Long venting post you're free to ignore
I feel I must inform all of you that I am the type of woman who gets cross with little elderly ladies in nursing homes. Let the de-friending begin.
To summarize my weekend, let me first say that ALL Sunday brunches, buffets, etc. should be organized like dim sum restaurants. Honestly, we walked in, were seated at a table, and then the parade of foods began... Much more pleasant than a buffet, because at even the nicest buffet, there's standing in line and empty trays and dealing with your purse if you were dumb enough to bring it in instead of locking it in the car trunk. And *you're* the one controlling your portions, which means if you have ISSUES with food, you're taking too much of some things and not enough of others.
It's so nice to sit back and be served in handy pre-measured portions, 3 or 4 of an item to share. Everyone at the table gets a taste, but only a taste.
Now I know the burning issue is: Lor, did you manage to control yourselves & not eat yourselves sick? The answer, alas, is "almost." There were three of us, and once the food stopped flying I counted -- we only took nine items. Yet we were all still a little too full (Rich required a nap post-brunch, and Uncle Jim was done in for the day).
Now, about abusing my mother-in-law... we didn't go visit her to make her miserable, but sometimes when she's in a mood she refuses to be cheered up. I know this about her, and usually I try to be patient. Frankly, it's easier for me to be patient with her than for her own kids to do so. But yesterday, she made a crack about Rich and I jumped in with both feet. And now I feel bad about it, though I have to say Rich was very happy I spoke (he was ready to walk out of the room & leave).
As some of you know, Rich had weight-loss surgery, a gastric bypass, about four years ago. It isn't something I was happy about him doing, mostly because there aren't studies of the long-term effects. But Rich made the decision and the surgery was a success, to a point. I know his original goal was to be thin and beautiful. (Hey, whenever I start a diet, my goal is to come out of it 25 and stick-thin.) Rich never made it to skinny, he's still a bigger-than-average guy, but he's lost over 150 pounds and is MUCH healthier than he was. At the time of the RotK Oscar party, he was so overweight and out of shape that he couldn't walk around Hollywood with me, couldn't stay long at the party, etc. The weight was affecting his knees, his back, and his self-esteem.
Despite the fact that he's gained some weight back in the last year or so, I think he's doing very well post-surgery. Rich takes the el and bus with me every day and is able to walk 30 minutes during his lunchtime for exercise. He's healthy enough to do shows, to go to the Cubs games and walk up long ramps and staircases. In other words, he's still overweight, but he has a life. Yes, he'd like to lose some weight. So would I. So would most people I know. But with the stress of having CancerGirl in the house, I think he's doing great.
Back to yesterday with Bette, my mother-in-law. We were sitting in her room with her, asking her how the physical therapy has been going:
"Do you feel like it's helping you, like you're making progress?"
"No. They say I am, but I don't see it." (This is the abridged version of very long, circular arguments back and forth about what 'progress' means, listening to/trusting your doctor, etc.)
Bette informed us that a new therapist was speaking with her and mentioned the possibility of knee replacement surgery. (She has serious arthritis in her knees, as do all of her children and her brother, Uncle Jim.) Rich starts to be encouraging about the possibility of having surgery.
"Just think, with surgery and therapy, you'd actually be able to walk and stand without pain. Your knees may improve a little, but you can't cure the arthritis. With a replacement you might feel much better."
Bette begins to cry. "I see people in the therapy room who've had knee replacements and are still doing therapy, months later, and they're still in pain." (Pain is a very dirty word in Bette's vocabulary.)
"Well, there may be some pain. But everyone recovers differently, and at least you'd be able to walk."
"I'm a coward, I thought we all knew that." Rich and I both jump in, she's raised five kids and isn't a coward, and it's okay to be afraid of surgery but she must know that her doctor will do all kinds of tests before they'd approve her for surgery. And reminding her that all the tests they've done so far show her as healthy.
Bette, to Rich: "Well, I don't know why you're such a fan of surgery. After all, what has it ever done for you?"
