Showing posts with label Patrick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Patrick. Show all posts

Saturday, May 4, 2013

We’re Just Not Yard Sell People

There are a handful of certain people who somehow feel magnetized to drive to yard sales – some spend their entire weekends exploring through junk and treasures and actually driving from yard sale to yard sale – not me. 

Oh, sure.  When I was a kid it was different.  I felt so grown up walking away with treasures from various neighbors’ yards.  But now?  Unless we’re looking for something specific and happen to be passing the yard sell anyway . . . junk.  Lots and lots of junk.  The same you can buy at the second hand store.  Yard sales wear me down.  And today was no exception.

Normally my sibs and I don’t hold yard sales.  Items are donated, thrown out, or given away.  Yard sales are too much work – and you end up donating or throwing away everything that’s left – which in our case was most of it.  Patrick was really dreading that part – but I told him he didn’t have to take it to a donation center himself.  We had enough in the driveway that someone would pick it up – oooo – but not on the weekend.  It felt like we returned more things to the house than what we carried out.  How is that even possible?

Sunny gave me a bag of floppy discs that I will try to go through.  Turns out most of them were mine - or half anyway.  And I had already copied the pictures.  Not all floppies could be opened. I ended up copying what I could and discarding all the floppies.  Are those considered antiques?

We had two gentlemen arrive at the same time – both well over 70.  One pointed to the empty reel/film canister and said, “I bet most people won’t even know what that is.”
My nine year old didn’t.  But then I didn’t recognize the film splicer to be what it was.  I really felt foolish when I asked Patrick about it because I have worked with film splicers before – for two different companies.  Silly me.

And Bob – who Corey has mentioned in at least four of his posts held up a porcelain one-piece nativity of Joseph, Mary and baby Jesus in a manger and asked the price (I had decided that all large knickknacks, statuettes, porcelain things would be 75 cents and the smaller ones would go for a quarter.  Wasn’t enough. 

“Two dollars?” I said wondering if he still thought it worth more.  He gave us a twenty dollar bill and would not accept change.

It was very sweet of him to donate to the cause – as he really didn’t have the need for the statue as I had to explain two or three times what it was. 

We sold most of the larger glass dishware and all of the tacky things. We sold items that I had never even seen before – some that were still in their original boxes and I suspect had never even been open.

The proceeds are going towards mom’s needs.  Not enough to pay even a week of her stay, but perhaps enough that Patrick can give some money to both Kayla and I when she runs out of medication or her bras where out or something like that.  Pocket change . . .  

Mostly it was just Patrick and I who were out there.  Sunny was keeping Jenna entertained and Kayla and Bill had gone with his family.  Roland's oldest sister seemed like the type who would spend all day driving around from one yard sell to another.  His family loves flea markets and second hand stores.

We’re not yard sale people.  I don’t know if Patrick or Kayla has ever even purchased yard sell items before.  I have.  Roland has.  Yard sale treasures that were junk put out by somebody else becomes recycled again. There were some ceramic fish on the table that I remember buying at another yard sale just up the street almost forty years ago.

Sometimes what's one man's junk is another man's treasure and sometimes what's one man's junk is always junk.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

We Might as Well Just Write a Book!

          I went to several assisted living facilities by myself during November and December.  Many facilities would say they had no room but that we could get on a waiting list.  That seemed okay as my brothers weren’t looking to move her until maybe June or July.

At each location I was asked, “Does your mom need assistance with the shower?”

          “She can shower by herself.”  She could.  Two months ago.  Even just two weeks ago.  And then she’d forget to use soap.  And then she would just forget.

          Last Tuesday I created this post.  It was a good day for her.  It turned out to be the last good day at home.  Her home.  The one she has lived in for the last 50 plus years but has forgotten.  We’re moving her into assisted living.  I don’t know when.  It should have been a lot sooner in my opinion.

          Last week she was smiling.  Giggling.  That’s right – giggling.  And she called me crazy.  We had fun.  And then her friend called.  And she was alert enough to know who she was talking to.  I don’t know how soon after I left that she became withdrawn.  Disconnected.

          On Thursday she was almost in a stupor – though not quite.  She would answer my questions.  “No, I don’t want to do it”  “Not right now”  “I don’t know why I’m so tired . . .”

          I had suggested (several times) for her to lie down.  I did give her drinks from the fridge. Perhaps not enough.  The next two days were nightmarish for Nate and Ellen as mom would pass out which in turn would freak Ellen. 

          Newlyweds shouldn’t be in that position to take care of a grandma that rapidly declines.  Sunday morning was really bad for Ellen especially, who had found grandma in soiled sheets and apparently her room reeked.

          Patrick and Sunny took her to the hospital that morning.  It sounds like they all missed Church as Nate and Ellen had gone with them.  Apparently they were in the emergency room for what felt like forever – other cases were given a higher priority.

          When they did finally call mom back, only two people were allowed to go with her.  That ended up being Patrick – the only one of the four who has power of attorney, and Nate, who has been acting as mom’s care giver in Corey’s place.  Sunny and Ellen returned home and Sunny started in with phone calls to the rest of mom’s children.

          I had just barely started my lesson when the first phone call came.  A frantic caller as the person on the other end called three times.  When the lesson was over, I returned the call to my sister who related the events.

          I went to Kayla’s ward right after attending the meetings at ours.  Kayla had told me she was speaking.  I was sooooo glad that I went as she did an awesome job. 
While the sacrament was being passed, my phone went off again.  Fortunately it had been on vibrate all day and no one aside from Jenna and I seemed to notice.

