, blame being on hold. I used to get to my office 2 hours before my official start time, just to get my work done. Being a...

G'ma's moving. Living in her apartment in the Old Folks Home hasn't turned out to be as independent an experience as we'd hoped it would have been. She fell the first night she was in Arizona, and her first six months here were a nightmare of drugs and falls and rehab and surgeries and hospitalizations and home care. Even with a Life-Alert button around her neck and directions to and from the dining room taped to her walker, being alone didn't feel safe. Not to either of us. After several missteps, we found the perfect solution in 3 Mexican sisters who've adopted her as their own. Birthday parties, bbq's, movies, trips to the mall - G'ma was included in all of it. Their children loved having another grandmother with whom to share their treasures and their ouchies, and G'ma loved the attention. If only it didn't come at such a high price. You don't want to under-pay your caregiver, whether a babysitter or someone looking after your moth...