Rich didn't catch her meaning right away, and started talking about his knee surgeries. But I knew right away she was talking about his weight, and jumped all over her with what I've told you: he's healthy, he's able to function, and if you don't think his surgery accomplished anything, it's been too long since you've seen a photo of him from the months before his surgery.
Needless to say, Bette was still crying when I finished. And still convinced that it's cruel to ask her to hope for something better than sitting in a wheelchair in a nursing home for the rest of her life.
Bette always talks about her advanced age as if she's expecting to be dead in the next five minutes. She's been doing that for as long as I've known her (and I've known her since she was younger than I am now). She has never accepted the adage "no pain, no gain." She doesn't understand why I drag myself to work even when I'm feeling poorly or why anyone exercises when it makes your muscles sore. What she wants is magic -- a pill or potion that will take away all her pain. And believe me, she's been taking every pill she could get prescribed by one of her doctors -- one of the problems she has is confusion/disorientation from drug interactions. That's been a basic source of contention for us all along -- I come from a family where we don't take aspirin unless our head is falling off. Even now, my goal is always to get to where I need fewer drugs in my life. The side effects often outweigh the benefit, in my opinion. But Bette hasn't met a pill she doesn't like.
Bette isn't happy being in this nursing home. She told us she wants to get back to her assisted living apartment. But she's not really willing to do much to get there. This is a very nice place with all kinds of social functions on the schedule, but her day seems to be divided between obsessing about the food, watching tv in her room, and therapy. She's not interested in books, newspapers, the social functions or making friends. She sits in one of their wheelchairs, which she admits is difficult to get around in, but doesn't want us to bring her any of the expensive equipment sitting in her apartment (like her motorized Rascal).
I feel terrible because, not having a mom of my own, I feel like I should be cherishing Bette, who has always been loving and kind to me. But yesterday I was so frustrated with her attitude that I got angry. Anyway, that's the kind of visit we had. Rich and I were both pretty depressed when we finally left. I don't think we did a good job cheering up Bette, either, or making her think positively about the possibility of knee surgery.
If anyone read all the way through that, you are WAY too good a friend. Hope you're all surviving your Monday and that the week ahead is a very good one.
To summarize my weekend, let me first say that ALL Sunday brunches, buffets, etc. should be organized like dim sum restaurants. Honestly, we walked in, were seated at a table, and then the parade of foods began... Much more pleasant than a buffet, because at even the nicest buffet, there's standing in line and empty trays and dealing with your purse if you were dumb enough to bring it in instead of locking it in the car trunk. And *you're* the one controlling your portions, which means if you have ISSUES with food, you're taking too much of some things and not enough of others.
It's so nice to sit back and be served in handy pre-measured portions, 3 or 4 of an item to share. Everyone at the table gets a taste, but only a taste.
Now I know the burning issue is: Lor, did you manage to control yourselves & not eat yourselves sick? The answer, alas, is "almost." There were three of us, and once the food stopped flying I counted -- we only took nine items. Yet we were all still a little too full (Rich required a nap post-brunch, and Uncle Jim was done in for the day).
Now, about abusing my mother-in-law... we didn't go visit her to make her miserable, but sometimes when she's in a mood she refuses to be cheered up. I know this about her, and usually I try to be patient. Frankly, it's easier for me to be patient with her than for her own kids to do so. But yesterday, she made a crack about Rich and I jumped in with both feet. And now I feel bad about it, though I have to say Rich was very happy I spoke (he was ready to walk out of the room & leave).
As some of you know, Rich had weight-loss surgery, a gastric bypass, about four years ago. It isn't something I was happy about him doing, mostly because there aren't studies of the long-term effects. But Rich made the decision and the surgery was a success, to a point. I know his original goal was to be thin and beautiful. (Hey, whenever I start a diet, my goal is to come out of it 25 and stick-thin.) Rich never made it to skinny, he's still a bigger-than-average guy, but he's lost over 150 pounds and is MUCH healthier than he was. At the time of the RotK Oscar party, he was so overweight and out of shape that he couldn't walk around Hollywood with me, couldn't stay long at the party, etc. The weight was affecting his knees, his back, and his self-esteem.