          Sunny finally got a hold of Bill (Kayla’s husband) who has been through hospital administration many times with his first wife.  He’s got a deeper insight and understanding than the rest of us would like to experience.  But here we are.  Mom is in the hospital.  Quite confused.  Disoriented.  But happy.  Positive.
Or so I heard. 
          I was told to talk to a social worker about getting mom moved over to one of these facilities (there’s one we like that actually has an opening right now)  I was there for five hours yesterday before the social worker arrived. 

          At first glance he didn’t seem legitimate.  For me personally, he seemed to come across as a patient from the psychiatric ward – a happy go lucky fellow with mussed up hair.

          I was told that she’d probably be released today.  Really? But we need another day at least.

          Sunny picked up a packet from the assisted living.  A large packet.  She said there were over 35 pages to be filled out and that there was no way she and Patrick would be able to get it done just by themselves in the allotted time frame.
          So Roland and I went out to mom’s house to assist with the paperwork.  We Skyped Corey and fired questions at him.  We could see him, but evidently he could not see us. 

          For the most part we were laughing.  Corey came across like one of those old Japanese movies in which the lips are not in sync with what’s being said.  And when it came to personal questions – do we say how it really was or provide today’s reality which is only about 40% truth.

          Mom really has been to Europe and Greece, Alaska and Hawaii.  But in her mind she’s also been to Egypt, South Africa, Russia and China (to name a few)  Provide the name of any state and she claims she’s been there – usually just for the day.  And usually she drove.  She’s been to a quarter of the states at best.  She’s never been to Asia or many other places she’s claimed.  She was not driving when she was fourteen.

          It’s funny.  Mom has no clue why she was at the hospital – even after we told her.  She doesn’t retain information.  Corey had asked why she was in the hospital.  Her answer amused both me and Corey.

          She said (over the phone), “I’m not sick or anything – I had to come to take a shower.  And it’s here so I have to be here”

          Yet when “Everybody Loves Raymond” showed on TV, she was able to relate the events that were about to happen.  How is that even possible?  I mean, I know she’s seen it again and again.  It just floored me that she seemed to have it memorized.

          She’s worried about her purse.  She often will look for it while she’s home.  Once she finds it, she can relax – until she’s forgotten and has to search for it again.  It has become a part of her the way the cell phone has become a surgically implanted part of many people or a security blanket a child may drag around and refuse to part with.

          I don’t know where she’ll wake up tomorrow.  They say it takes a couple of days to process the paperwork.  We’re really not ready for her to be leaving the hospital today.  The transition will be so much easier if we didn’t have to take her back to her house. 

          Don’t guess I will know for a while yet.  Perhaps I’ll have be able to post more tomorrow.  Hopefully I will be too busy with transition to make the post.  We’ll see.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

My Brothers: Quiet Strength

I have two brothers.  Patrick is two years younger than I.  Corey is nine years younger.  Both brothers are quite knowledgeable in the gospel.  Both are quiet.  Both are very forgiving of others.  Both pocess qualities very much like our dad. Both attend Church meetings each week – but each is on a mission that’s entirely different from the other

          The eldest of the two currently serves as second counselor in the bishopric. Patrick is diligent and responsible.  Keeps confidences.  He’s organized.  GREAT father! Coveted husband. A good guy whom people respect.  Did I mention quiet?

          I am actually closer to Corey than I am to Patrick.  Corey is an actor.  When he appears on stage it isn’t known how quiet he is when he’s not performing.  Corey is very diligent and responsible.  He keeps confidences.  He is very organized.  People respect him. People admire him. When he’s not performing, Corey is pretty quiet.

          Corey attends two meetings on Sunday.  He does not hold a calling.  He doesn’t participate in class.  He doesn’t bear his testimony – not allowed anyway.  But he does have one. Recently he attended a conference for the LDS gay and lesbian community and did have the opportunity to bear his testimony there.  And he bears testimony in his Blog as well.  He’s a great example.

          I learn so much from my brothers’ examples.  Neither gets uptight with situations at hand.  It is what it is.  They are very compassionate and forgiving.  They don’t get mad at other people.  Mistakes happen.  There is always allowance.  I need to hang around my brothers more. 

          I’ve tried letting go of that grudge thing – it hasn’t always worked.  I know I am a lot happier when I can let it go and move on. Though I don’t always let go.  It eats at me.  I’m not saying my brothers aren’t ever bothered – but they are a lot more forgiving than I – especially Patrick.

          Corey usually resorts to writing letters.  He will wait a few days before mailing or confronting.  More times than not he’s gotten over whatever it was and ends up just throwing the letter away.   But there have been times the letter was mailed.  And for the most part that seems to produce positive results as well (or at least that how it appears to me)

          Corey is a lot more eloquent with words than I.  For the most part I don’t have that gift – especially verbally. So often my words are misconstrued.  I don’t know if it’s the delivery or my approach or what.   But there have been hurt feelings – whereas Corey’s anger doesn’t always transfer – even verbally.  He is pretty calm at explaining himself and often gets the other person to see his point of view – even if not agreed with – he just has a better way of presenting himself.
          I get upset or frustrated.  I often cry.  I wish one could lose weight through tears.  I’m sure I’d be wearing the same size as Metal’s Barbie.

          I love my brothers.  I love their example.  I will continue to strive to be more like them.