Despite the fact that he's gained some weight back in the last year or so, I think he's doing very well post-surgery. Rich takes the el and bus with me every day and is able to walk 30 minutes during his lunchtime for exercise. He's healthy enough to do shows, to go to the Cubs games and walk up long ramps and staircases. In other words, he's still overweight, but he has a life. Yes, he'd like to lose some weight. So would I. So would most people I know. But with the stress of having CancerGirl in the house, I think he's doing great.
Back to yesterday with Bette, my mother-in-law. We were sitting in her room with her, asking her how the physical therapy has been going:
"Do you feel like it's helping you, like you're making progress?"
"No. They say I am, but I don't see it." (This is the abridged version of very long, circular arguments back and forth about what 'progress' means, listening to/trusting your doctor, etc.)
Bette informed us that a new therapist was speaking with her and mentioned the possibility of knee replacement surgery. (She has serious arthritis in her knees, as do all of her children and her brother, Uncle Jim.) Rich starts to be encouraging about the possibility of having surgery.
"Just think, with surgery and therapy, you'd actually be able to walk and stand without pain. Your knees may improve a little, but you can't cure the arthritis. With a replacement you might feel much better."
Bette begins to cry. "I see people in the therapy room who've had knee replacements and are still doing therapy, months later, and they're still in pain." (Pain is a very dirty word in Bette's vocabulary.)
"Well, there may be some pain. But everyone recovers differently, and at least you'd be able to walk."
"I'm a coward, I thought we all knew that." Rich and I both jump in, she's raised five kids and isn't a coward, and it's okay to be afraid of surgery but she must know that her doctor will do all kinds of tests before they'd approve her for surgery. And reminding her that all the tests they've done so far show her as healthy.
Bette, to Rich: "Well, I don't know why you're such a fan of surgery. After all, what has it ever done for you?"
Rich didn't catch her meaning right away, and started talking about his knee surgeries. But I knew right away she was talking about his weight, and jumped all over her with what I've told you: he's healthy, he's able to function, and if you don't think his surgery accomplished anything, it's been too long since you've seen a photo of him from the months before his surgery.
Needless to say, Bette was still crying when I finished. And still convinced that it's cruel to ask her to hope for something better than sitting in a wheelchair in a nursing home for the rest of her life.
Bette always talks about her advanced age as if she's expecting to be dead in the next five minutes. She's been doing that for as long as I've known her (and I've known her since she was younger than I am now). She has never accepted the adage "no pain, no gain." She doesn't understand why I drag myself to work even when I'm feeling poorly or why anyone exercises when it makes your muscles sore. What she wants is magic -- a pill or potion that will take away all her pain. And believe me, she's been taking every pill she could get prescribed by one of her doctors -- one of the problems she has is confusion/disorientation from drug interactions. That's been a basic source of contention for us all along -- I come from a family where we don't take aspirin unless our head is falling off. Even now, my goal is always to get to where I need fewer drugs in my life. The side effects often outweigh the benefit, in my opinion. But Bette hasn't met a pill she doesn't like.
Bette isn't happy being in this nursing home. She told us she wants to get back to her assisted living apartment. But she's not really willing to do much to get there. This is a very nice place with all kinds of social functions on the schedule, but her day seems to be divided between obsessing about the food, watching tv in her room, and therapy. She's not interested in books, newspapers, the social functions or making friends. She sits in one of their wheelchairs, which she admits is difficult to get around in, but doesn't want us to bring her any of the expensive equipment sitting in her apartment (like her motorized Rascal).
I feel terrible because, not having a mom of my own, I feel like I should be cherishing Bette, who has always been loving and kind to me. But yesterday I was so frustrated with her attitude that I got angry. Anyway, that's the kind of visit we had. Rich and I were both pretty depressed when we finally left. I don't think we did a good job cheering up Bette, either, or making her think positively about the possibility of knee surgery.
If anyone read all the way through that, you are WAY too good a friend. Hope you're all surviving your Monday and that the week ahead is a very good one.